#i don't THINK this counts as face horror but just in case

[egophiliac]

just thinking about hair and faces

[unusualshrimp]

hey sorry i can't come to work today im thinking about the various implications of zombie horror and the way it affects people

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[queenie-the-court-jester]

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ♥️

[cioneo]

staying in

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader fandom: modern warfare 2 (call of duty) word count: 0.7k warnings: none, just something short and sweet summary: ghost finally gets a peaceful sleep notes: this man has consumed my thots, so i gotta write fanfiction for him. this is also my first fic. any feedback is greatly appreciated. enjoy!

It was an unusual sight to wake up to. You felt like you were still stuck in a dream. 

But no, it was real, and you welcomed it.

—

Simon Riley and sleep had never gotten along since forever. 

Some nights he would stay wide awake, either staring mindlessly at the ceiling or looking over your sleeping form with warmth seeping through him. This was not the case during the first few weeks of sharing a bed, where he would occasionally go out for a walk. Now he never leaves your side.

On other nights, he would startle during his sleep from the nightmares that just never seem to go away, and you would get up to wake him if he did not already jolt up first. Whether he talks about the horrors he's seen or keeps them to himself, he will always pull your body closer, seeking comfort in it. Then you both would doze off again while holding onto each other more firmly.

There may be nights when he experiences both of them at the same time. But the one thing that remains unchanged is how Simon somehow always wakes up earlier than you, even after a restless slumber. Until now.

—

You were surprised to see that his eyes were still shut. His arms were still locked around your figure in the same way they had been the night before.

Traces of light shone through the blinds you swore you closed the day before. It didn’t matter that much anyway. In fact, you were thankful for the light which highlighted his already stunning features littered with tiny scars. The temptation to brush away the hair from his face is powerful, but you quickly shut the thought down, afraid of waking Simon up from a well-deserved rest.

Instead, you stare at his peaceful state with admiration for who knows how long.

—

Sometime later, he moves against the sheets beneath him and slowly opens his eyes. He blinks his eyes repeatedly to adjust to the lighting and the sight of you looking back at him.

"Were you watching me this whole time?" Simon mumbles, his morning voice apparent.

You let out a hum, too tired to nod your head.

"Would be creepy if it were someone else."

"Then it’s a good thing I’m not. Besides, is it so wrong for me to appreciate this?" you reply while gently caressing the side of his face.

Simon closes his eyes for a brief moment at the feeling of your hand’s movement. "I guess not."

You continue to trace his features while he looks at you with the softest gaze no other has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He lets out a soft groan at the brushing of your fingers against his hair.

"We should get ready soon," he says, planting his hand over yours and stroking your knuckles with his coarse fingers. "But I got a feeling you don't like the sound of that."

"Your observational skills are getting better," you tease, knowing full well he is an elite operator.

"Alright, just a few more minutes and then we'll get up." 

"Don't think I'm gonna leave this bed for a while. Better hope the boys don't mind us being late."

"I don't give a damn what they think."

Chuckling at his remark, you bring yourself impossibly closer to him and lay your cheeks against his chest. He tightens his grip on you and moves his chin to rest atop your head. You both listen to each other’s steady and slow breaths. A silence so comforting envelops the room, a contrast to the gunfire and explosions you were accustomed to hearing on the battlefield.

You look up and shoot him a quick smile. "We really needed this, y'know? Just a day where we don't have to constantly worry about preventing an all-out war or if we would even survive."

Your comments fall on deaf ears, as Simon didn’t reply, simply offering a quiet hum while he drifts away into your embrace. Content with his acceptance to go back into his rest, you peck the back of his hand and rub it softly so as to not wake him up.

The meeting you both were supposed to attend vanishes from your thoughts as you soon close your eyes and follow him to sleep.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

New face

Platonic!Yandere!Rosie x Teenager!Reader

'Shit! Shit! Shit!'

A bush, a road, a bench. Someone's head falls right in front of your feet and you barely hold on and keep running.

'Don't look back, don't look back... Damn it!'

A spear flies past you, grazing your side. Under the influence of adrenaline, you don't notice it and keep running in a direction you don't know. You have no idea where you are or what's going on. However, burning buildings, screams and blood make it clear to you that you should not stop in any case.

But eventually your legs start to fail you and the adrenaline wears off and you just fall down, trying to catch your breath. You see something that looks like angels, they flying into a huge hole in the sky, and you start crying. What the hell is going on?!

"Oh dear! Are you okay?"

Suddenly, a charming woman with frighteningly sharp teeth appeared in front of your face. You screamed and instantly jumped away from her, but the sudden pain in your side made you instantly shrink. The stranger noticed your eyes full of horror and confusion and understood everything.

"Calm down, calm down. You poor thing, appear in hell right during the extermination."

Her hands rested on your shaking shoulders as you tried to make sense of her words.

"And look at you! They hurt you! But don't worry, auntie Rosie will fix you up and feed you delicious goulash!"

You look at her with your eyes wide open when she starts to help you get off the ground.

"Come on, come on, sweetie. Bear a little more, it's not far to go."

"Am I in hell?..."

"Yes, honey, but let's not make you too nervous for now."

She hugged you encouragingly as you both approached her house. It was... surprisingly comfortably. Rosie also looked friendly, if a little intimidating.

"It looks like everything went well and it's just a scratch... There's nothing to worry about! Now, do you want to eat? I bet you do! Just give me a few minutes and I promise you that after our dinner, you won't even be able to think about food!"

Rosie, smiling from ear to ear, quickly went into the other room before you could answer her. You looked around carefully, and noticed a mirror. Coming closer, you were horrified, your reflection... You really aren't human... But why hell? Of course, you weren't a perfect person, but you also didn't consider yourself a bad person... Just why?

"What has already happened? Why the sad face?"

Rosie came into the room at the moment when you were looking at your new reflection. She also went to the mirror.

"I'm a demon and I'm really in hell."

"Oh, don't worry... It can be too much and quiet overwhelming. But I assure you, it will definitely pass over time. Besides..."

Suddenly she turned you around and grabbed your cheeks, cooing you.

"You're such a cutie pie, I could just eat you, because of your sweet, plump cheeks! "

Rosie smiled at you so broadly that you could easily count all her teeth. Suddenly she flinched.

"Oh, wait! The food is getting cold! Hurry up, hurry up, we can't let ourselves to eat cold food!"

She dragged you into the dining room, where there was already a plate of delicious-smelling food.

[fcthots]

I'm literally tearing up this morning at the idea of Tim sitting in the cave, trying to get some important work done like usual when suddenly a wave of darkness ascends upon the cave. Like something out of a horror movie, dread washes over Tim as he fearfully creaks his head around to see Gus sitting on the chair, looking over Tim's shoulder—MENACINGLY.

I had so much fun writing this.

It was 5 am and everyone else had gone to bed. There was a fear gas attack and while no one had been unable to put on their rebreather, the manor was still on lockdown, though, just to monitor in case of any delayed effects. Tim wasn't supposed to be on the batcomputer but it was important! He was doing research on the new chemicals Scarecrow had added to his toxin and if their addition changed the effects of the formula as compared to the original. As it turns out, he was right. It seemed that now prolonged exposure could cause delayed effects. Fuck, Tim loves being right! He starts recording any other new effects the toxin may have.

A chill hits him. The hairs on the back of his neck raise. He can feel eyes with malicious intent watching him. After being robin for so long, he knows what the stare of a real threat feels like as it watches its prey. Fuck. Someone must have gotten into the cave. He thinks of yelling for Kon, but Kryptonians can't hear into the cave. His family is all asleep in their respective bedrooms, and there's no one that can get to him in time. He hasn't acknowledged their presence yet, so he could pick up his phone and pretend to send a funny text to a friend but actually text the other bats, but that could also backfire if his intruder swooped in while he was vulnerable.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Maybe his rebreather was cracked. Maybe this is all just delayed fear gas effects. Maybe one of his siblings hadn't handed all of their gear off to be washed and he's just getting a mini whiff of the gas, and that's why he feels the eyes of a predator on his back.

He hears something rustle.

Ok, so not a hallucination, probably. Auditory hallucinations usually take exposure to copious amounts of gas, but maybe this was all part of the new strand.

He could feel them getting closer. He slowly wraps his hand round a battarang that was left on the desk. He can't see anything in the reflection of the screen. On the count of three he has to turn around and face his opponent.

Three. Fuck, he's exhausted.

Two. He's too tired to be doing this.

One. Bruce is gonna kill him if he dies.

Go.

He turns around and stands all in one motion, staying as low to the ground as possible. He doesn't have long to take in all of his surroundings, so he does it quick. This would be so much easier if he had his mask, which can track the heat of body signatures, but he took it off so Alfred could clean it. He really hopes Alfred isn't the one to find his body.

He doesn’t see anything in his immediate line of sight. He keeps his body moving, so he's a harder target. He looks everywhere else. Nothing. Maybe it's an LOA assassin. Ra's needs to get off his dick already.

But he looks even in the spots where a ninja would be trained to hide, and... nothing. Nothing at all. An alarming amount of nothing. By his calculations there was an 85% chance that it wasn't a hallucination. He drops his fighting stance. He did forget to factor in his sleep deprivation...

As soon as his guard is down, he is immediately attacked from behind. He whirls around and drops back into a fighting stance. His training kicks in. Don’t look at the affected area first, look at your attacker first. He ignores the pain in his leg and looks to where they would have to be standing and...nothing. He looks down to his leg.

Fucking Gus.

"Get off of me, asshole!! Why are you even here? Can Jason seriously not sleep without his cat fucking night?" Tim tries to peel Gus's claws out of him where Gus's limbs are wrapped around his leg. "Ow! Fuck! Don't bite me! This is why I don’t pet you. Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me."

He finally tosses Gus off his leg and Gus runs away impressively fast for a cat if his size.

Tim yells out across the batcave, "I never thought I could hate a cat until I met you!"

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Six

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,2k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, blood, unusual and dangerous use of a knife, revenge, violence, explicit and dirty language, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! In this chapter there will be a slight change for MC, I hope you will enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think! 💜

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

"How is she?"

The dark-haired boy lifted his eyes to Seokjin, who was staring at him with his hands in his pockets, still dressed smartly and wearing perfectly polished-toed shoes.

"They stitched her up and now they're giving her an IV, she's lost too much blood," was Jimin's laconic reply, who was leaning against the wall of the waiting room pondering what to do.

They were in a private clinic, there was no danger of awkward questions; it belonged to a cousin of Seokjin's. That was where they went when they urgently needed a doctor.

"And what are you going to do with Ester?"

"I was just about to talk about her," he broke off from the wall, "She's one of your girls, but she disrespected me, Jin."

"You don't want to kill her," Seokjin said, although it was clear from his tone that he wasn't all that interested, but Jimin shook his head and the man relaxed his shoulders; every woman present at the Dark Moon was a big, juicy source of income.

"I want to teach her what respect is for me and my orders, I won't allow just any whore to challenge a decision of mine," he said harshly.

"You're right, besides it might stir up the others to do the same in case there are further jealousies" he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, irritated, "All right, instruct her" he gave his consent and made to turn on his heels and leave, but Jimin blocked him.

"I'll take her."

"How?" he had heard perfectly well, but he wanted to push him to be more detailed.

"You made me a proposition and this is my last answer, I'll take her."

Because the Dark Moon was a den of snakes and she would only be safe in his arms.

"I'll prepare the bow, then," smiled Jin, Jimin snorted, smiling faintly.

Then she saw him leave and his smile faded, he had a score to settle with Ester and it didn't take him long to return to the Dark Moon, Namjoon greeted him with a look of understanding.

"Hanon locked her in her room, all she did was scream and throw objects everywhere."

Just the thought of such a scene irritated the man.

"I'll give her a good reason to scream if she cares that much," he hissed, Namjoon nodded, knowing his friend, he would not go lightly.

When he entered the room that had seen better days, Jimin found a mad woman inside, messy locks fell across her red, furious face, and broken and bruised objects were scattered everywhere, victims of Ester's rage.

The woman stopped only at the sight of the man stuck on the threshold watching her; Jimin's expression was indecipherable, but his eyes were harder than ice, a detail that made the young woman's lips tighten.

Jimin took two steps inside the bedroom, closing the door behind him, turned the key already in the lock slowly, and a boulder dropped on her stomach.

"Jimin..." the nasal voice because of the hysterical crying and the punch she had received sounded whiny, which did not faze him.

"Ester" dropped the key into one of his pockets and gave it his undivided attention, "Tell me, Ester.... That stupid scene, what do you think it would have led to?"

The girl swallowed, suddenly frozen.

"I asked you nicely to take care of her, to explain things to her," continued Jimin calmly, "And instead you send her to the hospital," he chuckled without amusement.

Ester did not know what to say, she felt only cruel satisfaction in knowing that Y/N's condition was so critical as to require qualified medical attention.

The bitch had to be punished, she thought.

"How do you explain this?"

"I'm yours," asserted the woman simply, "You shouldn't have let her take my place, who is she? You don't even know her, she doesn't know what you like in bed, and even if she did she wouldn't be able to satisfy you, you've been looking for me all along," she growled through tears, Jimin raised an amused eyebrow.

Perhaps Y/N did not know what he liked in bed, but for what little he had had her, she had managed to give him an unforgettable blowjob; Ester's jealousy amused and irritated him at the same time.

Ester could claim to be his, but he certainly did not belong to her.

"I don't know how true that can be," the man crossed his legs, "You say you're mine, but I've seen you satisfy many other men before and after me...besides, who says I've only ever sought you out?" he asked with a smile, remembering vividly that he had had sex with countless other women. The fact that at the Dark Moon he had chosen Ester as his favorite had been totally random; everyone had chosen a girl and he had done the same, choosing one of the prettiest and best. He didn't think that this would make her head swell.

"You've come back to me now," remarked the woman, giving no sign of having listened to a single word Jimin said, blatantly pretending.

The boy remained impassive a few moments before opening his legs slightly.

"Come here," he patted his own powerful thigh wrapped in tight dark pants, Ester remained interdicted and guarded, making the boy snort, "Don't make me repeat myself," he hissed.

The woman took a few steps in his direction, when she saw that Jimin had no strange intentions she became braver, even going so far as to sit on the man who waited patiently for her.

"Lively little girl," he smiled sweetly, arranging a few strands behind her ear, Ester's heart beat inexorably, enchanted by the heavenly vision that was Jimin, "Repeat to me what you told me at first."

As if bewitched by the boy's charm, Ester repeated his words once more, "I am yours..." Jimin nodded, leaving a kiss on the woman's neck.

"Again, Ester," the woman threw her head back under the tender strokes of Jimin's tongue along her skin, inside she exulted in lust.

"I'm yours...!" she moaned when her intimacy came in contact with Jimin's cock, she felt the tip press against her core through the tight fabric, Ester shuddered at the idea of being able to enjoy that rapturous hardness once more and vibrated excitedly when Jimin pushed her against the bed, straddling her body.

"Say it again and again..." he whispered hoarsely, touching the intimacy of the young woman, who arched her back at the contact, thrusting her hips against his hand, which crossed the barrier of her dress to tickle her clit directly.

Long moans dispersed through the room, Ester not holding back from letting everyone know what was going on in there, as if to prove that Jimin never intended to punish her, that she would always remain his favorite.

That is, until Jimin's fingers were replaced by something icy, smooth, and hard that penetrated her slit.

She had not even noticed that the boy had retrieved the object, nor did she know where he got it from or what it was.

Maybe it was-

"Stop moving like a bitch in heat," Jimin ordered her, Ester frowned, she was about to cum, why would she stop-, "Stop if you don't want me to slice you, Ester" was his final warning.

"Jimin, what-"

"Go ahead, say again that you're mine-until you yourself realize the bullshit you keep babbling," he hissed, scrutinizing her cruelly with a derisive smile, his hand made the object penetrate deeper, which caused Ester to squint.

Jimin's words confused her-what game was he playing? And most importantly...

"What do you have in your hand, Jimin?"

"Are you referring to the thing you're sucking up so easily? Hmm... in my opinion you can get there," he said vaguely getting no answer, he huffed, "Come on... you always asked me to give it to you, which is impossible given the rules here at the Dark Moon," he chuckled, holding the base tightly.

At those words Ester blanched.

The switchblade that Jimin always carried with him.

"Jimin... this is a joke, isn't it?" she asked tensely, the boy replied by pressing the knife handle harder against her walls, just a simple gesture and the blade would snap like a spring.

"A whore without a pussy would be worthless," reasoned Jimin, there Ester had confirmation that the man was serious, she began to tremble and break into a cold sweat.

If before pleasure was the only thing she felt, now terror had encompassed every fiber of her body.

"Jimin, please..." she cried tremblingly, but the boy shushed her.

"Your arrogance has always disgusted me, Ester.... but your disobedience is the worst thing about you, I've always let it go because it was pleasurable to fuck you, but now I can't see what attracted me to you anymore," he spat, "Do you want it fast or slow?" he asked mellifluously, smiling fearfully.

Ester quickly denied with her head, she was a lake of tears and unrestrained sobs, "Don't! I-I won't give you any more trouble, I swear, I swear!" she screamed breathlessly, unable to move her body because of the terror she was feeling.

The man after a few moments moved away, withdrawing his weapon accordingly, Ester relaxed slightly before she felt a hissing sound cleave the air and something liquid dripping from one of her cheeks.

Wide-eyed she brought a trembling hand to her face and with a horrible foreboding saw blood, she was breathless when she realized what had happened.

Jimin watched uninterestedly as the woman's despair, her face scarred, ran to the mirror to ascertain her condition, he saw her collapse on her own knees amid sobs and cries, the only thing he felt was annoyance at that scene which he said was ridiculous. She had touched Y/N's face, he had done the same to hers. Permanently.

"You'll be able to satisfy clients with perversions like that, too, aren't you happy?"

He walked out of the room as he entered it, meeting Namjoon's gaze.

"I hope you haven’t damaged it too much."

Jimin shrugged, "Clients care about what's between her legs, she was unsightly even before," Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"I'll go get someone to treat her, she's screaming more than before," he hissed holding the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers.

Jimin patted him twice before heading out of the brothel, ready to finish the job he had started.

The man cast a glance at the woman sitting in the back seat, she was still dazed from the medication that prevented her from feeling pain, she stood staring out of the tinted windows.

A large medical patch covered her entire cheek, just as a bandage wrapped her head tightly and securely.

At her side Taehyung made sure she did not attempt any strange moves; the boy was dressed in casual clothes unlike the young woman who was wearing only pajamas and slippers.

It was nighttime, Jimin had made sure to pick her up in a safe time frame for everyone so as not to raise even the slightest doubt.

"Where do you think I'm taking you?" broke the silence Jimin, Y/N barely lifted her head.

"To the Dark Moon, that's where I belong, isn't it?" she replied apathetically, a slow smile lapped the young male's face.

"You got it wrong this time, honey," he said, leaving her interjected.

"What do you mean?"

"I found a better use for you," he chuckled, almost breathing in the fear of the poor girl, who upset cast a glance at Taehyung.

She hadn't known him long, but in the clinic when she was surrounded by doctors, he had given her the impression that he was a calm and lucid man, or so she thought, although she remembered perfectly well that if Jimin wasn't there, then Taehyung himself would be there to give her that "checkup."

"Calm down, kitten, if he wanted to hurt you, he would have already done so, right?" he affirmed, instantly procuring a glare of lightning from Y/N.

"He did hurt me," she huffed inviperately, squeezing herself into her seat.

Jimin looked at her from the mirror, studying the woman's emaciated contours, her lips tightened into a line were a sign of her strange inner turmoil.

He did not want to get to the point of hurting her again, yet the way he had been raised left no room for pity, if she tried any bullshit he would pay for every single consequence.

After a few kilometers the car stopped in front of a seemingly very luxurious apartment establishment, a garage opened up for them and Jimin wasted no time in getting in, Taehyung on the other hand did not lose sight of every corner of the street, although from the angelic faces they remained gentlemen of the underworld. Seokjin as already specified had his hands full just about everywhere, dealing not only in his brothel - a source of more than excellent income - but also in dealing and often murder for hire.

There were not exactly a few of their enemies.

Y/N squared off with a bad feeling the other cars present-where had they taken her?

"Get her out," ordered Jimin, Taehyung opened his door first and going around he allowed the woman to get out as well, holding her firmly by the arm, not only to prevent her from escaping - she had nowhere to go given the enclosed space they were in - but also because he was unsure of her strength, the young woman in fact was unsteady on her own legs.

Out of the corner of his eye Jimin noticed that Taehyung was about to take her in his arms, which inexplicably irritated him. He knew that his friend had no interest in the girl, but that did not stop him from harshly jerking the other away from her to take her personally in his arms stunning not only Taehyung, but Y/N herself, who tried to shrink as much as possible under his dark gaze. The man's grip was firm, but she felt herself falling into the arms of her tormentor.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked with a knot in her throat; Jimin did not answer immediately.

First he climbed stairs that led them to a larger door, from that opened a long, dimly lit hallway and then more stairs to climb until they reached a landing with an elevator.

When they entered and the doors closed he finally spoke.

"You are in your new home."

A thousand questions poured into Y/N's head, confused and agitated. Had she been sold? So, is this how it was going to end?

She had basically ended up like her sister, she thought sorrowfully, regretting several times the absurd idea of looking for a similar job to support herself.

"More to the point, you are in your new home, yours and Jimin's," Taehyung chuckled, as the elevator doors opened to show a series of numbered, digitally locking doors.

"What?"

Taehyung typed a code on the keypad on the door with the number 7, which opened with a soft, almost imperceptible click.

The first thing the woman saw was a spacious, modern living room with an L-shaped sofa of soft dark leather that drew all the attention to itself.

"What does that mean?"

Jimin made a sign to his friend, who understood instantly. He wanted to be alone with Y/N.

"I'm off, see you soon kitten," he greeted her before disappearing, carefully closing the door behind him, the resulting sound no longer sounding so soft to Y/N's ears.

She felt she was being teased.

"What does that mean?" she repeated more somberly, Jimin took a seat on the sofa, crossing his legs in a pose that screamed elegance and power.

"I bought you, that's what it means."

It was a lie, Seokjin had made a gift of her to Jimin, but the latter with that statement tried to give himself an intimidating aura, buying a person after all was not something everyday, one had to be a powerful and influential person to do so, the man wanted her to feel fear in his presence.

She was stunned, "Why would you do that? You hate me, you find me useless! Is this another way to torture me?" she hissed with tears in her eyes, "You made me lose everything, what more do you want from me?"

She was broken.

She had run away from a monster to save her sister, but she had lost her and had been humiliated in more ways than one by Jimin and his former lover, if she could have ended it to avoid more suffering she would have taken the chance.

"I don't hate you, silly," sighed Jimin as he took off his jacket, "You irritate me with your stubborn attitude, but I don't hate you...it's other people I reserve my poison for, it's precious, it's the fuel that gets me going, my beautiful girl" he got up from his seat to go pour himself a few shots of vanilla rum, the crystal mini bar displayed his small but expensive collection of drinks, they were mostly classic brands, Jimin must have been an experienced drinker.

He sipped slowly from his glass, the plump, glossy lips matched perfectly with the transparent rim, soaking up the amber liquid, the piercing tapped lightly against the crystalline surface. Y/N imagined the sinful taste they had, wondered why she had not met him in his angel form, why she was given the devil, after the hell she had already been accustomed to.

"And then..." he continued, "I wouldn't let you stay at the Dark Moon a minute longer, I've already told you that but maybe it's better to refresh your memory," he murmured as he approached, the girl took small steps back, nothing compared to the male's two strides, "I won't let any other man get his hands on you, I want you and consequently you belong to me," he said casting a languid glance at the woman's lips.

"And what will you do in case you get tired of me?" she provoked him.

Jimin's eyes darkened, "What should I do with a stupid little girl like you?" he asked, not answering her question.

Neither of them would have liked the answer.

He took a lock of her soft hair in his fingers, bringing it to his nose he inhaled its light fragrance, the hospital had turned the girl off. He decided to leave her alone for the time being, she needed to recover, and from her thin, depressed appearance he guessed it would take quite some time.

"Here is a room with a bathroom for you, you will also find clean clothes, you may go," he turned away from her, who resumed breathing normally. Jimin was lethal and she feared it was not for one simple reason.

It may have sounded absurd, but no matter how much her instincts screamed at her to escape from the clutches of that monster, a much darker part of her could not stop pointing out its bewitching and sinful aspect.

Hers was a desire that had to be kept silent and hidden inside the closet because it was shameful and sick.

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

Playing with her hair - Vada Cavell X Reader

Y/N's POV:

"Why are people in horror movies so dumb!" my girlfriend Vada complains, "Like in the real world no one is stupid enough to do ANY of this. Like, no one would even pick up the phone in the first place!"

"Uh huh," I say to the girl sprawled out across my lap and the rest of the couch, not fully paying attention to what she's saying. I'm more focused on counting her freckles. A while ago, the question of how many freckles she had started to interest me and ever since it's been hard to get the idea out of my mind.

68...

69...

70...

"Y/N/N, are you listening to me?" she asks, breaking my trance, "am I rambling again, I'm sorry."

"Don't be! You're cute when you ramble," I reassure her. She looks over at me, a huge smile creeping over her face, her beautiful brown eyes shimmering in the dim light.

"In that case, I'm gonna keep going," she tells me, "what kind of dumbass decides it's a good idea to let their younger than six year old kid go out of the house alone on a rainy day!"

"Bad ones, I guess," I say absentmindedly. We keep on watching the movie we have on, neither of us really focused on it. without even thinking of it, my hands make their way to her hair.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Messing with your hair," I admit.

"Oh my god, are we acting like a normal couple?" she gasps.

"Do you not like it?"

"No!" she exclaims, "please don't stop."

"Oh my god, can I style it?"

"As long as it's not too fancy," she insists. One of the first things I ever learned about Vada is how much she hates looking fancy. She doesn't like the tight fitting "feminine" clothing, or the way makeup feels on her face. She hates the way her hair gets tightly pulled into an uncomfortable style, and then gelled into place. What's even worse is if she has to do all three of those TOGETHER. So I'm making it a point to keep it fairly informal, but still neat. 

I run my fingers through her dark brunette locks, trying to get the various knots out.

"Ow!" that one hurt!" she squeals.

"Sorry, oh my god are you okay?" I apologize, hoping I haven't hurt her too bad.

"I guess," she says sadly.

"Will this make it better?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She looks up at me smiling, "so much better." I brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continue styling it. She climbs into my lap, facing away from me so I can better access her hair.

I start parting her hair, so that there's an even amount of it on each side of her face.

"Oh my god Beverly get out of that house!" Vada screams, practically jumping up at the television, "I swear these people are so dumb."

"Vada, baby, you need to sit slightly still for this to look good," I say softly.

"Fine," she pouts, "why is you doing this kind of relaxing?"

"Maybe I just have that effect on you," I suggest.

"No, normally you make me so excited and happy, like a little kid seeing a bunch of candy and a lot of stuffies!"

"Aww, that's cute," I smile, my face getting warm.

"You're the best girlfriend ever," she compliments me, "I don't know how I wound up with someone as beautiful and funny and all around amazing as you."

"Maybe it's because you're the best girlfriend ever," I suggest.

"No you are!"

"No you!" We continue to argue about who's the better girlfriend, eventually realizing that we'd never get the other to agree with our opinion.

I end up sorting her hair into two neat braids, not too fancy, but presentable. 

"And voila!" I say, snapping a photo of the brunette to show her how she looks. She turns around quickly to view the photo.

"I look like Wednesday Addams if she had severe PTSD," she laughs, "but seriously, I love it."

"You do look like that!" I cackle, "what a funny coincidence!"

"Thank you, Y/N/N. I love it," she smiles softly, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"Sure thing, it was probably more fun for me than it was for you," I giggle.

"Well you can play with my hair anytime," she offers.

"Haha! You're gonna regret making that offer," I tell her.

[angelltheninth]

Symbiotic Relations

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, pinned to the wall, cunnilingus, fear play, size difference, dirty talk, alien anatomy, monsterfucking because it's Venom

Word count: 2.1k

Ao3

A/N: Venom is one of the more safe things I felt like writing for the monsterfucking thing.

Venom was more than used to seeing some crazy, weird things. Not just as Eddie but also as a Symbiote. From superpowered criminals, to red killer Symbiotes, to getting trapped temporarily in a different universe. There's very little that could surprise Venom at this point. Actually swinging through the city at night was some of the most relaxing things for him right now, at least he could see the crazy things coming that way.

He spotted you as well. All alone in an alleyway. Smelling absolutely delicious.

"And what do we have here?" His rough, deep voice started you, but not more then looking up at the wall and seeing his hulking form walking on all fours down the wall, "It's not safe for you out there. Don't you know that missy?" His white eyes narrowed at you, his mouth grinning to expose sharp teeth which looked like they could bite you in half if he tried.

You shivered at the sight of him, "I was just taking a walk. It helps me with stress you see. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"We understand. It's calming isn't it? The cool night air on your skin, how silent the city is at this time of night?" He tilted his head to the side a little as he crawled closer, his face now very close to yours, "Although we never travel around with no underwear on."

"How-how did you..." Your eyes widened in horror, thinking that he might have some sort of x-ray vision. You pressed your hands to your front and looked up at him, embarrassed. "I'm not a pervert. I just wanted to know what it feels like alright? It's a thrill."

"So you're a thrill seeker are you missy? It helps you ease your stress? Well..." He licked his long tongue around his lips, "We can help with that if you'd like."

You took a step back as he jumped down in front of you, standing tall above you. He looked big before but now as you see him standing before you, Venom must be at least double your size of not more. Your thighs clenched and rubbed together at the thought of him doing anything with you. Oh there was curiosity there for sure, but also fear that he might hurt you.

Somehow though that fear only seemed to make you more interested in him.

"You... you're a hero right? I've seen you on the news, you wouldn't hurt me?" At least you hoped that was the case because you knew full well just by looking at his stature that you can't outrun him.

"Hero? Hm... if that's what you want to call us. We are Venom. Nothing more and nothing less. In this care however, I believe we ca be very helpful." He offered his hand to you, and you could see that the difference between you even before you accepted. His hand easily wrapped not just around your hand but also around your wrist and part of your arm.

Instead of him pulling you into him he pushed and pinned you against the wall, his hand keeping a light pressure on both your wrists while he moved your legs around his shoulders. His hand wrapped around your thigh, sharp claws digging into your soft flesh. "We can smell your arousal already. We'd hate to keep you waiting.

You felt something wet and gooey on your wrists. Upon looking up you realized he webbed up your wrists to the wall with his web. It felt cold, and despite it looking elastic it kept your wrists firmly pinned to the cold brick wall despite you squirming against it.

"Relax. You're such a pretty little thing, we don't want to hurt you." Despite this you still found his teeth nipping at your inner thigh, sharp points scraping and dragging against your skin, laving goosebumps in their wake. "Are you excited by this? You're about to get railed against a wall in the middle of an alley, where someone could pass by and see, and you're dripping wet, moments away from being a whimpering mess. Do you still think you're not a pervert?"

"I... I don't know. I think I'm just..." Your voice caught in your throat while you watched him tear off your pants, actually tear them to tiny shreds and pull off your shoes, his hand closing around your leg, his fingers comfortably touching each other. You could feel yourself dripping, you saw his toothy smirk, "Adventurous."

"You should be honest with yourself. It's alright. We won't judge. We already know the truth." Venom's tongue licks long, slow stripe up your legs, the tip barely moving through your folds. "Tasty."

He dove in tongue first between your thighs, slurping and licking with gusto. Almost too much of it in fact. His tongue didn't even fit inside you the whole way, yet you could feel it moving inside you, hitting your sweet spot every time it flicked in and out.

It might be to to the size of him but you couldn't help but lean your head back and let your moans escape, moaning every time he moved his head and growled appreciatively into your cunt.

"Holy shit." You couldn't help but wrap your legs tight around his head, to buck your hips into his face. You got the sense that no matter how enthusiastic he was with eating you out, he was still being careful not to dig his teeth and claws into you. The fact that he too was clearly beyond horny and could break you in half but was still holding back just for you was a huge turn on. "I'm close. Please, more."

"Now you're being honest. Very good." The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, a little too fast and too hard. He did it twice. Thrice. And then pressed the flat of his tongue over it, vibrating it just a little and you were done. Lost in the almost mind-numbing pleasure while riding his face. "Quiet sweetheart. You need to keep quiet."

"I don't think I can." You were being honest, "Do you have a... uhm..."

Venom chuckled, "Oh yes. If you liked my tongue, my cock will blow you fragile human mind. But I think you're looking forward to it."

His face moved away, wet and slick with your cum. He moved back and let you take him in. His muscular body, broad shoulders, rock solid abs, and a huge fucking cock, standing tall and proud between his legs.

Just like the rest of him it was jet black, clearly vainy and throbbing. You couldn't see any balls on him but you did see the white cum leaking from the broad head. It already looked like it was more then just pre-cum, in fact he was making a little puddle of it on the floor. He stepped closer, strong hands spreading your legs apart and shooting his web to pin your thighs to the wall, keeping them spread for him but his hands free to touch and roam.

He was putting you on display for him. He wanted to drink your body in. He was making it so you can't move and can't take your own pleasure, to be at the mercy of him and his cock. And it was working, it was making you want him more. You tried to buck you hips against him the moment you felt the tip of his cock pushing inside you.

"Look at how wet you are. You're getting our cock all slick. Let's see how much of it you can take." There was a slightly sadistic undertone to his already gruff voice. Granted he knew he was too big for you so he did start slow, but that didn't make the stretch any less painful.

He was barely half way in when you whimpered in pain, "Stop, I... I can't... you're too big." You wanted to take in more, but it was becoming more painful than pleasurable.

"That's fine. Look down here, see how much of us you were able to take. You did very good. More then we thought you could. You deserve to be rewarded. But first..." He shot the gooey web towards your face and shut your mouth closed, "Don't worry, this is just so you don't get too loud. Feel free to moan for us, as much as you want." His hands closed around your waist, so big that they encircled all of you, caressing and stroking up and down to ease your fear. "Haven't we proved we have no intention of harming you. Just let go, let us fuck your brains out. Let us give you the satisfaction you deserve."

Venom pulled back slow, thrusting in gently, sighing and grunting when he felt your inner walls wrapping around his length. The fill was still painful but his restrained pace made it easier to adjust too. You should have been scared honestly, being suspended, trapped, legs spread for him. Yet all you felt the growing need for him to do more, to fuck you harder, to absolutely ruin you, to break you.

As if he read your mind he bucked his hips harder into yours, each thrust more forceful than the last. It was no longer painful, it was a lot, but it wasn't painful. Maybe it was your body going almost numb everywhere but your pussy, where you could feel everything, every thrust, every twitch and throb, every pulsing vein, every drop of cum.

Even your mind was going numb from the ecstatic feeling of Venom fucking you like a toy, treating you gently yet making sure you won't be able to walk. The contradiction of his hands around your hips keeping you still and the railing pace at which he rammed his cock inside you made your eyes roll into the back of your head and fresh tears run down your cheek from the stimulation.

"Crying now are you? If your mouth was open would be slobbering too? You're like a bitch in heat. Good thing we're here to satisfy you. And we are aren't we? I bet it won't be enough. Tell you what, meet me here in this alley every night and I'll keep fucking you senseless. Sounds good?" He was offering you more? More of this? More of his cock and tongue and teeth and claws? Every night?

Since you can't talk right now you nod your head as fast as you can. Your walls start to clench and spasm around him, trying to suck his dick in impossibly deeper. You mumbled against the web gag but it all came out as senseless moans, echoing into almost screaming.

"Do you think we can fill you up? Don't worry you won't get pregnant from us, we just want to see you overflowing with our cum." You tried to roll your hips towards him, "We'll take that as a yes. Brace yourself."

He leaned up and dissolved the web around your mouth, his cock not rutting into you with brutal force. You watched as the black costume around his mouth pulled back in thick black ropes of web to reveal a slightly stubbly chin and a grinning mouth, "Good girl. You'll be my... our lovely toy." His voice was still ruff but not nearly as much.

"Yes. Yes, please, as long as you fuck me like this. I'll do anything." Your mind was in a fog of lust, your whimpers silenced by Venom's mouth pressing against yours, now it was a human tongue pressing against yours, licking and calming your mouth as his while his cock and cum claimed your cunt.

He pulled back, the black web once again covering his mouth, giving him those sharp, pointy teeth. "You're so good for us. So willing to be taken and fucked. We like you." He growled though his release, his cock slick, making obscene wet, sloppy, dirty sounds as he smacked fucked you full of his cum.

Once he finally slowed down to a stop your mind was still spinning, your warm body trembling against the wall. He pulled out completely, his cock seemingly absorbed into his tight suit. The webs that held you dissolved into nothing, leaving you to collapse against him, a shaking mess, your pussy hole full, flowing and spilling his cum into the concrete floor.

"I'll take you home. You're in no shape or state of dress to walk now." His head cradled the back of your head, enveloping almost your entire skull. "Sleep and rest. But don't forget our deal."

"I won't." You said breathlessly, "There's no way I'll forget you." You didn't, and you kept your end of the deal, meeting Venom every night and eventually meeting Eddie every night, for a rough and thorough fucking session.

[spacexseven]

Hey! just wanted to say that I love your blog, your writing and opinions are a blessing! I don't know if this counts as a request (I know they are closed, so don't mind me if it counts as a request) but what are your thoughts about demon! Dazai and Demon! Chuuya?

i just got reminded of obey me after reading this lol :< sorry devildom

cw: yandere characters, murder in chuuya's part

demon dazai is as insufferable as you'd expect, clinging onto the edges of your dreams and trying to beckon you over with sweet, sweet promises (all of which, naturally, are lies). he invades your space at any given moment, spreading his influence all over your home, your mind, and your body. don't complain—wasn't it you who summoned him?

maybe you thought it was a silly joke, some decrepit book you found in the back of a crumbling bookstore; after all, who'd have thought that all it took to summon a demon was a random assortment of objects and a dark room? regardless, it works, and now there's a real demon in your room and he's staring at you with the creepiest grin that's definitely going to haunt you. nobody told you that it'd be this horrible to have a demon around. dazai, as you find out, has a wide range of abilities apart from being freakishly big and a pain in the ass.

you find out about his ability to infiltrate minds the painful way when one day, while you're sulking about how unlucky you were to get this annoying freeloader of a demon stuck on earth, you feel a strange fog fill your mind, latching onto your every thought and slowly tainting them all. suddenly, you find yourself thinking that dazai's...pretty attractive, with his sculpted hands and his sharp gaze and his...malicious grin...? you're snapped out of your spiral to the sound of dazai's uncontrollable laughter, sharp teeth out on display. it occurs to you then that the sudden feeling of undeniable attraction was one of his stupid tricks, and you had never felt more embarrassed. but even after that, you couldn't silence that strange voice in your mind, the one that fanatically worshipped dazai at every moment like a fervent devotee of a great god. things were only made worse by the fact that dazai always seemed to know exactly how to make it grow worse, coming far too close to you and stroking your face with too-warm hands. then, he starts marking his territory in bizarre ways. you'd come home to find him rolling around in your sheets, declaring it to be his bed now and that you could always ask him nicely to share if you wanted him to. he messed around with your things constantly, scribbling symbols on the wall that he claimed were to protect you from other demons, and even offered to mark you, to your horror.

dazai, you hate to admit, is wonderful at luring you in with enticing words, promising you an abundance of anything you could ever want in exchange for allowing him to possess you at will. he's particularly good at easing you in, voice soft, hands cradling you, words purposeful and tempting—but the moment he mentioned anything about possession, however, the fantasy shattered and you ran out of his arms, managing to wipe clean your mind of his saccharine whispers.

he takes competition very seriously. while he loves playing with you, he doesn't want anyone else to see the same expressions you show him; your delight, your irritation, your shock—did you even know how adorable you were? the day you happen to invite a friend over, however, is when you learn that out of all his numerous abilities and skills, the one dazai's best at is the most gruesome, and the more violent one by far.

chuuya's a bit of a strange case. apparently, you've got yourself some enemies, and they thought that the best way to torment you was by sticking a demon onto you through a complicated process, and now, chuuya's forced to be with you...for eternity.

"i don't want to be here either," he snarled, fangs out and eyes glaring at you in response to your earlier screams.

you guessed he was supposed to kill you, but he only shrugs and turns away from you, saying that he won't be taking orders from a puny little human. according to chuuya, humans are foolish and weak little creatures, and he has no interest in abiding by their desires. for all his talk, however, it becomes painfully obvious that he can't actually go against the wishes of the curser, who had wanted him to torment you forever. he must be livid, knowing that he was under the orders of an insignificant, selfish human.

you liked to think that the two of you were...getting along, or at least, he could stand your presence in the same room without threatening to kill you and unleash eternal torment onto your bloodline. but with time, he seemed to relax around you, and you saw that there was more to chuuya than the angry, brooding exterior. for one, he was a big fan of wine, spending an exorbitant amount of money on bottles and bottles. he also seemed to delight in scaring you, loving to keep you on edge. his favorite trick is always when you're waking up from sleep, your dreams haunted by him. before you can fully sober up, he lets out a growl, watching with glee as you freeze up and shoot back under the covers. you realized belatedly that he really was doing what he was supposed to do here—make your life a living hell.

but sometimes, he does things you can't understand. despite his obvious disdain for his current situation, he refused to help you find ways to actually end the curse. when you're finally told that the person who cast the curse may be the only one who can lift it, chuuya disappears for the night without a word. the next day, he comes to you with a wicked grin, clothes painted a dark red and fingernails crusted with brown. in his hands, what you can identify as a head.

[thinemoonshine]

𓆰𝒶 𝒷𝓊𝒹 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, tiny fluff, angst, slowburn type: series (but can also be read as a oneshot) word count: 1,785

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 2 of series

Cha Hyun Su never really stands out in Green Home Apartment- both literally and figuratively. One, because he rarely comes out of his room, and the other is simply because he never bothers to socialize. So when he suddenly becomes this sort of 'saviour' for the residents when the mysterious monster outbreak started, naturally, he gathered attention- both good and bad.

Because he is in fact, abnormal. A paradox. He's an infected; a monster, the humans' common enemy and yet he's also a hero. And humans fear those that are unusual— even when they themselves have seen the goodness in his capabilities. Because as people tend to go, they prefer to see the cup as half empty, especially during these dire times.

So they use him— telling him to go on missions and retrieve items for themselves, ordering him here and there only to keep him isolated in the quarantine room right after. All this, just to make sure they're the ones who have the upper hand, they're the ones who have authority over this monster.

(y/n) is no different. She too sees the benefit of using Hyun Su to fulfill their needs and wants because after all, he's part-monster. If the other residents were to go instead, there'd be higher possibility they'd wind up killed or injured. But Hyun Su? He heals, dies less easily and has his monstrous quirks so what's the harm?

Is what (y/n) thinks as she stands in front of the isolation room with an energy bar in hand and a bottle of water filling just a quarter of it.

"...10 minutes. That's all you get," Eunhyuk says as he leans beside the door with arms crossed— looking down at (y/n) who nods at his words. His cryptic gaze flicker between her eyes before sighing and massaging his temple. "I'll be out here."

He unlocks the door and (y/n) slips right in, wanting to use the best she can get from the limited time but as soon as the door closes, her steps slow- surveying the dreary room that mimics the doleful dispositions of its members; which in this case is Hyun Su and the dour old man lying asleep on the lone couch at the far side of the room.

"Hyun Su," (y/n) starts and the said male lifts his head from his knees, shocked to see a healthy human inside this 'infected' room.

"(y/n)..." He mumbles and she feels a slight tug in her heart at the sound of his soft, seemingly withdrawn whisper. A strong urge to empty her already vacant stomach drowns her and she swallows. A sickening, bubbling feeling climbs up her throat as she stares down at his diffident form- round, doe eyes gazing up at her like a lost soul.

‘Guilty?’ Her own voice echoes but manages to pull a smile onto her face.

"I should've visited you earlier. I'm sorry," she apologizes sincerely and approaches- causing him to flinch before falling into a silent fluster. He scrambles left and right, not knowing whether he's allowed to be close to her. He's a threat, they all treat him like a virus and he can't help but admit that he might just be exactly that.

That is, until (y/n) captures his wrist before he can stand and he freezes entirely with widened eyes staring at her with horror.

"Don't—"

"Come. Let's have you eat something," (y/n) casually says and parks herself right beside him. "Here."

Hyun Su accepts the energy bar and drink on his open palms (graciously spread by (y/n)) while he stares at her curiously, almost scrutinizingly, and (y/n) would be lying if she says she isn't affected.

Those kind, gentle eyes and that unmistakably beautiful visage— she's melting. But she doesn't deserve to, he's much too good for selfish her.

"Thank you," he mumbles and that similar, painful strain occurs inside her again- but much more excruciating, disgusting, that her mien subconsciously twists and brows meet. He notices. "Are you okay?"

"What?" (y/n) croaks out and immediately purses her lips together. She can't. The guilt and loathe festering and rotting away her insides are catching up to her— devouring her whole being.

'What's the harm?? How could I ever think that? This... He's a human too,' she mourns in her head and is pulled out of it at the feeling of a warm sleeve pressing on her cheek. But the moment she looks at him, he retracts his hand and stumbles backward with his arm holding him upright on his seat- seemingly shocked at himself.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry... Sorry, I just, I— I won't... do it again," he hastily apologizes- no, pleads, for forgiveness almost, as he brings his eyes to the ground between them.

(y/n) furrows and touches her cheek- feeling the fresh tears before focusing back at his curled figure. "Why are you apologizing?"

He takes a moment to reply- taking his time staring at the cold floor before his fingers curl to a fist against it. "...You don't have to come here anymore."

"What?"

Is he... kicking her out? Forbidding her from coming here? It baffles her.

"You were forced to come here, weren't you? To... to accompany me or something, so that I'll keep doing the missions. But, you don't have to. I'll do whatever I'm told so you don't have to act nice for me. So please... don't be afraid," he requests politely- too politely for someone who thinks that he's being played with.

(y/n) shakes her head, puzzled, and sees him glancing at Eunhyuk from the corner of his eye- noticing him who's standing by the door. ‘Oh...’

"No, that's not it! I wanted to come here on my own accord. I'm not acting nice or—" 'Am I not?' Her thoughts intrude once more and her chest tightens- breaths shortening. "Listen, I actually here for my own selfish reasons. No one ordered me to and neither is it to get you on your good side or anything. Fact is, I felt guilty. "All this time, I did nothing but agree to let you go off on those dangerous missions on your own. I thought that it was better you than anybody else but that was selfish of me. None of us, even myself, we didn't even bother to stop and think how you must be feeling. How scared you may be. It's not like you chose this for yourself. We didn't even thank you for saving us. We never did because... we saw you as a tool, not as a person and I— Hyun Su, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," (y/n)'s voice turns weaker and fainter towards the end— shattering and squeaking like a creaky door.

Maybe it's his overwhelming goodness that suffocated her when she entered the room, or the pure, earnest gaze he wears but at the moment, she felt like an entire villain. And it feel so, so revolting. It makes her wonder how Hyun Su must've felt when he discovered he was infected; to accept his fate that he is a monster.

A series of apology leaves her as her eyes brim with tears- although refusing to face him, she can feel his burning gaze on him.

Cha Hyun Su was, to be honest, conflicted. He's upset because of course, he's noticed how he's only being used by them and he also knows that he's being treated as less than human but at the same time, he's upset that he can't really do anything about it even if he wanted to because truth is, he doesn't have the heart to hurt them.

Yet despite that, he is also... glad. Glad that someone is being entirely honest with him. Relieved that there's someone he can potentially trust, someone he can confide in just like how she's confided in him. He's happy that... he too might just have someone to rely on.

Someone who's brave enough to approach him, hold him, sit right next to him, and pour their heart out to him who is a monster. And this... this means much more to him than anything.

"...Thank you," he mumbles and he's oh so grateful when she finally turns to look at him. At her confused hum, he says louder, "Thank you."

Her face of pure befuddlement that seems to scream, 'Are you crazy? I poured my heart out and admitted I saw you less as human and you say thank you???' almost makes him chuckle. Almost- so instead, he smiles.

It's enough to knock the air out of her- but in a nicer way now. Not like before how she felt squeezed and suffocated from the burdening benevolence that emanated from him and amplified her guilt- but a nice breathtaking moment that belatedly alerts her that she's been staring far too long.

"You have a nice smile," is all she says before clearing her throat and whipping her face away- a gesture Hyun Su is thankful for because a second later, she would've noticed the redness blooming on his cheeks and ears.

Before he can respond however, the door swings open and in comes a strict Eunhyuk who casts his firm stare on both of them before halting at (y/n).

"10 minutes is up," is all he says and (y/n) scrambles up, embarrassed, and hurries to Hyuk's side.

The two make their way to the door, with (y/n) walking in front and Hyun Su watches intently- feeling a tug in his heart.

"(y/n)," he suddenly calls and she stops to turn- once again feeling her insides churn and yet again, a much better, positive feeling than before when she sees his blinding eyesmile.

It's the first time she's seen it- his eyes shaped into crescents, sparkling like the stars in the night sky as his face glows despite the dust and dirt painting his skin in streaks of grey.

His pale, plump lips part to speak. "Come again... soon."

(y/n)'s heart skips a beat. He's inviting her to visit him. A personal request, a choice and that makes her feel somewhat special.

Her own smile graces her face. "I will, Hyun Su."

And the door shuts between them.

note: and that's a wrap on my first ff here on tumblr!! it's a lengthy slowburn because i wanted to show that wall between them first- i mean, they are strangers at first. but anyways, i'm thinking of making more parts to this sometime soon but until then, happy reading!! ઇ♡ଓ

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[mangogobibiboo]

I love the winter drabble drive idea. how about "god, here- just hold my hand." with itoshi rin?

Movie Night w/ Rin

Itoshi Rin x Reader // Warnings: Mentions of slasher movies and bodily harm // Word Count: 600+

"god, here- just hold my hand."

This had been your idea. But damn, you were regretting it so much. Your face was hidden under the blanket as the ominous music picked up momentum. 

Rin finally had some time off: no games, practice, or interviews. You ran to him just as he finished his last set and whipped out a movie. In most cases, he would have most likely put it off, but you had hand-selected something he simply couldn't refuse. A horror movie. And one in particular that he had been dying to see.

That is how you ended up here. While Rin loves horror movies, you would watch anything else. This was your absolute last resort to get some time with your boyfriend. He had been stubbornly training even on his time off. Obviously, as an athlete, he had a certain standard to uphold, but sometimes it felt like he worked so hard out of the anxiety that he wouldn't be the best unless he pushed himself constantly. 

"If you can't even look at the screen, why did you even pick this movie, dumbass" The word may have been slightly vicious to the untrained ear, but after all these years, you know better. This was his way of saying, 'You don't have to watch it just for me.'. 

Would it kill him just to say what he was thinking? It was very lukewarm of him.

"No, no, it's okay! Plus this is the only way I can get away from that weight room" You slowly lower the blanket from your face. Not like that was any better, your eyes were still squeezed shut, and your face turned away from the TV towards RIn. 

"You can't even see what's happening; your eyes were shut for half the movie! I'm turning it off." You feel him move for the remote. 

"No! I don't have to see it; I can hear it!" You open your eyes just a tab to see EIn lean back onto the sofa, facing you. A smirk on his beautiful face. 

"Okay then, tell me what's happening." he chuckled, poising the challenge. 

You cring and pull the blanket up again at un mistake noises of knife on flesh. Of course, it could be something else, but the scream that followed meant it probably wasn't. "Well…They got in the car and drove to the forest to look for their friend. The girl got stabbed, and then the guy got stabbed, and then another guy got stabbed, who must have been random because there were only two people in the car…and now that last girl is looking for the killer, but judging by the scream she just got stabbed too!". 

"Well, they all weren't exactly stabbed; the first girl got he head ripped off-" 

"AH- la la la" you cover your ears. "I'm not listening!" Rin laughs. You finally open your eyes to witness it. You were happy he could let loose even if he was laughing at you. 

But your bliss was cut short by another scream erupting from the TV, causing you to cringe back into your blanket. 

"God, here- just hold my hand. But you have to at least look at the screen a little. No more blanket." He was still laughing as he laced his fingers through your own. You begrudgingly pull the blanket down. 

It was the least you could do. He was laughing, and he was initiating some skinship without getting nervous. It was perfect, even if that meant you couldn't sleep tonight. Now that you think about it, it would be bad, either. Now you could make your boyfriend cuddle you all night long.

A/N: Rin deserves the biggest hug and the best cuddles in the world. I just want him to know that he is good enough! Honestly, I really can't wait to see how this last game pans out the manga. OMG, and the stuff with Kunigami, too!

[nagoyatriste]

Yandere tendencies | Gepard Landau

contents: yandere behavior, insane behavior, unhealthy relationship.

pairing: Yandere! Gepard Landau x GN! Reader.

word count: 457

author note: hello! such a long time hehe, i'm feeling anxious and insecure about my writing so i feel this ended up a bit shitty t__t i also wanted to say that i have trouble using gender-neutral reader because i may accidentally use a non-neutral word! please if you see something wrong tell me so i can fix it 🙏 and i think that's all!

— Origin

Gepard is not only a member of the Silvermane Guards but also a captain, he knows the horrors of Jarilo-VI and has lost lots of comrades to show him the cruelty of Fragmentum.

You are one of the most valuable things he has in his life, and because of this having an eye on you all the time was more than a necessity, it was an insane addiction, an obsession he was willing to fulfill just for your "safety".

— Eyes on you

Sadly, Gepard's work occupied a lot of his time, the time he could spend with you, the time he could spend taking care of you. But don't worry, there's always someone looking after you! Your boyfriend handled the situation very well, sending at least one of his subordinates to watch you at all hours of the day, not only to be aware of your wellness but to monitor your actions, everything you do, everyone you talk to, even when you fixate your sight at someone, everything is notified to the Landau.

— Manipulation

Gepard's nature made it difficult to not fall for his manipulative behavior, he's just wanting the best for you! Why can't you understand that? Even if Belobog is secure now, he can't help but think about you and the things that could happen while he's on duty.

Manipulating you into staying at home, isolated from everyone just waiting for his time to arrive home and looking at the only face you're allowed to. The lonely feeling can be strong, but the happiness you feel at his arrival overcomes everything.

His sisters enable his manipulations a lot; Serval disregards his behavior, his little brother just wants to take care of his so! He's a member of the Silvermane Guards, needless to say, he knows what to do to maintain his beloved one's safety! If anyone questions his relative conduct she will drop her line: "Is not necessary to worry, Gepard knows what he's doing! And of course, it's the best for their couple"

Lynx is another case, Gepard's insane tendencies are not something he wants to show up to his little sister and Serval tends to cover him when something happens, because of this her vision of your relationship is very innocent, leading up to asking things that might provoke problems and inviting you on trips on the surroundings of the city or just to hang out! The poor little Landau doesn't know that you can't leave without your boyfriend's approval, do not even think about trips if he's not there, if you can find a way to bond with your sister-in-law without leaving the house your pair is more than okay with that!

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] On the Edge of a Waking Dream

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Dream) Rated: M Word Count: 3914 Tags: MonsterFucktoberBingo 2023, Dreamling Nation House of Horrors 2023, human Dream, ghost Hob, modern day setting, main character death, technically, is Hob a main character, the prompt is ghost so not DEAD-dead regardless, ghost character, ghost sex, sex toys, anal sex, suicidal ideation, unconventional happily-ever-after, these tags are a very mixed bag, angst in my lighthearted ghost story?, it's more likely than you think, brief appearance by Daniel Hall, brief appearance by Merv

Additional Warning: There is a conversation toward the end that dips into the subject of suicidal ideation. If you need to avoid it, it's the section that begins "Would that I could stay here forever, with you" - skip that whole section and you'll be good.

Notes: Title taken from I'll Be There, by Escape Club, 1991. This song has been on my Ficcable Songs list for more than two decades and finally I've done something with it. I'm…eugh. I think this would be better served as a longfic, but I'm. Not doing that. I'm happier with this now than I was with the initial draft, and that's good enough.

This covers Smoctober Day 9 prompt 'ghost', the Monsterfucktober square for 'ghost', and the Dreamling Nation House of Horrors prompt 'ghost'

Summary: Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

On AO3

~~~ Dream never believed in ghosts.

But then, his boyfriend became one.

Hob, his brash and boastful beautiful Hob, who'd talked of marriage once they were done with university, who'd laughed at the notion of dying and proudly declared he'd live forever. Hob, who had sworn to never leave him, had promised to be there for him always.

The universe had other ideas, unfortunately, but Hob was nothing if not adaptable.

~~~ Dream turned the key in the lock of their shared flat—just his flat, now, he supposed—numb and empty inside after the funeral. Debating the merits of crying in the shower vs going straight to bed (not their bed, not anymore) and crying himself to sleep, he pushed open the door.

The lights flicked on all by themselves.

All of the lights, in every room of the flat.

Which was disconcerting, but he was tired, and emotionally drained, and made a mental note to check with the property manager about the wiring just in case.

The electric teakettle clicked on when he entered the kitchen; convenient, as he had intended a cup of chamomile before trying to sleep, but he added the oddity to his mental note for tomorrow. Tea in hand, he leaned against the counter, gathering the static in his mind to keep from focusing with any clarity on the loss clawing his insides hollow.

When his laptop on the corner desk powered itself on, he nearly dropped his tea. With mounting apprehension he watched as the computer logged him in and…opened Spotify? Then the music started, an old song he knew well, and the apprehension turned to disbelief.

Don't be afraid, oh my love I'll be watching you from above And I'd give all the world tonight, To be with you

"This is absolutely my song," Hob had said once when it came on. "Guy loved his partner so much he refused to go when death came for him? That'd be me."

"I thought you planned to live forever?" Dream had teased, gently, and Hob had grinned.

"Well yeah, that is the plan. But if it turns out I can't, then…sticking around as a ghost, that's my contingency plan." His smile had turned warm, tender, and he'd brushed a knuckle down the side of Dream's face. "I've got to see you're getting on okay if I'm gone, haven't I?"

Because I'm on your side, And I still care I may have died, But I've gone nowhere Just think of me, And I'll be there

"Hob," Dream whispered, tears welling, something like hope sticking in his throat, and the lamp on the desk flickered. "Is that you?"

The lamp blinked out and back on, twice, and Dream let out a sob. 'Twice' had always been their non-verbal and discretionary code for affirmation, blinking or shoulder taps or hand squeezing, and the warm sense of relief that poured over Dream at this confirmation was overwhelming. "Hob…how is this possible? Am I losing my grip on reality?"

The wireless mouse moved, waggled side to side in a clear imitation of shaking one's head 'no'.

"How is this possible," Dream murmured again, turning over and over the idea that ghosts could be real, that Hob could be one. "You died; I buried you. How can you be here?"

The mouse moved in a slow deliberate arc, sketching the shape of a heart.

Oh, there's no need to cry Just think of me, And I'll be there

Dream's throat closed up and he let out a sound half-laugh, half-sob as the song soared into its final chorus.

The mouse scooted across the desk, nudged the box of tissues closer.

Hob had so often talked about taking care of him; Hob had promised to never leave him.

Hob had, apparently, refused to go when Death came for him. "You were always a man of your word," Dream murmured, sniffling through a smile, and the light in the kitchen flickered happily.

~~~ Living with a ghost was surprisingly easy to adjust to, once he accepted the reality of it. He always had someone to talk to, and they quickly discovered that the notes app on his phone, or his computer, was a viable conduit for Hob to talk back when he felt like it. Dream's earbuds were always charged, his music library always managed to pull up exactly the right song for his mood, he never had to worry about whether he'd left the lights or the stove on and, annoyingly, his phone and computer always turned off at exactly the hour Hob had insisted on for a decent sleep schedule. But in all honesty, healthier sleep habits were a fair price to pay for having Hob back in some form when Dream had thought him lost.

Hob looked after him, made sure he kept living and thriving, and Dream threw himself into researching ghosts and spirits and how to attune oneself to them. Herbs and alignments and meditative practices, Dream tried them all and little by little, the more he learned, the more he began to feel the physical presence of Hob in their flat. A breath, a scent, a diffuse sense of warmth and calm, an overall impression that this was home and Hob was here.

~~~ "What was it like, dying?" he asked one day, during a lull in his research. He minimized the webpage and brought up the notes app. "If you don't mind talking about it, that is." He trusted Hob to tell him otherwise; communicating and respecting boundaries had always been easy between them. The cursor started moving a couple seconds later.

It would be impossible to discuss the subject without a common frame of reference.

Dream burst out laughing at that, the terrible hiccuping bray that Hob had adored, and a little old-school smiley emote appeared on the screen. But before Dream could draw breath to quote the next line back to Hob (You mean I have to die to discuss your insights on death??), the cursor was moving again.

Kidding. Not much to tell. Was a lady there, kind face, beautiful wings. Held out her hand, and I knew if I took it I'd never see you again. So I refused.

"And you were permitted to just…say no?"

Lady gave me a sad smile, said I couldn't go back; told her I couldn't go forward, either, not if it meant leaving you. When I promised I would never.

Dream could feel his eyes welling up and blinked, swallowed the lump in his throat.

She let me stay in between. Not perfect, but I don't have to leave. Can't leave you.

"I love you," Dream said, voice wavering. "I love you, Hob, I miss you but I'm so glad I still have you—" A little sob escaped, his eyes spilling over.

Death cannot stop true love, Hob typed then, in swooping pink script on the screen, and Dream could only smile through his tears as he answered.

"All it can do is delay it for a little while."

~~~ Dream kept seeking knowledge and Hob kept developing proficiency in being a ghost, more practice in interacting with the world and making himself known; soon enough Dream could genuinely feel Hob there, physically—a wisp of air against his skin, the phantom brush of lips to his temple, a full-body shiver of warmth when drifting off to sleep. He'd feel Hob like an embrace from behind while fixing his breakfast, while practicing his cello, while showering. Sometimes he would touch himself under the spray, stroke it to hardness and feel, unmistakably, the wispy grip of Hob's hand over his, the faint nudge of a phantom prick against his arse, an invisible mouth laving kisses to the back of his neck.

"You can manipulate any electronics, right?" he asked one evening, and when the lamp on his bedside table dimmed and brightened twice in the affirmative, he undressed and brought out the vibrator he had purchased the day before, knelt over on the bed, pressed the toy into his slick and opened body. "Then please, Hob—be with me, like this, have me, I still want—"

The toy jumped to life with a buzz and Dream gasped, shifted, rocked his hips as Hob cycled through every power setting and vibration pattern until he found the combination that made Dream shiver and squirm and grasp helplessly at the bedsheets, surrounded by the not-quite-there feeling of Hob draped over him, fingers twined with his, lips soft at the back of his neck as he surrendered to the onslaught of sensation.

He drifted off to sleep afterward with a soft smile on his face, the feel of Hob's arms around him and Hob murmuring "G'night, dove, I'll keep you safe" in his ear.

When he woke, the whisper of revelation was stirring at the back of his mind but it didn't click until he heard a soft "Good morning, beautiful" in Hob's dear voice and sat bolt upright, duly stunned.

"Hob! You can talk!?"

Nothing, for an instant, and then, still soft: "Dream? Can you…you can hear me now?"

"Yes!" he cried, overjoyed, and let the tears stream down his face as he heard Hob's happy laughter surrounding him, disembodied but bright and brilliant, for the first time in months.

~~~ Together they continued their studies, carefully experimenting with ways to thin the veil between worlds safely and securely. Hob's physical presence got stronger, more tangible as the days passed. His touch was never cold like so many sources claimed; it was warm, like lifting one's face to the morning sun in the first days of Spring, like the comfort of snuggling into the blankets on a winter evening.

Nothing about his Hob could ever be cold.

All his studies indicated that a ghost attaining visibility took time, and strength of will from the spirit, and 'openness' on the part of the living—which Dream had interpreted as willingness to believe that one might see a ghost. He did believe, wholeheartedly, knew without a doubt that Hob was still here with him and would eventually be ghost enough to manifest visibly.

It happened one night when Dream was drifting between awake and asleep; there, in that liminal state, he caught a glimpse of Hob for just an instant. It stole his breath, the sight of Hob before him again after all this time; Hob smiled at him, blindingly beautiful, and then he faded out and Dream woke, eyes wet, his own smile soft on his face.

"Hob?" he called, barely more than a murmur, and immediately the warm comfort of Hob's arms around him took hold.

"'M here," came Hob's disembodied voice, close to his ear. "Did you see me there, in between?"

"Yes," Dream breathed, emotion swelling within him. "You were. So beautiful. How I've missed the sight of you, Hob—" He turned, wanting to burrow into the warmth of Hob beside him, knowing there was nothing really there enough to accommodate his want.

"Sweet talker," Hob said, and then there were soft insubstantial lips touching his and Dream sighed into the phantom kiss, arching, reaching. Invisible fingertips traced his jaw, touched his throat, trailed down and brushed a nipple and Dream let a needy sound spill from him.

"Hob," he pleaded, keyed up, wanting, and felt more than heard the way Hob hummed in reply. And then the suggestion of a leg was pushed between his, urging him over onto his back and hands were stroking feather-light down his sides, a ghostly mouth moving beneath his ear. Dream whimpered, kicked free of the bedclothes, hooked his thumbs in his pajama bottoms and wriggled fluidly to get them down and off, laid back and spread his limbs and gave himself over to the slow sensual stoking of his pleasure.

Hob took his time as much by design as necessity, needing focus and intent to manage physical touch but also clearly delighting in the leisurely build of driving Dream higher and higher. He was skilled at it, also, had Dream trembling and moaning long before his ghostly tongue touched Dream's prick. It was hard, leaking, and Dream rocked into the wispy sensation of Hob's mouth around him, Hob's hands caressing the insides of his thighs, Hob's fingertips tracing intimately along the creases of his body.

Hob's touch was exquisite, erotic, and Dream was certain that with hours to enjoy it he would surely reach climax, but neither of them had that sort of patience just now. "Get the vibe, sweetheart," Hob said at last, and Dream scrambled to comply, retrieving it from the bedside drawer. "Open yourself up for me, need to watch you come undone—"

Breathless, Dream lubed the toy and pushed it in, bore down and gripped it tightly in anticipation, knees raised, waiting for Hob—

The toy turned on and Dream's head lashed back as sudden pleasure poured through him. "There you are," he vaguely heard Hob murmur, "my darling beautiful Dream—"

One day, Dream vowed, shaking as Hob cycled the toy into the perfect pulsing intensity that made him writhe and wail, one day, he would come from Hob's ghostly touch alone.

~~~ They met in waking dreams again, and again, each meeting strengthening their connection, anchoring them securely to one another across the veil. "Oh, my love, my precious dove," Hob murmured, when they managed to hold onto one another for more than a second, and then Hob's mouth was pressed against his, opening, warm—

He woke to the feel of Hob kissing him still, only less substantial, but as he opened his eyes, he caught a soft glimmer of Hob's face above him, hazy, barely there, and his heart skipped a beat.

"I can see you," he murmured against phantom lips, not daring to blink, breath held—but Hob drew back in surprise, in excitement, and his faint image flickered out. Dream sighed and let his eyes fall closed once more. "We'll keep trying. Come kiss me again?"

~~~ "Would that I could stay here forever, with you," Dream lamented, drifting on the edge of waking up, curled into Hob's embrace.

He felt the way that Hob went still and tense.

"You seem the most real here," he explained, "and I am. So tired, of not being able to properly touch you. Except here."

"I'm getting better at being substantial out there," Hob said, a very careful edge in his voice. "Be patient, dove, we'll get there."

"Or I could simply sleep forever, and never be without you again."

"You aren't without me now. I'm not going anywhere, Dream. You have me. Forever. What you're talking about is—" Hob stopped abruptly, unwilling to voice the thought.

"I know." Dream couldn't bring himself to look Hob in the eye, mumbled into the familiar comfort of Hob's hairy chest instead. "I wonder, sometimes, if…it might be worth it."

Hob vanished, and it was a sharp enough jolt that Dream woke completely.

Every light in the flat was flickering madly as Dream stumbled ouf of the bedroom; the smoke and CO detectors were screeching their alarm, his laptop sounding some kind of alert and the air conditioning unit in the window powering off and on repeatedly.

"Hob!" Dream tried to raise his voice above the din. "Hob, stop!"

The teakettle started up a sustained whistle and then Spotify kicked in with some metal band he couldn't immediately name, thrashing guitars and guttural screaming vocals, and Dream had to cover his ears. "Hob! HOB!"

It was another full minute of this cacophony, and then abruptly everything stopped. Plunged back into grey morning dimness and silence, Dream took a steadying breath, two.

"…Hob?" His voice, when it came, was small and tentative.

The kitchen light flickered sullenly, twice.

"Hob. I don't…I'm not—" He floundered; the words weren't coming.

"C'mere." He felt the swoop of Hob rushing past him, and followed him back to the bedroom. "C'mere," Hob repeated, from the bed, and Dream crawled up to sit against the headboard. The faint sense of Hob's arm settled around his shoulders and Dream felt the inevitable tears welling up.

"Sorry for throwing a tantrum," Hob's voice said, low and soft with sincerity. "It's just. You scared me. What you said." Dream felt lips brush his hair, holding there in a desperate approximation of a kiss.

"I know." Dream blinked, and the tears spilled over. "I don't mean it, but…"

"But it's crossed your mind."

Dream wiped his eyes. "Yes."

"I stayed to see you live your life, not to take it away from you." Hob's voice was shaky now, as if he was also crying—could ghosts cry?—and Dream could feel Hob's other arm across his chest, Hob holding him close, clinging to him. "Dream—I love you, I love you so much. And you have everything ahead of you. Please, please don't start thinking you're better off giving it all up. We don't even know if you'd wind up same as me—"

Dream closed his eyes, breathed slow and even. It was not that he wished, particularly, to die; it was simply that he wished to be with Hob more than he wanted anything else.

Except, perhaps, to not bring Hob pain or distress.

"I…am an amateur, at these occult studies," Dream said at last, eyes still closed. "It will take a lifetime of research and learning to ensure that I can share in your afterlife, that I will not leave you behind. I will need to live a very long life, to be. Certain."

"…Yes," came Hob's voice, steadier now but still with a trembling edge of wariness underneath. "Yes. You will."

"And I will need your help. To research, but also to remind me to eat, to buy groceries, to go to bed on time."

"Of course. You'll have it, anything and everything I can do to help. Promise me you won't give up."

"Hob," Dream breathed, because he had opened his eyes, and Hob was glimmering faintly there beside him—visible, if only just. "Hob—"

"Promise," Hob interrupted, lifting his head to look Dream in the eye, and Dream could see the exact second when he realized Dream was not looking through him, but at him.

"I will live to be ninety, I promise," he said, a little bit breathless, a little wrung out, very much elated. "Hob, I can see you—"

The smile on Hob's face, the way he glowed with joy, pushed every other thought from Dream's head, and when Hob leaned in for an ecstatic-if-still-a-touch-watery kiss, Dream's heart soared at how easily they connected.

~~~ Hob's visual manifestation in the waking world grew more and more frequent as the days went on, steadier, more solid in appearance. Strong emotion, they confirmed, was an excellent catalyst and soon enough he could maintain a weak-but-persistent shade, always a bit more distinct from the corner of Dream's eye than straight on. The more he practiced the better he got, at being both visually and tangibly solid, holding his presence, managing touch. Dream never minded that he always remained a bit transparent; he was there, still here, still with Dream, to whom he had promised forever.

~~~ "Still mine?" Hob asked many years later, float-lying half on top of him in bed, idly combing through the emerging greys of his hair, and Dream smiled.

"I can't imagine ever being anyone else's," he breathed, lifting a hand to touch Hob's face. He still had to be careful, to focus; it was all too easy for his hand to go right through Hob which was disconcerting for them both. But he was very good at it by now, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Hob's ear tenderly. "I don't want to be anyone else's."

"You don't have to be," Hob promised, drifting up to look down into his eyes. "I'm here, I'm yours, forever, as long as you'll have me."

"Forever," Dream echoed, smiling with the joy of it, and drew Hob down for a delicate heartfelt kiss.

~~~ "Sorry, kid, ain't got no vacancies."

Daniel's shoulders slumped, disappointed. The White Horse building was perfectly situated for getting to campus and he'd been told there was always at least one flat open, but apparently he was given incorrect information.

"Unless…" The guy in the property office tilted his head back, scratched under his scruffy chin, cigar caught between his teeth. "I mean, there is the haunted unit, 'salways empty…"

Daniel perked up. "Haunted unit?" He'd been drawn to the unusual all his life, fascinated by the paranormal, intrigued by the macabre. If this was true—

"Yeah." The guy slanted a look at him. "Last tenant—last tenant who stayed more'n a couple'a weeks, at least—was this old guy, lived there for decades. Him'n his boyfriend, they moved in when they were young but then the boyfriend died, an' the other guy just stayed the rest of his life, alone. Was a hundred n' five when he finally passed, and that was back in '89. Flat's been empty ever since. Folk'll move in, but it don't take long 'til they're backin' out on the lease. Lights won't work right, electronics're unpredictable, weird moanin' and screamin' noises in the walls, some even talk about apparitions they can't ever see straight-on but're always in the corner of the eye, in the shadows. Me, I don' believe'n none of it, never seen nor heard anything'f the sort, but regardless I can't keep anybody in there—"

"I'll take it," Daniel interrupted, excitement bubbling up in his stomach. A haunted flat? Could he be any luckier? "That is—if I may?"

"Look, kid, you wanna give it a shot? Go for it. Come on in, I'll draw up the paperwork. 'F you stay, I'll give ya a super steep discount—any rent comin' in's better'n none, heh!" He turned and stumped back into his office, still cackling and muttering; Daniel followed, mind racing.

If there was a ghost, a real ghost, it was probaby the boyfriend, who'd maybe been there all along and now didn't want anyone living in his and his lover's space. And Daniel was no true medium, but he'd grown up learning all kinds of 'alternative science' stuff from his mom's friends, so maybe he'd have a decent chance of communicating with the ghost, helping it find peace and move on.

He was half right. It was the boyfriend, but it was also the old man. Whose ghost was that of his younger self—and yes, Daniel was able to talk to them. Also, they had absolutely no intention of moving on. They were lovely, actually, had no problem with Daniel living there once they got to know him, willingly worked out a sort of 'roommate agreement' with him. Merv down in the property office made good on his promise of cheap rent, and Daniel's ghosts were always making sure the flat was in order, bills tracked and paid, cupboards stocked and groceries delivered, homework reminders set where he needed them and homework assistance given when asked. It was like…like having two dads, when he'd grown up without, and Daniel was hard-pressed to imagine how his life could possibly be better.

(He could do without the occasional auditory glimpse into their love life, but…well. Most of the time they were very good about not leaking across the veil in intimate moments, and ultimately who was he to begrudge them their eternal happiness?)

=== Started: 10/9/23 Drafted: 10/10/23 Additional Drafting: 10/27/23 Posted: 10/28/23

I have not read any of Daniel's canon material; my apologies if his voice sounds terribly wrong. Cookies for anyone who recognizes the movie quotes Hob used ❤️