#just long enough for it to carry over when he was revived

[bunnieswithknives]

does roy speak?

Sorta but mostly not, I think that if the situation really calls for it he can say and repeat 1 (maybe 2) syllable words

[morganitering]

Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

[stars-obsession-pit]

So a person requested (in messages) me to write a drabble thing based on this prompt. I’m not really into de-aged characters, but I thought of a way to focus it more on Jason’s reaction rather than the childcare part and felt cool with writing that.

So, uh, hope you like this I guess, @phantomrosereader…

Alright. Alright. Alright alright alrigh—

Nope. They’re still there. Fuck. Jason is not at all prepared to be a father. Nor does he want to show back up at the manor right now carrying two children and be forced to explain all this.

Wait, how did the kids even get there? Who was the mother? Why did they never contact him before?

…Did they contact him before? Can he really be certain he’s not missing any more memories?

He forcefully shook his head. No. No focusing on that right now. He’s fine. No spiraling allowed. He has to deal with this first.

Seriously, fuck. How is he a dad?

He… he should look into the mother. At least then he’d have more to go off of when he talks to Alfred. The note did give a name, but it wasn’t nearly enough to go off of on its own. Danny is hardly an uncommon name. Although, it does seem like a guy’s name—maybe Danny is trans? That would narrow the search down, but would that be enough? Even if he could get it down to just a handful of options, he had no way to determine which Danny was his. The kids seemed to have mostly inherited his own appearance…

Wait, that’s it! Genetic tests!

Despite his strained relationship with the other Bats, he still has access to their resources. A test wouldn’t take too long to give results. And also, it might reveal some other info like allergies he’d need to know.

***

Jason frowned at his laptop as his eyes flitted across the details of the error message. Apparently, some parts of the kids’ genes had been completely unreadable to the scanner and thus it couldn’t form a full profile.

Sighing, he clicked the popup closed. He could at least look at what results had come through. Maybe they’d be enough.

That hope dwindled as he scanned the full data, the corruption looking more dire than he expected. Even if the legible parts did succeed at painting a picture of the kids being related, the swaths of gibberish made meaningfully searching for the mother likely hopeless. However, there did seem to be a pattern to the broke areas. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He felt like he’d seen this before. Could that mean the mother was a meta or alien? Those were on a separate database, so that might resolve the issue. But that would require him to go to the manor, and he was still very hesitant to do that.

So instead, he pulled up his own test results to compare. Maybe they’d let him figure something ou—

He froze.

That’s why he recognized the corruption. Ever since his revival, his own genetic results exhibited almost the exact same pattern of issues.

Oh Hell, did the kids inherit the side effects of the Pit from him?

He looked over at the kids, sleeping peacefully in their seats, and prayed that they hadn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they had to suffer through the Pit Rage their whole lives just because of him.

He… he had to go to the manor. There was no pushing this off any longer. This situation was far too big for him to deal with on his own. He couldn’t risk leaving his kids to suffer alone.

Hopefully Alfred with his parenting skills and Damian with his knowledge of the Lazarus Pits (and similar experience of being descended from a user of them) would be able to help. Or if that failed, maybe he could guilt trip Bruce into getting the Justice League Dark to help.

[ozzgin]

Omg love your page!.. could you write there was a prehistoric reader who was found with pickle and the t-rex, they noticed that pickle was protecting the woman who was visibly pregnant and almost as tall as him (Sorry if you don't write for preg just a head cannon I thought of 😅)

Thank you and no worries, it’s definitely doable! I’m actually surprised to see how popular the idea of a prehistoric reader is. That’s the charm of requests I suppose, other people sharing their unexpected, creative ideas with you.

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Pregnant! Reader

Featuring an extra protective daddy Pickle and his challengers. Since I’ve already done some backstory on a prehistoric reader, this will focus more on the vulnerability of a soon-to-be Jurassic mother and how that tweaks the character interactions.

Pickle was the first one to awaken and had to be sedated just as fast, since he immediately begun searching for you, increasingly angry. Everyone had to be evacuated and it took several chloroform bombs throughout the building, but they managed to gain some time.

The scientists didn’t necessarily enjoy separating him from his mate, but after the initial shock of discovering the fetus you were carrying, they wanted to see if by some miracle you both could be revived in a similar manner. A prehistoric resurrection was downright ridiculous to begin with, but a pregnancy frozen in time? Peak of absurdity, and a never seen before breakthrough. Everyone could see their names published in top scholarly journals like Nature.

In a race against the clock, they fumbled with the medical machinery in order to confirm the health status of you and your unborn child. They weren’t sure if a second attempt of sedation would be as successful on the enraged, worried father.

Once all the variables are measured and safety is confirmed, they release you to join Pickle and they exhale in unison, grateful to have escaped the wrath of the Jurassic creature.

Pickle is further motivated to fight his challengers, because this time it’s not just about his hunger and entertainment: he has a duty to his mate, and you need to be fed properly. Though you aren’t as excited about digging into these miniature humans. They remind you of children.

The fighters thread carefully around you. While you may look vulnerable, you have a similar build to Pickle and they’d rather not risk underestimating you. Pregnancy can lead to unpredictable reactions if it means protecting the offspring.

You quietly watch over the fights, like a Roman emperor contemplating the fate of his gladiators. Will the matriarch spare the defeated? Pickle is but your humble servant, ready to act on your wishes.

No matter how you look at it, you just can’t stomach the thought. You stroke your fertile belly and feel overwhelmed with pity. The frail humans have impressed you with their strength, but not enough to want their flesh torn apart.

I’m almost convinced that Yuujirou’s mind would immediately wander to the breeding potential the moment he sees you. Just imagine the powerful outcome of combining your ancient warrior genes and his superhuman modern talent. Yuujirou stares at you long enough to trigger Pickle’s suspicions, and he immediately stands in front of you, reminding everyone that he’s the only one whose children you shall carry.

Retsu and Katsumi view motherhood as something sacred and will treat you like an ornate porcelain piece that could break at any moment, if not careful enough. If your mouth twists the wrong way they will join Pickle in a confused, hurried quest to satisfy your cravings.

Baki and Jack are almost as protective as Pickle, especially when Yuujirou is within several meters distance. You find it greatly amusing when the tiny humans form a shield before you, guarding you from unknown dangers. You clap your hands excitedly at all this entertainment provided to you.

You have to remind Pickle to take a break every now and then, rubbing your knuckles into his tense shoulders. He’s been alert ever since you’ve been brought to this mysterious world and you don’t blame him. Everything is new and confusing and you don’t know what to expect. But all that matters right now is that you’re still together and your family is safe. Pickle rests his forehead against yours, touching your stomach in an attempt to detect any movement. His eyes narrow in a smile when he feels the barely noticeable kick. He misses his old world dearly, but his home is not lost. It’s right in front of him.

[vin-taege]

Could you do headcannons for both sfw and nsfw showering with Chishiya? :3

The Water's Just Right

Summary: Showering headcanons for our favorite snarky boy

Genre: fluff, smut, gn! reader

Note: Oh yeah, I'm back again! I've been gone for so long because of college, but I'm here again to revive the aib fandom >:3 also my first time writing headcannons. :DDD I think I got carried away sjjsjs

☄. *. ⋆ sfw

ok let's start with headcannons for the real world

as a doctor, he mainly takes quick showers

contrary to popular belief, i feel like he enjoys hot showers over cold ones. like he's already going to be stressed because of work, so might as well have at least one part of his day be a little relaxing

the only time you can take joint showers with him is during his off-days or if you stay up long enough to catch him coming home

he doesn't like it when you do the latter option because he firmly believes you should take care of yourself and sleep early

even though he runs on 3 hours of sleep maximum every day

he lets you wash his hair after initially (and weakly) refusing

you definitely use scented shampoo on him (strawberry because he thinks floral scents are too strong)

he prefers subtle scents because the hospital is already filled with strong odors.

he'll never admit he likes it when you wash his hair, especially when you massage his scalp

"did you purr a little?"

"I think you need your hearing checked."

loves it when you run your hands up and down his back

you mainly use showering as an excuse to dote on him

likes kissing your neck while you attempt to lather soap on him

random but he installed a non-slip mat on the floor because he doesn't want the two of you to get into any accidents

likes playing with your hair by gathering soap bubbles and dumping them on you

you don't point this out because you're scared he'll withdraw from letting himself be a kid for once

sometimes when it's been a rough day, he lets you hold him in the shower for a moment

just letting the warm water wash away his stress while he melts into your arms

he used to skip lotion until you started putting it on him

he got used to it after that and subconsciously started integrating it into his routine

honestly before you came along, had the worst skincare routine ever

"That's... that's not how you put on facial wash. You need to wash your face with it for at least a minute."

"I'm not a dermatologist, y/n."

"You don't need to be to know that???"

In the borderlands, it's basically the same but without the luxury of proper skin products.

always ALWAYS showers after games

he hates the ick from going outside and keeps himself sane by maintaining cleanliness

surprisingly, he's more forward with asking you to join him

in the real world, you're the one who always asks for permission, but now he always looks for your presence

especially since he knows you could be gone any day

"Do you want to join me?"

"Didn't the heater system break down?"

"I fixed ours. The water's just right."

☄. *. ⋆ nsfw

remember that non-slip mat?

oh yeah, that was definitely for this occasion

he doesn't like lifting you up because again, safety first

prefers standing positions where he can press you up against the wall.

LOVES LOVES LOVES FOGGING UP THE GLASS

he doesn't pull your hair because he knows it'll be prone to breakage

he's such a nerd about bodily care except for when it comes to himself.

holds your neck instead and uses it as leverage to pound into you

either that or he digs his fingers into your hips so he can grind his cock inside you.

makes it his goal to make you squirt at least once

OK THIS IS MY PERSONAL HEADCANNON

it may be because of the tight space, or the bathroom acoustics, or the added privacy

but this man is definitely louder in the shower

you love sucking him off because of this

deep moaning, swearing, whimpering when you're being a little shit and you overstimulate him

plays with your chest a lot because he likes how slippery the soap makes it

LISTEN

also installed a detachable showerhead ;)))

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - IX - DESTINY

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.3K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: After a tumultuous time Feyd and the reader set aside time to spend quality time with each other. Feyd's obsession for the Lady is alive and well. He makes good on his promises and their new life comes into clear view as Paul Atriedes makes his objectives known.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: NSFW, adult themes, sexual-content, sexual intercourse & oral, violence, mentions of blood & murder. This part is not aligned with cannon of Dune. I have taken several artistic liberties and there are inaccuracies.

_______

DESTINY

Dim lights illuminate in the bed chamber waking you slightly. You stir and settle at the feel of Feyds arms around you, his body against yours. Turning slowly you adjust to face him. There he lays fast asleep, you take in the subtleties of his features, his hairless brow bone, dark eyes and full lips. You close your eyes again, breathing him in. Never could you have imagined anything like this in your wildest dreams. Utterly at peace and relieved to be in the bed of Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. He had made several things clear to his people upon your return. Chief among them that you were no longer his intended.  He’d taken the ceremonial blade cutting you as was the custom of your people. He procured tiny vials as he squeezed his blood into it.  You did the same watching the droplets fill the tiny containers placed on strings and then around your neck. Then there was a Harkonnen ceremony full of drumming and chants. The seamstresses had created the most beautiful black town for the occasion. It hadn’t been the ceremony a Harkonnen na-Baron was owed but it was enough. All Feyd cared was that you were his under all the laws and customs of gods and men. He would give you whatever you pleased when the conflict was over. There’d been so many happy tears. He’d held your hand, giving you caring glances, there were longing looks and tender kisses as he balanced his duty and honour to you and the imperium. 

Feyd had planned for the wedding to go differently. He intended for it to be a grand celebration. He wanted his ascent in society to be aligned with yours, he didn’t want anyone to see you without him and vice versa. War had been fleeting and he knew he wanted everyone to know the cost of an attempt on your life. He wanted everyone to know you carried his blood and that the union was sanctioned and validated by all the laws. There could be no further attempts to sway him with others or to undermine you with he talks of you being a concubine. Now he could punish all who aimed to harm you lawfully, not that anything else would have stopped him. Looking down you run your hand along the vial sitting between your breasts on your sternum. You look to see the black jewellery contrasting against Feyd’s stark white skin. The vial of blood rich and vibrant just above his navel where you remember your father’s falling.

Feyd had brought you here after the ceremonies. An experimental garden oasis full of rich green foliage and colourful flowers. It reminds you so much of home. In your heart you know there can be no one else from now until death. Feyd had kept you with him in his heart from the time he’d held you so delicately as a babe. He’d imbued tiny figments of his life with things he thought you would desire, inevitably preparing for the moment you would be his. Your home had been destroyed and so he valued the projects that prioritised botanical revivals. When life had robbed him of you he was determined and had sought you out  relentlessly. Feyd-Rautha had dedicated himself to you in ways you could hardly conceive of but found yourself growing to understand with the passage of time and every grand gesture. It was overwhelming to experience the culmination of his efforts and a taste of peace. It’s all you want. 

Forever.

Tilting your head down you kiss his full lips remembering the previous night night. After the oasis your smile was a permanent fixture until Feyd replaced it with love faces from the culmination of physical and emotional pleasure. Two people had never been more committed to passion than the two of you had been in the consummation of your marriage. It had been perfect, the perfect night. Feyd stirs reaching for your leg and lifting it over his hip as you both lay on your sides.  He pulls you in with closed eyes, you can no longer make out his expression but his breathing changes and his body warms. His fingers open, splaying over the flesh of your back sliding down onto the naked flesh of your bottom. He squeezes tight, pushing your centre closer to his. You feel the inevitable ache of needing him as he begins to grow. His body heats even more and your nipples pebble against his chest, it’s what he does to you. Declarations of love seem inconsequential, and words are too flimsy for what you feel, for the power and fulfilment you now feel in life. To what you’ve overcome, for the optimism you feel, for the future you know is destined for you and Feyd.

Love.

Feyd slides in without warning kissing and sucking on your neck. Your moans are Feyd’s favourite music. The slickness of your arousal is all the affirmation he needs, your body reacts to him like no other, sucking him in, gripping him, massaging his manhood with every stroke. Nothing was a close second to the pleasure he feels inside your walls. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment he now found himself in. The moment in time where your desire for him was beginning to become as feverish as Feyd’s for you. 

He goes deeper, revelling in the feeling of you.

The tension knitted between your brows

The fullness of your lips as they purse before a moan escapes them.

The arch of your back deepens as he finds new depths.

Your synastry is perfect.

 He nearly comes prematurely at the thought of how you took all of him in your mouth last night while enjoying the feeling of your body sucking him in, here, now, in the present. How he found himself down your throat making you gag. How you were determined to get him to climax. The love and desire in your eyes as he emptied his love for you all over your mouth and chest. How you wore it like a badge of honour. He’d been stunned stiff by the memory and his current state, unable to decide whether he enjoyed your hellishness or angelic demeanour more. You were a Harkonnen now, revelling in the depths of desire without restraint. You clench around him bringing him back to the moment and his head goes blank, white slates his vision as his senses take over. 

Autopilot.

 His body knows yours well rolling you onto your back he places one hand on your hip propping himself up over you slightly with the other. He slides in all the way until your moans take another quality. Sliding out from his haze, Feyd takes stock of the situation looking into your eyes. Instinct takes over. He can tell by your expression you're close, it's better than his dreams.

“More” you whisper, determined to take all of him. You need all of him.

“More?” He questions kissing you slowly sliding in deeper as he stretches you out. 

“Feyyyyyd” you moan as he finds a new rhythm, sliding in and out of you. It’s the perfect torture for your seemingly insatiable desire for him. You break his kiss trying to get air into your lungs as Feyd loses himself in the moment. A few more strokes and you feel his sweet heat flow deep inside of you. His groans mix with your moans. You feel Feyd’s breathing grow shallow and rugged over top of you and kiss his chin once he’s regained his breath. His lips find yours and the kiss you share is perfect. A love match. You love him with everything in you. It’s the greatest gift your parents could have ever left you with. Feyd rolls you both onto your sides without pulling out. You enjoy the feeling of welcoming the extended connection of his manhood inside of you. Your hand goes to your stomach thinking of the life you intend to give your child and his hand covers yours.

“Anything” he asserts. “Anything, always” he says and you kiss him again wrapping your arms around him. You know outside of your bedchambers the world that awaits knows little of peace and love. His hands pull you in even closer, needing you at his side always. “You hear me? Anything” Feyd says, forcing you to look up at him. His words are a declaration to your personal vows. 

“Anything” you repeat in affirmation. Feyd separates from your body, sliding out and robbing you of his contact. His eyes drink your body in; all of your favourite features are his too and he finds all parts of you beautiful that you under appreciate. He’s never been more content with a decision than the one to seek you out and honour the covenant that had been made without his agreement. Finally, the legacy of House Harkonnen was in good hands. Your sons would know love and combat and your daughters would have the freedom granted by a father who would go far and wide for them. You sit up slowly as Feyd does the same taking you to the bathing chambers. You're in the midst of your morning rituals when you feel the ground shaking beneath you. There are violent tremors and you hear incessant beeping. Your breath catches as keys begin pressing buttons on the bathroom console.

“We’re safe” he says, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving. You finish up slowly putting on one of the many opulent creations of the seamstresses from Giedi Prime. When you emerge you find Feyd dressing in his war armour. Frowning your breath hitches the you see visuals of Arrakeen on the screen being projected. You see the Baron’s ship as well as the emperors. Fear overwhelms you until you hear the familiar voice of Gurney. You take a breath when you hear Paul Atriedes has taken Arakeen in your absence. Your delirium is interrupted by the views of Feyd panning out to see the destruction of the walls. You know before Feyd utters the words Paul has used the weapons of his house to get this done. Feyd grows angry, you knit your fingers through the necklace he placed on you.

“The Emperor and the Baron are captured, our absence has saved us,” you share your thoughts aloud drawing Feyd’s attention from the screen back to you. “Im safe” you add cluing Feyd back to what’s important. He releases a reluctant breath before kissing you again. On his list of important things your safety is at the top of them. A battle had been being waged all the while he was making love to you, perfectly content and unaware. A frantic knock sounds and you hear Leia reaching out in a panic telekinetically. Stepping back from Feyd you open the door. Feyd watches relief wash over your dearest friend when she sees you’re alright.

“My Lord the Fremen have taken the palace” A guard says from behind Leia. 

“A moment Leia” you smile stepping back she smiles as you press the button to close the door to your bed champers.

“Feyd, please consider what I am to say as a valued advisor and not your as your wife” you sigh looking at your hands.

“That’s impossible” he mutters as a man of practicality. You smile amused by the disdain for your proposal in his expression. He sits open to listen nonetheless. You can't help but admire him.

“Paul was like family for a very long time, I do believe he can be reasoned with.” you suggest.

“He has no love for House Harkonnen” Feyd responds.

“Nor do I but you are my blood, my husband, the father of our child. Paul too will be a father soon. Perhaps we can find means to a mutually amicable solution. Paul will not hurt me, Leto loved my mother and he loved me.” You explain.

“Hearing the love another man bears for you doest inspire my cooperation” Feyd says, jealous of the assurance in your tone. The trust you have in other men.

“Anything” you remind him of his promise and he groans in protest. Smiling as you sit across his lap. “I’d like to enjoy this honeymoon. And give birth in comfort with you near and at ease. All the while we find creative cruelties for the Baron’s torture and inevitable death. That’s what I desire as a wedding gift. The Baron in our custody and an end to the Atreides war.” You say succinctly. Looking in your eyes Feyd sees a hint of darkness within you, a darkness and a vengeance he knows all too well. He could feel his desire growing in his loins, his temperature rising again as his lust for you grows. His hands fasten against your legs pulling you in closer. There was no time to be wasted; he'd spent too much time away from you, then searching for you, then waiting for you to feel the same, then tip-toeing around the Baron, then angering you, and having you taken from him.

“I bear neither the Baron nor the Atreides any fondness, all my kindness and compassion begins and ends with you and ours” he says, placing a hand against your stomach.

“Think of the distance war will take place between us, think of the battles, the stress, the strife - Feyd I’ve lived through it. Allow me an attempt at brokering peace” you plead searching his eyes. Watching you, Feyd's pride falls. It’s foresight he’d yet to employ. Battles took time and in your condition you would only need him more and more. You’d endured far too much already and stopping further strife would be beneficial to all of you. You rise taking a step back away from him with a smirk, even a moment is too much standing Feyd crowds your space. Peering deep into your eyes he’s at a loss for words, the magnetism for you goes haywire, balls of untenable electricity flowing dangerously. You were his now, in every way a person could belong to another.

“Let this be the last time we discuss the future of other men” he says, willing to concede.

“What if we have sons?” You ask, placing a hand over his chest. The intensity in Feyd’s eyes lessen. His anger subsides and his tight lipped look fades into a soft smile. The thought of sons brings him much excitement.

“With the exceptions of our sons” he rasps ready to practice the act of child conception.

“Ok, if Paul will listen we will do things my way. If he doesn’t you’re free to have at it?” You reason and Feyd smiles broadly, fully amused with your bargaining. Bending slightly he takes up the hem of your dress running a hand up your thigh.

“What do I get for my compliance?” He asks with only one thing on his mind.

“One fantasy” you concede holding up a single digit.

“Deal” Feyd agrees, putting a pin in it for later.

_________________

Heads rise as you walk through the crowd of armed men, you are sorely outnumbered but your eyes make out a few Fremen you recall as you enter the palace's great room. You see the head of the Bene Gesserits clustered into a round with the Emperor, his daughter, the Baron and other important figures. The Baron’s eyes narrow in contempt at the sight of you. You realize by the emperor’s fixed gaze on Feyd Rautha he is acutely unaware of who you are. They all watch in question as Feyd adjusts his pace and stance all in the preservation of your own well being instead of his uncle's protection. You find Chani’s eyes among the Fremen looking at you and feel the connection to her again. Turning you see Lady Rebecca your heart smiles, although she was strange she’d always been kind to you. She wears a knowing expression and a smile in her eyes. You turn to Paul and find him already having a stare down with Feyd. The two men are titans in their own right but marionettes in the same circus show. Turning you look to the masters of the current galaxy, those currently responsible for all of the disarray at hand. There’s no room for enmity with Paul. You remove your face covering and his eyes soften.

“A word?” You ask Paul. Nodding the motions for you to follow up a flight of stairs. Feyd holds you back as you do. Turning to Feyd-Rautha you give him a pleading look. A deep growl sounds as he lets go, allowing you the privacy of a few feet.

“You should stay away from Feyd-Rautha” Paul warns with the tone of a friend.

“He is my choice, my happiness” you respond.

“If you know what’s good for you, stop looking at her in the eyes like that” Feyd warns, stepping forward. A gasp ripples through the room. Feyd’s eyes go from Paul to you, the noise he makes is animalistic and laced with dissatisfaction. 

“That girl is academy property” Mother Mohaim shouts. Feyd grabs a blade, throwing it with great force, catching the old woman in her neck. Shrieks ripple through the room as guards rush Feyd who had been stripped of his weapons. The woman falls but there only seems to be relief from Paul who has Feyd released.

“No she is not!” Lady Jessica snaps, standing on your behalf and silencing the chaos. She reads your titles aloud and you watch as the Emperor seems confused by the revelations at hand. The reverend mother fights a losing battle. Lady Jessica seems callously unbothered by her death.

“Mother has decided, as have I, that you deserve peace, even may it be with my cousin” Paul says, causing you to gasp.

“Cousin is it?” Feyd asks, stepping up to you and Paul. 

“Yes” Paul asserts and Feyd looks over his shoulder at the Baron. He’d heard whispers of the Bene Gesserit taking advantage of the Baron and the Baron in turn seeking revenge. It was whispered his current predicament, his size, his aches and boils were the result of the Bene Gesserit fighting back.

“Hmm” Feyd nods more convinced than ever that there was absolutely no way the Baron could maintain Giedi Prime.

“We can treat later, the Baron is yours for now and the emperor is mine” Paul agrees. Feyd nods looking at you with a deep grin. His lips find yours publicly gasps and whispers begin as he kisses you for all the authority figures of the imperium to see. When he’s finished he steadies you with an arm pushing you behind him.

“I would like to warn those among us, as well as above us, to honour my wife as a Baroness, and as the eldest of a great house. She is a newlywed, an absence of congratulations will be taken with hostility” Feyd says loud enough for the room to hear. The Baron knows better than to interject. The Emperor nods reluctantly after Paul bows his head in acknowledgement. Feyd keeps you close during entire transition of power. Paul seems well placed in the position of power, an astute student and competent general. Feyd sits disinterested with the political game interjecting every time the Baron tries to assert his position as the leader of Giedi Prime. Paul has them all on the ropes and with Feyd on his side it seems a matter of young versus old. The sun has set on the old guard. Even the Bene Gesserit are no match against whatever Pauls has evolved into. When it’s over the Reverend Mother is lifeless as is the Emperor and the Baron is in chains.

You leave the warring to the men. Your comprehension of loss and revenge is clear, no amount of retribution can dam the rivers of sorrow caused by the loss of your parents. You're sitting with Leia on the ship when Lady Jessica emerges with tribal markings of the Fremen on her face, she looks gravely different from the woman in your memories. She hugs you tights, emanating more warmth than you remember before she sits with you.

“The Baron was jealous of your mother, he was in love with your father. It was unrequited and the reason for the rebellion.” Jessica says and in your heart you know it’s true. Breathing through the anguish you know why your spirit never settled with the Baron, he’d been the reason for all of your anguish.

“Is she alive? Feyd said he got her out?” You ask Jessica.

“She came to us, I believe she is in one of the outer systems if she still lives. With you at the Academy she thought you would be safe. Her ancestral seat on the council for Caladan is yours.”

“I thought you didn’t like my mother,” you whisper.

“I didn’t but it was unfounded. After Leto’s assignation and what we’ve endured, I now know the value of friendship. You’ve always had a good heart, your union will be fruitful and strong forever” she says with an omniscient wisdom. Nodding you look into her large eyes. “Spare Vladimir Harkonnen no cruelty” she says. It's a promise you can keep.

“For my parents and for Leto” you respond, and she nods seemingly vindicated. Lady Jessica leaves within the hour and you exhale the overwhelm. It’s a Birds Eye view into the life you lost as a child. As a daughter of noble standing this politicking and treating would have been your everyday life and responsibilities. Turning to Leia you sigh, shaking your head and she gives you a hug.

“Your mother will find you, news will travel, people will talk” she says hopefully and you nod looking at her as a Fremen guard enters. He bows respectfully before standing at attention.

“How may I help you?” You ask uneasily.

“Feyd-Rautha and Muad'dib are at odds” he says, causing you to stand. It could be another trap so you tread lightly. Following the man back to the great hall you see Feyd holding a knife as is Paul. Your eyes fall on the Princess in an ornate chained veil. This is all no doubt her doing as a highly trained member of the sisterhood. You look at Chani and see great pain in her eyes.

“Enough” you snap, gaining the attention of both men. 

“It’s a friendly sparing” Feyd lies. You smile looking at Paul who is inept in the treacherous ways of your beloved. There would be nothing friendly about the beating Feyd would try to employ to assert dominance.

“Feyd, I’ve been given information I want to speak to you about,'' you turn to him. His eyes avert from Paul slowly. He wanted to see what the legendary Fremen prophet Paul Atreides was made of. Footsteps draw your attention and you turn to see Chani.

“Dull blades for friendly sparring” She says looking at Paul and then you. 

“Thank you, but these will not be necessary. We must take our leave. Thank you Chani” you smile reaching for her hands. She looks at you skeptically before obliging you to pull her into a hug.

“Irulan has Bene Gesserit gifts, if you desire peace she must be taken care of” you whisper, pulling away. Chani’s eyes hold yours in affirmation and she nods. “Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask” you extend her friendship and kindness.

‘Should you-“ Chani starts.

“My wife won’t require anything, the Lady is well cared for by me” Feyd interjects, unable to quell his jealousy. Instead of chastising him you give Chani an apologetic smile. She gives you a nod of understanding. You give Feyd an admonishing look as you clear the hall once again only now it’s been virtually emptied. He stands at your side brimming with tension that needs to be unleashed. Feyd loved nothing more than a good battle. He’d missed an opportunity at fighting and missed an opportunity to make an impression.

“That wasn’t nice” you mutter.

“Nor am I” Feyd responds with indifference. Looking up at Feyd you see there’s no room for reason so you leave it alone thinking of Lady Jessica’s words and how to reveal them to him. Feyd stands tall at your side watching eyes fall on you. He wanted to blind all the men that looked a second too long. You were his and only his. Outsiders didn’t typically stare at Harkonnen women. Usually there were looks of awe, curiosity and fear. That wasn’t what he saw in their eyes; admiration, attraction and curiosity were the emotions he could read. Closing his large hand over yours he draws you in closer possessively, Feyd-Rautha seldom shares the spotlight.

“Your Grace, '' a man smiles, stepping out of line. He’s among the imperial guests, his eyes are familiar but the glaring scar across his face isn’t. “Y/N it’s me Thom, I am pleased to see you alive and well” he smiles, bowing out of genuine happiness. You squeeze Feyd’s hand before responding to the man who had been your fathers cup bearer as a boy, the son of your fathers best guard.

“Thom” you smile stepping in front of Feyd. “My Husband Baron Feyd-Rautha, Feyd this was my father’s cup bearer” you explain and his body relaxes a touch looking at the man with the grotesque scar. He could tell by the nature of the scare exactly which blade had etched that cut. You look up at Feyd and he nods ever so slightly in recognition.

“I’m happy you survived, I have a few heirlooms I’ve held on to waiting for this day” he whispers. “I will have them sent to Giedi Prime once we are cleared to travel” 

“Thank you” you smile feeling emotional.

“Thank you” Feyd speaks, finally looking the man in his eyes. Thom’s eyes are teary as he smiles along with you. Feyd takes steps first waking you away. You fall into step with him getting more of the same greetings, well wishes and respectful acknowledgements. Feyd watches as people are drawn to you, your beauty, aura and standing. It was something he was yet to fully consider. You were a noble woman in your own right unlike the pets who lived and breathed for his pleasure. Your name meant something without his across the imperium. You held more planetary allies than enemies and the situation was far different from the one of cold maneuvers that he’d lived through as a Harkonnen. People would come from near and far now that Paul Atreides was emperor. A surge of jealousy courses through Feyd as you enter your ship. He watches you closely as you pour yourself a glass of water and begin to unwind from the long day. Feyd-Rautha never considered he would ever have to share you in any way. No part of him wanted to, in the same way you don’t want to share him with the galaxy.

“Feyd? Can you unzip me?” You ask, snapping him out of his daze. His hands find your dress's zipper before he pulls it down delicately. Your dress separates down your back revealing bare skin Feyd’s eyes feast on. You hold your dress against your body with folded arms under your breasts as a force of habit.

“Let it fall” Feyd rasps and you look up into the mirror at the same moment he does too. Releasing your arms the dress falls crumpling into a pile at your feet leaving your breasts bare. A hand on your waist guides you from the mirror to the back of a couch. Feyd releases his hand, taking his mother to cup your breast as you stand in front of him. He holds you with one taking the necklace and placing the vile to sit on your back in his sights.

“What’s your fantasy?” you ask, feeling the shift in his energy as he kisses your neck.

“Most of them aren’t safe for our child” he says holding your stomach with pride. His mind is teeming with possibilities. The looks from everyone burrowing deeper and deeper under his skin. He could see how they weren’t wondering what you were doing with him, doubting your happiness, probably thinking you’re with him wholly against your will playing a role for survival. There was an understanding for why he wanted you but Feyd didn’t feel that mutual respect. The respect he’d earned in the fighting pit and as a warrior made him ill suited as a husband or family man in the minds of his contemporaries. Typically the opinions of others meant little to him but his feelings were different now, he needed everyone to know how capable he was at being an excellent husband to you. Placing kisse down your spine, an  idea settles into his consciousness Feyd feels himself hardening. He bends you over the back of the couch, slapping your ass so hard it leaves a sting he kisses away in moments. The mix of pain and pleasure causes your body to heat, your center creams greedily. You know you can’t take another round of Feyd as much as you want him. 

“Since you don’t want me in the arena, I’ll invite everyone to Giedi Prime for my ceremony” Feyd whispers gently, rubbing the soreness away. You turn to face him finally once it feels better and his eyes are sex drunk. You can see whatever thoughts are rolling around in his head are getting him off.  You sink to your knees to be a loving partner in other ways. He assists you by freeing his dick from his pants, it bounces free to meet your lips. 

“For the ceremony I'll make sure the Baron sees us take his position before he dies. Before we come out I'll rig up my dressing room with listening devices” Feyd says as you kiss his tip looking up at him like you’ve learned he likes. Smiling his arousal grows at the feeling of your mouth around him. Grabbing your hair he goes deep slowly, its pure pleasure but to him your pussy is still second to none. 

“Rig it up with audio as the audience waits for us,” Feyd says through measured speech. The visuals of the entire planet and distinguished guests' play in his mind. “Then, I’m going to fuck you like never before so the planet and every important dignitary knows how much I enjoy my wife and how much she enjoys me” Feys days through gritted black teeth.

 It’s so hot you're covered in goosebumps.

Your body set a blaze by his words

By his desires, and their illicit nature.

 You suck harder and deeper imagining Feyd giving you his best and what that would sound like to the world. The thoughts leave you just as wild. Feyd waits for an objection but none come. Your eyes find his mutual desire pools in your orbs, your energy matching his. Your willingness to please him takes Feyd over the edge as he strains to keep his eyes open. Your inherent talent is incredible, you suck him so good he sees stars. When Feyd is on the edge he takes your head guiding himself in as far as you can take a few times before his climax takes him.

His rugged breathing settles before color and sense is restored within his consciousness. Looking down he finds you covered in his black arousal with a glistening mouth and more of it on your chest and the necklace with the vile. He takes a mental picture of you sullied on your knees. What he feels for you grows more dangerous by the moment. He thought you made him crazy when he was on the hunt for you, lucky for him a lifetime of sustained desire for you is his destiny.

________

Thanks so much for reading, it feels good to be back. Let me know what you think about this update. How do we like husband Feyd and all his possessive jealousy? Like, comment and reblog.

PS: If you're thinking "what about the Baron". He will be dealt with on the page in the next part. Hope you enjoyed 🩶

__________

@elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal @delusionsofnostalgia @szapizzapanda @palomavz @mcswan02 @slutforsmut4ever @emeraldsgirl @jackiekae @sarahhelpimsinking @maat-the-prescriptive @moonsoulk @katherineswiftie2017-blog @melancholicmelanin @littlebugs @alexa4040 @unicoreads @mimsie95 @mamawiggers1980 @miaraised @7-reblogs @snwells @wo-ming-bai @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @the-na-baroness

[riskyraiker]

Hello!!! I hope you're doing well!! I would like to request cybertronian! Reader with like four arms and that's like the Queen or King of the battlefield in ancient Cybertron history (example: reader was the strongest Autobot ever in history and there's ancient data about reader and photos too ykyk what I'm getting👍🙏😭) and the reader then got summoned by Megatron or idk at that point but you can choose what happens!! :33 I hope this isn't too much😭

OH MY!!! I LOVE THIS!!! but reader is an autobot in this, please tell me if you want to see an decepticon version. You are a head taller than Megatron in this.

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

You remembered everything about how you got killed, the crying before you lost your hearing, the optics looking in horror how the strongest autobot is about to die. Now? Nobody has any idea what happened, your body vanished before they started looking for it. Optimus carried your legacy as the one and last prime. He was your friend, but you didn't get to be friends that long. Since he was made so late and you met 10 years before the war started. It felt like you woke up immediately you fell down. Where am I? you think, but soon enough you hear a voice you recongize. Megatron. "The legend is real! Y/N! I have summoned you to help us decepticons to bring Cybertron back to life and rise as the Queen/King of the battlefields like you used to be!" used to? Used to?! "Since when I wasn't the Queen/King of the battlefields? And what do you mean summoned?" I put my upper hands on my waist and lower ones crossed. "You have been offline for quite a while, Y/N. Join us since I don't want to destroy such a fighter." What is he talking about? Before you could answer a spacebridge appeared. Well it's a groundbridge but you don't need to know that yet. Through the groundbridge walks Optimus Prime himself! "Orion?!" "OPTIMUS!" Both you and Megatron yelled. "Y/N DESTROY HIM!" Did he just order me around, used-to-be-low-level mech just ordered me around?! "Are you! GIVING ME! THE QUEEN/KING OF THE BATTLEFIELDS, ORDERS?" I jumped to attack Megatron, he dodged. Another swing and a hit aswell. Punching again, Megatron catched my servo, but is definitely struggling against all my strength. I almost forgot! I have four hands! You thought as you go and punch Megatron into his 'stomach'. You pick him up and throw him to the nearest cliff you see. "Y/n? It can't be." That low voice..turning around you look at the red n' blue mech. "Optimus?"

Optimus Prime

He missed you so much! So so so so much! No matter how emotionless he can be he definitely hugged you either at the spot where you two reunited or back at the base.

Before you were summoned and revived he used to look through your files. He always stared at the picture, trying to remember how you looked when he would do something smart or help them with something.

He would try (keyword! try) to spar with you as training, but he lost usually. (Much to his shock, he did think he was good at fighting.)

Would let you go alone to a mission (HOW) and lets you have fun with the kids every now and then.

He need help? You're there. He's losing to Megs? You're there to beat some decepticon aft.

He loves your four hands, anytime he would be hurt or just needs support all your hands would around him hugging him gently.

But in the battlefield? Oh oh I'm glad you asked. He doesn't know if he should be scared or proud to see you back in action. He is glad about that you would save him no matter what comes against.

Ratchet

He had heard about you when Cybertron still had life on it's surface.

He never believed you're real, until the moment he sees you.

Four arms!? He had to check them out (for science research of course) and see how they work, because he's a medic!

Anytime you would get wounded he's rushing over to you.

He would be against it that you would go on the battlefield. You ALWAYS have to confront him that you hold the title queen/king of the battlefield.

He does like how nice and helpful you are. Since you're the queen/king of the battlefield he didn't think you would be nice and help him around the lab.

If he needs an substitute for work when he needs rest you would take his place immediately for his sake.

Bumblebee

He would be a little scared of you since you beat Megatron so easily.

The moment you prove you wouldn't hurt any of the team he would be your son from now on.

You two always had each others backs.

He would love clinging on to one of your four arms.

He has any form of a problem? Don't worry you already know about it and you'll solve it.

If he would ever get hurt you would show the enemy why you hold the title as the queen/king of the battlefield

Before you arrived he used to read some datapads about you which he got from Optimus.

He would ask you to teach him how to fight.

Arcee

She would be amazed by the amount of arms you have, but won't show it until she trusts you.

Would trust you the moment you beat Megatrons aft in front of her optics, because none of the cons would dare to even poke him.

She would be grateful that you saved her and others in the Battlefield.

Would be surprised to find some old files of you and would be more shocked to read them.

You both are badass in Jack's opinion.

Since you know how awful it's to lose a partner in the team you won't question her or how untrusting she is.

If she would get hurt in the middle of a fight you would carry her with one of your hands and fight others.

Bulkhead

He would admire you and your strength. You just beat Megatron with ease!

He had heard rumours about someone like you when he was a wrecker back in Cybertron, but never believed them until now.

He always wants to go in battles with you to see how ruthless is the queen/king of the battlefields.

He was in trouble and cornered by vehicons in a energon mine? Those vehicons looked like they belonged in a scrapyard after you attacked them.

He would be a fanboy with wheeljack and praise the ground you walk on.

Training? Hell yea he would be in. Until he loses every single time.

Wheeljack

Oh oh don't even get me started!

Would hate you, but love your fighting style at the same time.

"pshh, show off." Could be heard anytime you and him were in the battlefield the same time.

You did start to grow on him. Suddenly you weren't so bad in fighting, suddenly you weren't such a show off, suddenly he seemed to like your presence.

Now? You two are the destructive duo.

Ratchet would be worried about you more than wheeljack.

"ouch, that just broke my spark docbot." He was definitely kicked in his aft after that.

He would go on drives with you so he could get to know you better. (Surprisingly since he's such a loner)

Smokescreen

He would run over to you the moment you walk into the base.

"YOU'RE REAL?!" apparently he has read about you before.

You wouldn't have any privacy for a week since he's like a golden retriever who clings to you 24/7

He would be flabbergasped how somebots in the team didn't trust you yet. "They're the strongest Autobot in history! Let's keep them, pleeeease!"

Like I said already. He's such a golden retriever. He needs your attention, he needs you to teach him fighting etc.

Now you're his new mom too! You got two new sons! Yippee i guess?

When he sees you in action, he has star eyes. You know when he talks about it when optimus first uses the star saber? He talks like that but even more excited!

Ultra Magnus

Has high respect for you, but would hate how reckless you can be with wheeljack.

He would give you a lecture, but it falls through deaf audio receptors.

The moment he sees you in action he would doubt you less.

He knew that you used to exist, well now that you're actually alive he can't help but feel a little bit relieved that the autobots have the upperhand.

If you would call him Sir he would let you off easier.

Was surprised when he lost his hand that you supported him best you can. He didn't think that the queen/king of the battlefields could be so soft.

Denied it when you suggested that he's your adopted grumpy son, since he's always so worried about you. (He is your son now, but doesn't let the team know)

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

AN: I HOPE YOU LIKED IT AND I APOLOGIZE THAT IT TOOK SO LONG. I HAD A CAMP AND NOW SCHOOL IS STARTING SO I WAS BUSY😭😭🫶

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Could you do a Drayton x GN!Reader, where reader is rather clingy,

(and possibly trying to avoid Carmine by sticking w/ Drayton, knowing that she hates him? This is opt but it'd be p cool if you added this)

Ooo this is so adorable! I loved writing this so much! And I did include the Carmine request for you, I love my girl Carmine. I got a bit carried away though so i do hope you like it 💜💜

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After a long and ruthless day of training, Drayton wants nothing more than to just lay down with his s/o and chill. And his s/o wants the exact same thing but there seems to be a road block between them.

SPOILER WARNING AHEAD (Indigo Disk Main Story and a little bit of The Teal Mask)

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

Just this once | Drayton x Clingy Reader

“Is it just me, or is Kieran even more snappy today?” Lacey questioned as the door to the League club room opened. Drayton just sighed in response, holding the door open for the group, still feeling the strain from his training battle with Kieran.

Crispin was still fired up when he rushed into the room, hitting his hand against his pan. “What is his deal? Why can’t he get over himself!? I'm burning up just thinking about it. Who does he think he is? Revives aren't allowed, even in training battles!? Let alone two max revives.”

“Calm yourself, Crispin. Yelling about it won’t solve a thing,” Amarys calmly responded, pulling out her pocket watch and examining the time carefully.

“Sounds like you four had a fun time out there." Your voice chimed from the corner. A smile on your face when the group jumps from your response. Well, all except Drayton, who went from being stressed and tired to happy and tired. "Kieran giving you a hard time again?”

Drayton rubbed the back of his neck as he stretched his other arm up. “Hard time isn’t the word for it; I've never been so against Pokemon battling in my life. Apparently, a simple double battle isn’t good enough for our almighty  champion. "Rolling his eyes as he says champion before making his way over to you.

“I'm still all fired up from the fight! And I didn’t even fight Keiran,” Crispin chimed, crossing his arms in frustration, his fiery rage still burning. The whole place would be on fire if his rage continued.

“Crispin, I think you should get some fresh air. Come on, let's go find some Pokémon to battle.” Lacey calmly placed her hand on his shoulder before ushering him out of the room. Waving to her fellow members before her quick exit.

Finally putting the pocket watch away, Amarys sees herself out as well, giving nothing more than a simple farewell. Leaving just you and Drayton in the League club room. Drayton finally sits down for the first time in hours, pulling you onto the sofa with him. “I am beat... and not just mentally either; think Kieran landed one to many Super Sonic's. Ears are still ringing!” A small laugh escaped your lips as he banged his hand against his ear, acting as if he's trying to get something out, getting a bit too aggressive in the process.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to hurt yourself." You smiled, taking his hand away from his face and into the grasp of your own before moving to sit on his lap, which he happily accepted, putting his free arm around you to hold you there. "Okay, so tell me everything that happened!”

Half way through his very long explanation about how Kieran decided to test the strength of him and Lacey to 'see if they were still worthy’ along with his max revive cheating when they began getting the upper hand on him, Carmine suddenly burst through the door, almost taking the poor thing off its hinges. “I WILL KILL HIM!”

“That’s one way to make an entrance... Are you okay over there?” Drayton questioned, his arms still around you, tightening when you jumped closer to him at her sudden entrance. You could see the steam coming off of Carmine as she paced aggressively around the room, mumbling something to herself.

“No, I am very much not an okay captain obvious! Kieran has crossed a line today, and I need to blow off some steam! Amarys won’t battle me, and I can't find Crispin or Lacey, so one of you two will have to do it, and I'm not taking no for an answer!” She demanded coming over to you both, not even questioning the fact that you're just sitting on his lap.

Drayton shook his head and sighed. “I'm all battled out for today, so you will be taking no for an answer!”

"Fine, then I’ll battle you!” Before you could even protest, Carmine grabbed your arm in a non-aggressive way and practically yanked you away from him, much to your dismay. Letting go once you were by the door. Immediately, you stepped away, wanting to head back for Drayton, who was now standing up, flabbergasted by the audacity. "Hey, no walking out on me; we're battling!”

“Carmine, maybe you should take another look around for Crispin or Lacey? I mean, they have to be somewhere, right?” You respond, hoping she will just decide to go find them and use wild Pokémon as her victims of battle rage. As much as you loved her, you really just wanted to spend time with Drayton; he was your boyfriend, and he needed you as much as you needed him. And now Carmine has burst into the room like a wild Rhyhorn and pulled you away from him.

“No way! You’re here; you aren't doing anything important, so let's battle! I need to battle you so I can go talk to Kiki with a calmer  mind. "She pleaded, fists clenched, as she finally gave her reason for being mad. “He can’t just blame me for one of his Pokémon fainting just because I was watching! I didn’t distract him from that fight; I didn't even say anything!” She continued to rant after that, not even noticing you weren't near her anymore.

Slowly continuing to back away, you somehow manage to make it back to Drayton's side as you hook your arm through his. Finally, You managed to get a word in through Carmine's rambling. “You know... maybe just this once you could go battle some wild Pokémon? I heard there was a Scizor outbreak going on in the canyon."

“Huh? A what? No, I don't care about any stupid outbreaks. I need a real challenge! And you are going to give me that  challenge. "Carmine once again protested, " If she's anything, it’s determined. “And why do you keep hiding behind toothpaste? I'm not that angry!”

"No, you are; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” Drayton mocked crossing his arms as he stepped forward, leaning against the wall beside him as you continued to stay almost glued to his side.

“Zip it, Colgate! You’re not a part of this.” She snapped, staring daggers into his soul when he began laughing. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, you shush it!”

“Carmine, breathe; you are stressed. Take a moment to cool down and just think about my offer; who knows, maybe you could find a shiny Scizor there. That would definitely be one up, Kieran, huh?” Once again, you make an attempt to sway Carmine’s favour, hoping she will take the hint that you really don’t want to leave Drayton right now. Yeah, the fight will be short-lived given the team differences, but all you really wanted to do was just cuddle up to his side like a Komala.

Completely unexpectedly, Carmine stops abruptly and places her hand on her chin, thinking intensely. The way she can just switch off her rage so quickly is scary but hilarious at the same time. “A shiny one would be cool... Plus, Scizor is a pretty tough Pokémon, so I would get some good training done. And Kiki doesn’t have a shiny, so when I talk to him later, I can use it if he gets too pushy again. ALRIGHT! I’m going to get a shiny Scizor!”

Without another word, she just bolted out the door as fast as she came in. Drayton is just confused as he chuckles to himself. "Well, that was something. I’m honestly surprised that it worked; you certainly have a better way of calming the beast than I do love.”

“I'm also surprised that worked! And don’t call her a beast. "You respond by laughing along with him. “Though I'm glad it did work, I was worried I'd have to battle her and miss out on my cuddles.”

“You know I'd never let you miss that! I’d be too lonely. Besides, what's gonna keep me warm when you’re not around? A blanket I think not.” He teased, pulling you against his chest with a smile, your hands resting on his chest. “Though just once, I'm actually glad Carmine interrupted us... Her yelling probably cleared off the whole corridor, so why don’t we head up to my dorm before the swarm files back in? I rented your favourite movie this week.”

“If I get to stay with you, then I am so in!” You cheer. Taking his hand into yours as you drag him out of the room, rush back to his dorm for the peace and quiet you both desperately want. So much yelling for such little time.

[kingsnake101]

I had an idea for a FS/LU au a while back and wrote a little intro for it! Spoilers for Four swords adventures probably

Characters: Green, Red, Vio, Blue, Ganon

TWs: imprisonment, mind control, blood, injury

Green stared at the plain, lichen-stained bricks, counting them for what must have been the hundredth time. Anything to distract him from the sobbing boy curled up against his side. Green gave Red a half-hearted squeeze. He had given up on trying to cheer up his brother long ago. All he could offer now was a shoulder to cry on.

They had been appointed as smiths for Ganon's new kingdom. They were given two meals a day, a workshop, and two cots with megar blankets.

The second cot had barely been touched since they arrived. Although it was irrational, Green couldn't help but fear that his brother would disappear the moment they let go of each other. He knew Red felt the same.

“At least we have each other,” Green mused. Vio and Blue weren't that lucky. Neither of them had seen Blue since they were captured, and whenever Vio visited it wasn't really Vio. Thoughtful purple eyes were clouded over by an opaque red. Red still believed that Vio was in there, and maintained the hope that maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could break through the spell. Green knew better. Ganon was smart. If Vio was in there, he was buried deep. Their meager connection told him that Blue was upstairs somewhere, and absolutely furious most of the time. The times when he wasn't was when Green worried most.

Green had been mad at Link in the beginning. As time went on, however, he began to realize the futility of it all. Red didn't blame Link, because of course he wouldn't. Eventually, the anger faded and melted into the endless void of numb sorrow.

Red let out a few soft sniffles, having finally cried himself to sleep. Green sighed softly, shifting until he was able to lower Red onto the cot. He needed to finish an order of moblins spears. When he tried to stand, the hand on his arm tightened.

“D’nt leave…” Red mumbled, tears slipping down his cheeks. Green glanced to the workshop, then back to his brother. With a sigh, he lowered himself back onto the cot. Red was already back asleep by the time he brought the blanket over the both of them. Green would just have to finish the spears in the morning.

Late that night, something strange happened. A boy dressed in red shook his brother awake, pointing to a glowing portal in the middle of the workshop.

A boy in blue spat blood onto the arena sand, glaring up at his monstrous audience. Ganon only smiled cruelly, raising his hand to signal the next wave of monsters. The gate began to screech open.

The boy in blue braced himself, only to feel a rush of strange magic appear behind him. He spun to face it, snarl turning to shock when he came face to face with a divine portal. A grin split his bloody face. 

The boy wasted no time. His raised middle fingers lingered when he disappeared into the portal.

A boy in purple walked along empty halls, back straight and eyes glowing red. He carried a set of four identical swords. His eyes widened ever so slightly when the floor disappeared underneath him, and within seconds, he was gone. The portal winked out of existence after him.

Explanation: A few months after FSA (I'm basing this off the manga), Link got really lonely and depressed. In desperation, he pulled the four sword, thus releasing Ganon. Ganon kidnapped the colors and put them in the predicaments you see here. Shadow is dormant for now...

Let me know what you think! This won't become a full work, but I might post some snippets. Feel free to ask me any questions about it or write something in this universe! I think I'm going to call it Four Swords Revival AU.

[where-the-water-flows]

ok so like, maybe I am missing something, but. is almost every action/plan carried out by nanyin associated folks to revive nanyin just... absolute clownshoes nonsense? every single attempt is just nine fuck ups in a trench coat before the plan falls off a cliff, and/or gets fully coathangered by someone else's completely unrelated plan at the last second?? Like...

Princess Longxuan, Li Xiangyi's + Jiao Liqiao's mumble great grandmother (?), first cab off the rank re:attempting to revive nanyin. Her husband - who is the fucking crown prince of Xi, and thus should have been a basically guaranteed way to get the nanyin bloodline on the throne, no more plotting required!! job jobbed, everyone take a real long lunch!! - seems to have either decided on his own or been convinced (by her? I guess??) to be like 'fuck waiting to inherit the throne when my dad the emperor dies, life is short and coups never ever go wrong', and then fucked that up so bad they got executed and also consigned to the shame tomb for eternity about it. on the one hand, wild that she did not get executed prior to the failed coup, given everyone seems to have known? she was from nanyin?? which literally falls the day after her wedding???? I don't know enough about historical Chinese customs here w/r/t if she would have been considered to have fully 'married out' and thus be....not of nanyin and presumably thus an enemy of the state...even though she clearly still thought of herself as being of nanyin???? also, this is assuming that nanyin is an enemy of Xi! maybe they were allies, and when nanyin fell Xi was like ':( oh noooo.... anyway.' , but I....do not get that impression. on the other hand. girlie your husband is the crown prince. you have a son with him, thus securing the bloodline already. you are, presumably, a fucking shoe in for inheriting the throne? how did you fuck this up. I know it might have just been your husband being impatient but also good lord, talk about an own goal.

Feng A-Lu, nanyin sorcerer, secret great grandfather(ish) of the current emperor of Xi. second attempt to do anything about getting nanyin bloodline on the throne. fucks up and does not find the heir even a little bit. On the one hand, finding some kid/teen in a forest is probably reasonably difficult, given the circumstances, on the other hand, c'mon man. you had one job.

Jin Yu Huang Quan, the og guys holding the ice keys. fully just decided to simply say no thank you!! to bringing back nanyin, the thing they were explicitly entrusted with doing. not really a fuck up on their part, because they got sweet cash money out of it, but also, very funny they were collectively just 'friendship ended with reviving nanyin, being rich in Xi is our new friend.'

Feng A-Lu, again. also fucks up what is presumably the back up plan to take over Xi with the power of the karmic bug (and murder), because he gets distracted by a pretty girl, and then practically attic wifes himself. on the one hand, not really his fault consort Ying was planning her own 'and then I will be emperor empress, mwuah-ha-ha' thing, on the other hand, c'mon man, stop thinking with your dick for five seconds.

Feng bloodline / Wansheng clan. misidentifies the orphan heir they've been looking for. literally would have been better off not checking the signs (necklace, birthmark) and just picking one of the two possible options at random, because that would have given them a 50/50 chance of picking the right kid. not really their fault for assuming the kid with the identifying necklace is actually the kid with the identifying necklace they're looking for, but still. fucked that one up right good. the fact that even if shan gudao had won nanyin still wouldn't have managed to get their royal bloodline on the throne is incredibly funny.

Shan Gudao, sigu sect era. leaving as read he's not actually nanyin royalty anyway and thus literally everything he does is by definition clownshoes fuck up from the start; sigu sect era he is presumably planning to get close to the emperor via...sigu sect becoming allied with/part of the imperial court?? and then launching a coup from there. maybe also picking up the karmic bug, only he screws that up too, RIP to the 14 thieves. manages to ally with the court! plan derailed because surprise, li xiangyi has learnt a new trick, and it is: basic diplomacy. has to fully fake his death about this for a literal decade. hilariously bad outcome, nice job mate.

Shan Gudao, again. retrieves (via jiao liqiao via di feisheng+fang doubing+li lianhua) the karmic bug box he failed to get his hands on a decade ago. manages to finally collect all four ice keys. unlocks the karmic bug box. immediately loses the karmic bug, box, and keys. technically this probably doesn't count as fucking up a whole plan unto itself and is just a set back because he does get the bug back but also, lol. lmao.

Jiao Liqiao. she has clearly been working with the wansheng clan (including, secretly, shan gudao) for about/over a decade? thundering fire bombs, basically took over the jinyuan alliance, etc, but also, she does seem to have just been using them (to get her man) as much as they were using her (to clear remove any possible threats to their power/throne), so... good for her I guess. she decides to go all in on being the emperor at basically the last second, and honestly, she doesn't do too bad! she could fully nuke the karmic bug advantage, and after that it's a power struggle between her and shan gudao, which, I'd back her and her legion of jianghu boytoys over him. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she does die because her malewife ambitions were set too high, though. notable for how her plan coathangers herself with the absolute clownshoes behavior.

Shan gudao, again (again). actually gets sort of on the throne! for like. a second. before getting his ass kicked, his henchmen killed/defeated, and also finding out that whoops wrong orphan. hilarious to me that he is the nanyin aligned person who actually succeeds at getting a nanyin person on the throne for a hot second, except for how he's not....actually of a nanyin bloodline at all. net zero success.

like, once is happenstance, twice is bad luck, nine+ times over a century is very much hitting maybe you should just pick a new, more realistic goal territory.

[thursdayinspace]

So many feelings about Mulder’s emotional journey and how it affects his relationship with Scully from early on over iwtb to the revival, related to this post and everything @deathsbestgirl says about the parallels between the scenes. In "Detour," we see Scully coming to his room with wine and cheese and he promptly runs off without even telling her what he's doing. In "Plus One" in the revival, he waits for her behind a closed motel room door. He makes the offer for more this time around. It's her choice what to do with it.

In "Detour," when Scully comes to his room offering to spend a nice evening together, just the two of them, Mulder really isn't ready. He has so much on his mind and so many things keeping him from being with her. A lot of that is down to the fact that his -- their -- search for "the truth" takes up so much of his life. He knows how he feels about her, but acting on it would be a tectonic shift in their lives. And sometimes he also is simply too caught up in his quest to notice. Sometimes, maybe, he takes her for granted. In any case, it's too much. He can't risk what they have because there is so much at stake. Their search for truths, but also his heart.

Then there's Mulder in iwtb who has no idea what to do with himself. He knows he loves her and he wants to be with her, but he also gets so caught up in the work after being cut off from the world for so long. He's directionless, lost, torn between all the things he wants, just looking for anything to hold onto that will give his life meaning. In "Detour," he has a purpose, and he knows she's with him on that. In iwtb he has no purpose at all and something is not quite right with their relationship, which is all he has (which is also part of the problem). He's in nowhere-land and just looking for something, anything. He has no idea what he wants apart from wanting her, but being someone's partner is not enough of an identity for anyone. He has nothing that defines him.

In the revival, he knows what he wants. The work is undeniably important to him, but what he wants is a life with her, in which they can both be their own people too. From his intense, focused drive in the early years over his directionless despair and depression in iwtb we get a Mulder in the revival who is settled, secure in his goals and needs, even if it hurts. He has accepted his pain too. He knows. And he will wait. He doesn't pursue the fixing of their relationship frantically like he used to do with his search for answers. He's there, he's hers, and she can take him up on that when she's ready. And if she's never ready, he's still hers. The way he loves her is so gentle and calm, even in the moments where it becomes apparent how desperately in love he still is with her. But he makes the offer, and when she comes to him, he's there, waiting. And the important part is: he can do that because he has a place in the world. He knows who he is. He no longer carries the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, and he's also no longer floating in space. He doesn't have all the answers. He still wants them, but the search doesn't define him in the way it used to. Neither does his relationship with her.

In ftf he tells her that she made him a whole person. I'm not sure he was able to fully grasp the meaning of that at that point, but that doesn't make it any less true. She helped him keep his course and not give up. He could keep going because he wasn't alone and because she challenged him. But he needed something to be challenged on. He exists in extremes in the earlier years and in iwtb. In the revival, he has found a middle ground and he has found patience and the ability to stand still. To wait. To not be all or nothing anymore. We still see him doubting himself and his beliefs, wavering, being insecure, and we see her being there for him when that happens. He's still Mulder, and he still needs to Believe. But now he's become the one with the wine and cheese. It's there for her whenever she wants it.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (VI)

Part one here…

Continued from here…

*~*~*~*~*

Kit’s body ached everywhere. It hurt to sleep if you could even call it that. Every time Kit turned over or moved his head, or adjusted the pillow he was in pain.

The dull aching everywhere nearly blinded Kit to the fact that he was in a bed. Lying down. Unrestrained. With a pillow!

Which meant that he wasn’t with Ambrose.

Had he… had he woken up when he was supposed to be doing Ambrose’s bidding, because this wasn’t a foreign bed this was Kit’s bed. He knew because he could feel the springs in his old mattress digging into his ribs.

The same mattress Superhero had told Kit to get rid of, but Kit just couldn’t part ways, and Kit’s pillow was perfect for him, not too firm but hard enough to support his creaking neck.

Kit was at home!

Ambrose fucked up, Kit could call Superhero right now, tell him exactly what’s going on and what Ambrose did, he could catch Ambrose!

Kit was halfway out of the bed as this thought crossed his mind, a giddy feeling numbing the bruises, cuts and trauma his muscles had endured with the fucking cattle prod—

His electricity.

Kit wasn’t wearing the rubber gloves. Or rubber anything for that matter!

Kit fell out of bed, his leg not quite carrying his weight, but it didn’t matter.

Kit sat on the floor, licking his lips in anticipation as he brought his hand in front of his face and with bated breath… clicked his fingers.

Blue sparks cackled around Kit’s hand like a glove, and it was like Kit was being revived. The relief it felt to see the bright electric blue, to hear the soft buzz of power, to feel the electric currents in the air.

Kit let the power wash over them. He clicked his fingers in his other hand and let the sparks fly from his fist down his arms up to his elbows and from there he just let it rip.

It got to Kit’s shoulders, to his chest, he could feel his hair stand on end from the currents but none of it fazed them. Not one bit. Kit could feel the power thrumming behind his eyes, and he knew he were same colour as his electricity and for a while Kit just sat there completely engulfed in the wash of his power.

It felt like relieving a muscle that had been stuck in one spot for too long and was cramping, or, cracking his back, or, stretching his shoulders in the morning.

Kit’s electricity reinvigorated him with the energy surging through him just because he could.

He was his own conduit.

His own person.

His own mind, not Ambrose’s puppet, he was 100% Kit right now, because Ambrose fucked up with his twisted compulsion. Kit almost cried with joy.

Kit let his electricity dim and got to his feet with a renewed fire to find Superhero and tell him everything… but first… Kit needed a shower, he needed to feel the warm water pound on his back and relax the rest of his aching muscles.

Kit looked to his bedside table and saw his phone plugged in and charging. Ambrose really did make sure Kit was living a normal life when he wasn’t conscious…

Kit didn’t want to open the phone; he didn’t want to read the text messages he didn’t send. And yet Kit’s feet padded over to his table and picked up the phone. The screen lit up. Kit’s heart dropped as his eyes stared down at the date and time.

He wanted to be sick.

It wasn’t days he was with Ambrose; it wasn’t weeks, it was a month and a half since the docks.

A month and a half of Kit’s lost time… where all he remembered was Ambrose and his cruelty. A month and a half of nobody realising that Kit wasn’t in fact Kit, but Ambrose’s vassal.

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat and put in his pin. The same pin it had always been, at least Ambrose didn’t have the foresight to change that.

Instead of going to his messages and torturing himself further, Kit went to his Spotify and clicked into his shower playlist.

How long had it been since he heard music?

A month and a half, a snide voice told them in the back of his head, but Kit ignored it and just let the music wash over them.

Oh yeah, he was going to be singing this at the top of his lungs in the shower.

Kit grabbed a towel, some underwear and made sure to lock the bathroom door just in case. When the hot water hit his back, he let out a long sigh of relief. His shoulders were so tense after Ambrose had made him dangle in chains for who knows how long? The water seemed to get under Kit’s skin and unwind every knot and ache in his muscles leaving him feeling refreshed and calm.

The smell of Kit’s soap and shampoo made him relax even further. It felt as if nothing had happened to him in the last six weeks and that he was just going about his daily routine of waking up, showering, going to work tell Superhero he was tortured.

Kit’s stomach growled the second after he had turned the shower off and he smiled to himself. How normal a feeling it was to be hungry. How entirely mundane, that Kit’s body’s nerves were telling him to eat. Reminding him to do it.

God when was the last time he had tasted food for himself?

Kit got hungrier just thinking about it. He dried himself and dressed as quickly as possible. He stopped the music on his phone, towelling his hair dry, not too bothered with how he looked as he descended into the kitchen, ravenous with hunger.

The smell of bacon made his mouth all but water and it wasn’t until he saw Ambrose that he realised he shouldn’t have smelled bacon to begin with. Ambrose saw Kit too and grinned at him, smirk wicked sharp.

“Morning,” Ambrose drawled. He looked too strange in Kit’s kitchen, a towel over his shoulder and a spatula in his hand he used to turn the bacon over in the pan.

Kit’s hand shot out on instinct, but his electricity simmered from a glove of reassurance to nothing but pathetic sparks as Kit felt the icy sludge of Ambrose’s power creep into his mind.

“Come on, Kit, none of that now,” Ambrose said, clicking his tongue. “I let you sleep in and everything, made you breakfast. Tell me you’ll behave, and I won’t restrain you further.”

Kit bit the inside of his cheek, frozen where he stood. A part of him wanted to lash out and go mad and kill Ambrose where he stood, but another part, a bigger part of him was too scared of being restrained again. He was enjoying the limited freedom Ambrose was giving him, and until seeing the bastard Kit was happy.

God he was so stupid for thinking Ambrose would just let him go, or fuck up in his commands… Kit was such an idiot.

“Well?” Ambrose asked, cocking an eyebrow at Kit, interrupting Kit’s thoughts and reminding him that he hasn’t answered.

Kit’s shoulders sagged at the demoralisation of having to articulate his submission, but Kit could beat himself up about it later. Right now, he was starving, and he wanted to be able to eat unhindered.

“I’ll be good,” Kit said quietly, swallowing his pride.

Ambrose beamed at him like a proud parent and gestured for Kit to sit at his own table. “Good. Sit! Breakfast is almost ready.”

Kit sucked in a deep breath and crossed the room to his table, pulling out a chair, settling heavy into it. He was facing Ambrose as he worked in the kitchen, not daring to take his eyes off of him for a moment. His heart started beating a little faster in his chest as he felt the weight of his phone in his hand.

If he called Superhero right now… Superhero would know. He could come and find Ambrose. Catch him in the act.

“One egg or two?” Ambrose asked, smiling over his shoulder at Kit.

“Uhm, two please,” Kit replied, licking his lips.

“So polite, Kit. Of course. Two eggs coming up,” Ambrose said, turning back to the counter and grabbing two eggs. Kit glanced down at his phone and back at Ambrose quickly. Just in time too because Ambrose turned back to face Kit a fraction of a second later. “See how nice it is when we can be civil.”

Kit forced a smile, which came out more as a grimace, and nodded.

“Could this be the turning point for us, do you think?”

“Maybe,” Kit said, nodding again. “You never know.”

Ambrose smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the pan, cracking the eggs into it. Kit’s fingers moved quickly under the table as he heard the eggs hit the pan with a sizzle and a spit.

He found Superhero’s contact and hovered over it for a second, looking back at Ambrose to see him whistling by the stove and with a heavy swallow Kit pressed the call button and left it on the chair beside him, making sure the volume was down.

But it didn’t matter.

Because a couple seconds after Kit had put his phone down and looked up innocently at Ambrose, he heard the start of the song ‘bad moon rising’ playing by Creedence Clearwater Revival and his blood ran cold. Ice rushed through his veins, and he so very desperately wanted to cancel the call, but he couldn’t move. All he could do was watch as Ambrose reached into his back pocket and answer the call without so much as blinking.

“You know, Kit,” Ambrose said into the phone, his voice echoing because the phones were in the same room. “I really thought we could at least get through breakfast without you throwing a tantrum. Guess not.”

Kit was out of his chair before Ambrose finished the sentence, feet on the wood floor, sprinting, lunging for the front door. He was only two feet away when a piercing screeching sound echoed between his ears and Kit screamed, trying to force himself through it.

He was so close.

He had to power through it.

Then it got too loud. Unbearable and Kit’s leg went like jelly, his vision swimming, the world tilting until he was on the ground, curled up into a tight ball, eyes squeezed shut trying to push out the ringing in his ears. The screeching lessened, leaving a dull ache in its wake and Kit wanted to throw up as the world spun around him.

“Kit, Kit, Kit,” Ambrose chided, feigned disappointment but it sounded so far away. Kit vaguely heard his footsteps approach and knew he had to get away.

Kit turned onto his stomach and reached out to the door, swallowing the bile in his throat with his motion and pathetically half-dragged himself forward. He only got an inch before the heel of Ambrose’s boot slammed down onto the back of Kit’s hand and dug in.

Kit was a wreck. His mind both hazy and frantic, thoughts like bullets shooting through a foggy moor, his chest heaving with the effort of his screams and his pathetic attempts of escape. All Kit saw was Ambrose’s foot draw back before slamming into the side of Kit’s jaw a second later, flipping him onto his back. Ambrose didn’t release Kit’s hand, so Kit was staring at the ceiling, arm twisted above them awkwardly. He must have bit his cheek because the stench of iron overwhelmed his tastebuds as he glared weakly up at Ambrose, eyes still having trouble focusing.

“God, Kit. I will just never get bored of you. Of this. Look at you… so strong, so sure, so noble, and yet there isn’t a thing you can do to stop me.”

Kit pushed weakly at Ambrose’s boot with his free hand, just because he could and just because he didn’t want Ambrose to be right. Kit could do something, he could try and get away. Try and escape. Ambrose hadn’t taken any of the fight from Kit, he was going to defeat Ambrose, someday. Somehow.

He just needed to be patient and let Ambrose think there was nothing Kit could do to stop him…

Yeah.

Kit believed that, or he could, if he forced himself to try and completely disconnect from reality and ignored how well and truly fucked he was.

“Awh,” Ambrose cooed, lifting his leg and stomping it down on Kit’s chest instead of his hand. Kit’s eyes bulged and he wheezed, his body curling around Ambrose’s boot, trying in vain to push Ambrose off of him. It was no use. Ambrose leaned down over Kit, shifting more of his weight onto the leg on Kit’s chest, effectively pinning him to the ground like an ant under a giant’s boot.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this. Tired eyes wide with panic,” Ambrose said, digging his heel in further and grinning when Kit tightened his grip on Ambrose’s ankle and grit his teeth to prevent the scream from escaping his lungs. “The bags really do wonders to the character of your face. Truly, Kit. I must admit I’ll always be a little weak in the knees at the blood staining the inside of your lips when you gasp.”

“Why don’t you take a fucking picture?!” Kit hissed, spit flying from his mouth in anger, rage flaring ugly inside him. “And then leave me the fuck alone!”

Ambrose’s dark eyes smiled down at Kit like a cat’s alight with interest. He didn’t drop the eye contact for a second as he reached into his pocket and took his phone out, snapping a photo of Kit. Kit blinked at the flash, stunned for a moment. Bewildered Ambrose would actually take a picture.

“You’re right Kit. That was a great idea. I think I’ll make this my screensaver.”

“Motherfucker!” Kit howled. Something hideous that could only be described as vengeful wrath fuelling his body as he shot forward from the ground. For a moment Kit could revel in the shock on Ambrose’s face as he hooked his arms around Ambrose’s knee, driving his heels into the ground to push himself forward and flip Ambrose onto his back.

Kit got on top of him, taking every advantage as he saw it. He had a very short window of time where Ambrose’s brain would be trying to catch up with current events, Kit would know. Ambrose had him in a constant state of shock and fear, trying to claw at the situation and adjust but all too slowly.

Kit pinned Ambrose’s shoulders to the ground using his knees. He didn’t even reach for his power. Instead, he punched from the waist, letting out a half-shocked gasp when he felt his knuckles collide with Ambrose’s perfect cheekbone.

Was he dreaming?

No. Even if this was a dream, Kit didn’t care. He didn’t have time to dwell on things.

Act now, think later.

Ambrose struggled under Kit, but Kit laughed a little giddy as he sent his second punch straight for Ambrose’s throat. Ambrose gasped under him like a fish from water and it was a bit addicting seeing him choke on air. Seeing him being strangled for once, breath robbed of him by Kit, instead of the other way around.

Kit punched Ambrose’s temple, but he felt Ambrose’s familiar ice-cold touch slide down the muscles in his arm and slow the impact of it, so Ambrose wasn’t knocked out cold. Which was a pity, but it also meant Kit got to punch him again. This time Kit’s knuckles crunched against Ambrose’s nose.

If Ambrose was able to get a hold of his power for a moment to stop Kit’s punch that meant he needed to knock him out now.

At that thought Kit’s hand ignited like a match dropped to petrol his electricity crackling happily around his fingers, blue sparks flaring and turning almost red. Kit grinned down at Ambrose who’s struggles renewed tenfold. Kit dropped his hand to Ambrose’s face and stared mesmerised by the reflection of his power in Ambrose’s dark eyes, like fire glinting off marble. In the reflection Kit saw himself too and he recoiled in horror.

Ambrose grinned below Kit as Kit’s electricity dissipated with a weak whizzing sound. Seeing Ambrose’s grin, Kit’s arm moved before his mind did and this time his punch landed straight on Ambrose’s temple. Ambrose’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp under Kit, his head hitting the ground with a gentle thump.

Kit’s eyes blew wide, not wanting to move at first. His hand reached down and pulled Ambrose’s eyelid down and saw that he was actually unconscious. Then Kit was on his feet, running to the bathroom and slamming the light on.

He stopped in front of the mirror over the sink, and it was still there.

Kit stepped closer to the mirror, staring deep into the reflection that didn’t look like Kit. He was used to his eyes turning an electric blue when he used his power, but his eyes… the eyes reflected back at them were a violent scarlet, and not just his eyes. The veins under his eyes were the same garish, bright red mixed with a few of Kit’s familiar electric blue and a deep purple where the two colours collided.

Kit reached a shaky hand up to touch the veins and saw his hand still coated in the same mix of red and blue and purple. He clicked his fingers and electricity buzzed to life in his palm, his electric blue and Kit nearly sighed in relief.

Until the red sparks started flying again and shot out at the light in the bathroom. Kit flinched as glass shattered above him and fell like twinkling rain down onto the tiles with a clatter. When Kit looked back at the mirror those red eyes stared back hauntingly at him, and Kit swore for a moment that his eyes smiled like Ambrose’s.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed &lt;;3) — @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain

[shebeafancyflapjack]

I need to know if any other long term New Who fans (people who have been watching since the 2005 revival or near enough) also have this fatigue to whenever it's teased that the Doctor has a family member or friend, only for it then revealed to be either a lie or an enemy.

We had it in Utopia, which was an excellent reveal, and you can argue the Master is family of sorts to the Doctor even if they're enemies - but dude still hates him and went on to do horrendous things to him, his companion and her family, and the world.

Then you had the Doctor's Wife where the Doctor gets one of those glowing cubes and follows it thinking he's going to meet another Time Lord, only for it to be a trap.

We have all these teases about mystery characters that have people wondering "Are they Romana? Are they Susan? Are they Susan's parents?" but it's never the case.

We have everything involving the Timeless Child and the reveal that the Doctor was adopted, but even their adoptive mother was a selfish b**** who experimented on a child, killing them over and over and brainwashing them.

We had the Doctor's Daughter which before the episode aired most of the fandom assumed was going to be about Susan's mother or aunt, but it just turned out to be a clone who the Doctor knew for a few hours.

There are more but basically when it got to this whole "there's a mysterious woman called Susan so that must mean she's probably the Doctor's granddaughter" I was just rolling my eyes and groaning because I know this shtick so well by now. The Sue Tech thing was a nice play on words but even the reveal just had me thinking about Utopia and Yana/the Master. But that at least carried more emotional weight because the Master is a reoccurring villain and has a history with the Doctor that goes back to them being friends as well as enemies. Sutekh is....cool? Or was for that one good story? But much like the Midnight monster or even the Beast, it was never felt as necessary for him to return.

I just really hope we don't get more of this teasing in RTD's run, especially as Carol Ann Ford is nearly 83 and I think most fans agree that if you're gonna bring Susan back properly do it while the og actress is with us. But even that's risking it the more you put it off, just look at how Lis Sladen was taken from us far too soon. Look at how we never got to see the Doctor reunite with Ian and Barbara. Or even the Brigadier on screen in the revival.

Basically if you want to do it just do it but stop with the baiting because I'm so done with it now.

[thelonelysoulhome]

Moratorium by Omoinotoke

Moratorium is the original ost from the film "Saezuru tori wa habatakanai : the cloud gather"

This song is really beautyful and meaningful, feels like it was written for Doumeki and Yashiro and it gives again another layer to this masterpiece. So I wanted to share it here.

This is the oficial clip with the most accurate translation. The performance is also stuning :

(Click on the link, to see the translation)

"If the sky stops singing

Will you fly to the place you should come back to ?"

That feel like Yashiro's thoughts to me, his whole narrative about the fact that Doumeki is a lost baby bird and the fear that he could return to his 'home' when the storm calm down.

"If I speak out my voice

Will the rain that wet you stop falling ?"

I interpret those lines like Doumeki's wondering, if he express his feelings for Yashiro, would that help him get's better ?

"Locked, Unable to fly "

Yashiro is trapped in this bird cage. A bird that borned in captivity can't escape 'cause he don't know how to live otherwise, even if you open the cage for him, he won't go 'cause he won't survive in the outside world, he'll choose the familiar enviroment over the wandering of the unknown, even if he suffocates inside, hee'll stay 'cause nobody ever taught him how to fly.

Some time ago I came across this masterpiece animation created by TheOneWithBear, that was made with this song:

Very emotional, impressive, every time I see it , I cry, beautifully made,

this animation is just breathtaking, gives me shivers every time.

The choke hold those panels have on me, literal goosepumps.

That..that broke me 💔 Yashiro embracing his little self... The little boy that never had any sort of consolation...Forgive yourself Yashiro, forgive yourself my dear, none of it was your fault, none of it was his fault, at least do it for the little Yashiro..try for him, try to heal..'cause he deserve it.

It touched me on so many levels, I can't find words to explain how much of an impact that had on me. (I hope sooo much that we could come to something similar in the official story 'cause those panels are engraved in my mind and heart.)

Yashiro needs to break down for good, he needs to cry..burst in tears, let out all the tears that were burried inside for too damn long.

He needs to have the courage and safety to accept that he deserves to get better, to accept that he always deserved better, that all of this was wrong...that he is not an unchanging livestock. He have to acknowledge and allow himself to mourn all the things he needed and deserved but never got, and let go the guilt and shame that never been his to carry. He is such a gentle soul, he deserve so so much, but his soul was so deeply wounded and mistreated that he can't see the light in within himself, febrile, hidden deeply inside him, it's weak but it's still there.

A light that was revived by Doumeki.

Doumeki always been the key, but Yashiro needs to open up to let Doumeki gets in, 'cause it's only when HE will choose to be saved, that he could accept Doumeki's hand.

Doumeki will never be free, not as long as Yashiro is trapped. They need each other to live.

Please, give them enough time to break free together...To end together...even if it's mean that they'll rest forever.

[esmes]

don't mind me - just some rainy day musings bc sweeney todd 2023 has rotted my brain

someone's tags on a gifset got me thinking about 2023 revival lovett and todd and the special something their dynamic has. there's something about this particular iteration of these characters and their relationship, especially as we see it evolve throughout the show (even as we've seen it evolve throughout the show's run), that just makes mrs lovett's betrayal and her death at his hands hit hard. i know, i know - she deserves it. she lies! she's a lying liar. her deceit is no small thing. any one of us would be incensed to have been misled the way she misleads sweeney. even if a small part of her may have done it, as she says, to spare him having to see what became of his lucy, the larger part was certainly to serve her own interests.

but there's something about how close mrs lovett gets to bringing sweeney around to her this time that just gets me carried away. they're not just business partners - they're lovers, they're co-conspirators, and they're sort of each other's only friend in the world. at this point, he indulges her flights of fancy. they know each other intimately. they joke with each other! he's likely had to listen to countless hours of her prattling on about her thoughts, hopes, and wishes. this is a man who, at this point in the show, is slitting people's throats without remorse. and yet he spends the evening on the sofa cleaning his pipe while he patiently listens to his girlfriend rave about a seaside wedding. when she takes his hand, he doesn't wrench himself from her grasp like he used to. he doesn't get up and walk out, which he could do. he accepts her - her presence, her company, her warmth. he may struggle to admit it to himself, but he does. he can concede that he loves her - just a little bit, though he can't quite bring himself to say the words. sweeney is fiercely loyal to lucy's memory, so much so that he clearly couldn't ever wholly give his heart to someone else, but, in that moment after "by the sea", you can see that he's softened toward lovett. they were both alone a long time before this, after all.

it's not the stuff of great love songs, but it's something. it's almost enough.

this is what ultimately makes the final living moments between them all the more heartbreaking. mrs lovett has always been a sympathetic character to me - a villain, sure, but not without her reasons. she's a woman alone in a brutal world. whether the character is an older or a younger iteration, she's been alone for a desperately long time. when sweeney returns to her after all this time, she sees her moment and she takes it. she's not letting her second chance at life get away from her without a few claw marks.

when sweeney kills her, he sheds no tears over it - but the grudging fondness we'd seen him beginning to feel toward her only serves to emphasize how monstrous of a deception it is. his "you LIED to me" comes out in an anguished roar. when he throws her in that oven, all the light goes out from the world. it takes my breath away every time. though it should, it doesn’t quite feel like justice.

i know not everyone loves annaleigh's interpretation, but i have maintained from the first time i saw this revival that the warmth she brings, the honeyed, deluded, comical sweetness that lures sweeney into believing life with her could be tolerable, if not ideal, was a brilliant choice.

that's why the leap into hell together works for me. some productions have had sweeneys that barely tolerate their lovetts, so a cold diverging of paths makes sense. these two definitely fall into a different category. it makes sense to me for this sweeney and lovett's ultimate fate to be each other. who else would it be? lucy did nothing wrong - she's not going where he's going. having made lovett pay for her lies, they can head on down (hand in unlovable hand!!!!!!!) to live out the almost-enough life they created with each other. and sure, her chirping his ear off for eternity would certainly make an appropriate punishment for his crimes.

[dadsbongos]

the end of evangelion - s.geto & s.gojo & s.ieiri

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - children being traumatized by toji, you are killed and then revived :) , plasma vessel arc spoilers, i fucking love tragic character relationships <3 word count - 3.8 K / rating - PG-13

Satoru notices three things before him. Bangs. Mole. Bug eyes.

He doesn’t really remember their names, he supposes he probably should if he wants to seem polite.

But he wasn’t good at any of that, so he simply places his hand over his chest and proudly declares, “Gojo, Satoru, and I hope none of you think I plan on carrying the class.”

The one staring with wide, bashful eyes suddenly sours, glaring at him from beside the girl with the mole. A quiet laugh rumbles from the chest of the pretty boy with his bangs hanging over his eye. Satoru’s teacher sighs quietly before clapping him on the shoulder, the large hand heavy on his bony shoulder.

“Please, take a seat by Geto and we can begin.”

Satoru pauses, hands jammed in his pockets. His eyes are narrowed behind pitch-black, square lenses. Geto, Geto, Geto…

“Which one was that?”

The big-eyed one guffaws while the girl with the mole snorts. The both of them turn to the other boy. Ah, so it must be him, then.

“Geto, here,” the one with the bangs raises his hand, eyes straying towards the door as if he’s already prepared to bolt.

Yaga waits for Satoru to find his seat before standing in front of his four first-years. He looks out at them and sees two very different paths. One full of bountiful success; First Grade sorcerers chock-full of household names in the jujutsu world. And one of shameful failures, a crew barely able to work together long enough in the Kyoto exchange event let alone actually operate missions as a team.

Though, he watches as you and Shoko re-introduce yourselves to Satoru. The six-eyes user, surprisingly, nods along and seems to genuinely retain the information. Yaga feels hope bloom in his chest.

With such unique techniques gathered in one room, there is real potential here for a fruitful future.

“Just one more, c’mon!” Satoru nuzzles his warm cheek between yours and Suguru’s, and begs as if he doesn’t have you both trapped beneath his arms. For such a scrawny guy, he sure does have a good grip.

“We’ve been here for hours, ‘Toru!” you whine, but your body is already completely lax against his side.

Suguru hums along to your point with a gentle nod, “Yaga-sensei still has a reservation we need to get to, Satoru.”

“Aw, let the prince have this!” Shoko, for once, sides with the wonder boy beside you. She holds up her camera and grins, “One more and then dinner!”

“Quickly, please?!” Yaga calls from over the girl’s shoulder, “If we’re late, one of you has to pay for the replacement dinner!”

“Not it!” you call at the same time Suguru purrs it. Satoru rolls his eyes, arms squeezing even tighter around both of your necks.

“As if it would’ve been anyone else.”

“Alright, smiles!” Shoko glares over the lens of her camera, lashes narrowed, despite the uptilt of her rosy lips, “And hold up the awards - Yu and I worked hard on those!”

You, Satoru, and Suguru display the thin, crinkle-edged papers with crudely drawn-on golden trim and sky blue ribbon. In large black crayon scrawls are your names over the front with ‘OFFICIAL FIRST GRADER’ below. It must’ve taken less than a minute each, but you’re already mentally plotting where exactly you want to hang yours in your dorm. Maybe you could even goad Satoru into buying you each matching frames.

“Alright, alright,” Yaga calls, checking his watch for the umpteenth time since Shoko called for another picture, “Let’s go! Goddamn!”

“Okay,” Shoko lowers the camera, flicking through the many photos she’d collected over the evening, “There may be some actual salvageable ones in here.”

“At least you can’t tell when ‘Toru blinks,” you bounce over to her side, carefully cradling the homemade paper award to your chest.

“No,” Shoko pouts suddenly, staring into the sharp glare in Satoru’s glasses, “Dammit - you can see me in those stupid shades!”

“Good!” you lean over to follow her gaze, “That way everybody who sees it will know you were here, too.”

“But I look goofy…”

Suguru towers over the brunette’s back to look at the photo, “Yeah, you do.”

“Hey!”

“He’s right,” Satoru snickers, having not even glanced at the camera screen.

“Hey!”

All three Grade One Tokyo branch students sent as escorts are fatally injured. Two dead. Both later revived.

You can feel it all down your neck. Cold and prickly and squeezing. The base of your throat cinches, heart banging against every bone rung in your chest - trying desperately to free itself. Instinctively, your shoulders bunch up towards your neck; the tips of your fingers go numb, and the numbness spreads up your hands. As if your body itself is trying to shut down. Some unfair, automatic reaction in the face of a bigger predator.

Your knees buckle.

Toji has a hand on his hip, head tilting with a lazy grin, “You’re not on the list, y’know?”

You swallow thickly, eyes scrambling hurriedly over the hulking form before you. Broad shoulders and muscles, at least three times the size of your head, doused in midnight black. You think you make fists.

“You can run, kid,” Toji raises both brows high along his forehead, “If you don’t think you’ll win, you can run.”

It’s cold. So cold it burns. Your jaw clenches. Air fails to reach the hull of your lungs before it’s all punched back out.

“I do it,” Toji jerks the sword in his hand.

Snapped third blade.

Maroon handle.

It’s shiny. Blinding.

Your eyes flicker from the blade to Toji. The blade. It’s familiar. You’ve seen it in a picture. It has a name. The blade glints, sunlight sliding across the metal. Your stare shoots back up to Toji. Toji Fushiguro.

Your legs are going numb now.

Toji’s eyes glide downward, your own snapping to where he glances. Your hands are balled into fists. They’re shaking. Is it fear? Is it anger?

Or are you just tensing too harshly?

Your eyes fall past your hands. Lingering on the concrete beneath your shifting feet.

“I…” your throat tightens, choking off your words. No saliva is willing to slip down and coat the dryness, but you try again, “I won’t run…”

Toji laughs. Head thrown back. Hand still on his hip, Toji twists the blade in his grasp, nodding to himself, “Alright.”

It’s humiliating.

The way your legs tremble as you try to attack. The way your arms lock into place as you barely manage to meet Toji’s eyes.

It’s humiliating: the way you’re on your back so soon.

Toji’s eyes are still, steady in their hold on your own. However, you don’t return his simple gaze. Darting from Toji’s face to the blade above your chest to the gate Suguru and Riko had run through. The blade plunges down.

Your whole body starts to tingle. Deadening. You hear a crack right below your ear. Sunlight dancing off the sword in Toji’s big hands, it’s a lot brighter up close in your chest.

Air startles in your throat, and you cough. Crimson bubbles up with it. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know what this means. A punctured lung. Severed thoracic artery. But that isn’t your main focus.

Toji rips the sword from your chest, his palm pressing against your throat to keep your body down as he pulls the cursed tool free.

You and Shoko had to do a report on that tool back in your first year.

The Inverted Spear of Heaven. Cuts through any technique.

She’d probably laugh that you got attacked with it if she didn’t know you were dying. If she knew that she’d probably try healing you.

Toji turns his back to you, stuffing the Inverted Spear into the worm looming around his body. His hands go into his pockets. Jaw unhinging in a heavy yawn while he approaches the main chamber of Tengen’s tomb. You don’t think he hears you giggle. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

The blood is warm against your cheeks. Pooling beneath your head and soaking into your hair.

You giggle, remembering how childishly your stoic friend described the complicated nature of her reverse cursed technique.

How was it again?

Fwoy… then hiyo?

Your eyelids droop. Gaze unfocused on the sky.

Fwoy. Then hiyo.

“How do you feel?” Shoko scrubs her thumb over the smooth surface of her Zippo lighter within her pocket. Her tongue dances over her bottom lip, chapped and rough. She briefly wonders where her chapstick tube is before returning to the present, “Stronger?”

Satoru snickers, an arm draped over your shoulders loosely. It feels odd, somehow an indent against the back of your uniform and yet entirely weightless. He shrugs, “Nah. I was already the strongest, anyway.”

“No more bragging,” you nudge an elbow into his side, but the hit fails to connect, “Your ego has been fed enough for tonight. Don’t you think, Suguru?”

“Hm?” the boy’s hair flutters around his shoulders, head jerking into attention. His arms are folded across his chest and it takes an awfully silent pause before he responds, “Yeah,” he steps closer, blinking up at Satoru, “No more ego-feeding, now you get to feed us, hm?”

“Fine,” Satoru groans, as if that hadn’t been the plan since you all knew he was being promoted, “We have to be quick finding a place, though,” he tugs at the collar of his uniform stiffly, “I didn’t exactly call anywhere ahead.”

“You’re Gojo, Satoru,” Shoko jams a hand in her other pocket, searching for her missing chapstick, “You’ll get us anywhere.”

“So irresponsible,” you muse.

“Well! This is my night, you know?! Why am I supposed to be the event planner?”

“Just ‘cuz Yaga-sensei isn’t here,” Suguru ‘tsk’s, waggling a finger at his friend, “For shame, Satoru.”

The overhead neons and flashing bulbs cast menacing shadows over the pale plains of Suguru’s face. Shadows falling under the bags beneath his eyes.

You contemplate asking.

You know it’ll be pointless.

“Hey, have you been okay?” you whisper against Suguru’s side. His body is warm and tense beneath his loose, hanging, boring beige shirt.

His faraway stare sparks suddenly, shortening back to where you stand beside him. He smiles down at you, it doesn’t reach his eyes so he manually crinkles them shut. He nods curtly, “Yeah…” and then nods again, “Yeah.”

Special Grade is sent as a replacement.

“You’ll be okay,” your hands are cupped over the searing, jagged incision in Kento’s stomach, blood pooling around your fingers and knuckles, “You’ll be okay, right?”

Kento can’t hear you very well, just the bland rolls of your voice. Crackling and raspy from the pressure of screaming.

“Oh, God, Shoko- “ you look around the morgue, trying desperately to unlock that flame from last month. The one you harnessed to save yourself, now desperate to save your friend, “Haibara… God, oh God,” you want to reach out and cradle the other boy, “Nanami, please don’t die.”

The blond blinks up at you, and you’re not even sure he understood your weak plea.

You need to keep your hands on Kento’s wound, but you want to take Yu into your arms. If there is any chance that he could still be living, you want his last moments to be warm and loving. Yu is not someone that should die, but if he has to - it should be kindly. And this was not kindly.

“I’m here!” Shoko barges into the cold morgue, skin bristling with the chilled air. The metal door clangs loudly against the wall, her body moves swiftly through the area as if she’s done this countless times. She almost crashes into the steel table that Yu rests on, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” she lays her hands on his cheeks, wiping at the blood splattered up his neck and chin, “I’m here…”

She cannot bring herself to look down at where the cloth over his body suddenly dips.

“Shoko,” your arms shake, “Shoko, you need to take care of Nanami.”

Her shoulders are tensed up to her bobbed hair. She steps back from Yu and joins your side at Kento’s body. Her hands overtake yours and you withdraw. The blood flows down your fingers and drips onto the floor.

“You,” Shoko whispers, shoulders still high, “Thank you.”

“I could only keep him alive,” you’re not nearly as adept at reverse cursed energy as Shoko, but you hope it was enough to at least save one friend tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers, staring at Yu’s bisected corpse.

Satoru and Shoko are on opposite sides of Japan. Satoru is in Osaka, and Shoko is in Yamagata. Yaga-sensei is in Kyoto for the next week. You and Suguru are in Tokyo. You clasp his hand in yours.

“I’m really proud of you.”

Suguru brings you closer, his hand is warm. And large, “You’re Special Grade, too.”

“But I’m proud of you.”

He can still remember you as you were brought to him by Satoru. Blood drying and muddying in the weeds of your hair to your skull, crimson dyeing the cracks in your lips. Chest still and unbeating. No warmth in your veins. You would soon be ice cold.

You could have been.

And then you coughed and sputtered and shot up in Satoru’s arms, throwing him entirely off balance. The both of you had fallen over and you were the only one laughing it off.

You haven’t laughed like that since it sunk in what the darkness you saw before waking up was.

He remembers the anger he felt when he wasn’t able to maim Toji himself. The anger he felt over Toji being allowed to live into adulthood at all. That he could breed and eat and love like he was some kind of person. He should be dumb and drooling and helpless under Suguru’s palm like any other wild animal. That anger was so palpable that he couldn’t sleep for the next two days.

Then there was the mourning.

He never wants to see you like that again. Not to a bare-fisted, feral monkey. And not to a curse.

He’s sick at the thought.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he squeezes your hand. The lights of Tokyo continue to do his gaunt face no justice. Pale skin stretched over aching bone. He smiles, and he does not bother trying to make his eyes squint up.

He wishes that you being a fellow Special Grade could ease his worries. But even as you walk hand-in-hand back to the dorms, that image of you - still and cold - refuses to go down.

“I just want you to hear it from me. I know what I’ve done. I’m in my right mind. I just couldn’t let them… this village was full of non-sorcerers who tortured two girls with cursed energy. I have to make this world better for… I can’t sit back and let them form curses and kill us off. I can’t let a corrupt world continue to cut away at everyone I love. Do with this as you will, I won’t be mad if it becomes evidence against me. Just… don’t show Satoru. If I can keep some sort of reputation with him, then for now I’d like to. But I don’t regret it. I just regret not being able to say this in person.”

You play the voicemail again.

And again.

And again.

And you don’t show Satoru. Or Yaga. Or Gakuganji.

It was a simple job. Get in. Exorcize a curse from a dead-end 9-5 office. Get out. You and Satoru were quick enough - got in and exorcized the curse in the dead-end 9-5 office - and now to get out.

You watch your janky, funhouse reflection in the steel elevator doors. It’s a blurry and stretched thing, but it’s you. You look up and watch the floors tick, tick, tick down.

Satoru is leaning against the wall to your right, his left leg is bent out with his shoe jammed rudely against the wall. His eyes pierce the back of your head. He can’t tell if you’re intentionally ignoring him or just that dense; either way, he hates it.

He scoffs, “I don’t get it.”

“Get what, Satoru?”

Satoru folds his arms - he can't pinpoint it, but these days you make him sick - “He just left. Like it was that easy. Like…”

He wants to see you react. He wants to watch you clench your fists and bow your head, but you don’t. Instead, you say, “It was that easy for him. He hated how the school does things, so he left. He hated that village, so he got rid of it.”

Kicking himself off the wall, Satoru throws his arms out for emphasis. Too bad you’re still staring at that damn floor counter, “So just picking up and leaving us was that easy? He could’ve called us! He could’ve said how he was feeling!”

You swallow thickly, heat clings to the back of your neck.

“But he didn’t,” your hands are limp at your sides, voice shallow, “Trying to find purpose in things you’ll never know the answer to will drive you insane. He left - he isn’t coming back. And if he does, it’ll be to die.”

“We could’ve done something!” Satoru’s voice cracks in the middle, his nails stabbing into his palms.

“But we didn’t. And now we can’t.”

“Why aren’t you angry?!” he shoves you from behind. His hands are neither hot nor cold. Not soft or rough. The space of his infinity doesn’t feel like anything even though it still stubs against your uniform, “Dammit, don’t you care?!”

You stumble from the force of his push, quickly regaining balance and turning to look at Satoru. Your brows crinkle just slightly, lips tugging down at the corners, “Trying to find answers for something you’ll never know will drive you crazy. It’s best to just let it go.”

There’s a flame behind those crystalline eyes, his fists dig into his thighs, “How can you do that?”

“What? Move on?”

“Not care.”

“I care.”

“You don’t,” his throat bobs, white eyelashes batting shut and chin tucking down to his chest. His voice wavers, “Suguru was the only other person that could understand my every thought. He wasn’t someone you could find just anywhere. He was someone I couldn’t imagine going a day without, and now every day is one without him. He never told us what was going on, and he left without so much as a goodbye. And you don’t care! Why don’t you care?!”

“Suguru had his reasons,” you reach out, fingers brushing against the sheer nothingness of his infinity and entwining your hand with his. It isn’t hot or cold. Just imperceivable space between your palms, “I’ll never know them, not like he did. So I can’t waste my time pretending that one day I will. It hurts that he’s gone, and I wish I could’ve done more. But I didn’t. And I can’t. Suguru isn’t coming back, and if he does it’s to die,” you lean down to try and catch Satoru’s eyes through the pitch-black shades of his glasses, “We might even have to be the ones that kill him. I’m letting it go before I go crazy.”

“You already are,” he sniffs, “That’s why you don’t cry when your friend goes off to die.”

“And you’re too obsessive over it,” you release his hand, winding your grip into the front of Satoru’s uniform and yanking him close, “That’s why you’re so blinded by Suguru leaving that you can’t see me and Shoko still on the sidelines. Have you even asked how Shoko is?”

Satoru snatches your wrist. The pressure is intense and unmistakably inhuman, “Let go of me.”

“Or what?”

Despite not being too far from the colored flushes of busy Shibuya in Tokyo, Jujutsu Tech has a grandiose view of the stars. Especially if you sneak up onto the roof of the dorms, edging slightly past the lower hanging trees. You can stare up at the endless void of space and get an eyeful of the stars blinking down at you without having to squint through gaps in leaves. You can sit quietly and feel the gentle breeze caress over your exposed skin. And you could pretend you are alone until the creaking of a second pair of feet echoes behind you.

There’s no need to turn, having already known who the second pair of skittish feet belong to. And knowing that, means knowing what you want to say first,

“I don’t know how to do this for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to. Sorcerers don’t usually live long enough for it to matter.”

“It should matter!” Satoru snaps, he glares at you sharply, “I should’ve been able to be a kid! We should’ve been able to be kids!”

You sigh quietly, looking off to the side, afraid that staring too deeply into Satoru’s uncovered eyes may have the same effect as the sun, “The life of a sorcerer is pointless. An under-manned army that gets no thanks. You can accept that and come back, or don’t. Don’t, and go live a more fulfilling life, knowing that you are the strongest and knowing that you made a choice unlike any other sorcerer before you. But someone else will have to take your place.”

Satoru blinks up at you slowly. His long white lashes frame his eyes, his cheeks are sunken and thin. Eggshell, almost, in color. His chest rises, a loud inhale flowing with the movement before he blows it out just as noisily, “That’s bleak.”

“Right?”

“You sound like you’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Maybe a little.”

Because maybe you are. But you mean every word you say.

Satoru can make any decision he wants, but he will have to wake up knowing there are many lives he could’ve saved. And he’ll pretend it doesn’t haunt him the same way Suguru tried to. And he will fail the same way Suguru did.

“Whatever you pick, just remember that Shoko and I are still your friends,” you sit beside him and lean into his side, “We were friends with Sugu’, too.”

“I know. It’s just hard.”

His skin is warm and flush against yours. His head leans onto yours. Hair soft and tickling your forehead.

“Then let it be hard, but don’t pretend you’re all alone.”

And Satoru can’t very well leave you and Shoko and Kento to die as the only remaining students at Jujutsu Tech, so he will return and doom himself to the life of a sorcerer. And he will kill Suguru so that you do not have to.