#not equipped to handle it? fine then call someone who is! don’t just let it happen

[melonnade]

absolutely disgusting the way that the violence on my campus this morning is being talked about on the news. reading articles rn and they keep talking about violence on both sides & fighting breaking out ‘between’ the two groups. call it what it fucking was. it’s not two sides being violent, it’s one being attacked by the other. rhetoric matters.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You walk along the halls of the garishly large house. You suppose anything compared to your apartment is huge. Former apartment? You mourn the loss of your previous life as it starts to sink in. No long distracted by the bristly mustache of its delightful effect on you, you can’t help but descend slowly into despair. 

You narrow your eyes at the fabric strained over shoulders blades in front of you. All he had to do was say please and be polite. He couldn’t even give you his order then blamed you for not knowing.

How on earth are you supposed to know who he is? It isn’t your fault no one told you. Now you’re starting to get mad at them too. Bre really put you in it, didn’t she?” 

“Are you growling?” Lloyd asks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. 

“At me?” He snickers. 

“No... I should,” you grumble, “so, did you think about that sweater? Maybe a blanket? My nipples are so hard, they’re starting to hurt.” 

He stops and turns to face you. You walk straight into him and he grabs your shoulders, pushing you back to stand at arm’s length. He looks you up and down with a squint, his mustache slanting with his mouth. 

“I don’t negotiate but if I give you a blanket, do you promise to stay out of the way?” 

“Sir, if you opened the front door at this very moment, you would never see me again.” 

“Noted,” he says grimly, “go in here and stay.” He points to the door next to him as he releases you, turning the handle slowly, “don’t break anything. There should be a blanket, just don’t get too cozy.” 

“If I may, I think we would both be much happier if you let me go. Look at it this way, you got your rocks off, I got mine jangled, and now we both know a lot more about ourselves. You don’t have to ever see me again--” 

“Be quiet,” he reaches to pinch your lips shut, “Christ Almighty, you don’t shut the fuck up.” 

You try to talk past his fingers but just make a weird noise between your sealed lips. You shrug and raise your hands in surrender. He lets you go and sighs, waving through the open door. 

“Shutting fuck up,” you lift a hand in a salute and he quickly smacks it down. You shake your fingers out and hiss, “ow.” 

“Stop doing that,” he demands. 

“Fine,” you make a face and turn past him. At this point, you don’t care. This house is too cold and you don’t think he’ll take your advice about his central air bill. Looks like he can afford it, even if the ozone might suffer. “Erm, thanks?” 

“Whatever,” he grabs the door and shuts it behind you with a snap. 

You turn to it as you hear the lock click. His footsteps march off swiftly and you wiggle the handle. Drats. You could try a window but you’re hardly equipped for the descent. 

You face the room and look around. It’s nice. For New Jersey, which this isn’t. Amid the golden lamps, the velvet chaise, and the safari statues, a fluffy leopard print throw calls your name. You bound over to the clamshell chair and swipe it up, wrapping your shivering figure in the faux fur. At least you hope it’s not real. How would Floyd like it if someone skin his lip for, er, well... what could you even do with that? 

You sit and bask in the warmth. Oh, you almost feel human. If you didn’t smell of sweat and sex. What a pervert!  

It’s all so twisted the more you think of it. Worse is how much you enjoy it. Even if he’s a big dodo head, you have to admit, he knows what he’s doing. Well, compared to you, who doesn’t? You’ve seen it all but haven’t done so much. 

You peer around. It’s really tempting to play with that wooden tiger figurine or that metal orby thing with all the rings. You close your eyes and resist. How can he put you in this room and expect you not to go wild. Literally. It’s like being in a jungle. You gave him the benefit of the doubt about the mustache but this room alone assures you he’s living in some 70s exploitation fantasy. 

You curl up on your side in the chair and sigh. You close your eyes and think. This morning, everything was normal. Kind of. You almost long for the beginning of the spiral now that you’re spinning in it.

How long is he going to keep you here? And what happens after? Do you get your money back? Your apartment? Definitely, not your dignity. 

You don’t remember falling asleep but it’s a happy relief until consciousness breaks through like a nail through paper. You wake up with a lurch and nearly fall out of the chair, gaping up at the blue eyes boring down into you. You give Floyd with no F a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, hello, sir,” you sit up cautiously, “I’m happy to report I kept my hands to myself.” 

“You snore. Loud.” 

“Ah, well, I’ve had quite the day. I guess I really needed a nap--” 

“Get up,” he grabs you by the back of the neck and forces you to your feet. 

“Ow, eek,” you pull at his wrist, “did your meeting go okay?” 

“Why the fuck do you care?” He snarls. 

“I don’t, I was being polite,” you try to wriggle free, “judging by the attitude, it didn’t--” 

“What the fuck do you know about my business?” He snips. 

“As much as I wanna know. Nada,” you roll your eyes and manage to break free. “Ouch, bro.” 

“Bro?” He grimaces. 

“Dude, sir, whatever,” you huff and catch the blanket as it slips, “I’ve been nothing but nice, you know, but you’re starting to piss me off.” 

“I’m pissing you off?” He tilts his head and crosses his arms, “you--” 

“Got it. You can’t stand me but it didn’t stop you from diving into my southern hemisphere,” you sniff. 

The air roils with his agitation. You hug yourself defiantly as you cling to blanket and stare him in the face. He looks down at you, bringing a hand up to rub his chin. He sucks his teeth and reaches with his other hand to yank the blanket away. You cry out, hanging onto it as he lurches you.  

The blanket stretches between you in a tug-of-war. He nearly takes you of your feet as he gives it a hefty pull. You hold onto it, planting your feet but he easily keeps hold of his end. You use all your strength to add to the tension and as you see him go to yank again, you let go.

Lloyd staggers back as the blanket drops from his grasp. He flails and hits the chaise, crashing over it as he bounces off the cushion onto the other side. He groans as his feet remain atop the velvet. You inch over to look at him, his shoulders to the floor as his face strains. 

“You stupid little bitch,” he growls. 

“Sir,” you bite down on a smile as you stand over him, “why are you so mad? You won.” 

[pearlsinmyhair]

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: some calm before the storm. miguel won’t compromise his morals. diet angst. cursing.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic. training begins, and with miguel it is anything but easy. but sometimes he softens.

part i

word count: 2k

part ii: star girl

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 

“there are a lot of things you’re going to have to keep up with.” miguel said to you as you both walked through the halls of the spider society. you didn’t miss the glances and stares as you passed, and it made you shift closer to him.

he glanced down at you before glaring at a spider who stared a bit too hard, and they scrambled away.

“excuse their attention, i don’t usually take on apprentices.” he said simply as he continued walking. you had to practically run to keep up with his long legs.

“rule number one, keep up. i don’t need a kid dragging me down on missions or runs around the base. you’re eighteen, you can handle that.” he said without looking at you. you had to fight the urge to scoff at that. did he even realize how fast he was walking?

“rule number two, you have to protect your universe just as much as others. you are the only spider woman of universe 348, so you need to be vigilant.”

he glanced back at you again before saying.

“rule number three, you have to keep your grades up.”

you paused at that, your step faltering. “excuse me?”

“you heard me. you need to stay sharp, and not just in your training.” he hovered his hand over the key reader to the training area, and the doors opened with a soft hiss.

she had figured that he was insanely smart in some subject, as all spider people were, but she hadn’t figured it out quite yet. she’d only known him for a week.

“okay, fine. i’ll keep my grades up. anything else?” she asked as she looked around at the various equipment around the gym, all high tech and sparkly.

“yep. rule number four, when i say jump, you say…” he looked at you pointedly.

“how…high?”

“good job, you understand one of the most universal phrases. now run a lap.” he said, putting his hands on his hips and nodding to the track.

you stood still, not quite used to miguel’s pentient for sarcasm. he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“c’mon kid, out of the clouds. jump.”

you rolled your shoulders, letting out a sigh as you began to jog.

this was going to be so much fun.

₊ ⊹

as weeks passed, you were beginning to realize just how much of an oddity yours and miguel’s partnership was.

the spider society had begun to call you ‘star girl’. the name laced both awe and envy.

it was loosely based on your suit, you were sure. it was blue with a few little stars trailing down it to add ambiance. but it was also linked to rarity.

the looks did not fade as time passed. and some looks of curiosity hardened into ones of jealously.

miguel was the unofficial leader of the spider society, and he was a hard man to please. many spiders gunned for your position, wanting even just a nod from him. but they got nothing. most of them were lucky if they ever got a single word out of him at all.

you would argue that their idea of miguel was tainted by rose colored glasses.

getting morsels of praise from him was great, partially because you knew he meant it when he said it. but every thing else?

“you need to be quicker. one day you might need that second to sling a web to safety or save a civilian. you can never afford to be slow, y/n.”

“again. your right hook is still too weak. you can’t always rely on webs.”

“kick your leg higher.”

“your webbing aim is still lacking, kid.”

“again.”

“again.”

“again.”

you had never been worked so hard.

it all piled into one training session of hand to hand combat.

there was always one rule when they were on the mat: no hitting faces.

no kicks. no punches. no slaps. no webs.

so instead, miguel would catch your blows with his hands, allowing you to throw punch after punch into his palms, correcting your positioning and your power everytime.

“it’s still really weak, kid. again.” he said, taking a step back, widening his stance once more in preparation for your punch.

but you didn’t move. you had been getting worse and worse as the lesson went, completly lost and confused as miguel kept dismissing each of your attempts.

“i don’t know how.” you murmured.

“quit pouting and try again. if you give up this quickly in an actual fight, you’ll fail. do. it. again.” he demanded, unaware of how tears pricked your eyes in frustration.

“i said i don’t know how!” you yelled, voice cracking pathetically halfway through.

miguel actually took a step back at your outburst, eyes widening slightly. for a moment, you expected him to bite back, or send you home. but when he didn’t reply, you kept going.

“i don’t know how, miguel. you tell me again, but i don’t know how to correct it. i need you to show me, not just tell me.” you said softly, suddenly embarrassed and a little frightened at his silence.

he swallowed, and his expression softened.

“go…go get a drink of water, then i’ll show you.” he said, blinking as he glanced away from you.

you had to fight off the urge to raise your own brows, instead using this rare moment of mercy to chug down water from one of the bottles on the side.

when you stepped back on the mat, miguel stood beside you, showing you exactly how to hold your fist, then how to move your arm.

when he stood in front of you again, holding his hand up in preparation, you threw your fist with as much force as you could muster.

the resounding slap made you cringe, and you opened one eye to check miguel’s expression.

the asshole looked bored.

“still didn’t hurt.” he deadpanned, and you responded by shoving him. he took a step back, a move that would not be possible unless he allowed it.

“you didn’t let me finish. it didn’t hurt, but it was better.” he said, pushing your forehead with his pointer finger.

you smiled, happy that at least you were improving.

and to your surprise, miguel gave you a small smile of his own.

₊ ⊹

after that practice, miguel’s whole training model changed.

now four months later, he met you at the entrance to his office, fiddling with his watch until a glowing portal opened up. when you raised a brow at him, he simply stepped into the portal, not bothering to tell you to follow.

when you exited the in-between of the universes, you were surprised to find that you were in a massive forest full of trees as tall as buildings.

without so much as an introduction, miguel shot a web and swung away from you.

“hey! what the hell, mig?” you shouted, struggling to swing beside him.

he glared at you. “never, ever, call me that. and we’re working on your swinging today.”

you glared right back, fumbling to keep your balance in the new setting. “no shit. but did you have to leave me?”

he smirked, flashing his canines at you when you almost fell. “expect the unexpected, y/n. i thought i taught you better.”

you scoffed, before once again nearly dropping.

miguel reached a hand out to you on instinct, but you recovered your balance.

“okay, let’s start easy. swing and fwip.” he said, murmuring the words as you mimicked his actions.

you smiled at him as you got the hang of your new surroundings. “did you get pointers from peter b?”

his face became grim. “do not dare mention that mans name. it summons him.”

you chuckled at that, before you pulled your web hard and swung your body into a backflip.

“see, i’m not entirely incompetent.” you told miguel, continuing to swing with him as he gave you small pointers.

“i’m aware. but i need you to be in top shape for when you go on a mission soon.”

you stopped shooting webs, pausing and dropping to the leaf-covered ground.

miguel circled and landed before you.

“are you telling me i’m ready?” you asked, looking up at him in disbelief.

“i’m telling you that i think you can handle slight anomalies. nothing big yet, just little disturbances.” he said, keeping his expression blank.

you bounced on your toes, chewing at your lip in excitement.

four months of training, and you’d be in the field.

you fought down the urge to whoop in celebration, or jump, or something. this was miguel after all. he didn’t appreciate sudden expressions of joy in his general vicinity.

so instead you settled for a sincere “thank you.”

he nodded sagely, fwipping back up to the trees.

and you followed, shooting webs and flipping, eager to sharpen your technique.

because of this, you missed the proud smile across miguel’s face.

₊ ⊹

you opened the door to your bedroom, eager to get your suit off and shower when you spotted the white box on your bed.

it was unassuming, plain except for a small message written in absurdly neat handwriting.

‘star girl’

you glanced around your room, even going so far as to ask lyla to scan it. calling on her was something you didn’t do too often. even though she was an a.i., it still felt like she was a person and that you were annoying her.

the projected woman granted your wishes, turning to you to tell you that all was well. she wore a secretive smile across her digital lips as she looked at you, then the box.

you glanced at the cardboard.

“you know something.” you said, tone suspicious as you tried to study lyla for answers.

she shrugged. “best way to know is to open it.” she replied before disappearing into a cloud of pixels.

you shuffled over to the box, tracing the edge of it before lifting one corner. you glanced inside and promptly slammed the top shut.

no fucking way.

there was absolutely no way.

you took a step back, turning your back to the box.

you couldn’t accept that.

but it was left on your bed. with your nickname on it.

you sucked your teeth as you turned back and fully opened the box.

inside it sat a beautiful midnight-blue spider suit with flecks of white stars all along it. you lifted the body of the suit up by the armpits, studying the way that the webs along it became geometric like constellations.

the white lines around the sides and waist glittered and flickered.

nanotechnology.

only one person had the materials to do this. and only one would have the courage to give it to you.

miguel.

you clutched the suit to your chest, fighting the raw emotion that caught in your throat.

you told him how much you loved the stars, explaining each and every constellation you had included on your suit.

you flipped the fabric in your hands to check.

cassiopeia on the ribs. canis major on the base of your foot. orion tangled in the spider symbol on the chest.

he would never give it to you in person. no, that would be far too informal, far to unprofessional.

so you sat in your room, biting your lip to fight back tears as you stood in your empty house, holding the glittering gift to your body like a vice.

you wondered how many nights he had spent making this. he had told you how hard his suit was to make, how tedious the process was. and he had done it all again.

for you.

fuck being unprofessional. you wished that he had given it to you in person anyway.

“lyla?”

“yes, y/n? are you alright, hun?”

“can you tell miguel-” you swallowed as a tear trailed down your cheek. “can you tell miguel thank you? like, really thank you?”

“…of course, hun. get some rest.”

you sank to your knees in the quiet of your dead house and sobbed, wishing for all the world that someone was here.

masterlists | part iii

yeah it seems pretty wholesome rn, huh?

would be a shame if someone…changed that.

tag list:

@ladyfairenvale

[ohthehypocrisy]

How to write a Pokemon for Pokemon Unite Part 5 - Speedsters (Finale)

Prev: Intro - All-Rounders - Attackers - Defenders - Supporters

And now, finally, we are going to discuss Speedsters, the deadly damage dealers we all secretly fear. By definition, they are the assassins of Pokemon Unite due to their ability to deal lots of damage really fast, all at the cost of their own survivability. After all, when you main a Speedster, it’s killed or be killed.

But this pokemon, so we don’t do any actual killing. More like, you blink and you’ll find yourself in the ER waiting for respawn immediately afterwards. This is true when you fight a Speedster and when you play as one.

But is it as clear cut as that? Let’s find out.

As I said before, Speedsters are assassins, specialized in dealing high damage and getting KO’d very quickly. It’s easy to love playing as a Speedster due to the immediate and tangible results of playing one so well. They’re most commonly the ones responsible for getting a 5 KO streak, right behind Attackers, and that’s all by design. A good Speedster can and will get that KO, but it has to be an important KO.

What do I mean by that? Yes, if you play a Speedsters, you get KOs, it’s only natural. But being a good Speedster means identifying weak points in the opposing team’s structure and taking advantage of them, blowing holes in their defenses and opening them up to a team wipe. Do they have a reliable Supporter? Take them out first. Will your team be able to handle that Defender if you leave them alone? If not, take them out, but do it carefully and sneakily. Should you take out that Attacker that is all by themselves? With extreme prejudice. A Speedster can only serve the team if they can create openings for them by figuring out who is the most threatening member on the opposing team, and then getting that all important KO.

It’s a lot of responsibility, but an important job to take on. If it’s too much for you, you’ll better serve your team as a Defender or Supporter.

Also hands off Central if someone else calls for it. It’s not always reserved for Speedsters and Talonflame can be surprisingly effective in Top Lane, especially with an Attack Weight.

Those who played Gen 6 competitive will always remember the terror that was Gale Wings Talonflame and must relive that trauma whenever this bird shows up on the loading screen. Thankfully, it’s not that oppressive now, but you��d be surprised to know just how weak Talonflame’s attacking stats are. Like really? We were scared of a fire bird with less Attack than Charizard?? Well, when that bird could always hit first with Brave Bird, yeah, it was kind of nuts.

In Pokemon Unite, Talonflame operates more as an ambush predator than a fast fire fighter. It loves taking out weakened enemies and is perfectly capable of doing so, utilizing Fly and Aerial Ace to get the jump on its hapless victims. It’s ability to dish out dizzying damage is so great, but it will be in a lot of trouble if these efforts go to waste, as without these moves, Talonflame is helpless. As a Speedster, Talonflame is ill equipped for taking on tanky All-Rounders and Defenders, but will work just fine catching Attackers and rival Speedsters off guard, finishing them off with a surprising swoop of searing hot strikes and smack downs.

Another Speedster that loves taking on the enemy by surprise is Absol. With stupidly high Attack, this pokemon is a threat to every enemy on the opposing team. However, Absol is our first example of how Speed isn’t everything when it comes to Speedsters, as surprising as that sounds. Yes, having a lot of speed does make you a shoo-in for the Speedster role, but it’s not a necessity. In this case, it is made a Speedster due to its moves and ability to deal critical hits. After all, a critical hit makes the battle go by much faster, which serves a Speedster like Absol very well.

It’s also helped out a lot by its moves. Pursuit deals more damage to enemies when they are hit from behind, which allows Absol to do lots of damage to retreating foes, finishing them off before they have a chance to recover. Night Slash is a two part attack that allows Absol to deal serious damage to even bulky Defenders and All-Rounders. Sucker Punch is an evasive option that can also help Absol close the distance on a retreating enemy. Psycho Cut is better for ambush plays as it makes the next 3 attacks deal serious damage.

As a Speedster, Absol plays by dealing way more damage than the enemy can react to, and that’s what it’s all about. It’s also the smartest way to play, as Absol has very little defensive and evasive options, no way to retreat tactfully if it’s all out of moves. If it had the ability to disappear, it’d be a lot more difficult to deal with.

Now we’re getting somewhere. While Gengar’s Sp.Atk is higher than its Speed, it’s a Speedster rather than an Attacker because it loves to play hide-and-seek with its victims. It even does this with its Unite Move, Phantom Ambush.

But before we cover all of that, let me let you in on a little secret. A pokemon’s basic attack deals damage based on their physical Attack stat. When the pokemon deals damage with a boosted basic attack, however, it deals damage using the pokemon’s designated attacking type, Attack or Sp. Atk. Gengar is a Special Attacking Speedster, so not only does it deal special damage with its moves, but also with its boosted basic attack. However, like most other pokemon, Gengar has to build up to its boosted basic attack, but here is where Gengar separates itself from other Speedsters, by getting the jump on the enemies and skipping the charge time altogether.

When Lick, Hex, or Dream Eater are used, they set the pokemon’s basic attack to become boosted immediately afterwards. With clever and disciplined button mashing, Gengar can unleash a boosted attack, use the move, then follow up with another boosted basic attack. Hex and Dream Eater, however, have a distinct way of recycling these boosts through repetition. Hex will reset itself if an enemy suffering from status is hit, which can be done with Sludge Bomb, resulting in a relentless 1 2 combo of boosted attack, Hex, boosted attack, Hex, and so on and so forth, so long as the enemy is suffering from status. Dream Eater doesn’t have this kind of looping power, unless it KOs the enemy, but it does reset the cooldown of your other move, allowing you to ambush and KO an Attacker or another weakened enemy. Not to mention the followup attack will also boost your basic attack, letting you deal that 1 2 punch all over again in quick succession.

Wow, how crazy is that? Being able to deal such concentrated hits in such quick succession, it should almost be illegal. Is it possible for Speedsters to be any faster than this?

Why yes, yes they can.

Zeraora is decisively a Speedsters due to its stupidly high Speed stat as well as very high offensive stats. It’s also surprisingly bulky, having better HP and defenses than the last 3 pokemon, and that, in turn, is how Zeraora separates itself from the archetype in Pokemon Unite.

It’s all centered around Zeraora’s ability, Volt Absorb, where it converts the damage it receives into an attack boost. While Zeraora is still on the weaker side when it comes to taking hits, this makes it surprisingly difficult for Defenders and All-Rounders to deal with. In fact, its moves are well suited to tackling groups of enemies, such as Discharge and Volt Switch, and a fully upgraded Wild Charge+. This is partly the reason why Zeraora was particularly oppressive when the game first came out (the other reason was that it was a pokemon that has to be earned through gameplay, and the developers didn’t want to nerf it for those still fighting to earn Zeraora. I mean, imagine getting Zeraora the day after it gets nerfed into the ground...yeah).

Even so, Zeraora has a rather straightforward game plan with its moves, and that’s simply to get in, deal damage, and get out. Volt Switch exemplifies this strategy quite succinctly, with the ability to warp back to the origin point with a flying electric kick. Alternatively, Spark is a jumping attack that can be combo’d with your basic attack to give chase to a singular target, and all of that jumping around does make you harder to hit. Discharge is a dangerous move that punishes physical attackers as well as those who are very well attached to their Supporters slash Defenders, but Wild Charge is useful for singling out an enemy and dealing loads of damage to them. The upgrade for Wild Charge allows you to deal damage to all enemies near the target, which makes it just like Discharge, but a little riskier.

Nowadays, Zeraora isn’t that much of an issue to tackle on thanks to updates and balance changes, but for the longest time, there wasn’t a new Speedster being added to the game for that reason. Balance. Yes, Speedsters are meant to deal big damage, but the issue with that is that a skilled player will get more KOs much more often than they would be KOd themselves. Speedsters typically have a high skill ceiling because of the aforementioned kill or be killed game plan, but professional players can skew that balance to get more KOs and goals than regular players. Ideally, you want Speedsters to be balanced for high level play, but if that pokemon underperforms, well, you can’t just simply buff them. It could just be that no one has cracked the code on playing that particular Speedster, and a simple tweak could potentially throw off the balance of the game irreparably. 

When it gets right down to it, designing a Speedster is like designing any other pokemon. The moves and abilities must be designed for players of all skill levels.

Now, with all of this said, there are other ways of designing a Speedster for Pokemon Unite. The recently added Zoroark has the same ability to deal high damage really fast like other Speedsters, but it gets the jump on its enemies with its Illusion ability which, if used smartly, can take the enemy team by surprise. Another newly added pokemon, Dodrio, has a speedometer that builds up as the pokemon runs, and includes a built-in divider in its score pocket when it goes to score a goal. That’s because each head want to pitch in their fair share of points, which is perhaps the one thing they all agree to work together with. This turns the pokemon into an obnoxious goal scoring machine that can outrun and outmaneuver the enemy, giving Cinderace a run for his money. And finally, although Scizor is an All-Rounder, its pre-evolution, Scyther, is also technically a Speedster, as it shares the same Base Stat Total with Scizor. Perhaps Scizor should have been the only Unite License to have been sold for an inflated price (just had to mention it, not gonna open that can of worms today).

With all of that out of the way, let’s take a look at some contenders for Pokemon Unite looking to speed their way into the game.

Here we have a pokemon that is practically built to be a Speedster. High Speed and Attack means that none will be able to escape this pokemon’s icy grip. Having honed its skills in the frozen wastelands, this pokemon wastes no time in getting things done, lest it succumb to the unforgiving cold of the land.

While not nearly as fast, this pokemon is decidedly a Speedster due to its nimble footwork and surprising reach. You’d be surprised at how hard it is to hit a pokemon like this, especially as each hit it inflicts slowly aggravate the infection. Yes, this pokemon fights dirty, so don’t waste your breath securing this KO, or else you might have your efforts be reversed when this fun guy hits the scene.

Don’t let its looks fool you, this pokemon is a fierce hunter, able to charge right in and...fetch those balls. Huh. Well, it’s very fast at what it does, and it does so with extreme zeal, as this pokemon will pick up balls and dunk them into the opposing goal zone for you. Who’s a good boy?

On the special side of things, we’ve got a femme fatale who loves to play hard to get. She’s got an alluring air about her, but her toxic methods will cause fainting before you know it. You’ll find it very hard to stay within reach of this pokemon ash she’s very good at leading her enemies on, perfectly content on letting the poison slowly take over.

And lastly, whoa! What the? This is a Speedster candidate?! Are we sure this pokemon is applying for the right position? ...Oh, I see. Just like Absol, this pokemon is very fast on its feet thanks to its fast paced moves. It even has the ability to reset the cooldown of its moves over and over again, just like Gengar. I get that, but Speedsters are supposed to be frail, no? ...oh, ok. It uses its Defenses to charge in and start attacking. It also uses its ability to...make strategic getaways? Ah, I think I know what pokemon you’re talking about. Well, hopefully it doesn’t wimp out before showtime then.

-

And there you have it! How to make a Speedster (as well as other archetypes) for Pokemon Unite! This took a while because of how surprisingly in-depth Speedsters can be. They are not roles to be taken lightly, which is why I tend to have fewer posts for these pokemon compared to other archetypes.

But with that out of the way, you can expect Season 2 of my Pokemon Unite movesets to start soon. Expect the first post to show up within the week!

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Hell he’s been through;

The Knights have no clue of the suffering Merlin has endured… until one day, they do.

TW: Scars, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD except they don’t have a word for that, non-graphic description of scars/injuries

Part 2(final part)

It was the height of summer, the bright blue sky was utterly free of clouds and the noon sun beat viciously down onto the training field.

Only the central six knights, their King, and Merlin braved the exhausting heat, the other knights had chosen to train later in the day, when it was cooler, so the field was empty of anyone else. Merlin was sat cross-legged in the shade of a tree, jacket and neckerchief removed (not that Arth- anyone noticed. Definitely not.), though his sleeves were still pulled low over his wrists and his tunic was fastened high up his neck. Despite that, the lack of an extra layer definitely displayed Merlin’s surprisingly broad shoulders more than normal (another thing that Ar-no one noticed). 

The knights were shirtless, despite Merlin’s warning of sunburn, sparring semi-playfully with wooden dummy swords, the type squires train with, and no armour.

Merlin rubs absent-mindedly at the dull, almost gone ache in his ribs, just below his armpit, as he rolls his shoulder. The injury, if it could even be called that, had never been serious and hadn’t even hurt that much when he’d gotten it on the last patrol (a stray mace swing from a bandit just clipped him), at least, not compared to other injuries he’s sustained over the years, but it was an annoyance that made his shoulder stiff on occasion.

Unfortunately, the movement caught Arthur’s eye, and the King frowns, stopping his observation of Elyan and Mordred’s spar to lay a crudely hidden concerned gaze upon his manservant. 

He’d fussed endlessly when he found that Merlin had bandaged his own torso after the fight, demanding that he let someone help next time; Merlin just rolled his eyes at that. The other knights had wisely chosen not to comment, knowing that the attack, and Merlin’s subsequent injury, had already put Arthur in a bad enough mood; though admittedly, the only thing stopping Gwaine from ruthlessly taking the piss out of Arthur’s mother-hen tendencies all the way home was Percival harshly clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him away.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur staring at him, and the King quickly covers his concern with a look of annoyance when the manservant raises an eyebrow:

“If you’re not going to do anything useful Merlin, get up here, you clearly can’t be trusted to even cower effectively, so you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself.”

Merlin’s eyebrow just rises higher as the rest of the knights’ attention is drawn to the conversation. Lancelot and Mordred hide knowing smiles, well aware than Merlin was more than capable of defending himself, if he really needed to. Gwaine went to open his mouth with teasing grin, though quickly pouts when Percival punches him on the shoulder, and Leon and Elyan smirk at each other before moving their amused gazes to Arthur.

When Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes and gestures at the half-empty rack of wooden swords:

“Come on, Merlin, up on your feet, grab a sword.”

Merlin just snorts in amusement and shakes his head, settling back against the tree trunk even more:

“Absolutely not. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

The knights (bar Lancelot and Mordred of course) raise their own eyebrows. Gwaine snorts out loud, stepping up next to Arthur and dropping an overly-friendly hand on his shoulder, much to The King’s displeasure:

“I know you can hold your own in a tavern brawl Merls, but that’s not the same thing as facing bandits and assassins and shit. Princess is right, it might be worth it for you to at least know how to use a sword.”

Arthur turns an accusing gaze on Gwaine, shrugging his hand off as he says:

“And I presume all the tavern brawls Merlin has apparently been getting into are your fault?”

Gwaine grimaces slightly before shrugging with a smirk, and Merlin hides his laughter with a cough before inserting:

“Entirely his fault. Gwaine starts the fights, promptly passes out, and I have to finish them.”

Arthur laughs incredulously; Mordred has to hide the angry clench of his jaw and Lancelot has to hide his sorrow when Arthur replies in a taunting tone:

“I’m meant to believe that you are regularly winning Gwaine’s unfinished fights, am I?”

Merlin shrugs in mock defeat, a grin on his face:

“Believe what you want, Sire, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing, I don’t need training.”

Arthur resists the urge to smirk at the appealing way Merlin manages to make his title sound insulting, and he instead raises his eyebrows:

“You’re not getting out of this, Merlin. I can’t have you bruising yourself every time we leave the city.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath, settling a disconcertingly assessing gaze on The King for a few moments before he sighs and stands up, walking towards the equipment and picking up a sword before turning back to Arthur:

“I suppose you’re right, I doubt any of the other servants would be willing to put up with you if I got too injured. Who would you like me to spar, My Lord?”

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head as the others step back, looking upon the whole scene with fond amusement, bar, once again, Lancelot and Mordred, who are looking an odd mix between concerned and proud. They know that Merlin is capable of more than he lets on, even with a wooden blade.

“You can’t spar with any of us, Merlin, that would be far too dangerous. We’ll start with some basic moves, and then maybe we can move on to a slow, choreographed spar.”

Merlin twirls the sword expertly in his hand, and he’s vaguely away of Gwaine nodding approvingly and Leon raising an eyebrow out the corner of his eye, though he pays them no mind, raising an eyebrow of his own at Arthur:

“Surely starting with a simple spar will tell you my exact skill levels so you can tailor the lessons? You need to know how crap I am before we start.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a hand, knowing full well that Merlin is just trying to goad Arthur into letting the servant show off his skills without too much effort beforehand. Or without giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking that he was the one who taught Merlin how to fight. Thankfully, Arthur takes Lance’s snort as a teasing one aimed at Merlin, as opposed to what it really is, so waves him into the ring with a smirk.

Merlin just rolls his eyes, moving to stand opposite his best friend and muttering, just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Fine, but I’m not taking my shirt off, I’m not as arrogant as you lot.”

Lancelot widens his eyes as Arthur freezes, dread growing in his stomach at the knowledge that The King would take that as a challenge. Arthur turns slowly, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Lancelot grimaces as Arthur claps his hands together:

“Right! I wasn’t going to mention it, but you do have a point, Merlin, if you are to train, you must train as one of us. Come on, tunic off.”

Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine just laugh, but Leon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and Mordred and Lancelot frown in concern. Neither of them have seen Merlin’s scars in their entirety before, but knowing about the servant’s secret second life had definitely made them more observant than the others, and they had seen hints of old injuries here and there. That’s not even mentioning the times he’s shown up in their chambers, bloody and bruised and in need of treatment, but not wanting to worry Gaius.

Merlin just flushed and stared at him indignantly and Arthur’s teasing grin grew:

“Don’t be shy, Merlin, I’m sure whatever horrific mole or ugly birth mark you’re ashamed of isn’t that bad.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, stepping away from Arthur when he moves towards him. The demand to de-robe, even partially, had immediately put him on edge, and he had gone from playfully annoyed to genuinely irate in a split second. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively when Arthur gestures at him demandingly:

“I don’t have a weird mole, Arthur, you Clotpole, but unlike you lot, I’m not all that keen to show off my old scars.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Merlin was hoping that mentioning his scars in passing would appeal to the knights’ warrior sides, would make them sympathetic to his… shy-ness. It did not. It just made them laugh, even Leon, and they all began to point out various scars they had on their chests and back, remarking that he couldn’t have worse than them. 

Gwaine twisted to the side, patting a pink, jagged circle halfway down his back, a grin on his face:

“This beauty is from when I propositioned a lovely fella who was, apparently, already taken. Man’s wife smashed her bottle on the counter and damn near took my eye out with it.”

Elyan cackles at Gwaine’s story, pointing to a perfectly square burn on his shoulder-blade:

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t fall back into a red hot brand at the ripe old age of fifteen because a girl smiled at you.”

Merlin’s back-up plan, which was sneakily sulking off whilst the knights compared their most embarrassing scars, was cut short basically immediately when he heard Arthur yell out:

“Absolutely not, Merlin, I’ve already told you that you’re not getting out of this. Tunic off, spar Lancelot.”

Merlin huffs, annoyed, feeling rather like he was backed into a corner, and Mordred walks forward, to be between him and The King, quietly saying:

“You don’t have to Merlin, just fight with it on.”

Arthur narrows his eyes in suspicion, but before he can say anything, Merlin squares his shoulders and looks at him defiantly, dropping his sword to the floor as he begins unlacing his tunic, his words coming out harshly, his tone dark:

“No, no it’s fine. The King wants to see my scars, and we all know that The King gets whatever he wants.”

The smiles melt rather quickly off the knights’ faces as Merlin speaks, and Arthur flinches slightly at his tone, starting to realise with just a little guilt that maybe this wasn’t funny anymore. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Merlin that he was only teasing and he could keep the tunic on if he really wanted to, but before any words come out, Merlin is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and screwing it up before tossing it to the side, not once breaking his stare on the now pale King.

Arthur lets out a sharp breath at the patchwork of scars that cover Merlin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the various low cries and gasps of outrage coming from the knights behind him. There are so many, some are large and some are small, some look to be from clumsiness, but others look like they should have been fatal. Arthur’s eyes can’t focus on just one, he’s barely taking in each scar before his gaze is drawn to another, and then another, and then another; it’s a little overwhelming, and it’s only when he starts to feel a little woozy that he remembers to breath.

When he finally comes to the conclusion that his brain isn’t going to able to process this for a while, he looks up to Merlin’s face, instead taking in his resolute expression and hard eyes:

“Merlin, what… what happened to you?”

Merlin raises a slow, mocking eyebrow before breaking his statue-like stillness and picking his sword up again, turning to face a distraught looking Lancelot. This movement only reveals the second mosaic of scars covering his back, but he speaks over the next round of gasps and muffled curses, his tone still unbearably dark as he gestures Lance to get into position:

“I told you, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing.”

The knights are so distracted by the myriad of scars covering Merlin’s torso that it takes the servant’s first harsh, well-aimed blow with his sword to break them out of their stupor. They watch the ensuing spar with morbid fascination, finding that not only can Merlin hold his own, he’s winning. Lancelot loses his breath and rhythm much quicker than Merlin does, and the fast-paced spar only lasts around three minutes before Merlin lands a strong punch to the centre of Lance’s chest and the knight stumbles back in shock, lowering his sword just enough for Merlin to step forward and trip him up.

The scarred servant’s chest rises and falls deeply, but not too rapidly as he lowers his sword and offers a hand down to the beaten knight. Lancelot takes it with a slightly shocked smile, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he stands. Merlin flinches away from the touch, no one misses it, clearly not too fond of people touching his bare skin, and Lance drops his hand rapidly, frowning only briefly before he smiles again:

“Bloody hell, Merlin. I knew you were good, but not that good.”

Merlin gives him a strained smile, grateful for the distraction. Everyone sees the moment Merlin’s mask goes up again; he gives Lance a smug grin and twirls his sword once again as he shrugs mockingly:

“I’ve been watching you lot train for ten years, and I’ve been in a few sword fights in my time. I picked up a few things.”

Arthur finally reacts, scoffing as he shakes his head in disbelief, scars momentarily forgotten:

“There’s no way that you can- that was a fluke.-”

He looks smug as he says it, like he’s figured out some great secret, and Mordred lets out a low, annoyed growl; no one notices thankfully, but Merlin shoots him a quick frustrated line across their mental link:

“Please try not to antagonise him any further.”

Mordred looks to him, keeping his face blank as he nods almost imperceptibly. Lancelot and Gwaine look openly disapproving of Arthur’s assertion, but Leon, Percival, and Elyan look almost convinced. Arthur nods decisively, picking up his sword once again and waving it in Merlin’s direction:

“-My turn. And once I’ve beaten you, you’re going to tell us about all of… that.”

Merlin’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly as he holds a placating hand out in Lancelot’s direction when it becomes obvious that his best friend is going to start trying to defend him.

Arthur takes Lancelot’s place in the ring and Merlin grips his sword tightly, his shoulders tense and his face showing only mild annoyance, despite the anger that Lancelot and Mordred were sure was simmering under his façade. At Arthur’s nod, Leon reluctantly counts them in, and the match begins.

This one is somehow even more fast-paced, though no one is surprised. The last ten minutes had caught Arthur extremely off-guard. An off-guard Arthur is a grumpy Arthur, and a grumpy Arthur is, unfortunately, still the type to take his frustrations out on others. Arthur wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, meaning the disturbing mix of horror, guilt, and anger at Merlin’s scars, slight… shock, (because he refuses to call it anything else) at his deceptively strong physique, and surprise that apparently his servant can take out one of his best knights without all that much effort, all together have The King bursting with adrenaline. 

He throws blow after blow, but Merlin’s defence is incredibly strong, and Arthur has yet to land a hit anywhere other than the opposing sword. After a couple of minutes, Merlin switches styles, and Arthur almost trips when he realises his servant has, in the space of a second, gone from fighting like Arthur, to fighting like Leon. The knights notice it as well; Gwaine lets out a low whistle and Elyan smacks Leon on the shoulder, pointing incredulously at a sequence of complicated footwork that usually only the First Knight can manage so gracefully. Apparently Merlin can do it too.

Arthur adapts to this quickly; Leon was his sparring partner most often, meaning that he was accustomed to switching between their styles, and they were the most similar fighters in all the group. 

Another minute passes, and the pair still don’t slow, seemingly unbothered by their dumbfounded audience and the sweltering heat, and this time Merlin suddenly starts fighting more like Gwaine. Instead of staying on the defensive and trying to trip Arthur up, he goes on the attack, landing heavier and heavier hits as The King barely manages to defend himself in time.

Merlin is quickly growing tired, his stamina not nearly as good as Arthur’s, but The King grows complacent, even with the vicious pace, certain that he just has to wait Merlin out. He was wrong. Arthur finally gets an attack of his own in but Merlin dives to the side instead of blocking it, rolling and coming up to Arthur’s left before the blonde has time to regain his balance and turn around. He freezes in place when Merlin touches his wooden sword to the side of Arthur’s neck. He can feel it shaking, but it’s undoubtedly a killing blow, and when Merlin drops the sword to the floor in favour of bending over, one hand on his knee and the other on his side again as he pants, Arthur turns around faster than he thinks he’s ever moved before:

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights all clapping and shouting encouragement at him, but he doesn’t look up, just waves dismissively in Arthur’s direction:

“I told you, I’ve been watching you lot train for years. It’s easy to imitate you after a little practice.”

Arthur just stares at him in disbelief, but Leon hands the servant a water-skin, ripping his gaze from the whip marks on his back with clenched teeth before schooling his tone and face into something more friendly:

“Merlin, you switched styles twice in as many minutes… you beat the best swordsman in the Kingdom after already being tired from another spar, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Merlin drinks the entire skin as Leon speaks, looking up with another playful mask on his face:

“Well believe me, I’m so sore I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.”

Merlin’s smile drops when he realises everyone is back to staring at him, more specifically, his scars. He steps away from the curly-haired knight, who furrows his brows in concern and resists the urge to reach a comforting hand out to him. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest defensively, hunching his broad shoulders slightly as he frowns at the floor.

Lancelot quickly throws his tunic to him, and Merlin scrambles to pull it on as quickly as possible, but before he can even get his arms through the right holes, Arthur snatches it away, a stern, angry look on his face. Though every one of then can see the badly hidden concern as well:

“No, you agreed to tell us.”

Merlin makes a move for his tunic, but Arthur jumps out of his reach. The servant huffs, annoyed and close to tears all of a sudden as he petulantly replies:

“Actually, you said once you beat me, I had to tell you. I won.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, taking another step back:

“I’m happy to go another round if you are, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at him angrily for another few moments before completely sagging, staring at the floor with sad, tired eyes as his arms drop to dangle at his sides. Arthur and the knights are completely taken aback at Merlin’s sudden change of disposition, though it heartbreakingly strikes them as less of a change and more of a... reveal. A reveal of some kind of sadness that’s been there all along. How did they not notice this??

Arthur’s breath hitches and his tight clutch on Merlin’s tunic loosens slightly as he all but whispers:

“Merlin... who did this to you?”

Merlin finally looks up at him, letting out a humourless chuckle as he rakes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair roughly:

“Does it matter? Most of them are dead, I-”

His eyes narrow and his voice lowers. The knights hear it nonetheless:

“... I made sure of that .”

Arthur lets out a huff of frustration, not bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please, Merlin, you’re my... subject, you’re meant to be under my protection. And don’t lie, none of these are more than eleven or twelve years old at most and you got here ten years ago, so they happened in Camelot, under my watch. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, walking towards the tree’s shade once again. For a moment Arthur panics, thinking he’d pushed Merlin too far as he turned away, knowing that if this conversation wasn’t had now, their relationship would never be the same. But before The King can say anything, the servant slumps back into place against the tree trunk, sitting cross-legged again and biting his lip as he looks at Arthur expectantly.

Before anyone else can move, Mordred and Lancelot take the places either side of Merlin, sitting protectively close. Lance gives Mordred a pointed look, to which the younger knight nods before settling a blank expression on the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t look back at him, but pats the knight’s knee as the corner of his mouth turns up briefly in a barely-there smile.

Arthur narrows his eyes, but stores that odd exchange in the back of his mind to deal with at a later date before sitting across from Merlin; the other knights look to each other, worried, before settling in the empty spaces to complete the circle. The group is silent for a while, all staring at a statue-still Merlin who in turn is staring at the grass in front of him; he doesn’t move even when Lancelot brings his hand into his lap, stroking his thumb over the servant’s knuckles absent-mindedly.

It’s Percival that finally breaks the silence, asking in a quiet voice:

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin looks up suddenly, as if he had forgotten he had company, taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on Lance’s hand. He gulps before once again running his free hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he mutters:

“I don’t recall all of them in perfect detail, just ask about... whatever catches your eye I guess, and we’ll see what I can remember.”

The knights all nod, looking to each other expectantly, no one really wanting to go first. Eventually Leon clears his throat, his voice gentle:

“Why don’t we start with the whip marks on your back?”

Merlin nods, grateful that they were at least starting off with the non-magical injuries. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he speaks, his voice croaky and quiet:

“The newer ones are from Cenred, from a few years ago. He wanted information and I spat at his feet and told him to fuck off. He... he didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Gwaine lets out a quiet curse, and Arthur sits up straight, saying in a crackingly authoritative voice:

“Merlin, if anyone ever tries to extract information from you again, you give them anything. Everything. We’ll deal with the fall-out afterwards, it is not your job to withstand torture.”

The other knights nod approvingly but Merlin just looks up at The King with a raised eyebrow:

“Like hell. I can put up with a remarkable amount, I’d never sell Camelot, or you, out. Never, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs and resolutely ignores the tears gathering in his eyes, but Elyan beats him to the mark:

“That’s not... you shouldn’t have to put up with anything Merlin, it’s not necessary. You just... keep yourself safe. We’ll worry about everything else.”

The other knights nod again, but Merlin scowls and tenses even further, even as Lancelot squeezes his hand comfortingly:

“I’ve been through literal hell, multiple times, in order to protect my home and the people that are important to me. I’m not going to stop that just because it makes you lot uncomfortable, and you have no right to tell me to it’s not my place.”

Everyone looks desperate to argue, but they can’t deny that, after what they’ve seen today, in the last half a candle-mark only, Merlin is evidently a lot stronger than they’ve ever given him credit for. Both physically and mentally. Leon just gives Merlin a small smile and nods; he’s the only one here who has known Merlin just as long as Arthur, and he may not be as close to the younger man as The King or Lance or Gwaine or Mordred, but he’s seen his loyalty in action several times over the years:

“You said the newer ones were from Cenred. You’ve been flogged more than once?”

Merlin nods at the knight, grateful for his understanding and change of subject, even if said change of subject was back to his scars. His expression turns slightly guilty as his gaze moves to Arthur, and The King has a feeling he’s going to feel incredibly terrible at whatever it is Merlin is about to say:

“The others are from... uh.... Uther.-”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath as the tears he had just about managed to get under control gather again. The other knights just look angry, bar Leon, who, though miserable, looks as though he sort of expected it:

“-He didn’t like me very much.”

Arthur whispers his response:

“When? Merlin, when and why did my father have you flogged, and how did I not know about it?”

Merlin tenses his jaw, going from guilty to angry in a split second, snapping his response:

“Why do you think?!-”

Arthur recoils and Merlin closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, looking back to Arthur with a blank mask and speaking in a monotone voice:

“What did you think he would do every time I took the blame for you missing a meeting or a meal or a training session because you were entertaining a woman or pissing about with your knights? I had to walk into the council room and apologise for your absence because I slept in or I forgot to tell you or I sent you on a hunt on the wrong day. Uther was in the habit of burning people and chopping off an alarming number of heads, did you really think I would get away with it punishment free??

Arthur goes pale as a sheet and his hands tremble with the understanding. He shakes his head slightly as he looks to his lap, ignoring the tears on his cheeks as he murmurs:

“Merlin I am so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think... if I had known I would have duelled him in the damn town square to protect you.-”

Arthur looks up sharply, wiping his face clean as he settles an assessing gaze on his servant, ignoring Gwaine’s murderous glare as he slowly continues:

“-... which is exactly why you never told me, isn’t it?”

Merlin shrugs, a small smile on his face:

“You may never admit it, Arthur, but you were protective of me, even then.”

Arthur flushes slightly, before frowning again and shaking his head:

“You should have told me, it’s my job to protect you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly:

“I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

Arthur huffs and narrows his eyes again, good-naturedly this time, and Merlin just rolls his eyes before seeming to sag again, speaking quietly:

“Come on, next one.”

Elyan raises his hand slightly before pointing to the centre of Merlin’s chest:

“How the hell did you get a burn like that?”

Merlin tenses, rubbing a hand over the roughly circular, pink and white scar in the centre of his chest. The flesh looked melted in places, white scar tissue spider-webbing out from his sternum, beginning to fade just before it stretched around his sides, and stopping a few inches above his naval:

“Witch threw a fireball at me. Hurt like hell, but there was quite a lot of adrenaline at the time so I didn’t really notice the pain until later.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, evidently trying to control his anger as he asks, in a shaking, though forceful, voice:

“And what were you doing fighting a witch powerful enough to throw fire around?”

Merlin stops rubbing at the scar when Lancelot tugs his hand and Mordred mutters “You’re going to hurt yourself, Merlin.” in his head, curling his hand tightly in his lap instead and speaking slowly, as if he were choosing each word individually:

“Only Leon and Arthur were in Camelot for that. Arthur was dying from the Questing Beast bite, I... went to the Isle of the Blessed to speak to the followers of the Old Religion. There was said to be someone there who had power over life and death and I... Arthur was dying, I had to try.-”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s words, mostly the mention of such a power, but stays silent, nodding at him to continue:

“-But the Old Religion requires balance, a life for a life,-”

Leon releases a deep breath, looking to the floor at the implication with his eyes closed, and Arthur lets out a whispered whimper, knowing the depths of Merlin’s loyalty:

“-I offered my own in exchange for Arthur’s. She, Nimueh, that is, accepted,-”

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, but before he can yell about Merlin’s self preservation, he notices the darkness on his dearest friend’s face and his voice catches in his throat. Merlin stares at the floor, his face drawn and angry and his voice stormy and clipped:

“-but she tried to trick me. I didn’t appreciate that, we fought, she died. Her life for Arthur’s: the deal was done.”

An audible gasp goes up around the circle, and Percival, who is (other than Merlin and Mordred of course) the most well versed in Magic Info, responds breathlessly:

“Merlin... Nimueh is a High Priestess, The master over Life and Death, she’s very very powerful.”

Merlin looks up at the gentle giant sharply, his gaze unforgiving and his tone harsh:

“Yeah, and she’s also very very dead, because she pissed me off.”

Percival gulps and lowers his gaze, but Arthur seems to have missed everything the two of them just said as he stares blankly at his servant:

“You’d barely known me a year, and I’ll admit that I was an arse back then, and you tried to give your life for mine. Why?”

Merlin looks at him curiously, not responding for a few moments as his anger dies down and his pride grows:

“I had it on good authority that you would become a Great King one day. It only took a little squinting to see it, you were a good man, a man I was, and still am, prepared to sacrifice myself for. You were an arse, yes, you still sort of are, but I have faith in you, always have, always will.”

Lancelot and Mordred smile fondly at him as the other knights stare dumbfounded, but Arthur clenches his jaw, ignoring the shaking in his voice as he says:

“Well, I... I forbid it. You are officially forbidden from sacrificing yourself for me, legally.”

Gwaine perks up slightly:

“Out of curiosity, do we all get the same-”

Arthur interrupts him with a forceful, though slightly amused:

“Shut up, Gwaine. And no, you’re a knight, your entire job description is to jump head first into danger so I don’t have to. I have every faith that you’ll die for me one day.”

Everyone lets out quiet snorts at that, bar Gwaine of course, who looks jokingly affronted before he nods and shrugs, quietly muttering “Yeah, fair enough,-”, the rest of his sentence (”especially considering you’re in love with him but not any of us.”) goes unheard and unchallenged.

Merlin chooses not to respond to Arthur’s demand, but everyone knows that’s his way of not committing to anything, knowing full well that Merlin had never listened to Arthur’s orders before, and sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

“Next one.”

Merlin’s face had fallen slightly, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with explaining only two sets of scars, and Gwaine asks next, his eyes being drawn to Merlin’s gesturing hand:

“The red bands around your wrists and neck. They look like burns, but not very deep ones. How did they scar if they weren’t deep?”

Merlin looks down at the scars on his wrists, resisting the urge to absent-mindedly claw at the one he knows sits low on his neck. They’re about two inches wide, pale pink and almost impossible to see in the dark but impossible not to see in the light of the noon sun, even sat in the shade. The edges were clean cut and perfectly straight, and Merlin winced slightly at the memory of his magic being contained in such a way.

He looks around the circle, speaking easily. Though it was painful, it was no where near the worst Merlin has ever had, and even if he couldn’t tell the full truth, it felt sort of nice not to have to hide these ones:

“Some sort of enchanted chains, they drained my energy, made me sick and tired, but the magic in the metal sort of... stung, I guess. I don’t really know. I’d been captured by Morgause (is Morgana not mentioned in this entire fic but still Good? Yes.) again and I suppose she didn’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone looks shocked at his casual admission, and Leon is the first to break the tense silence:

“When were you captured by Morgause?”

Before Merlin can respond, Arthur pipes up incredulously:

“Again. You said again. Merlin, how many times have you been kidnapped by Morgause without anyone realising? How many times have you been kidnapped in general?!”

Merlin winces slightly, speaking in a slightly defensive tone as he stares at Arthur as though the answer is obvious:

“Arthur... I’m The King’s personal manservant. I have the power to overrule the Steward and the Housekeeper if I wanted to; as far as servant’s go, I have the most authority, even more than some low level nobles, especially when it comes to running the citadel. I’m sort of... a big deal. I have access to pretty much any information I could want, even more than this lot-”

He gestures to the knights around the circle. Mordred and Lancelot look a little proud once again, Leon is staring at Arthur, shocked that The King didn’t know this, and everyone else stares at Merlin, only just realising that... Merlin was right. None of them have considered it before, but he practically runs the castle.

“-most of the time, and I’m the only one who knows every single state secret, simply from my proximity to you and your council and your paperwork. That is rather... desirable to people like Morgause, people who want to attack Camelot.”

Merlin purses his lips awkwardly as everyone stares at him blankly, but Gwaine is the first to break the silence:

“... and we’ve just been letting you walk around, unprotected.”

Merlin raises as eyebrow:

“I think we’ve already established I don’t need protection.”

Arthur huffs and throws his hands up awkwardly:

“Well you obviously do, if you’re getting kidnapped so often. When even was this?? You haven’t disappeared for a while, and we haven’t had any trouble from Morgause in months.”

Merlin’s face falls, and the knights are taken aback at the reappearance of the... cruel darkness in his expression:

“Believe me, I know. She... won’t be bothering us any longer, I wasn’t fond of her repeated attempts to kill me or you so I... took care of it.”

The knights go pale at Merlin’s casual admittance of killing yet another High Priestess of the Old Religion. He smirks into his lap briefly until Lance once again squeezes his hand, as if reminding him of the mask he should be wearing. Arthur stares at his servant and long time friend, struggling to reconcile the clumsy ideal he has in his head with this... hardened, tortured protector:

“How? Nimueh and Morgause... just... how??”

Merlin’s eyes slowly move up to meet Arthur’s gaze, and The King gulps at the assessing way the servant tilts his head:

“Playing the role of clumsy rural idiot can be a little demeaning sometimes, but it also means that people tend to underestimate me. They think I’m an easy target, and by the time they realise I’ve played them, it’s too late.”

Arthur recoils slightly, and Merlin once again changes dispositions, shrugging casually and smiling easily, his tone light:

“You can get away with a remarkable amount when people think you’re stupid.”

The circle lets out an in-sync breath. All of them knew that Merlin wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but they didn’t realise just how smart he is. None of them would admit it, but Elyan, Leon, Percival, Arthur, and even Gwaine on some level, still subconsciously considered Merlin “just a servant” in the back of their minds. At least... they did. 

(Not that that old thought process made them think any less of him, they just didn’t think of him as complicated, as a warrior.)

Merlin takes a deep breath, knowing that his friends would never see him in the same way, but sort of hoping that that was a good thing, gesturing vaguely to the circle once again. Arthur asks the next question, touching his hand to the back of his own neck softly:

“There’s a cut on the back of your neck. It looks deep, like it was reopened over and over, what is it?”

Merlin grimaces slightly, wiping his free hand over his face in exhaustion as Lancelot squeezes his other hand, and Mordred pats his knee comfortingly:

“That one was a few years ago, courtesy of Morgause again. She put something called a Fomorrah in me-”

Percival gasped slightly, harshly whispering “Gods.” under his breath. Arthur spares him a quick glance, making a mental note to question how his knight seems to know so much about sorcery at a later date:

“-so she could try to make me kill Arthur; it sort of... controls you. Makes you only able to focus on whatever instruction you’re given when it’s first put in you. Gaius kept having to cut it out of me, it wouldn’t stop re-growing until we killed the rest of it’s body, and that was with Morgause somewhere out of the city.”

Arthur looked a little outraged, hiding the worry of “I now know that Merlin could kill me without any trouble at all so how the fuck am I alive?”. Apparently he doesn’t hide it well; Merlin gives him a comforting smile and shrugs his shoulders slightly:

“I fought the compulsion pretty well, kept coming up with increasingly complicated assassination plans instead of just... stabbing you in your sleep or something.”

Arthur goes to respond, but he’s interrupted by Leon loudly cursing, his eyes wide as he stares at Merlin with flushed cheeks:

“I just... gave you a crossbow!! You said you were going to kill Arthur and I thought you were joking and I let you walk out the armoury with a crossbow and a handful of bolts!!”

Merlin chuckles, a blush of his own rising as he responds, rubbing the back of his neck again:

“Yeah... I don’t really remember it, but Gaius and Gwen filled me in on what had happened. To be fair, it’s kind of flattering that you never considered that I was the assassin, despite the repeated attempts being made on Arthur’s life and the fact that I admitted it to your face.”

Leon stares at the floor with wide eyes, seemingly trying to process the fact that he had pointed a would be assassin in the right direction, muttering something along the lines of “oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” over and over until Elyan awkwardly patted him on the back, breaking him from his embarrassed horror.

Arthur clears his throat, staring at Merlin with an almost unreadable expression:

“I did wonder why the attempts just... stopped?”

Merlin understands the question in his tone and nods slightly before replying:

“Hmm. Gaius and Gwen figured out it was me, found a way to paralyse the thing in my neck until I managed to get back to Morgause’s little lair and kill the main body.”

Arthur nods distractedly. How many times had this happened? “This” being something entirely ridiculous and/or incredibly dangerous right under his nose.

Percival clears his throat and Merlin looks to the nervous man, nodding at him to ask whatever it was that was on his mind, despite his growing discomfort:

“There’s... on your back, it looks like a stab wound but... worse. The veins around it are black and it looks painful despite it’s obvious age and... well... it looks like a Serket Sting, but it... it can’t be, right?”

Merlin tenses, back to looking as exhausted and scared and as ready to bolt as he had at the beginning of the conversation. Lancelot squeezes his hand again, tightly this time, and Mordred takes his other to stop him from clenching it too harshly, murmuring:

“You don’t have to, Merlin, not this one.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at the knowledge that two of his knights had known about this. Had known the collage of agony on Merlin’s body, had known what he’d been through and done nothing. Hadn’t prevented it, hadn’t brought it to Arthur, hadn’t protected him. But equally, with how protective and loyal and secretive Merlin is, and how heartbroken the two of them had looked when Merlin first took his tunic off, they likely hadn’t known the full extent of damage.

Merlin just sighs and shakes his head, sensing the curious stares of the others before rising to his knees and turning around, running a shaking hand over the scar briefly before dropping his hand to his side again. The others stare, astounded. They’d only caught brief glimpses of it before, but now they could see it properly it was undoubtedly a Serket Sting. 

The deep puncture mark on his lower back had closed up, but the skin was still sunken in slightly, red and angry looking with hints of purple towards the middle. Percival was right: dark veins, as if permanently poisoned, stretched out from the centre of the wound, dipping below the waistband of his trousers and fading about halfway up his back. 

After a few moments, Merlin turns around again and sits back down, placing his still shaking hand back in Lance’s lap without prompting. Arthur’s one-word question is whispered and cracked, and no one judges him for the tears in his eyes; most of them have tears of their own gathering and falling at their friend’s pain:

“How?”

Merlin gulps, not looking up as he leans slightly into Mordred’s shoulder. The young knight presses back, knowing how fond the servant is of warm pressure, not minding the sticky sweatiness of their still uncovered torsos in the noon heat:

“Morgause again. She got annoyed with me always ruining her plans, getting in the way. Left me chained up in the middle of a nest of... in the middle of a nest.”

Leon takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes harshly and sniffing before asking, his voice strong despite the slight waver:

“How did you survive that? I’ve... I’ve seen men get stung by serkets and it’s not... nice.”

Merlin breathes shakily, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the floor, memories flashing through his mind and the scar on his back twinging uncomfortably. Again, Percival was right, despite it’s age, it did still hurt. He takes one last deep breath, clenching his eyes shut tightly before looking up at the curly-haired knight, not quite making eye-contact:

“I uh... a lot of screaming, and the help of an... old friend. I was out of Camelot for a few days whilst I recovered, my friend didn’t fancy being executed for helping me, for just existing.”

Arthur furrows his brows but the others, bar Leon, nod in understanding, looking only slightly guilty and not looking to The King as he asks:

“What do you mean? If someone has found a way to cure a Serket sting then they most definitely wouldn’t be executed for it.”

Elyan snorts and Mordred and Lancelot frown at the floor as Merlin stares at Arthur with poorly concealed contempt:

“Arthur... the cure for a Serket sting has been around for centuries, it just involves very strong, very complicated magic. I didn’t fancy dying in absolute agony, and my friend didn’t fancy being executed for the act of saving my life so we stayed away from the city whilst he treated me.”

Arthur looks at his servant, dumbfounded and confused, and the knights stay silent in their awkwardness. Leon, a lifelong citizen of Camelot, is the only other person to look surprised at Merlin’s explanation, though he nods after a few moments, conceding that it... makes sense. Of course it does.

Mordred frowns when he notices Merlin’s knee begin to bounce up and down slightly, but it’s the way he gulps and tightens his grip on Lance’s hand that has the two knights begin to properly worry. They share a quick look, obviously agreeing on something, before Mordred takes Merlin’s other hand and settles a soft touch on his vibrating knee whilst Lancelot looks to Arthur:

“I think we’re done for the day. This has been... a lot.”

Merlin is getting paler by the second and Mordred can sense the man’s distress, shooting Lance a desperate look before subtly trying to shuffle closer to Merlin, who leans even further into his touch. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, looking annoyed at Lancelot’s assertion and rolling his eyes before moving his gaze back to Merlin’s quivering form:

“No, Merlin’s suffered and I need to know why. There are mace wounds on both your shoulders, I remember one, but not the-”

Arthur is interrupted by a low whine from the back of Merlin’s throat as he thumps his head back against the tree, eyes still shut tightly. His words out come quietly and broken, as if it were a struggle to breathe, let alone speak:

“Can we please stop now?”

Mordred ignores Arthur, moving to kneel in front of the servant whilst Lancelot glares at The King. Arthur just huffs slightly, though he obviously completely underestimates the distress his friend is in, looking concerned, but not letting up:

“Merlin, we’ve barely gone through a third of them, we can’t stop-”

Lancelot lets out a low growl, letting go of Merlin’s hand and moving towards Arthur, glaring as he says:

“Arthur, we need to stop. Now.”

The young King looks taken aback, though the argument is stopped in his throat when Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him:

“Merlin, you need to breathe.-”

He peers around the young knight as best he can, but Lance’s still vicious glare stops him from moving too close. Mordred brings one of Merlin’s hands up, pressing it against his chest and continuing his soft instructions:

“-Copy my breathing, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now, Merlin?”

The knights all stare on in horror at Merlin’s pale skin and ragged breathing, staying still in their places when Lancelot gestures at them firmly. It’s Merlin’s next word, cracked and whispered, that trigger another round of tears to gather in their eyes:

“C...cave.”

Mordred shakes his head slowly and Lancelot curses under his breath, kneeling back next to Mordred and retaking Merlin’s other hand, holding it between his own securely. Mordred’s soft voice floats in the wind, and if the knights weren’t so distracted by their friend’s pain, they would think it sounds almost magical:

“No, you’re safe, Merlin. Think, listen, feel. Can you try to tell me where you are again?

Merlin shakes his head roughly, his still-shut eyes not stopping the tears from squeezing out as he flinches, strikes of lightening-like agony shooting out from the scar on his lower back. Lance worries his lip between his teeth, rubbing one of his hands up and down Merlin’s shivering arm; a nod from Mordred has Lance speak, his words soft and low despite the waver in his voice:

“Merlin, you know where you are, and me and Mordred are right here with you. You need to open your eyes buddy, tell us where we are.”

Merlin’s breathing instantly seems to calm a little at Lancelot’s voice, and he cracks his bloodshot eyes open, immediately sighing when his blurry gaze lands on the canopy above him, whispering:

“Tree... sky... Camelot.”

The others can see Mordred let out a relieved sigh, and they force themselves to relax slightly. Merlin’s body sags again and Lance frowns, but the young servant’s stuttering words as he stares blankly up into the tree interrupt any reassurance he could have offered:

“Please, I can’t... I don’t... please don’t make me-”

Lance stills his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone else as he replies:

“No one’s going to make you, Merlin, we can carry on another day-”

Arthur’s interrupted “But-” is quickly shut down when Lance turns around to glare at him, a sharp “-I said we’re done for the day.” sent his way.

Merlin flinches again, the pain in his back getting worse and worse and making it harder to keep a grasp on reality, so damning the consequences, Mordred presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and he mouths the words to a sleeping spell as quietly as he can. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on the glaring contest between Lancelot and The King, so no one immediately notices the way Merlin falls forwards into Mordred’s arms, not until he nudges Lance in the leg and mutters:

“He passed out. We should get him to Gaius, he needs proper rest and pain medication.”

Lancelot nods his head firmly, back to ignoring Arthur and the others as he moves to Merlin’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder as Mordred does the same on the servant’s other side. Mordred’s eyes scan over the knights, searching for whoever looks the most likely to help without question; his gaze stills on a terribly worried looking Gwaine:

“Gwaine, run ahead to warn Gaius, tell him that Merlin had a really bad episode and then passed out.”

Gwaine gulps but nods, gathering his tunic in quick hands and putting it on haphazardly as he sprints back to the castle. Mordred and Lancelot adjust their grips, standing and bringing Merlin up with them as they turn in the direction Gwaine had ran and begin the careful journey back to the citadel. The knights follow behind them closely, hastily dressing themselves and desperate to ask questions, but knowing that now was not the time. Elyan jogs ahead of them to open doors and clear a path, and Percival had grabbed Merlin, Lancelot, and Mordred’s tunics as Leon put all of the swords away before catching up.

Thankfully they don’t come across many people, though Lance and Mordred still do their best to conceal Merlin between them, knowing that he would be distraught if anyone else saw his scars. They make good time to Gaius’ chambers, and they find the Physician preparing a few strong pain potions and sleeping draughts as Gwaine paced.

Gaius looks incredibly worried, but unsurprised, and Lance and Mordred carry Merlin up to his room without prompting; the sick feeling in Arthur’s stomach tells him that they’re practiced at this. The King goes to follow them, but they kick the door shut behind them so they can have at least a little privacy whilst they settle their friend in his bed. They leave the covers off, knowing that he’d just overheat or kick them off in the nightmares that they know are coming. Lance nods knowingly at Mordred, and the younger of the two moves swiftly back into the main room, shutting the door behind him again softly, avoiding eye contact with anyone bar Gaius, even as Percival hands him his tunic.

The elderly Physician raises an eyebrow, and Mordred answers the wordless question quietly, though not quiet enough for the other knights to not hear him:

“Not yet, but soon, he’ll definitely need a sleeping draught to get him through it. It was his back, so he’ll need the strongest pain one you’ve got.”

Gaius nods, picking up two of the many concoctions he had prepared, not reacting to Arthur’s desperate questions, leaving the conversation to Mordred:

“What are you talking about? Get through what??”

Mordred sighs and frowns slightly, unable to get over all of his anger at the King for pushing Merlin so far:

“The nightmares. He always gets them, especially after an episode that bad.”

Arthur recoils, just a little horrified, but Gwaine beats him to the mark, asking in a shaking voice:

“Episode??”

Mordred moves his gaze to the worried knight, a little more sympathetic to the man he knew was more loyal to Merlin than he was to The King:

“Flashbacks, panic attacks. Merlin has been through... a lot. Chronic pain or difficult conversations sometimes trigger a sort of... breakdown, he struggles to differentiate between memories and reality. Normally he can just wait it out with a little help. When it’s really bad we put him to sleep, it’s the only way to stop him from hurting himself accidentally.”

Everyone looks horrified at that, their focus on Mordred rather than Gaius, who was stealthily ascending the steps to Merlin’s room, potions in hand. Arthur is the first to break the tense silence:

“How long? How long as he been getting these episodes, and why the hell did no one think to tell me?!”

Mordred moves his harsh gaze back to The angry King, glaring at him when his voice rose:

“With all due respect, My Lord, lower your voice. Merlin needs rest, he needs to not be disturbed.”

Arthur looks annoyed, though still heartbroken, but nods slightly, almost whispering as he responds:

“You didn’t answer my questions. How long, and why wasn’t I told?”

Mordred sighs, looking to the floor briefly as he crosses his arms over his chest . After a few moments of considering his answer, he finally looks up again, suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned as he replies softly:

“I don’t really know. He didn’t tell us, we just... found out. It took us a while to convince him to explain it properly and let us help. He didn’t want anyone worrying or treating him like glass; it doesn’t happen very often at all, and this is... this is the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur frowns and shakes his head slightly, but it’s Leon that speaks next:

“Why not tell us, at least? What if something had happened and you weren’t with us? We wouldn’t have known what was wrong.”

Mordred takes a deep breath and shrugs, nodding slightly, obviously aware that he couldn’t tell them about his and Merlin’s mental link:

“We tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t have it. We were maybe one more conversation away from convincing him to tell Gwaine or Guinevere, but I guess that’s not necessary anymore.”

Arthur pushes down the twinge of jealousy that Merlin had never even considered telling him, but it obviously shows on his face; Mordred scowls slightly, clenching his hands to try and cover his annoyance. Before either men can say anything, Lancelot comes back down from Merlin’s room, leaving Gaius with the young servant:

“It’s starting, Mordred we need to go, everyone else, out.”

Percival throws Lance’s tunic to him as the knights move to the door, albeit reluctantly, but Arthur doesn’t move, glaring down at Mordred angrily when the younger man stops him from going into Merlin’s room:

“He’s my manservant, I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mordred narrows his eyes, and Arthur kicks himself for never realising how much Merlin meant to him before now, but before the knight can say anything, Lancelot steps up next to him, answering in his stead:

“No, me and Mordred will be there, that’s all he needs. You need to go, My Lord.”

Arthur gears up to argue, to pull rank, squaring his shoulders and snarling slightly, but an angry Lancelot is something he’s never seen and never had to deal with before, so he’s far too surprised to say anything when the knight interrupts his posturing:

“I said no, Arthur. He has to pretend in front of you. You’ve already done this to him,-”

He gestures angrily to the door to Merlin’s room:

“-he needs to not tense up and stress out immediately upon waking up.”

Arthur steps back slightly, but clears his throat, pushing through the slight heartbreak and guilt to argue:

“Oh, and he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you two?”

Mordred rolls his eyes, giving Lancelot a pointed look before stalking up to Merlin’s room, leaving the older knight to deal with the angry King. Lance clenches his jaw and lets out a harsh breath, looking away briefly, as if trying to stop himself from saying anything cruel, before giving up and glaring back at Arthur:

“No. He doesn’t. Because we, and Gaius, are the only people who actually know the first thing about Merlin, and he trusts us. He needs space, and time to heal, and comfort, not the demanding presence of a King whose already pushed him too far, who treats him like shit and forces him to think he has to hide who he is. For God’s sake, Arthur, can you please, for once, think of anyone but yourself.”

Arthur widens his eyes, and though Lancelot looks a little like he regrets what he said, he doesn’t back down, nodding to the door behind Arthur and not moving away until The King steps back again. Arthur takes a deep breath, turning to exit the Physician’s chambers before the knight could see the guilt on his face and the tears in his eyes. He leaves without looking back, ignoring the gaggle of knights waiting worriedly in the hall and stalking straight to his chambers, only just managing to shut the door behind him before the tears finally started falling.

Back in Merlin’s room, the servant thrashes in his sleep, whimpering despite Mordred’s comforting whispers in his head, Gaius’ hand in his hair, and Lancelot’s soft lap as a pillow. 

This... was going to be a tough one.

~

The End of part 1!!!

This was legit supposed to only be one part buuuuuuut we can all see how that went. Part two will follow on really quickly, but it was getting far too long to leave all as one 😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it, link to part 2(the final part) at the top!! :)

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

[robininthelabyrinth]

3. I have no idea if this time line would work, but MYX and XY get attached to each other, so when the time comes that MYX and XY need to leave Koi Tower, JGY helps them get married in secret and run away to Dongu. Anyways, a few years latter, JGY has a kid that needs to go and people in a removed location that owe him favors! Isn’t that a wonderful combination! A Jin(?) Rusong raised by Uncles Mo and Xue, or whatever they go by these days, would be very chaotic. Bonus: they start a relatively safe demonic cultivation sect, maybe with some guidance from the Nie (has NMJ never been killed by the Jin in this Au?), or more specifically, Huaisang. SL and XXC who got a happy ending decide to check out this no blood line sect (it looks slightly dubious, but surely can’t be to bad! Right?) A-Qing at least is enjoying her new friend -🟪🦋

Should Have Been Listening - ao3

“Let go of me.”

“I won’t,” Mo Xuanyu said, clutching Xue Yang’s arm. “I won’t, I won’t! You’re my only friend here!”

Xue Yang looked down at him in what he thought was mostly exasperation, but might have also been a little fondness – after all, if it’d been anyone else who’d grabbed him, he’d have stabbed them.

He still didn’t know why he didn’t stab Mo Xuanyu, too, but in all honesty, he wasn’t that interested in exploring it. He did what he wanted, and right now, he didn’t want to murder Mo Xuanyu.

Irritating as he sometimes was.

“Little brat,” he said. “I have important business to go do.”

“It’s not something that he ordered, though!”

“So what?” Xue Yang bristled. “I don’t just do what hetells me!”

“But that means he won’t cover for you, and that means you’ll get in trouble!” Mo Xuanyu argued. “How can I let you go all alone to get in trouble? You have to take me with you! What will you do without me? Who’ll keep you entertained and sneak sweets for you if not for me?”

Xue Yang’s lips twitched. Okay, maybe there was a reason he kept the brat around.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “This is something I’ve got to do – something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’m going to kill a lot of people and get into a lot of trouble, more trouble than ever before. I’ll probably lose my life. How can I possibly take you with me?”

Mo Xuanyu scowled up at him. It was a very weak scowl – barely more than a pout. “You think that’s going to make me not want to come with you?”

Xue Yang’s eyebrows went up. “You cry at the sight of blood!”

“I cry at a lot of things!”

Xue Yang wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was true, Mo Xuanyu cried at a lot of things.

“Maybe if I come with you, it won’t be so bad!”

Yeeeeah, Xue Yang wasn’t going to count on that.

“Or maybe you don’t have to go…?”

“I have to go,” he explained. “If I don’t go, I can’t get revenge, and I have to have revenge.”

Mo Xuanyu blinked up at him.

“I don’t really understand, but okay,” he said, and tugged on his arm. “Let’s go together, then. I promise I won’t cry!”

-

He cried.

He cried a lot.

-

“Stop fucking crying.”

-

“Just – ugh. Listen. You’re ruining the mood.”

-

“If you can’t stop crying, go away. Now. Or I’ll stab you!”

-

“Okay, see, look, I just killed the leaders, see? Just the old men. Everyone else is just locked in their rooms. Once the sect leader comes back, I’ll kill him too, and that’ll be all. Okay? Everyone else lives. I promise. Now stop crying, okay?”

-

“I don’t want to know,” Jin Guangyao said when they got back. “I don’t want to know at all.”

“Good,” Xue Yang grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Enough people heard about the reason for what you did that opinions are mixed as to whether your actions were the Chang clan’s just rewards for their former misdeeds or if they were actually wrong,” Jin Guangyao said. He looked irritated. “But you still killed high-ranking members of a sect, and you left enough alive that they’re demanding your head on a platter. You’re going to need to run away.”

Mo Xuanyu hesitantly gestured as if he wished to speak.

“Yes, you can go with him. Now that my father is dead, no one cares where you are.”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“You’re just going to let us go?” Xue Yang asked suspiciously. “That seems unlike you. What’s in it for you?”

“Oh, I’m not just going to let you go. I’m going to give you money, too,” Jin Guangyao said. “And all you need to do for me is one little tiny favor –”

Pity that that was when Xue Yang stopped listening, too busy staring at Mo Xuanyu’s delighted face and counting all the way he was in for it now.

-

“I’ve always wanted to take care of a baby,” Mo Xuanyu said happily.

“Good for you,” Xue Yang said darkly as he stalked through the streets.

He would rather that Jin Guangyao had needed a body buried and a death covered up or something – and judging by the baby’s perturbed expression, it probably agreed with him. Fuck, maybe Jin Guangyao had meant for them to murder the baby once they got it far enough out of the way. It was just as plausible as Mo Xuanyu's assumption that they were supposed to take care of it.

Damnit, maybe he should have been listening.

“Listen, neither of us are equipped to handle a baby. Go find a woman to help us – someone poor and helpless who doesn’t have any other choice.”

“Okay!”

-

Xue Yang shut his eyes. “What exactly,” he said slowly, “did you think I asked you to get us a woman for, exactly?”

“To…watch the baby?” Mo Xuanyu guessed. “When we’re busy or sleeping? Anyway, what’s wrong with A-Qing, anyway? She’s nice!”

“I’m not nice,” A-Qing said. The damn brat was smirking – and for once it wasn’t his damn brat, but some blind brat with a cocky expression. “I stole your wallet and you burst into tears and it was really embarrassing.”

“He does that,” Xue Yang said wearily. At least he’d noticed the theft this time – all of his lessons in ‘how not to be a sucker and get constantly taken advantage of’ were maybe having something of an impact. Maybe. “For some reason I’m apparently into it.”

He couldn’t explain it any other way.

“…loser.”

“I will stab you,” Xue Yang threatened. “I don’t care if you’re blind.”

“Won’t someone tell me why A-Qing isn’t a perfectly good babysitter?” Mo Xuanyu demanded. He was holding the baby in his arms again – the baby liked him more than it did Xue Yang, which meant that between Mo Xuanyu and the baby, the baby had better self-preservation instincts – and he was trying his best stern scowl which was of course barely more than a pout and a so-called ‘fierce’ expression that made Xue Yang want to laugh.

Not even Mo Xuanyu’s horrific make-up skills could make thatface intimidating. Or maybe it was just that the person behind the face was just so completely unthreatening that there was no help for it?

“Well? Tell me!”

Xue Yan opened his mouth, then shrugged and shut it again.

A-Qing patted Mo Xuanyu on the shoulder. “I’m too young. No milk.”

“…milk?”

“You know. The thing babies eat?”

“…milk,” Mo Xuanyu repeated, only now he looked absolutely heartbroken at having failed the mission that Xue Yang had assigned him almost entirely just to get him out of the way while Xue Yang collected some spare cash and threatened their way onto a ride out of this piece of shit town.

“It’s fine,” Xue Yang said hastily. “We’ll just get a goat or something, I don’t know.”

“Okay, I actually only came here to laugh at you,” A-Qing said. “But now I’m legitimately worried about this baby. Don’t you two know anything? How’d you even get a baby, anyway?”

-

“Stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

-

“Seriously. Stop laughing, or I stab you.”

“Don’t worry, A-Qing,” Mo Xuanyu said. “He doesn’t mean it! Threats are just how he expresses affection!”

“It most certainly is not.”

“That is absolutely amazing,” A-Qing said, wiping her eyes. “Best thing I’ve ever heard., if by best I mean worse-but-hilarious. I mean. If that’s what he considers affection, what must his flirting be like?”

“No one is flirting with anyone!”

-

“Are you going to leave at some point?”

“Obviously not,” A-Qing said. She’d caught the same ride as them, using Xue Yang’s cash no less – Mo Xuanyu had insisted that it was the least they could do after the whole milk misunderstanding, which was stupid, she ought to be paying them for wasting their time. Xue Yang couldn’t wait to get rid of her, although he had to admit that she’d been pretty useful in terms of putting on the ‘poor sad blind girl and her two brothers all alone in the world’ act to get them a room at the inn at prices even Xue Yang felt comfortable paying. “Are you joking? This is so much funnier than walking by myself. Anyway, I enjoy watching people crash and burn.”

“Aren’t you too young to be such a bitch?” Xue Yang hissed. “And, I don’t know, blind?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t care what you –”

The sound of crying came from the other room.

It was quickly followed by a second set of crying.

Xue Yang felt the onset of a headache.

“…truce?” A-Qing suggested sweetly, as if she knew exactly how much it pissed him off and thought it was the funniest thing ever, which was…probably accurate, actually. “I’ll get the baby to stop crying if you do the same with Mo Xuanyu.”

Yeah, that was definitely a headache. The sort of headache called why do I like that brat.

Mo Xuanyu owed him so much candy for putting up with this shit.

“Fine,” Xue Yang said begrudgingly. “Truce. Temporarily. And then you leave!”

-

“So we live here now, huh?” A-Qing said, looking around the house they’d claimed. “That’s neat.”

“Why do you live with us again?” Xue Yang asked her, though by now he barely even meant it. A-Qing was clearly another one in the same mold as Mo Xuanyu: you just couldn’t say no to her…or, rather, you could, at length and top volume and with threats, only it just didn’t stick. “I definitely did not recall asking you to stay.”

Though it was nice to have someone else around that wasn’t going to get immediately ripped off by literally anyone who came their way. Mo Xuanyu’d started getting conned by the literal infant that they were taking care of – he was completely hopeless.

Also, questionably blind or not, at least A-Qing had no hesitation about beating people with her stick if they struck her the wrong way, which was a life approach Xue Yang agreed with wholeheartedly.

“She’s going to learn to cultivate!” Mo Xuanyu chirped from where he was applying his make-up. “Demonic cultivation, too! We had a whole discussion about it while you were out getting groceries!”

That made a certain amount of sense, Xue Yang supposed. You didn’t need talent to be a demonic cultivator – technically speaking, given his bloodline, Mo Xuanyu was more naturally gifted in cultivation than Xue Yang, which was just wrong on all sorts of levels – and it was certainly more effective a defense mechanism than A-Qing’s stick. If there were two of them, they could protect Mo Xuanyu and the baby more effectively, taking shifts when needed, and Mo Xuanyu, who was also going to learn demonic cultivation no matter how many times Xue Yang had to hammer it into his head, could be the last line of defense, largely since no one would ever expect him to be able to do…anything…and they’d be right, too.

So it wasn’t the craziest idea in the world, only…

“…who is she going to be learning from, exactly!?”

-

“Have you ever considered charging for your skill in teaching cultivation lessons instead of your skill in stabbing people?” A-Qing asked one day. They were lying on the ground and having the corpses they’d raised fan them to try to reduce the temperature – it was that sort of day. Also, Mo Xuanyu, who might’ve objected, wasn’t around. “You’re not actually that bad at this. Might be more profitable, and less work. Just a thought.”

“Shut up. I’m great at stabbing people.”

“Yeah, but then after a while we have to move because people get annoyed at that, and it’s getting a little annoying to have to pack up all the time.”

“We’d have to move anyway. We’re wanted criminals, remember?”

“We could be wanted criminals with a house. Besides, wouldn’t you like to be called Teacher Xue?”

“What? No. Gross.”

-

“So you see, it turns out that they were teaching demonic cultivation in a safe and organized fashion,” Xiao Xingchen explained enthusiastically. “They’d even gathered up their own little sect! And of course everyone heard what the Chang clan did, so there’s no need to worry about them going around and murdering people at random – it was a targeted revenge scheme.”

“We’re working on teaching them regular cultivation,” Song Lan agreed, nodding. “To help mitigate the negative effects of demonic cultivation…well, we started out by just teaching them.”

“It turned out that they’d been secretly teaching all of the local delinquents, too, or at least Mo-gongzi had been teaching a few and Mistress Qing was teaching a few others, and even Sect Leader Xue had a few disciples,” Xiao Xingchen said, politely omitting or possibly having not noticed the fact that Mo Xuanyu had been teaching his ‘friends’ (read: scammers trying to take advantage of him), while A-Qing and Xue Yang had each been trying to form competing gangs and/or obtain lackeys. Xue Yang didn’t mind the oversight, largely on account of the fact that A-Qing had been winning, damn her – he’d kept getting distracted by inventing new things. “And a few of them had real talent – and you know that Zichen and I have always wanted to start a sect of our own, with no bloodline ties –”

“We’re joining their sect,” Song Lan said. “We’ll be leading the orthodox side, while they lead the demonic cultivation aspect – safely, of course.”

“I guess it’s better than them being crazy,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded dubious. “I don’t like it, but at least all the demonic cultivators can be in one spot, you know?”

He made it sound like they’d be dropping off new ones there in the future.

Like they’d opened up some sort of pet rescue and were taking in unwanted puppies or something.

“Agreed,” Nie Mingjue said. “To the extent that they aren’t causing active harm, containment seems an appropriate remedy here. Who seconds the motion?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said, and smiled at the newly agreed-upon sect. “Welcome back to the cultivation world, Sect Leader Xue.”

-

“I don’t want to know,” Jin Guangyao said, glaring.

“Don’t worry,” Xue Yang told him. “This comes as much of a shock to me as to you.”

The glare intensified, but that was fine. Jin Guangyao’s facial expressions, however minor and generally overlooked, had been the only thing getting him through that awful, awful meeting just now where people kept trying to salute him and make him salute back and if he didn’t then he was letting down Mo Xuanyu (who would send him a sad look) and A-Qing (who would hear about it from Mo Xuanyu later and then find a way to step on his foot right when he was concentrating on something).

Not to mention their two new resident lovebirds, who looked so righteous and proper from the outside but who also may or may not have accidentally full-on actually resurrected some dead asshole cultivator more or less the first time they’d joined Xue Yang in his demonic cultivation laboratory – which would have been fine, you know, that happened in demonic cultivation though not normally to quite such a wow-is-he-actually-alive extent, except that the guy’s intermittent moments of clarity suggested that his two new sect members might have just brought back the Yiling Patriarch himself, which was going to make all of them wanted criminal again the second anyone found out about it.

Ugh.

Being called sect leader was completely not worth this shit.

Xue Yang comforted himself with the reminder that later today he was planning on publicly introducing Jin Guangyao to the Xue sect’s head junior disciple “Xue Song” and announcing loudly that the brat needed some lessons in manners, that he’d heard that that was Lianfeng-zun’s specialty, and nominating him to take care of the kid while they were visiting.

See how the fucker liked that.

“I always knew Xue-gege could do great things!” Mo Xuanyu said, clapping his hands as A-Qing rolled her (by now, Xue Yang was almost definitely sure not actually blind) eyes behind his back. “As long as I went with him!”

[crackedoutwalnut]

kiss my bruises better (Natasha x Wanda x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When Reader gets injured during a battle, it is up to her girlfriends Natasha and Wanda to mother hen her back to health.

Warnings: Violence and mentions of injuries in the beginning. Other than that just pure fluff.

A/N: Guess who got COVID and now has way too much free time??? :,)

It started with Fury sending you on an undercover mission alongside Natasha, Wanda, and Steve. Your objective was simple: obtain the dangerous alien artifact from the terrorist organization's lair and get your asses it back to Avenger's Tower. Nothing you and the rest had not dealt with before. However, there was one thing you four did not anticipate. There were hundreds of the organization's agents crawling around the base. Every corner they snuck around, there was another group of grunts patrolling. As a field scout, you were used to sneaking around; however, this was on another level. By the time Steve signaled for you to return to the meeting spot over the comms, you had already been spotted.

The group of half a dozen agents took one look at you before charging forward with their alien weaponry. One of them, a burly man in an all-black armored jumpsuit, hit a large button on a security panel near the ventilation shaft you had shimmied out from minutes prior. Being a scout, you were only equipped with the bare minimum of weapons a dagger, semi-lethal taser, and a small crossbow. In other words: not weapons one would use in a 1-versus-6 fight. Letting out a grunt of frustration as a loud alarm started to blare, you shouted a warning to Cap and your girlfriends' over the comms.

You leaped backward, away from a meaty fist that had just threatened to shatter your jaw into splinters. Flicking open the holster that held your taser, you slammed the muzzle of the taser gun into the side of the man's head and released the probes. The man convulsed, falling to the tile with a heavy thud. Another agent, a towering woman, let out a shout of outrage in a language you assumed to be Russian. She and the four other remaining against charged at you, weapons at the ready. You stumbled blindly backward, hoping to reach a staircase, window, elevator, anything. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side that day. Your back collided violently with the paneled wall behind you.

A curse that could make a sailor blush fell from your lips as you palmed around frantically for your dagger. The blue and black blade was an anniversary gift courtesy of Natasha, an odd gift to be sure; however, it was about as romantic as the assassin got. Grasping it firmly in your sweaty grip, you blindly swung at one of the grunts before you. The pommel collided with his nose in an upward arch, causing the man to fall to the ground, blood dripping from his now crooked nose. Apparently, the swing was hard enough for his nasal bone to fracture into his brain.

You took a step to sprint through the opening the dead man had cleared for you but, the burly woman seemed to beat you to the punch. She grabbed violently at your arm, twisting it at an odd angle behind your back. You slammed face-first into the wall behind you, causing your nose and lip to start leaking blood at an alarming pace. You groaned and squirmed, trying to free yourself from her iron fists.

"Stop struggling, bitch," she ordered, slamming your head against the solid paneling of the wall once more. Pain blossomed along the crown of your skull, and your vision started to blur in response. "Who sent you," she snarled against your ear.

You spat out the pool of blood that had collected in your mouth at another agent's feet, "Fuck you," you snarled, your voice muffled from being shoved against the wall.

The agent you had spat at raked the brass knuckles clenched on his fingers along your arm. Deep cuts spilled over with even more crimson. You let out a strangled scream as he twisted them further into the new cuts. The woman kneed her leg against your arm with a sickening pop. Your vision danced with black and white dots as pain shot through your body. You were about to scream when a loud bang sounded from behind the woman and her cronies. She let you go in shock, causing you to fall to the ground next to the dead agent. You moaned in pain, curling your now broken arm against your chest.

"Y/n!" A familiar voice shouted from the other end of the hall. It sounded fuzzy as if someone had shoved headphones over your ears. You gritted your teeth and forced your increasingly heavy head to look at the source of the noise. Through the dots dancing in your blurring vision, you were able to make out a furious Wanda, next to her an equally angry Natasha. You opened your mouth to reply when only a pained wheeze escaped. A boot was pressing against your back, applying pressure to your fractured forearm. You let out a scream of agony as tears spilled down your face. Before your consciousness gave way, you beheld Wanda exploding in a bright ball of scarlet towards you and the agents.

"...turn the TV down, you're going to wake her." You slowly came back to yourself at the sound of voices around you. Your mind was swimming in fuzzy warmth, a dull ache exploding in through your temples like a timpani. Despite the pain that seemed to radiate through every inch of your body, you were also strangely cozy. A soft warmth was wrapped around you like a cocoon, not to mention the pillow that seemed to meld with your head and abdomen. You hummed contently and nuzzled further into the cushion.

"Are you sure she's okay?" A concerned voice rang from directly above you. The voice was warm and familiar, like a well-worn sweater. "She's been knocked out for almost four hours. Plus, my legs are starting to go numb."

An amused huff sounded from behind you, "Banner said the painkillers would make her drowsy."

"Yeah, but... four hours? What if something is wrong with her?"

"You know Y/n, she does things on her own terms. She will only wake up when it suits her." Both the voices laughed at that remark. You fought the urge to huff in protest; you weren't that stubborn. The pillow beneath you shook with the light laughter and shifted. You furrowed your brows; cushions didn't usually chuckle. You grumbled at the disturbance and cracked your eyes open. Your so-called pillow had caramel red hair and a black Def Leppard t-shirt.

"Wanda?" you mumbled drowsily. You lifted your head slowly from the place it was resting against her chest. Your face flushed slightly at the thought of using her breasts as a pillow for so long.

She smiled warmly and lifted an arm that had been resting protectively along your back to stroke your hair. Her other hand had been tracing circles along your side for the past few minutes. "Good afternoon, sleeping beauty."

"Where are we?" You attempted to look around; however, your head exploded with pain at the effort. Wanda seemed to notice your wince because she carefully guided your head to lay against her chest once more.

"We are back at the tower. You slept the entire flight home," Natasha, who must be on the other side of the couch, replied.

You groaned, "Everything hurts."

"Being jumped by a group of terrorist agents will do that to you," the assassin replied sarcastically. You kicked lightly at the girl, your foot nudging her thigh. She laughed snarkily and shoved lightly at your foot.

"Nat, stop teasing her," Wanda chided playfully, threading her fingers through your hair. You practically purred at the attention, nuzzling your face against her. She pressed a soft kiss to your aching temple in response.

"Why am I getting lectured?" Natasha protested in mock indignation.

"Because you are not the one hopped up on painkillers."

"But I am the one who detained the agent that had broken her arm. Surely that deserves some credit."

Your eyes shot open once more at the mention of the mission, "Shit, the terrorists. What happened to them? Is everyone okay?" You jolted up, attempting to sit up fully. Natasha was at your side in an instant, hand resting on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're fine; we handled them," she soothed, rubbing your back gently. "Everyone's safe, I promise."

You relaxed slightly, "And the artifact?" the hesitance was evident in your voice.

Natasha sighed kissed your cheek in reassurance, "We were not able to save you and obtain the alien artifact. They were on high alert at that point, and it was too risky."

You pursed your lips, shoulders drooping in shame. They had failed because of you. Dangerous technology continued to threaten the world because you were unable to do your job.

Wanda must have read your mind because she pulled you closer to her and placed a kiss on top of your head. "Hey, this isn't your fault. None of us knew that the compound would be so well protected."

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. Your right arm, the one the woman broke, was wrapped in a thick plaster cast the color of a hospital gown. Your other arm was dressed in a thick layer of bandages, covering the jagged cuts left by the bronze knuckles.

"Honey, there was no way we could have known," Wanda murmured, using a finger to lift your chin. "If anything, it's our fault for not being there in time. If something were to happen to you, I don't know what I would do." She placed a protective arm around your back as if she was shielding you from an invisible threat.

"You did very well defending her," Natasha soothed, kissing Wanda's cheek. She turned to you with a smirk, "You should have seen her; I thought she was going to send the whole building crashing down with how angry she was."

You smiled, "I'm sure you two did great, as always."

"She's right though, this wasn't your fault, nor was it a significant loss. Rogers is already with Stark and Banner at the location of the artifact. They plan on regrouping back here before following through with the next phase of the plan."

You sighed in relief, "That's good. So when do we go through with the next step?"

Wanda scrunched her nose and smiled, "It's adorable that you think you are going to be anywhere near the next phase of the plan."

"You can't be serious. I'm perfectly fine!" You insisted. Natasha raised her brow and pressed a finger against the bandages on your left arm. You winced and let out a quiet yelp before batting her hand away. "Okay, I may be a bit injured, but other than that, I'm okay to fight."

"Y/n, you have a minor concussion, a broken arm, and a broken nose," Wanda pointed out, her accent thick with concern.

"Nothing I hadn't had before," you shrugged.

"Y/n don't start," Natasha warned, standing from her place at your side. She strode out of your line of view.

"Where are you going?" You whined, not wanting her to leave.

"I'm just getting you water, Babe. Don't worry, I will be right back." You nodded, settling back against your other girlfriend. Wanda reached over you to pull the blankets further up your body. You hummed contently and sighed against her chest. Wanda was always warm; her skin seemed to radiate a cozy heat that filled you with a sense of peace. Her protective arms were coiled firmly around your waist.

"How are you doing, Honey?" Wanda asked, nuzzling against the top of your head.

"Tired," you complained, hiding your face away in the crook of her neck.

"I think I should talk to Bruce before allowing him to hop my girlfriend up on painkillers. He gave you a pretty high dose." Wanda tilted her head so that her cheek was resting against your hair. Her hair had a lingering smell of citrus and lavender that set off the butterflies in your stomach. You hummed and inhaled once more. Wanda chuckled, her smirk evident in her voice, "Are you smelling my hair?"

You paused, "...No."

The witch's shoulders shook with laughter, jostling you slightly. "You know I can read minds, right? I know you're lying."

You huffed and burrowed your face further into her neck, "Asshole."

She kissed the top of your head, "Love you too."

"I'm back," Natasha announced, striding towards the couch.

You turned away from Wanda's neck so that your back was against her front. The assassin sat down on the coffee table next to you, holding a glass of water. You licked your chapped lips and reached out to take the drink. Natasha raised a brow and pulled the cup further away from you. A frown formed on your lips, realizing what she wanted. "Oh, come on, Nat. I don't need help drinking water," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha tsked, "I'm not risking it, you may still be a bit sluggish from the meds, and I don't want you spilling all over yourself and Wanda," She tucked a strand of hair from your forehead. "Come on, Baby. Let us take care of you."

Biting your lip, you nodded exasperatedly, "Fine." Natasha carefully placed the lip of the glass near your mouth and tipped a bit of water out. This went on until only a quarter of the glass was left. You had not realized how thirsty you were until you saw the glass of water. "Thank you," your eyelids drooped, feeling tired once more.

"You should rest some more," Wanda murmured.

"But, I just woke up," you argued, words slurred with sleep.

"And if you ever want to go on another mission again, you will take the time to rest and recover," Natasha insisted, tucking the blanket around your body. She settled at your feet, pulling them into her lap. You opened your mouth to argue; however, Wanda had started stroking your hair once more. The words were lost in your throat as your eyes slipped shut. The warmth from both your girlfriend and the blanket seemed to wash over you in waves. The last thing you felt was a soft hand tracing patterns along your arm.

[ratmonky]

Curse of Innocence

A gift to my best friend for an eternity, @anti-interesting​

Word Count: 18.2K

Warnings: dub-con, gaslighting, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, cuckolding, bullying, obsession, alcohol

AO3 Link

“Ya heard?”

“Heard what?” Geto asked with a sigh, exhaling his smoke along the way and watching Gojo munch on an anpan. That guy was eating too many sweets nowadays, he was going to gain weight.

“Apparently, there’s gonna be someone transferring here next semester.” Gojo took another bite from his snack and chewed slowly, savoring the taste. “Shoko said it’s gonna be a girl.”

“So what?” Geto raised a brow. It would be good for Shoko, there weren’t many girls on the campus, it would definitely mean that they could slip away from doing all the cleaning in the dorms as well.

“I call dibs.” A sinister smile was on his face.

Geto paused for a moment to stare at his friend and snorted. “You’re such a lout.” He pretended to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye. “She’s probably like Shoko, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Nooo, I heard she’s a pipsqueak. Preciously charming and weak, at least according to Nanami who met her when she was visiting.” Gojo’s smile widened, eyes sparkling with dark intent. “Well, it doesn’t matter, since you’re not interested, it means I didn’t even need to call dibs, huh?”

Silence.

It had been a while since the last girl had dropped out. They were already going to become third years soon and it was boring here. Shoko wasn’t dumb enough to fall for their tricks or be a part of them and there weren’t any other girls around.

This new girl could change it. She could be the new entertainment.

“Hey,” Geto started, he was trying really hard to not let his lips curl up into a smile but he was failing. Gojo noticed it, eyes squinting and waiting for what his friend had to say. “Wanna go halfsies instead?”

~~~

The campus looked larger and more elegant than your previous sorcerer academy, you were impressed if not relieved. Although there were too many buildings and it was covered by trees, you hoped you could feel at home once you settled.

“So, what do you think?” Shoko suddenly asked.

You were hurrying after her with your bags and luggage. You nodded and when you realized she couldn’t see you since she was walking ahead, you spoke. “I think here is where I belong! It’s quite large and quiet, I love it!”

“I’m glad you think so, it’s large but it’s easy to get lost so make sure to not wander off alone.” She turned to look at you and flashed a smile. “Let’s move on to the dormitory.”

Finally, you were in front of a huge compound-like traditional house.

“This is the dormitory. Both girls and boys use it. Well, we have separate wards and bathrooms but we all stay in this building, it’s our duty to keep it clean and stock up the necessities with the allowance the academy gives us.”

Your mouth opened in admiration, the place was huge. Bigger than your parents’ house. Double… no triple the size of their house.

Shoko opened the door and invited you in. The entrance was small, you took off your shoes.

“Leave your bags here, I’ll first show you the left-wing of the building.”

Nodding, you followed Shoko towards the common room and the kitchen.

“We all hang out here mostly, the guys usually rent movies on Saturdays so they do movie nights here. The kitchen always needs to be clean. Do not leave any dishes out to do them later, wash them right away or put them in the machine. Then there’s this coffee machine-” Her shoulders slouched and she sighed as she showed you the broken handle by pointing a finger at it. “It’s broken but don’t throw it out. We use the oven mittens to grab the decanter. If you want coffee in the morning, come by at seven sharp because Nanami often gets over himself and drinks the whole thing.”

“It’s fine,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. “I like instant coffee better, it’s more convenient and easier to make when I want more. You don’t need to make extra coffee for me or anything. I even brought some with me.”

Shoko raised her brows and smiled at your feigned solace. It was easy to tell, acting confident when your hands were shaking from trying to keep up the facade. “Make sure to hide your coffee then, we share the place with two greedy guys and another caffeine addict like me. But again, I wouldn’t mind sharing my coffee with you, it’s practically nothing too important so don’t hesitate to take some.”

The two of you continued chatting before finally, Shoko took you towards the library and the study rooms after passing the dining hall.

“We have a bigger library but this is for when we need to study here. The books are all about curses, sorcery, and the history of sorcerers.” Shoko said, leaning against the door frame and watching you admire the books she knew no other library had.

Your eyes landed on a hardcover book and you gasped in excitement. “I can’t believe this! You guys have a copy of Sukuna’s Impact on the Japanese History?”

Shoko smiled smugly, “It’s the original.”

“Ahh, you’re so lucky.” You put the book back and smiled at her. “My previous academies only taught us about clans and curses, this is like on another level for me. I’m so happy I transferred here. It’s nice to finally become a student in one of only two of the best jujutsu schools.”

“You know…” Shoko pointed at the book you put back, “You can take it.”

“Can I?” You beamed, your cheeks flushing.

“Well, it’s here so the students can read it. You can take and read any book you like as long as you’re going to return them.”

You gently pulled the book out from the shelf and held it against your chest with both arms wrapped around it. “I’m gonna read this tonight.”

“Knock yourself up,” she chuckled, the boyish and geeky side of you was already showing through.

While you were lost in your thoughts, planning how you were going to read about that one curse anatomy book you saw after this one, Shoko’s voice filled your ears. “At the end of this hall is the laundry room. There’s an equipment room and a large pantry.” She snapped her fingers as if to remember something, “Ah yes, cleaning supplies are also in the laundry room. Nanami will show you those on Sunday, we all clean the whole building weekly.”

You nodded slowly, processing all this information.

“Now, it’s time I show you to your room…” Shoko walked past you and back to the common room and then to the entrance once again.

Quickly, grabbing your bags, you followed her to the right side of the building. This side was broader. She slid open the door and continued walking in a straight line. “Here’s the boys’ dorm.” Her eyes landed on the stairs leading upstairs. “Ours is upstairs. It’s divided poorly, I know.”

You sighed and she chuckled. Climbing the stairs was hard when you had so many bags with you.

Shoko slid open the door and ignored a couple of doors until she reached the one that had her name on it, “This is my room, yours is next to mine.” She pointed at the door next to hers before fishing out a pair of keys from her pocket. “There you go.”

You took the keys after putting down one of your bags. “Why are there so many?”

“It’s for the entire campus. One for the library, our rooms, the building’s door, and many more that you’ll figure out on Monday.”

“Okay.” You looked around and saw that there was another door at the end of the hall.

“Behind that is the girls’ bathroom. Leave that sliding door open after you’ve taken a shower otherwise it gets really foggy on the other side of the hall.” Shoko put her hand on her hips and rested her weight on one leg. “That’s it. You can get settled now. I’ll call you out for dinner.”

You bowed down slightly, “Thank you for showing me around. I hope we get along well, Ieiri.”

“Ah, you’re being too formal! Please call me Shoko.” Shoko grinned but bowed her head out of habit. “Let’s get along well, (name).”

Smiling, you repeated her name quietly. Perhaps the two of you could be really close friends even though you were going to be here for a year.

“One last thing,” Shoko said, just as you had unlocked the door to your room. “It’s a piece of advice from me.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let the boys see you as weak. They’ll tease you for it.” She looked serious, her friendly smile and big, wide eyes were gone, replaced by a frown and half-lidded look.

“I can handle a little bit of teasing!” You were grinning, putting on the facade again. “Besides if you don’t get teased for being weak, how will you get determined to improve yourself, haha, right?”

Shoko didn’t answer.

Your smile slowly faded.

“Just… be careful.” She turned around on her heels. “Nanami’s fine, though. At least I think so.”

That was the last thing she said before walking away from you and sliding the door to the hall closed, leaving you confused.

Dumbfounded, you walked inside your own room, hoping that you could get the most out of your senior year here in Tokyo Jujutsu High. Unaware of the things to come.

~~~

As soon as Shoko put a foot down on the main floor, she heard the chatter coming from the common room.

She exited the dormitory and slid the door closed behind her. When she arrived at the common room, she found Geto giving Nanami a pack of cigarettes.

“Yo, Shoko!” Gojo waved at her from the couch he was sitting on. “Did the girl settle in yet? What does she look like? Does she have big boo-”

Geto slammed his fist on top of Gojo’s head. “Ah, Shoko, your brand of cigarettes was sold out, I bought the same brand as mine.” Retrieving his hand from the dumb one’s head, he reached inside the plastic bag and pulled out the pack to hold it towards her.

Shoko’s eyes were on Nanami as she walked closer to Geto and snatched her pack. “Thanks.”

Nanami hid his in the hidden pocket of his school jacket before speaking. “I didn’t know you were here, Ieiri.”

“You started smoking a little too early, Nanami,” Shoko squinted her eyes in irritation. “And you, why are you buying cigarettes for him? Shouldn’t you be an example of a great senior year jujutsu student?” She was pointing at Geto who shrugged his shoulders with a grin.

“What? Are ya gonna rat on us?” Gojo grinned as well and got up from the couch to pat Nanami on the back. “Besides, Nanami’s a responsible adult now, he bought it himself!”

Nanami nodded reluctantly to confirm.

“He turned eighteen barely a week ago.” Shoko rolled her eyes and her eyes landed on Geto holding his pack of cigarettes out to her. She stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Here.”

“Why?”

“So you won’t tell anyone.” Geto was smirking. “Also a gift before you leave for your training.”

“That’s a cheap bribe.” Shoko took the pack with an eerie smile.

“She took it anyway,” Nanami scoffed softly.

“They’re scary~” Gojo leaned towards Nanami. “Smokers are easy to bribe with more of those killer sticks.”

“What’s for dinner?” Nanami then asked, ignoring the idiot.

“Since I’m on kitchen duty tonight, I was thinking curry and rice, since it’ll be five of us from now on so we can’t eat takeout all the time.” Shoko put the cigarette packs in her coat pockets and walked towards the kitchen. “It’d be nicer if one of you helped me cook too.”

Both Geto and Gojo put a hand on Nanami’s back to push him forward.

When Shoko glanced over her shoulder, it looked like Nanami was silently following her to the kitchen to help her. “Thanks, Nanami, I appreciate it.”

While the second year was glowering at the other two seniors for sacrificing him, Geto took out another pack of cigarettes he had hidden in his pants’ pocket.

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” he said, informing his friend.

Without saying anything, Gojo followed him out. They walked down a path leading to Geto’s secret smoking spot.

“We didn’t get any first years this semester,” Gojo pouted. “I was looking forward to it.”

“You just want them to idolize you,” Geto tore the packaging of the cigarettes open and pulled one out, putting it between his lips.

“I just wanna have younger people cheer for me! I miss being told how great I am!” Gojo pouted, acting cutesy. “Nobody praises me anymore.”

Geto lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, “We’re not children anymore, that’s why.”

“It motivates me when someone tells me I’m strong~” He leaned his back against a tree and looked at his friend over his sunglasses. “I bet, the new girl will be all over me.”

“Maybe she will,” he answered, exhaling the smoke with a smirk. “Shall we do the friendly and stoic guy gimmick again or try something else?”

“Nuh-uh! Overly friendly classmates! That always works!” Gojo laughed to himself and paused. “I just got shivers thinking about it.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Gojo trembled. “Ahh, I hope she’s the errand girl type.”

“Why?”

“Those are easier to trick.”

Geto hummed before nodding languidly. “You’re right. They are also considerably obedient, they’d do anything to not upset anyone.”

“A people pleaser like that girl who dropped out! They are pretty adorable,” Gojo chuckled. “Ahh, what was her name again?”

Shrugging, Geto took a whiff of his cigarette before giving a blatant reply. “Who knows.”

~~~

When there was a knock on your door, you were already done packing and were reading the book you had borrowed from the library.

Closing the book and putting a small divider on the page you were reading, you walked up to the door.

Although you were expecting Shoko to be on the other side when you opened the door, there was a blonde guy standing in the hall.

“Hii,” you chirped. “I think we met before!” It took you a small pause to remember his name. “Nanamin… right?”

“Nanami,” he corrected, looking anywhere but at your face to avoid making eye contact. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Sorry… Thanks for letting me know.”

As he was getting ready to turn around and leave you walked out of your room, closing the door behind you to tail after him.

Not really the type to enjoy small talk, Nanami felt obliged to say something when the two of you reached the stairs. “It’s curry and rice.”

“Hmm?”

“The food. It’s dinner and rice.”

“Ahh, it had been a while since I last ate curry. Did you cook it?”

“I only helped Ieiri to make rice.”

“That’s still cooking,” you giggled and offered him a pat on the back. “Next time I need someone to cook rice, I know who to call.”

Nanami chuckled at that.

You were also grinning like an idiot, stupidly happy for no reason other than managing to make him chuckle.

Inside the dining hall, Shoko was already seated, Nanami quickly sat on an empty chair.

“Nice dress,” Shoko commented when she saw you bouncing on your heels, unsure of where to sit. Twirling around to show off your dress, you thanked her with a smile. Soon after she pointed at a seat next to hers, “You can sit here.”

“How many are we?” you asked, noticing how there were only two more plates placed down on the table.

Before Shoko could answer, two guys entered the dining hall, laughing merrily.

You turned around and stared at the guy with raven black hair, it was half tied up, his hair was long and silky, dark eyes blinked before they landed on you. His lips curled up to a smile.

The guy beside him was grinning from ear to ear. “You must be the new girl!” Either the guy was a loud fellow or he was very nervous talking to you because his voice got only louder each time he opened his mouth to speak. “Ugh, it’s very nice to meet you, hope we get along well.” He rubbed his neck nervously, “I’m Satoru Gojo!!” His tone changed into something a lot softer and his cheeks flushed pink. It was even more noticeable when he reached in for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Gojo,” you replied and took his hand. “I’m (name).”

“You have such a nice name, perfectly fitted for a girl like you,” he smiled. And with that, he blushed even harder.

“Thank you,” you chuckled, your cheeks also blushing a little because of the intensity of his stare.

Gojo then encouraged another man who looked a similar age to you to introduce himself as well but the guy didn’t. He stared at you instead. His dark eyes wandered on your face for a moment too long before he clicked his tongue with a smile. And while you were staring back at him, you noticed something. He was magnetic almost, pulling you towards himself.

He reached in to shake your hand, “Suguru Geto.”

“(n-name).” Sharply gasping, your cheeks flushed and your heart started throbbing hastily in your chest but you tried to look indifferent. “N-nice to meet you two.”

He and the other guy exchanged a knowing look with each other when you stuttered.

~~~

“Argh! I thought we were both going for the friendly and shy guy!” Gojo rubbed his nose bridge while cringing. “You made me look sooo stupid. I told you to stop with the stoic guy thing!”

Geto was indifferent as he flipped a page of his book. “Well, she fell for it anyway.”

“You’re trying to steal her, right?” Gojo started pacing around the room. “I should’ve known! Ahh, you’re so scary, I hate you.”

“That’s not it.” Geto closed his book with a sigh, keeping a finger between the pages to not lose which page he was reading. “She’ll trust me and come to me if things get out of hand instead of going directly to someone else. We have to think ahead or it’ll end up like the others.”

“Still, you could’ve told me something before I embarrassed myself! Nanami and Shoko were holding in their laughs ya know!”

“You always make a fool of yourself so what’s the difference?”

Gojo visibly tensed, Geto had managed to get on his nerves.

“I apologize,” Geto said to avoid conflict. “Since I upset you, I’ll let you take the first step.”

With that his friend pushed his sunglasses up to his hair, smiling foolishly. “That’s very generous of ya.”

Geto realized he may have made a mistake to let Gojo take the lead. His friend enjoyed watching more than being a part of it.

~~~

The next day, your uniform came.

“It’s cute,” Shoko said, looking up from the magazine she was reading.

“Really? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have a gakuen-like uniform. Does it suit me?” You frowned as you struck poses in front of the mirror.

“What’s important is if you can move in it. You’re going to wear that while fighting curses.” She sat up on your bed to get a better look at your uniform.

“You’re right…” You smoothed the fabric of your skirt and decided that it was perfect. “I think I like it.” Turning around to face Shoko, you smiled. “It’s so unfortunate that you’re going away to train as soon as I start though…”

“I’m not exactly the fighter type, I’m trying to become an autopsy technician after I get my degree.” Shoko mirrored your smile. “So you better be careful on your missions or I might be the one to dissect you.”

“I could never look at a dead body yet you’re willing to do that as a job?” You got goosebumps on your skin, “You must be very strong!”

“Mentally? Yes. Physically? Not at all.”

“By the way… why do you wanna become a jujutsu sorcerer?” As simple as the question was, it differed from person to person. Nobody wanted to become a jujutsu sorcerer for the fun of it.

Taken aback, it took her a long moment before she answered. “Money, not being sure what to do with the power to see curses, not having a future as a normal civilian. I don’t know, could be all of them at once.” She noticed your smile widening as if you were fascinated by her choice of path for the future. “What about you?”

Your answer was quick, you said it with your whole chest, eyes twinkling with determination. “To protect people from curses and collect all of Sukuna’s fingers.”

“Woah, talk about being selfless,” Shoko joked but you didn’t laugh. “While I’m away, you should hang out with Nanami and avoid conflict. Heated arguments can make all the hell break lose.”

You nodded in response.

“You don’t like to be seen as selfless, huh?” She didn’t want to leave for the internship tomorrow like this. It was clear you were upset. “Is there a special reason for you to hate it?”

You fidgeted with your fingers, confident and cheerful girl facade wavering yet again. “It makes people think that I’m weak. That I wanna become a sorcerer to feel better about myself when I actually wanna do something good with the power I was gifted.”

Ahh, the type who wanted to leave an impact. Rather, desperate to have some sort of validation.

At that moment, Shoko pitied you. “You care what people think about you, don’t you?”

“I… do.” Shoulders slouched and with those fidgeting fingers, you looked anything but confident.

“What others may think of you doesn’t truly define you. It’s hard to accept but not everyone will like you. It’s impossible to be loved by everyone, so you should worry about getting your degree along with your sorcery license.”

She was trying to encourage you but it felt more like a talk some adult would give to a kid that wouldn’t stop crying.

“Y-yeah, I’ll do that.”

Shoko got up from your bed and ruffled your hair, “You have my number and email address. You can contact me whenever you wanna.”

With the mood lightening, you were able to fix your posture and nod rapidly. “Same goes for you too!”

~~~

Monday started with you and the others seeing Shoko off from the bus station. The four of you took the bus that came after hers.

“This bus goes all the way to the stop by the campus and down to here.” Nanami handed you a card. “Ieiri told me to give this to you. It’s a transportation card. Works with everything.”

You took the card and thanked him as you put it in. “Tokyo is a bigger city than I thought.”

“Let’s see,” Gojo turned around his seat to stare at you and Nanami. He clasped his chin between his thumb and knuckle, thinking carefully. “There were two different curses reported around here. We should split up and meet back up in the dormitory when we’re done.”

“Wait,” you said, chuckling nervously. “We’re gonna deal with curses by ourselves? Without a supervisor?”

Three of them stared at you in the same confusion you were looking at them.

“We learn on the field after the first year,” Geto explained. “Most of the schedule for us is exorcising curses. We don’t have classes on campus nowadays either. Our teacher is abroad.”

“B-but isn’t it dangerous to exorcise curses without a teacher or a professional sorcerer around?”

“Was that how it worked back in your previous schools?” Nanami was trying to be understanding, you clearly weren’t confident in your abilities or needed supervision.

“Y-yeah. I-I mean curses can be really dangerous and we’re still not professionals.”

“You’re overthinking it!” Gojo said, looking at you over his sunglasses. “We can go together, you and me. I’m the strongest so you don’t need to worry about anything.”

Geto sighed, glancing over his shoulder to look at Nanami. “You’re okay with being paired up with me?”

Nanami shrugged.

“Great!” Gojo pressed the stop button attached to the pole. “(name), come on! This is our stop.”

Nanami got up from his seat to let you follow after Gojo towards the bus door.

“It’s only my first day…” You hesitated.

“You’ll do fine,” Geto encouraged, “Satoru will help you out.”

You blushed faintly and bowed your head in acknowledgment as the vehicle rolled to a stop.

“Satoru, don’t force her too much on her first day.” Geto was smirking when the doors opened.

“Sure sure. I won’t.” Gojo waved at him lazily and got off the bus with you. He turned around, stretching his arms over his head before talking. “Do you use cursed tools to exorcise curses?”

“Sometimes-”

Without letting you finish your words, Gojo pulled out a dagger from the inner pocket of his jacket. “You’ll need this then. Curses here in Tokyo are intelligent.”

Grabbing the dagger from him, you nodded sluggishly. “O-okay.”

Once you put the dagger in your utility belt, he draped his arm over your shoulder and started walking, leading you towards an alleyway. “Now, tell me all about yourself! I need to know everything.” He was pressing you to his side, his hand on your shoulder slowly slid down to your waist.

“Um, Gojo… this is a little t-too close,” you mumbled shyly.

Gojo leaned down, his face got awfully close to yours. He managed to bite down the urge to grin. “Sorry, what’s that? I didn’t hear what you said.”

You were completely silent, blushing in embarrassment and looking away. “N-nothing.”

“Hmm.” His fingers pressed on your hip, caressing your skin over the fabric of your skirt softly. “How have you been liking Tokyo and our college so far?” he asked, leading you down another street.

“It’s been barely three days… but I can say that it’s different from where I come from.” That was all you had to say as you tried to not give much thought to his hand on your hip. You dipped your head in a nod when he gestured towards another alleyway.

“You’ll love it here! Shoko said she liked you already and I can tell we’re gonna be really close too!” he laughed, his smile was contagious. You couldn’t help but smile despite being uncomfortable. “Maybe you’ll even befriend Suguru in the future!”

“I-is it hard to befriend him?” Oh, so innocent.

“Definitely,” Gojo let out a dramatic sigh. “He doesn’t trust people that easily but I hope you’ll be able to see him smile one day. It’s a sight ya don’t see often.”

“How could I befriend him?” you politely asked.

“By befriending me!” he replied, his thumb drawing circles over your clothes. “It took me two whole years to gain his respect ya know. I can help speed up the progress by telling ya all about him.”

To move away from his hand without saying anything that might make you seem like such a prude, you pressed yourself flush against his side but it only made everything worse. His hand slid further down your hips, smoothing the fabric of your skirt and-

“Don’t!” you suddenly said, pushing him away from yourself.

Gojo looked dumbfounded and confused as to why you were upset. “What happened?”

“It’s just…” The expression on his face made you feel guilty. He clearly had no ulterior intentions or anything. You were overreacting. You had to be overreacting.

“Ahh.” He softly slapped a hand on his forehead, “Sorry, I must’ve been too friendly. I’m the type to be comfortable around friends pretty easily. Shoko told me to be careful but I clearly failed, so sorry again if I made you uncomfortable,” he said, catching you off guard.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. Now, you were going to be known as some prude who thought everyone who came close to you was after you.

“N-no, I was the one overreacting. I-it was just too overwhelming for me I guess, I don’t know. Please don’t blame yourself!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gojo said, smiling brokenly. “I’m used to it.”

You had messed up already. It was only your first day but you had already managed to make the cheerful guy somber.

“The curse is in that abandoned building,” he pointed towards a two-floored apartment building, changing the subject. “Let’s exorcise it and return back to the campus.”

It was silent between you up until you arrived at the building and entered it.

“I’ll check upstairs so you should check here.” Gojo’s tone was colder than ice, it lacked the usual chipper you had grown used to in such a short time. “Just call out my name if you need help.”

“Yessir!” you chirped, trying to ease the mood. To add to the goofiness, you saluted but Gojo didn’t do anything more than stare at you blankly. Somehow, it made you feel even worse. Now, you were both embarrassed and guilty.

Quietly, Gojo climbed up the stairs, leaving you alone.

Ugh! This was the worst. What Shoko had said before had scared you and put you on the edge around the guys. You had to be out of your mind to ruin your relationships with your classmates over a possible prank Shoko had pulled on you.

“Help-”

You jolted, listening carefully.

It was quiet again.

Maybe it was your imagination.

“Help!”

This time it was loud and clear, you walked further inside the building and listened again. “Hello?”

“Over here.”

The voice was coming from upstairs.

“Gojo! Are you hearing this?!”

No response.

A sudden rush of panic took over your senses.

Was Gojo hurt?

Unconscious?

Was he ignoring you?

Was it all of the above?

Without any hesitation, you climbed up the stairs and walked along the long hallway until you reached a dead end.

A low growl filled your ears and cold shivers went down your spine. You could feel the presence of something evil behind you, something with a ton of cursed energy. Definitely not a low-grade curse, maybe a grade one but nothing lower than that.

Turning around was a simple task, you could have done it solely by thinking about doing it but your legs wouldn’t budge. Your hand that was clutching on your belt to pull out the cursed tool Gojo had given you was shaking violently, nevertheless how you had exorcised some other curses in the past, this was the first time you were facing one alone, without anyone watching over you.

The cursed energy coming from the creature filled all of your senses and wrecked your nerves. It was as if you were drowning after being stung by a jellyfish, the shock was making you unable to move and although you were about to die, you couldn’t do anything about it.

What a way to go!

Dying on your first day on the field after embarrassing yourself in front of a classmate who clearly was defeated by this curse, otherwise, where could he be?

A sharp breath left your lips when the curse abruptly pulled you into its skin, absorbing you into its flesh and many hands it had started groping you.

The hands were going under your skirt, caressing your inner thighs, fondling your tits as you sank deeper into its flesh without fighting back. Then there was the wetness, warm, slick muscle wrapped around your throat before moving up towards your face. It was a tongue you realized. The wet muscle forced itself between your lips and pried your jaw open to snake itself down your throat.

Tears started streaming down your face right away. Multiple hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs and tits roughly as the tongue started swirling around in your mouth. Foreign feelings of all of the hands and a wet muscle grazing the back of your throat were too overwhelming, your head got lightweight, eyes rolling up. You were about to lose consciousness, it had to be the curse’s doing.

“Ah, you’ve found the curse.” Gojo’s voice was the last thing you heard before your vision went dark.

Gojo on the other hand was smirking, secretly glad that you weren’t able to see his cock swelling up under his pants as he was watching you get violated by the curse. Your body was still reacting to its tongue moving inside your mouth, eyelashes fluttering, and legs desperately trying to press together from involuntary pleasure.

It was quite a sight to see. Having your legs spread open by many hands of the curse that was ignoring him wasn’t something he had been exactly planning to see today but he was grateful nonetheless.

The hands that were spreading your legs moved further up towards your inner thighs, hiking your skirt up completely before another hand helplessly tried to tore your panties off of you.

Now, it was going a little too far.

“Over the clothes is fine but trying to touch her bare skin… you’re getting ahead of yourself, you shrimp.” Gojo rolled his eyes, curses could be excessively selfish, thinking that they own everything.

With a flick of his finger, he exorcised the curse in an instant. Its body exploded into a million different pieces and your body, released from its groping hands fell on the ground in a silent thud.

The next thing that echoed in the empty building was the sound of a belt unbuckling and a zipper being undone.

~~~

You jolted awake, eyes wet with tears and body trembling.  

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice above you was worried yet calming. “It’s just a nightmare, I’m here. You’re safe.”

You were being torn apart, emotions a wreck that couldn’t be fixed. Memories of what had happened washed over you frantically, leaving you breathless. Your arms quickly reached for the only person in front of you, begging for his closeness to feel comfort.

Gojo’s reaction was a bit delayed, but he carefully wrapped his arms around you and almost immediately you started sobbing pathetically.

The curse was gone, you couldn’t feel its presence. He must have exorcised it to save you. All you ever did today was to cause trouble for him.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, in between sobs.

“Hey, there’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Gojo’s voice was soft like honey, his sunglasses were pushed up to his hair and he was holding you in his lap. “Are you alright? Have you calmed down a bit?”

You frowned, tears gushing out from your eyes again. “I-I was so scared.”

“Anyone would be.” With your head pressed on his chest, you could hear his chest rumbling as he spoke. “You’re safe now.”

You sobbed as you remembered what had happened once again.

“What happened?” he asked, lulling you into a false sense of comfort, pulling you closer towards the trap.

You told him your story, slowly, a little at a time with small breaks of you crying.

You were raised in the hopes of becoming the head of your clan, forced to act tough, and were taught to be caring and loving yet you had never received any real love or care from anyone. You were in no way treated fairly by anyone.

So you had assumed the role of the caretaker of others with a facade of a motherly figure. You helped others and hoped to get happiness in return but in no way it was as easy as you had hoped. People were only loving to you when you were doing something for them in return and that was how you noticed you could be loved. By being useful to others. And eventually the habit of taking care of others to feel validated developed inside you. However that also became a problem, you were now being seen as weak, someone who could never lead others. Then you were sent to many different jujutsu colleges in the hopes that you could become somewhat more courageous and leader-like.

But that never happened, you couldn’t change what you were or what others would think of you no matter what. You felt lost for many years.

Later after being told that the Tokyo Jujutsu High could be the one to fix you, you had transferred here overnight.

You had thought moving to Tokyo was going to be like any other place but as soon as you arrived at the campus and met the others, you felt the warm feeling of a home. You realized you belonged here.

People here treated you like a person. Like you were a part of whatever they had going on here without judging you for being weak like any other people you had met so far would.

For a while, he was oddly quiet. He listened to your sobbing and sharp inhales until they calmed down.

“Well,” Gojo pressed his cheek on top of your head, arms tightening around you and legs moving to bring you closer on his lap.  “What can I do to ease your pain?”

You pressed a hand on your cheek to wipe your tears to save yourself from the stickiness but most of it was dried snot, or at least that was what you thought it was. “Right now, I just wanna go home. I feel so dirty…”

“Yeah,” he spoke into your hair, taking a long whiff. “Smells like you need a shower.”

The reason why you were crying past forgotten, a laugh escaped you and you smacked your hand on his chest playfully. “Hey!”

“Whaaaat? You stink!” Gojo used his thumb and forefinger to press his nostrils together as he grimaced.

Pausing, you looked up to him through your lashes, suddenly self-conscious. “D-do I?”

Gojo’s arms around you were kind of pressing you down onto his crotch and his flip phone was poking your ass but you tried to ignore it, you didn’t want to cause another misunderstanding as he leaned forward towards you. “Let me check again.”

He pressed his nose into your hair but you didn’t hear him inhaling. When you turned to look at him, he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Face completely blushed, your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat.

After a long sniff, his hand on your back reached further around to wrap tighter around your shoulders to press you flush against his body. “I take it back, ya smell nice.” He spoke into your skin, lips brushing against your neck and the hot breath of his mouth making goosebumps prickle your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh to cover your nervousness. “T-thanks!”

He smiled against your skin before pulling himself back. “But I’d say ya still need a shower. You smell exactly like a booger.”

“You! You were just-!” You pushed him away as you blushed furiously, flustered by all of his teasings. “You’re soo mean!”

“Hehe, I’m mean? I saved your life, ya know!”

That was true. The unpleasant memories flashed in front of your eyes once again but this time, Gojo was ready to help you get up to your feet and exit the building to go back home while holding his hand.

“There’s this ramen place down this street, let’s eat lunch before we return, whaddya say?” His glee had returned, his smile was more gorgeous than you had realized.

“O-okay!” You let him intertwine your fingers together but blushed harder as a result.

~~~

“Ah, the others are still out…” you said as soon as you stepped inside the dormitory. Their shoes weren’t by the entrance.

“We have the whole place to ourselves, isn’t it great?” Gojo kicked off his shoes to walk further inside. “We can watch this one movie I rented out last week… ah... I forgot to return it… Anyway! We can still watch it! The movie’s about-”

“I think I’m gonna take a shower first,” you shyly interrupted. “But we can still watch it after I’m done!”

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “I see, you should be quick then. Once Suguru and Nanami come back, we won’t be able to do anything.”

You nodded, hurrying up to the girls’ dorm, grabbing clothes and your towel to head towards the showers but then you saw the large sign with big red letters just as you were about to enter.

Although you were already bummed out about not finding your body towel and only had your hair towel with you, the sign made your day worse.

Walking downstairs, you found the person you were looking for in the kitchen.

“Um, Gojo?”

The guy mentioned closed the cabinet he was checking and his lips curled up into a smile but it disappeared as soon as he turned to face you. “Yeah?”

“It says that the water pipes are damaged upstairs…” Hugging your clothes and towel tighter on your chest, you raised your eyebrows to ask him something he had planned for you to ask. “Where am I supposed to shower?”

Gojo hummed in thought. “Well, you can use our bathroom. I can stay on the lookout for you so Suguru or Nanami won’t walk in on you.”

You looked hesitant but you had learned to trust Gojo. He had made sure of that.

“O-okay.”

“Leave your dirty clothes in the basket by the door, I'll wash them for you.” He walked around the counter to put an arm around you, walking you towards the boys’ bathroom.

“I can do it,” you said softly.

“I’m gonna wash my stuff anyway so I can do it for ya!” he insisted, easily having had figured out that you couldn’t say no to people.

Nodding reluctantly, you spoke after clearing your throat. “Can you please make sure nobody comes in? I-I would feel safe if I knew you told them to not come in.”

“Of course!! I’ll call Suguru right away!” Gojo offered you a polite smile. You stood in front of the bathroom door, he pushed you inside. “So it’s the exact same as the upstairs but the only difference is that you should wear one of those slippers while showering.” He grabbed a large pair of slippers for you, putting them in front of you as you were taking your socks off. “Do not, and I mean this, do not walk barefoot here. We don’t clean the floors, we should but we won’t.”

“That’s kinda icky…”

“You can clean it if you wanna but we won’t.”

“It should be your job to clean your own dorm.” You put on the slippers with a sigh.

“Take your clothes off and take your shower before they return or I’ll bring them in here.”

“What!?”

“You heard me.”

Of course, you heard him. You were blushing furiously.

Gojo giggled and walked over to you. “You can’t bathe in your clothes, can you?” He pulled you out of the shower area. “Come on!”

“I-I will! You have to get out first!”

He stared at you with deadpan eyes, almost in disbelief. “I thought you wanted me in here so nobody would come in?”

When you blushed harder, his facade fell and he snorted before long he was laughing merrily.

“You’re so easy to tease!”

Covering your face in embarrassment, you told him to leave politely.

“I will I will!” He ruffled your hair, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I’ll be back to collect your laundry so don’t freak out about that, right?”

“R-right.”

“So adorable…” He patted on your head one last time before leaving.

As soon as he left, you took your uniform off, folding them neatly to put them in the small laundry basket. Since after this separation you only needed your towel, you left your clean clothes next to the basket, folding them as well.

Sluggishly, you unhooked your bra and slipped out of your panties, placing them in between your clean clothes. There was no way you were going to let Gojo wash your underwear, that was too… too-

You were blushing and had to internally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Once naked, you wrapped your hair towel around your body, it was a lot shorter than you thought, not the actual towel you planned on using to cover your body. Ugh, whatever. You were going to get out of the showers and put on your clothes anyway. It didn’t matter what length of towel you had.

After taking a deep breath you walked into the bath area to take a shower.

~~~

Gojo had all of your clothes in the laundry basket and was walking towards the laundry room when Geto entered the dormitory with Nanami.

“Yo Suguru!” he chirped, “Don’t enter the bath, she’s in there taking a shower.”

Geto snorted, covering his mouth with a hand, “It really worked huh?”

They were all standing in the common room as Gojo nodded rapidly. “It’s all thanks to Nanami, his handwriting is soooo professional. I bet she thought it was from some janitor or something. She didn’t even question how Shoko was able to shower just this morning.”

While Geto and Gojo were snickering, Nanami was staring down at his feet. “Can you keep me out of this one?”

“Eh?” Gojo deadpanned. “Getting cold feet already? You promised you’d join in?! This is a once in a lifetime chance, Nanami~”

“Don’t force him,” Geto said, still a smile plastered on his face. “I think he’ll get around anyway.”

Gojo’s grin returned on his face, “True true! She’s sooo adorable and easy to handle. It’s like she was made for us.”

Nanami shook his head, trying to look serious but failing miserably.

“It’s no worries, Nanami,” Geto informed, placing an ensuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll always have an open place.”

“Yeah, women have three holes ya kn-OW!” Gojo’s words were cut short by Geto flicking a finger on his nose.

“What do you have there?” Changing the subject way too quickly, Geto pointed at the laundry basket.

Gojo rubbed the tip of his nose and pouted. “Her clothes.”

“All of them?”

“Ya.”

“Did you use six eyes to spy on her?”

“Nooo~” Gojo tried to hide his smile and lie but failed to keep his face neutral.

“Bastard.” Clicking his tongue, Geto rolled his eyes. “How did the exorcism go?”

“Well, it went well,” Gojo sighed.

“You said well twice,” Geto pointed out, “Tell me what happened.”

“It was nice,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know what else to say.” He tried to avoid Geto’s gaze on him. “Got to see her getting ravished by some curse and all…”

Geto grimaced and went quiet. The sound of the show playing on the television in the common room wasn’t loud enough to fill the silence that Gojo had created.

Nanami was blushing but he couldn’t leave as Geto still had his hand on his shoulder, keeping him there.

“I shouldn’t have let you take the lead, you always go overboard on the first day.” Geto was angry at himself.

“Take this as a token of my condolences.” Gojo held your bra up towards his friend.

“He wants the panties for himself.” Geto leaned towards Nanami to complain, “He thinks he’s so smart but I want the panties.”

Gojo shook his head dramatically, “It’s for Nanami. He should take the panties since we made him go through all that trouble. It’s also like an honor to receive the panties, right?”

Nanami refused to look them in the eye.

“He’s acting like the good guy now,” Geto snickered. “We’re not doing anything wrong, Nanami. (name) is in good hands, we wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” At least physically.

Geto’s voice was calming and soft like cotton, giving the second year a sense of comfort.

“Yeah man, trust your upperclassmen a little!” Gojo laughed merrily, holding out the pink panties towards Nanami. “We’re only trying to teach you!”

Taking the panties from his grasp with shaky hands, Nanami nodded. “Yeah…”

Geto patted him on the back, “Now, where exactly are her weak points?”

Nanami jolted, blushed faintly because of how he has used his ability before. He opened his mouth to say it.

The other two listened attentively.

~~~

Don’t freak out.

Don’t freak out.

With a hair towel barely covering your modesty and on the verge of tears, you were trying to talk yourself into running out of the bath and upstairs. If you run, nobody would see you.

Why had Gojo taken all of your clothes?

Ugh! You shouldn’t have put them there, he probably took them thinking that they were also dirty but deep down you knew you were clumsy enough to end up in this situation anyway.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

You could run.

Just run upstairs.

Yeah, that was all you needed to do.

You stepped out of the bathroom and instantly heard footsteps. Like an idiot, instead of going back inside the showers, you lurched forward, trying the first door you stumbled upon and successfully opening it to enter the room to hide.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listened to the footsteps, they didn’t come close to this room but you heard a door being opened and closed shut.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you pressed your forehead on the door. You were going to wait a little more before bolting out of this room to run upstairs.

“Can I help you?”

You jerked so suddenly that you managed to hit your head on the door. When you turned around, you found Geto watching you intently from his bed.

Your cheeks flushed, unable to say anything other than gibberish you started stuttering.

He got up from his bed, putting the book he was reading aside and heading straight towards his wardrobe.

“I’m sorry it’s Gojo, he took all of my clothes and-”

“Here.” Geto held out a shirt and sweatpants towards you, cutting your sentence short. “You can wear these and leave.”

You stared at the clothes he was holding out to you, eyes wide and cheeks burning up. Pressing the towel harder on your body, you tried covering yourself as much as you could.

Meekly taking the clothes from him, you bowed your head to show appreciation. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before he walked away and turned around to give you privacy.

You stood still, indecisive, before finally dropping the towel on the floor to put on the clothes he gave you.

Although they were quite large on you, in the end, you weren’t naked anymore.

“T-thank you.” Your voice was soft and full of admiration as you picked your towel up from the floor. He was so kind and respectful.

He waved a hand in lieu of speaking, telling you goodbye.

Not needing to be told twice, you left his room. Geto hoped that you hadn’t noticed him snapping a picture of you with his slide phone but even if you did, he knew you wouldn’t be able to say anything against it.

~~~

Later that day, Gojo apologized to you multiple times, telling you how he was so lost in his thoughts and took all of your clothes with him.

“Here they are though! Washed and dried!” He held the small laundry basket to you. Your clothes were indeed clean but they were… messy. They hadn’t been folded neatly so you had to iron them later. Despite that you thanked him.

Back in your room, you noticed that your underwear was missing from the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. All of them. Your clean and dirty ones.

Quickly, you walked downstairs, past the common room where all the guys were watching television, and into the laundry room. Perhaps Gojo hadn’t washed them out of embarrassment. If it was you, you wouldn’t! At least if it was his underwear you were going to wash.

Checking the large basket and the washing machine multiple times, you couldn’t find them. When you opened the tumble dryer, they weren’t in it either.

You walked back to the common room, feet dragging and meek. Standing beside the large couch, you pretended to be checking the movie they were watching but actually, you were trying to muster up the courage to ask Gojo if he had seen your underwear.

Nanami glanced in your direction through his long fringe, although his cheeks were flushed pink, you couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Gojo,” he said, alerting the white-haired guy of your presence.

You wondered if it was obvious it was him that you wanted to talk to.

Gojo stared at Nanami and when the blonde pointed in your direction with a nod, he whipped his head around to meet your gaze.

“(name)!” he chirped, patting on the empty spot on the couch between him and Geto. “The movie has just started, come join us!”

With everyone looking at you now, you felt obliged to sit down.

Once you were seated, Gojo narrowed his eyes at Geto and put his arm around you. You flinched but didn’t have the courage to push him away, you ended up unwillingly accepting his warmth.

To Geto, what he did was an insult. It felt like it.

If he didn’t hurry and caught up with him, Gojo would have the upper hand.

“Are you okay?” Geto asked, scooted closer to you on the couch, using the question as an excuse to close the distance between the two of you. “I heard what happened, it must've been scary.”

You offered him a kind smile. “It was a terrifying experience but I’m fine… thanks to Gojo.”

Geto tried hard not to let his lips curl down to a frown but with the way Gojo was smirking at him to taunt him, it was difficult. “Yeah but don’t trust him too much,” he said, glowering at Gojo. “He can be such an airhead at times. He took all of your clothes today, didn’t he?”

That made you shift on your seat uncomfortably. You also remembered the reason why you had come here but you didn’t want to be accusatory about it. In simple words, you were just too scared to confront him. “He already apologized.”

Gojo’s face contorted into something vile as Geto feigned worry.

“You shouldn’t let him go off that easily. He will never learn from his mistakes if his actions don’t have consequences.”

“It was a small mistake, I’m not mad or anything…” Subconsciously you were leaning away from Gojo.

“Whatever you say,” Geto snickered.

Nanami sank deeper into the cushions of the couch in discomfort while you were completely unaware of the tension between the two guys.

~~~

“What are you trying to do?” Gojo groaned in anger. “We’re all in this together so what’s with trying to make me look bad? I told you that overly friendly guy thing would be the best choice, you can’t blame me for-”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” Geto replied, interrupting him. “It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Gojo glared at him over his sunglasses. “I’m going to win her over, is that why you’re acting so childish about it?”

“You’re the one who’s childish,” Geto snapped, sitting up on his bed. “You’re trying to turn this into a competition. Again .”

“It’s more fun that way.”

Silence.

It was a long moment after Geto spoke. “If we’re going to turn this into a competition, then it should be fair to all of us.”

Finally calmed down, Gojo hummed in agreement. “How though?”

A smile spread across Geto’s face before he gave his friend a response.

~~~

“Rock paper scissors!”

Nanami won by picking paper. The other two groaned and complained as they were all walking back to the common room to meet up with you. The game was played in secret.

“Today, you’ll work with Nanami, he’s a pro at using cursed tools.” It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t anything they had planned either.

Your day with the blonde went uneventful, you actually managed to learn some tricks about cursed tools.

~~~

You returned Geto his clothes.

The neatly folded clothes on top of his bed were inviting.

He reached for them. The clothes hadn’t been washed but it was as he wanted. He had assured you he would wash them himself.

Turning the sweatpants inside out, he brought the crotch area up to his face and inhaled deeply. His eyelashes fluttered at the pleasant smell that filled his lungs. So this was how you smelled. Your scent was faint but since you had worn it without any underwear, it had managed to stick onto the fabric, much to Geto’s joy.  

He couldn’t help but take another whiff as he pulled his pants down.

~~~

“Rock paper scissors!”

Geto won.

“Like this?” you asked worriedly, holding your arm out in an exorcism position. The flyhead in front of you was in a small cage, helpless and ready for you to exorcise it.

“No, you have to angle your hips right.” Geto placed his hands on your waist, getting awfully close and invading your space. “You have to keep your eyes on the curse at all times, no matter how much it might spur it on, you can wear sunglasses so it won’t notice your stare but not losing the sight of the enemy is important.” He pressed himself against you but you were listening to his soft voice, explaining how you could get better at this. “Try it.”

You nodded, aiming your cursed energy towards the flyhead.

The creature squealed and exploded into nothing.

Thrilled by your success, you turned your head around with an excited smile plastered on your face. “Did you see that?”

Geto offered you a kind smile, enough to reassure you that you did more than well. “You’re a natural.” He gave you a pat on the head, “Good job.” He then used his fingers to endearingly comb through your hair.

You leaned into his touch, ignoring how close he had gotten.

That made him smile, it wouldn’t be long until you were ready.

~~~

“Rock paper scissors!”

Geto won again, then Gojo, then Nanami, then Gojo again and it went on.

Easy get corrupted but still able to be as meekly cheerful as the first day, you were enough to charm all of them.

One of them a little more than the other two. Enough to make him care about you.

“I’m out.”

Both Gojo and Geto stared at Nanami with wide eyes.

“This eaaarly?” The white-haired one whined, stretching the word out. He was buzzed out of his mind. Cheap beer like this hit him faster than the better quality ones.

“You sure?” This time Geto wasn’t going to say anything to convince him not to drop out of the competition. Nanami leaving meant there would be a higher chance for him to corrupt you for the day.

The blonde in question nodded.

“You’re gonna miss ooooout her cuuutee fidgeting when you touch her waist!” Gojo was giggling, remembering how sensitive you were.

Geto chuckled, a smile appearing on his face. “The way she gets teary when you push her a little too much is the cutest.”

“Nooo, the way she starts stuttering when you act friendly is cute, her face as if she’s ready to cry is sexy. Her brows furrow and she looks at you like she’s begging for you to stop but-”

“She’s too pathetic to speak up!” The duo said it in unison and started laughing while high-fiving each other for their similar thinking.

Nanami took a sip from his beer and ignored them. This was for the best. He was going to continue ignoring it.

Ignorance was bliss.

~~~

“We’re out of necessities,” Nanami informed everyone in the common room.

Gojo tore his eyes away from the television and hung off the back of the coach to look at Nanami. “Already?”

“I can go and buy them if you gave me a list?” You were quick to pipe up.

Geto put his hand on top of your head and ruffled your hair, “You can’t carry all that, we’ll do it.”

“Well, why don’t I go with one of you?” There it was, the meek tone. Something was going on.

“Why? Do you need something specific?” Gojo sat back on the couch, returning his attention to the Saturday morning comedy sketches.

“Y-yeah.” Fidgeting with your fingers you looked down at your lap.

“You can put whatever you need into the list and we’ll buy it,” Geto answered but his true intention was to see how flustered you could get over a simple task being done for you. He could or rather anyone could easily guess what this was all about. They had been living with Shoko for over three years now, who unlike you wasn’t shy about anything.

Nanami who had been pouring out coffee for himself noticed how your shoulders slackened in defeat. Although he had promised to stay out of their game, he spoke without thinking. “We can go together.”

As soon as he said that both Gojo and Geto glowered at him from the corner of their eyes.

You whipped your head around with an innocent smile, “That’s so kind of you! Thank you, Nanami!”

“We can all go,” Geto replied.

“It’d be too crowded.” You got up from the couch to walk over where Nanami was standing to talk about if you should get ready now or later.

An imaginary lightbulb lit up over Gojo’s head. “Let’s decide who’s gonna go by rock paper scissors.”

“Nanami just said he’d go with me-”

“He wants to avoid his cleaning duty. We’re supposed to do the cleaning today since Shoko is coming back tomorrow.” Geto backed Gojo up instantaneously. So sly.

Three of them held their fists up from where they were and almost as if they’d done it a million times, they chose their gesture without even saying anything.

You looked at each gesture and your eyes landed on the winner.

“Write what you two personally need on a list, I’ll go grab my wallet.” Geto got up from the couch and beckoned you to follow him.

The two of you took the bus to the store and split up with separate baskets to do the shopping. You finished quick, put enough sanitary pads that would last you until the next month into the basket, and hid them under a bunch of other things so Geto wouldn’t see it.

You found Geto by the cleaning aisle.

“Done?” he asked, noticing your full basket.

“Yeah.”

“That was quick.” Geto grinned, “I have a couple of things left, after that, I’m done as well.”

“Can we go to the new cafe that opened down the street?” you asked cutely as you followed him to the next aisle in the grocery store.

He nodded in response without looking at you.

As he turned into the next aisle, which happened to be where the hygiene products were, you continued following him. He walked past the toothbrushes, shampoos, and colognes.

You proceeded to follow him until he abruptly stopped.

He put his basket down and inspected the products on the shelves.

Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw what he was planning to buy. “Ah.” It was a noise you made out of surprise, nothing more. You were completely flushed, dizzy from embarrassment as Geto stared down at you with a packet in his hand.

Extra thin for ultra pleasure.

XL.

Prelubed.

“You okay?” he asked, dropping the packet into his basket.

He was a guy, yeah, he was a man. This was normal. Yeah, he had a-

Your brain wasn’t working.

You shook your head without meaning to. “I-I forgot to buy something.” Not letting him say anything else, you rushed out of the aisle, omitting the way he was grinning.

After the two of you paid for the stuff, you started walking to the cafe together. You were lucky to have Geto by your side since he carried more bags than you ever could. He wouldn’t let you carry anything either so you ended up carrying the toilet papers.

Holding the door open for him, you walked inside the cafe. The employees behind the counter greeted you, smiling brightly.

“I’ll take normal coffee, black, no sugar or milk.” With that, he quietly walked to the furthest end of the shop by the large windows. Apparently, you were the one who was going to order.

You walked up to the employee who was waiting for you to order, you decided to try out their signature drink and ordered filter coffee for Geto. After getting your drinks on a tray, you made your way down to the table he sat, placing the tray carefully down.

Plopping down on the chair, you let out an exaggerated sigh, “I’m exhausted.”

“You didn’t do any of the heavy lifting, so you don’t get to complain,” he replied, taking his coffee from the tray.

You pouted your lips as you reached for your own drink. It got quiet as he looked out of the window, taking small sips of his coffee and enjoying the view. You on the other hand were fidgety. Mind still going back to recall what he had bought.

Well, he was handsome and charming. Geto clearly had a girlfriend. But… you hadn’t seen him with any other girl. What if it was Shoko?

Then it hit you. Shoko’s words she told you when you first arrived at the campus. It all started to make sense, she was trying to scare you so you wouldn’t make a move on his boyfriend.

You were curious.

Curiosity killed the cat.

“I-I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” you said, trying to hide your blushing cheeks behind the straw of your drink.

“What?” he chuckled and put his drink back on the tray.

Dumbfounded by his response you stuttered. “Your g-girlfriend.”

“My what?” He had heard you right but he needed to see you get flustered but when you stayed quiet he continued. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I-I’m only asking because you bought-” your voice became faint, “ -that… ”

“The condoms?” This time he leaned forward on the table, raising a brow at you. “Do I need to have a girlfriend to buy condoms?”

“Keep your voice down,” you hushed him, your brain was turning into mush from shame and embarrassment, you couldn’t even think straight. “Please.”

“Huh? Why? We’re the only ones here.” He tilted his head to try meeting your eyes but you wouldn’t look at him. “Besides, why are you so why about this? Didn’t you and your boyfriend go out to buy one of these at some point?”

A silent thud made you look down at the table. There it was, in broad daylight, anyone could see it.

You were going to faint.

“Hmm?” Geto was waiting for an answer.

“No,” you said, head spinning from embarrassment, you had never felt like this before. You needed to go home. It was too overwhelming. There was this other thing bubbling in your stomach, your face was getting heated and your nails were digging into your palms.

That was anger. Rage.

“I don’t believe you. Haven’t your boyfriends ever-”

“I never had one.” For the first time in your whole life, you raised your voice.  

“Never?” Geto was more shocked at the revelation, not too surprised at your change of demeanor.  “That’s a shame.” Awe tingled in his soft voice.

You didn’t say anything.

Geto sighed, relenting quietly but his grin didn’t falter. “Okay,” he said, taking the condom packet from the table and putting it back in his pocket. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t sound genuine,” you spoke firmly. "Besides, you were the one to tell me not to forgive tactlessness. Isn’t it ironic?” Your tone had changed, you were speaking through your teeth, anger had taken over you.

Oh, this feisty side of you… he wanted to see how it would break.

“You think so?” A thoughtful yet mocking humming noise left him. “Aren’t you the one overreacting? All I did was to show you something I bought. You were the one asking about it. Shouldn’t it be me who should be upset with you?”

Silence.

“If you want to believe it’s my fault, I’ll let you think that way but don’t go blaming others for corrupting your virtue like a prude. It’s annoying and harmful. If you said those words to Satoru, he’d be devastated. So, be a good girl and grow up.”

Your chest tightened, no matter how much you inhaled no air was reaching your lungs. The panic had started settling in but it was all internal. You had put the facade back on, desperately trying to hold back your tears.

What he said was true. That was why it hurt so much.

“Ah, let’s head back,” he said, getting up from his seat. “It’s getting late.”

You nodded languidly, leaving your still full drink on the tray and shuffling after Geto with glossy eyes.

The guilt you felt was sublime, no words would be enough to describe it.

~~~

“She’s never had a boyfriend?” Gojo was baffled by the fact. “Does that-”

“Most likely,” Geto answered without needing to hear his question.

The two of them exchanged a competitive look with each other before they balled their good hands in fists.

“Rock paper scissors!”

~~~

There was a knock on your door. You pulled the sheets over your head instead of answering it. You hadn’t joined the boys for dinner, there was no way you could look them in the eye after what had happened today.

“We’re going to have drinks in Nanami’s room.” It was Geto. “I want you to join us.”

You pressed your face harder on the pillow.

“(name)?”

Maybe it was better if you answered the door before he burst into your room, which was unlikely since it was Geto. Gojo would have but Geto… no.

You walked to the door and falteringly opened it.

On the other side, Geto had a hand on your door frame, leaning forward.

Your eyes met but you immediately averted your gaze in shame. An apology was the first thing you needed to do. “I’m sorry.”

He scoffed, “Why are you apologizing?”

“For saying all those mean things.”

Geto leaned further down and used his free hand to pat on your head, ruffling your hair. “Don’t overthink it. I shouldn’t have teased you that much.”

The feeling of his warm, calloused hand on your head was reassuring, it made you regret saying those words to him even more. He had been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m so sorry, I must be so annoying and weak.” You lifted your head to look at him, eyes glossy and cheeks tinted. Your lower lip was trembling as your eyes were acutely watching him, waiting for a response.

Unable to resist your face in despair, Geto smiled. His hand cupped your cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb. “Don’t apologize. You’re a girl who’s desperately working hard to improve herself. There’s no way I could ever dislike you.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be?” His hand slid down along your jaw stopping when his thumb was hovering over the corner of your lip. He ran his thumb on your lip. “You’re such a sweet girl, it’s impossible staying mad at you. You’re adorable.”

Petrified, you stared into his eyes. The half-lidded eyes were hazy with an emotion you had never seen on anyone before. He was leaning closer towards your face all the while your heart was hammering inside your ribcage.

He was going to kiss you.

Instinctively, you closed your eyes, puckering your lips.

Geto watched your eyelashes flutter and cheeks flush with dark amusement before retrieving his hand from your face.

“Shall we go?”

His question made you open your eyes and instantly your cheeks flushed harder. Ahh, how embarrassing! You really thought he was going to kiss you.

You walked out of your room and closed the door to follow Geto downstairs to Nanami’s room.

Gojo’s chipper voice filled the empty hallway before you arrived in front of the room. Geto opened the door for you, gesturing you to walk inside first.

Nanami’s room was cleaner than yours, it was neatly organized and decorated but it reeked of cigarette smoke.

“Ahh, (name)! You came!!” Gojo quickly waved at you and patted on the bed for you to take the space next to him. “Come sit with me!”

Nanami glanced at you over his shoulder but didn’t do much other than bow his head slightly to greet you as he was smoking.

Decidedly, you took a step to join Gojo but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

Geto led you to where Nanami was smoking and instructed you to sit down beside him on the floor. “Do you smoke?”

“Um… No.”

“Let’s not make her smoke,” Nanami suddenly said when he noticed Geto was bringing his own cigarette pack out.

“He’s right! She’ll reek of cigarettes!” Gojo was practically yelling, from the way his cheeks were tinted bright red, you could tell that he had been drinking. He was slurring most of his words.

“It was merely a question,” Geto sighed, putting a cigarette between his lips to light it.

Nanami pointed at the large plastic bag in the middle of the floor and spoke to you. “These are for everyone, you can take one if you want.”

With his remark, you crawled towards the middle and checked inside the bag. There was beer and a large bottle of wine along with a bunch of cigarette packs in it. “A-are we allowed to drink these on campus?”

“What? You’re gonna rat on us?” Gojo barked out a laugh.

“No,” you mumbled and reached for the wine bottle. “C-can I have this?”

“The whole thing?” Geto raised a brow, “Didn’t you learn to share?”

“Not the entire bottle, I just wanna try it.” You were too meek again, they had all figured you out enough to know what that meant.

“Don’t tell me…” Gojo was pointing a finger at you and grinning. “You’ve never tried alcohol before?”

“I never had the chance.”

You were just getting better the more they learned about you.

Nanami stubbed out the remaining of his cigarette. “Try not to drink too much on your first time.”

Geto glared at Nanami, the wine was there for you specifically. Higher the percentage, the bigger the chances of you letting your guard down.

When you made a move to put the bottle back in the bag to get a can of beer instead, Geto encouraged you to drink it. “We’ll all drink some from the bottle, don’t worry about drinking too much. We’re here with you to prevent that.”

Lies, lies, lies.

The way your eyes sparkled with appreciation when you looked at him as you were unaware of his intentions, was all too innocent. Pure as snow.

You opened the bottle and took a sip, grimacing right after. All of them laughed, making jokes about their first times and chatting about all of the other things until there was a lull in the conversation.

The silence was often filled by Gojo’s horrendous singing or your tipsy giggling, trying to tell a story and being unable to finish it because of how hard you were laughing in between each word.

“So,” Geto started, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Satoru, when did you have your first kiss?” he asked as if he didn’t know every detail.

Gojo hummed in thought, pretending to try to remember. “I don’t know, maybe when I was twelve or fourteen.” There was a pause before he asked the same question to his friend, almost sheepishly. “When did you have yours, Suguru?”

“I was also fourteen if I remember it right.” Geto put his cigarette down on the ashtray to take a sip from his beer. “Nanami-”

“No.” Nanami didn’t pay attention to any of you and lit up another cigarette.

“Okay.” Geto rolled his eyes before they landed on you. “(name), what about you?”

“That’s… a secret.” You pressed your forefinger against your lips, shushing with a giggle.

“We’re all friends here,” Geto replied, biting back a laugh. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

His words made you look up to the ceiling to think for a long moment. Deciding that he was right, you bobbed your head. “Yes.”

“Yes to what?” Gojo chuckled, he was hanging off upside-down from the bed, pouting while you were thinking and thinking and thinking.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before~” you stretched the word out, barely managing to keep your eyes open. The bottle of wine in your hand was half empty. It wasn’t really a surprise but hearing you say it out loud when you were too shy to speak up your mind was purely erotic.

“Never ever?” Gojo was trying to drink his own beer upside-down.

You shook your head but then started nodding. “Ahh, sooo confusing! I really didn’t have my first kiss. Like ever.”

“That’s a lie, it must be! You’re very friendly.” Gojo sighed his next words, “All the boys must love you.”

Starting to fidgeting with fingers on your lap you shook your head to deny. “I’m not popular amongst boys. Not popular at all with anyone since I’m not that extrovert or pretty.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the attention,” Geto went on to say. “You’re prettier than you think.”

Cheeks flushing, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “You’re just saying that.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Geto chuckled, “As adorable you are, you’re also the nicest girl I’ve ever met.”

You beamed at him, eyes twinkling like stars. “Y-You really think so?”

“Yes, you’re soo cute!” Gojo joined, crawling towards you. “You’re gorgeous!”

“Aside from your stunning looks, you’re quite talented. Your cursed technique has a promising future and you’re able to learn quickly to improve yourself.” Geto put a hand on his face, covering the lower half of his face. “Hardworking and determined to become a special grade sorcerer, it’s inspiring if not admirable.”

Being bombarded with compliments made you feel like you were on the clouds. The validation you didn’t get from your own family past forgotten, you got lost in the sweetness of their words.

It all made you feel special.

“I’m so happy I came here, it feels like I belong here with you guys. I feel at home.” You started fiddling with the sticker on the wine bottle. “I’m very lucky to have you guys as my friends.”

Gojo pouted his lips and jumped towards you with his arms open. He wrapped them around you, rocking side to side. “You’re soooo adorable! How are you soo cute? I wanna eat you up, you’re like the cutest thing ever! Argh, what did I do to ever deserve you?”

Caught off guard, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around him. “I should be the one saying that.”

Pulling himself back, Gojo turned to Geto, “We should kiss her! Her first kiss should be with people who treasure her deeply. It’s such a sweet thing and as friends, it’s our duty to make that happen!”

“R-really?” Despite what he was saying was outrageous, you were giggling, eyes on him. Looking at him like he meant the world to you.

Innocence being corrupted. Poetic.

“She wouldn’t be comfortable doing that sort of stuff, Satoru. (name) is timid, don’t tease her.”

“I’m not teasing her!” Gojo looked down at you between his arms and blushed bright red, “I mean, I’d kiss her, wouldn’t ya?”

Nanami rolled his eyes, he had heard them rehearse this a million times and it still managed to make him feel the secondhand embarrassment and additionally physically make him grimace.

Nonetheless, it seemed to work for you. Time stopped moving for you, cheeks flushed and mouth agape, your eyes were on Geto, eagerly waiting for his answer.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he averted his gaze. “I would.”

“Nanami,” Gojo called next. “Would you kiss her?”

Nanami stared at the white-haired idiot, he had to be kidding. It was clear as day that they were trying to drag him back into the game.

“Nanami has the most experience between all of us,” Geto lied, now unable to hide his smirk. “You should kiss him, (name).”

This time, you were blushing faintly, eyes blinking slowly with a charming smile on your face. All of those were directed at Nanami and the longing look on your face was enough to make his breath hitch.

“Ah, he’s blushing!” Gojo pointed out with a laugh. “This might be the first time I’m seeing him blush!”

Of course, he would blush from seeing you the way they described you for the first time. Oh, so timid and innocent, begging to be ravished.

“Who do ya want your first kiss to be with, (name)?” Gojo asked softly, his voice coaxing you into safety. They were all your friends, they wanted to help you. They loved you. You knew that, right?

“I don’t know.” Your speech was slurred, the alcohol was starting to hit you harder now.

Gojo squeezed your cheeks together until your lips puckered and turned your face for Nanami to see. “She has such kissable lips, don’t ya think?”

Nanami was trying his best to hold his composure, not wanting to let himself lose control.

“If you don’t kiss her, I most certainly will take her first kiss.” Gojo pressed his lips on your temple, giving you a chaste kiss before moving to whisper in your ear. “I love you so much, so pretty and gullible. So adorable. I don’t wanna share you with anyone else.”

You tilted your head in delight at his words, letting his lips brush against your neck.

How easy to please!

Gojo smiled into your skin, pressing another kiss on your neck.

A cute noise left your lips.

Nanami twitched at the noise and Geto noticed it.

“You should take over before he eats her up,” he said with an amused grin.

Nanami shook his head but he was still unable to tear his eyes away from Gojo planting kisses on your neck and you squirming in pleasure in his arms.

He put an arm around your waist, pulling you a lot closer. You pulled your leg up on his leg to turn your torso towards him.

“What should we do, hmm?” he murmured, his eyes hazy behind his sunglasses. “Nanami doesn’t wanna kiss you but I do…”

Nanami couldn’t bring himself to look away from you. He wanted to jump on you, taking you right here and now as the two idiots watched in awe. Quickly he suppressed the fantasy with his own free will.

Gojo leaned down and you closed your eyes shut, puckering your lips to patiently wait for the kiss.

Nothing mattered anymore.

He put one hand on your waist, the other cupping your cheek as his lips pressed against yours. Your heart was beating rapidly, enough to make you conscious of everything your body was going through. The hand on your waist was hot against your skin and the lips pressing against yours… let heavenly.

You thought that was it. A simple kiss. You didn’t know you could kiss someone more than just pressing your lips against each other but Gojo took it further.

His lips moved harsh against yours, biting and sucking your bottom lip. His hand on your cheek slid to the back of your head and he grabbed a chunk of your hair. Once you opened your mouth to protest, he snaked his tongue inside.

You clutched on his shirt, tears dwelling in your eyes as you involuntarily tasted the bitter taste of beer on his tongue.

The hand on your waist moved to press on the small of your back to pull you in his lap. You moaned into the kiss, arching your back. He knew that was your weak spot, Nanami had told him. He also knew that your inner thigh-

You shrieked when another hand went to your inner thighs.

Breaking the kiss, you looked at Geto in surprise. He took the opportunity to use his free hand to pull you back by your hair and press his lips on yours.

Gojo made a small noise to protest but then turned the situation to his own advantage. His hands went to your waist, then up, up, and up until his thumbs reached to the swell of your breasts.

You opened your mouth in panic but it only helped Geto to force his tongue down your throat. The slick muscle twirled around your own tongue and you started to get dizzy from the taste of tobacco coming from him.

Gojo cupped your tits over your pajama top before starting to knead the supple flesh, you moved your hips subconsciously. Geto put a hand on your hip to move your hips, grinding you on Gojo’s knee. “That’s erotic, (name). I thought you never had a boyfriend before… You’re seducing us, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed but you couldn’t give him an answer as Geto was busy ravishing your mouth with his tongue to savor your taste.

Finally, Geto pulled himself back, a small strand of saliva connecting your lips together broke apart as he smiled looking at your bruised lips.

Like Gojo had said, Geto’s smile was beautiful. A sight to relish. You were grateful to be the reason for his gorgeous smile.

“She’s definitely seducing us. Look at her.” Geto cocked his head to the side, staring down at you with a mocking expression on his face.

“I’m not…”

“You are,” Gojo joined, teasing you was too fun. “You were humping my leg ya know.”

“T-that was Geto-”

“Don’t lie.” Geto’s hand on your hips slid down between your legs and you slouched forward. You let out a moan when he pressed his fingers on your slit over the pajama pants as if he knew exactly where it was. You felt the wetness soaking your pants and leaving an icky feeling. You were about to ask him why he did that but he spoke, saying things that were so not true. “Only little sluts get this wet enough to soak their pants entirely.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “You’re such a liar! I thought you were an innocent little girl.”

“I’m not…”

“So you’re not an innocent little girl?” Geto moved his fingers side to side, toying with your clothed clit as he pressed himself against you.

“Noo… I didn’t mean it that way…” Legs already shaking, only later you felt something firm and thick pressing on the cleft of your ass.

“You’re moving your hips, begging for it. I’m seeing it with my own two eyes! Having your first kiss must’ve made ya into a slut… You want it, don’t ya?”

You were blushing faintly, eyes blinking slowly while you looked up at Gojo. This was exactly what you wanted. Right? You had to be hoping for it if you were moving your hips like Gojo said. You had become a slut from having your first kiss.

“You cryin’?” Gojo was smirking.

“No?” Confused as to why he asked it, a purposeful grind of Geto’s hips on your ass made your mouth gape open. He was mimicking the movement of fucking you.

“So you like Suguru?”

Of course, he was such a gentleman… most of the time. He was kind and helpful. He always helped you train and looked out for you, giving you the best advice. You trusted him with your life.

“Hmm?” Gojo wasn’t about to repeat himself.

“I like him.”

Geto smirked and gestured with his head for Gojo to move away. With a sigh, the latter crawled away from you as Geto lifted you by your armpits to turn you to face him on his lap.

Your eyes were clouded with lust and your mind slurred with alcohol.

“You’re my little pipsqueak,” he said, caressing your cheek.

A nod.

“I’m going to take your innocence.”

Another nod.

Grinning, he grabbed the hem of your pajama top, lifting it up to your breasts and over your head. You lifted your arms above to help him get rid of the shirt. Since you hadn’t been wearing a bra, your tits bounced free.

Three pairs of eyes were on your bare chest, it made you blush and you covered yourself.

“We’re friends,” Geto assured, grabbing your wrist. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other, remember?”

You let him pull your arms away from your chest and with a gorgeous smile, Geto placed his hands on your tits, rolling one nipple between his knuckles. He leaned forward to take your other tit in his mouth, causing you to moan audibly.

Gojo wasn’t shy to pull his pants down unlike Nanami who was still desperately trying to act like he was better than them. He wouldn’t stoop low like them. He wouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. But then why was he palming himself through his pants?

“Geto…”

“Suguru,” he told you, planting warm kisses on your chest.

“Suguru,” you repeated, gasping as he gently laid you down on the tatami floor.

Stunned, Nanami was unable to say anything as his upperclassman climbed on top of you on the floor of his room. He had told them to do whatever they were going to do anywhere but here. He had told them and Gojo-

“Yo, Nanami,” the guy in question spoke. “Wanna take her oral virginity?”

“What are you talking about?” This was all too much, he didn’t know anything about this.

“Ah, Geto’s taking her virginity cause I lost and he told me to decide whether to let you take her ass virginity or not but I’m feeling greedy, ya take her mouth.”

“I’m… I’m not a part of this!” Nanami’s voice was suppressed by your moan when Geto pinched your nipple. His cheeks tinted pink and he pulled his shirt down to cover his growing bulge.

“You are,” Gojo said, unashamedly spitting in his hand and wrapping it around the base of his cock while his eyes were on you. “I’ve seen ya jerk it off to her. With my own six eyes.”

Although the older one wasn’t looking at him, the mocking tone slapped Nanami in the face. At that moment he felt exposed. Gojo knew. He knew.

He knew how behind closed doors he had your panties scrunched in his hand, inhaling them deeply and jerking off to the picture Geto had emailed him. The low-quality photo had given him such good quality fantasies about you. But he wouldn’t act on them, he wasn’t like them.

He wasn’t-

“Suguru, wait,” you whined when he grabbed the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Nope, not waiting~” He pulled them down, and despite your protests, you lifted your hips to help him. Hooking his fingers into your panties, he peeled them down your legs agonizingly slowly.

(Without you seeing, he tossed them towards his friend who gratefully took them and wrapped them around his cock for extra friction.)

Immediately, you pressed your thighs together to cover your bare pussy. “I-I changed my mind.” Your cheeks were burning and your head was starting to spin. It was all happening too fast for your mind to catch up. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“I told you, we are all friends. Don’t you have any guy friends? This kind of stuff is normal between friends.” Geto’s calming tone was back, lulling you back into safety, telling you that it was all fine. “I’m going to be your first so that you’ll know exactly what to do next time.” There was a long pause and he pretended to frown, feigning being hurt. “I can stop if you want me to.”

Not wanting to disappoint him and fail this ritual of friendship, you shook your head. “N-no. I-I want this.”

Geto spread your legs and grabbed you by your ankles to pull you flush against his hips. “I want you too, pipsqueak.” A hand moved to palm himself through his pants, your eyes followed, watching him grab his bulge to show you how big he actually was.

Flustered, you averted your gaze but came face to face with something even more explicitly naughty.

Gojo’s pants were down to his thighs, enough to expose his cock. You saw his hand moving rapidly up and down on his cock with your panties around it, as he noticed your stare he quickened his hand.

“You shouldn’t look at some other guy when you’re doing it with me.” Geto put a hand on your cheek to turn your head to face him. Although you wanted to keep your eyes focused on his face, your gaze dropped onto his cock released from his pants.

Before you could get flustered over it, Geto cupped your pussy using a hand. His thumb grazed over your sensitive numb and two of his digits slid easily inside. You let out a sharp gasp, toes curling.

Ahh, this was why virgins were the best, awfully sensitive and obedient. The way they didn’t know what was being done to them was the best. Shy girls were the best. Geto loved fucking timid girls who trusted him with their whole life. Corrupting them, making them believe he loved them, and taking their innocence. You were his dark fantasy come alive as if you were made for him and him only.

However, Geto wasn’t that selfish. He could share. Sometimes.

“You’re soaking wet.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Why not?” Smiling he slid his fingers out of you and held them up to your face. Clear fluid was covering them from tip to base. He separated the digits and small strands of the fluids connecting his fingers thinned before splitting apart. “It’s the truth.” He opened his mouth, taking the digits in his mouth to lick your juices as you watched in shock. A low hum emerged from him as he contentedly licked his lips. “You taste sweeter than any candy.”

“Stooop,” you were giggling now, too flustered from his mellow words.

Even though he would love to tease you for hours and take all of your firsts for himself, Geto had to move on. He could hear Gojo grumbling under his breath aside from him jerking off. Also, there was the blonde one.

Geto glanced over his shoulder to steal a quick look at what Nanami was doing.

The second-year was watching intently. Waiting for his turn.

That made Geto chuckle and he turned to you, giving you all of his attention once again. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, giving it a simple pump. Though he wanted to stop at that thanks to his spit and the remaining of your juices on his hand, it helped his hand move smoothly, making him want to jerk himself until he came.

He quickly snapped out of it, positioning himself between your legs and dragging the tip of his cock along your folds before tapping lightly.

You murmured something.

“Hmm?”

“T-the condom,” you reminded shyly.

“It’s your first time, right?” he asked, almost too impatiently.

“Y-yes.”

“You’re completely safe on your first time.”

With that he shoved his entire length inside your virgin cunt, tearing your hymen. Both of you moaned for different reasons.

He slumped forward as your virgin walls pulsated around his cock, stretching around his girth and taking the shape of him.

“It hurts,” you mewled, grabbing onto his bicep. “Suguru, it hurts.” Tears welled up in your eyes and seeing that made Geto grow bigger inside of you. He tentatively pulled his hips back and pushed himself up from the floor to look at between your bodies.

His eyes were on the small amount of blood on his cock and dripping from your hole, staining the floor under you.

A sickeningly excited smile spread across his face and he slammed his hips into yours, making you cry out in pain. He planted both of his hands on the floor, each side of your head to gain more control over his pace, and started fucking you frantically.

Gojo let out a breathy laugh and tried matching his pace o his friend’s pace of fucking you. He wasn’t going to last long but Geto seemed like he was going to last longer.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pulling him closer rather than pushing him. He knew you needed the closure. This was something lovers did with each other and Geto wanted to teach you all of it. Definitely not because fucking timid and innocent girls was his fetish.

His thrusts were like an animal in heat, desperately and frenziedly hammering into your pussy. Each time his balls slapped against your ass you let out a shaky moan, the pain now a faint memory.

Your narrow entrance and virgin walls clamping on his cock were heavenly. Every time he moved, your pussy throbbed, clenching around him and you let out those adorable moans he was desperate to hear. He couldn’t stop moving his hips, it was impossible.

“Am I doing good?” you asked, gasping sharply between each word.

Innocent, so innocent.

Geto completely lost himself.

He grabbed the back of your knee and pushed both legs until he could mount you entirely.

In this position he was going so deep, it made your eyelashes flutter and you lost your vision for a moment.

His cock continued stroking your gummy insides while he thrust in your cunt with a vigorous pace but he couldn’t last long because of your virgin walls squeezing around him like you were trying to milk him dry.

He managed to steal a few more thrusts before his cock started twitching inside you. Geto pushed himself balls deep inside you and the tip of his cock kissed your cervix, making your toes curl as his cock spurted thick ropes of cum inside your womb, filling your tummy.

You could feel his seed fill your womb and overflow, as well as the slight twitch of his balls on your skin. It made you bite your lip, your face was wet with tears and possibly snot. However, it didn’t stop Geto from leaning down to kiss you while he continued fucking his cum into you.

Once he broke the kiss, you got to get a good look at his handsome face. His hair was a mess, his bun had mostly come undone and small strands were sticking to his forehead from sweat.

Before the two of you could enjoy the afterglow or catch your breaths, you heard Gojo clear his throat.

Suddenly, shame overflowed all of your senses. Geto on the other hand was unphased, he pulled out of you to watch his cum ooze out from your pussy with amusement. He then whipped his head around to glare at Gojo. “Can’t you stop breathing so hard and moaning when you’re jerking off? I don’t wanna hear any of that when I’m fucking.”

The breaking of the character was fine. You were still lost in your own thoughts and unable to comprehend anything other than how you had lost your virginity to some ‘bad boy’ who was only kind to you. You laid on the floor, exhausted and stuck in your mind.

Gojo laughed, “Nanami, you’re seeing this? I told you he gets sooo mad when you do it, heheh”

“You’re speaking too bravely for someone who has his dick out.” Geto sat on the tatami floor, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Ya gonna suck it?”

“I will kill you,” he hissed.

The two were arguing with each other when Nanami got up from where he was sitting and walked over to you.

“Ah.” Gojo was smirking, staring at the tent on the blonde one’s pants. “He’s going at it.”

Geto hummed approvingly.

Nanami crouched next to your head, staring at your bare chest up close. You were gorgeous, your skin looked so soft and your face stained with tears…

He had been trying and trying and trying to hold back but you were too stunning. Seeing you from their perspectives had enchanted him, arousing him to the point of being unable to think clearly.

“Nanami?”

Your eyes were clouded with lust and he could see his own reflection in them. Right now, you needed him and he was more than willing to provide.

Nanami placed a hand on your cheek and caressed the soft skin before leaning in for a kiss. You didn’t refuse, accepting his lips pressing against yours. You tried moving them like Geto had done with you but Nanami’s kiss… It was more gentle yet more possessive. He pushed his tongue inside to twirl your tongues together, to make sure you remembered his taste for a lifetime as he desperately tried savoring yours.

Placing one hand on your tit to knead the soft flesh, he used his other hand to pull down his pants, releasing his aching cock free. As soon as his cock was out, he grabbed your hand and guided it to his exposed cock.

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand back, breaking the kiss.

“Nanami, you can’t-”

“You are friends, right?” Gojo interrupted, appearing behind Nanami.

It was quiet for a moment before you nodded ever so hesitantly and looked at Nanami, attempting to avoid looking at his cock hovering over your face.

“Nanami wants you to be his first.” Gojo grinned down at you, pushing his sunglasses up to his hair.

“F-first? His-”

Nanami flushed bright red at the revelation and you found yourself blushing as well.

“You should help him out like Suguru did to you! That’s what friends are for!” Gojo’s encouraging words and the power of friendship talk were too much, Nanami almost went limp until Gojo grabbed your hand and guided it back to Nanami’s cock. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Both of you flinched at the intimate skin contact.

Gojo assisted your hand to wrap around the base and slide it up slowly towards the tip glistening with precum. You didn’t need to use your spit to get him nice and slick as his own precum was more than enough. Your classmate made you pull the thin skin towards the tip down to expose the pink tip of the blonde one’s cock whose shoulders tensed in response. “He seems to be sensitive around the tip. You should use your mouth and tease the tip, (name)! On second thought, he would love it if you let him use your mouth!”

All you did was to open your mouth to approve.

Oh, so obedient.

Nanami on the other hand was being torn apart.

He was better than this. He was a good person. He wouldn’t be the type of person to take advantage of some dumb girl to indulge in his own fantasies and-

“Here, lemme help, Nanami.”

Putting his hands on the younger one’s hips, Gojo pushed Nanami forward into your mouth. Your teeth barely grazed against the tip and he moaned at the sensation of your warm mouth. He couldn’t even get angry at Gojo.

Geto sat on the other side of you and instructed you to move closer to Nanami so you could take him in your mouth completely. He placed a hand on the back of your head and helped you bob your head, giving you praises.

Gojo didn’t need to move Nanami’s hips anymore, the blonde one was too lost in pleasure to hesitate or think about his nonexistent pride.

With you being on your hands and knees as you were giving Nanami a blowjob, Geto gave Gojo a thumb up, telling him everything was good to go.

Finally, getting his turn, Gojo slowly crawled behind you like a predator about to bounce on its unaware prey. He spat in his palm and started jerking himself off to get hard again, he had lost count of how many times he had come when Geto was devouring your cunt but he could go on until the morning.

“Arch your back, pipsqueak.”

Complying Geto’s words, you lifted your ass up in the air.

“Now, Gojo’s going to do something really naughty. Be careful not to bite Nanami.”

You made a noise in protest but Nanami silenced you with a sudden thrust of his hips. The tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat, making you gag. Which worked in his favor because now he could shove his cock further down your throat thanks to your tongue laying flat and jaw unclenched.

Gojo put a hand on your ass cheek and spread it, groping the soft flesh before drooling over your hole.

A wave of panic washed over you and you moved your hips to get away. Gojo had you exactly where he wanted though, he pushed two digits inside and stretched them slowly in a scissoring motion. He was breathing heavily while rubbing his cock at the display of you getting skullfucked and ass being played with by him.  

You started squirming, letting out panicked noises that were being muffled by Nanami’s cock in your mouth. The blonde was going insane by your throat clenching around him. His hips slammed into your face, shoving his cock down and down and down until your nose met the blonde hair on the base.

A cough, a gag, and suddenly your face was turning blue. Nanami had a sick expression on his face and the other two were too busy to notice your current problem of not being able to breathe.

“Satoru, stop making gross noises.”

“I can’t help it, she’s so erotic.” He gasped, incapable of holding another second back. He pressed the tip of his cock on your entrance and slowly pushed it inside.

Nanami grabbed a chunk of your hair and started fucking your face. He couldn’t stop thrusting inside your mouth and ravishing you. Making you his own cockslut.

Gojo was still trying to push himself inside you but you were just so tight.

“Shouldn’t you prepare her a little more?” Geto hid a laugh behind his hand.

“I like it tight,” Gojo replied, placing his hands on your hips to pull you towards himself as he was pushing into you.

Not letting you rest, Gojo pulled his hips back, only to suddenly slam into you until almost his entire length was inside. Gojo’s fun was cut short though, as Nanami was choking you with his cock, your walls clenched around Gojo’s cock enough to make him cum instantly.

Geto still hadn’t noticed your face turning blue and had thought his friend just couldn’t hold back anymore. He burst into laughter, making fun of him

The vibrations coming from your throat while you were trying to scream were too much for Nanami to handle. His cock twitched inside your throat moments before he came down your throat. He pulled out and rested his cock on your lips as the tip was still spurting his creamy seed.

He held you in place by your hair as your mouth opened and you tried spitting out his cum. Brows furrowing in pain and anger you glared up at him through your lashes that also happened to be covered in cum. Closing one eye, you continued glaring at him.

“Ahh, you look great covered in cum,” he said, wiping his cum away from your lips using his thumb and pressing a long kiss on your swollen lips. “Sorry, I got over myself.”

After his apology, your mood changed instantly. “Did it feel good?”

“It felt amazing!” Gojo answered instead of Nanami, “This guy probably felt good too, I saw his legs shaking in pleasure. You’re such a good girl, (name)!”

“She’s talented and lovely too.” Geto used your own pajama top to wipe your face. “Just my type.” He patted on your head, pressing a chaste kiss on your hair.

Now, you were blushing. “T-thank you.” You sat on the floor in the middle of all of them. Realizing that you were the only bare-naked person in the room made you cover yourself. “Um… Can I get a blanket or something?”

Nanami did as you politely asked while the other two started plotting their next move.

It was too easy to please you. Easier than to trick you.

Nanami joining them would make everything go butter smooth, this ‘friends don’t have boundaries with each other’ play could go on until you graduated. Geto was smirking at Gojo as he lit a cigarette, their senior year was going to be as boring as he thought it was going to be.

~~~

When Shoko returned to the campus three weeks after leaving, she wasn’t expecting you to be there.

But there you were in the secret smoking spot, sitting on Geto’s lap and trying to smoke a cigarette while Gojo laughed at your coughing. Nanami was smoking quietly but a gentle expression was on his face as he watched you try taking a drag from the cigarette again.

Perhaps, you were dumber than she gave you credit for. She wasn’t the one to judge though, she lit a cigarette and walked towards the group to join them teasing you.

[luminnara]

I wonder what Dick would be like trying to flirt on the lead up if the mission, trying to be smooth and cool before screaming next to Weasel. The back track of trying to be cool again after than freak out would be glorious and I would probably fall for it, lol

Dick Hertz x fem!reader

This ended up way longer than intended and I am not mad about that lol

Sfw but raunchy!

Requests for oneshots and HCs are open!

You were no stranger to the concept of the suicide squad.

Thanks to your own colorful past, and powers that you couldn’t always quite control at first, you were stuck serving out a long ass sentence at Belle Reve, the shittiest shit hole of them all. Your only escape from the mundane, high-security monotony was the occasional mission from Waller.

The Suicide Squad—more officially known as Task Force X—was the latest installment in Amanda Waller’s series of highly classified, top secret, black ops teams. She chose Belle Reve’s most infamous criminals, many of whom had extraordinary powers and even more extraordinary reputations, and tossed them together on incredibly dangerous missions. You knew she didn’t care whether you lived or died, but successfully completing such impossible tasks always cut time off your sentence, and with nothing else to do with your time, you always thought it was worth the risk.

And besides...you hadn’t died yet.

So when Waller approached you during your daily yard time, you already knew what to expect.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumbled as you followed her into the exam room and plopped down in the same old chair. “I know the drill. I go off mission, you blow my brains out.”

“—with the explosive device implanted in the base of your skull. Correct.” Waller said, unimpressed.

“And what, you have to give me a fresh one?” You raised an eyebrow as the doctor made you lean forward. “Lose the button for the last one or something? Or are you afraid that just one won’t do the job?”

Waller looked even less impressed. “I suggest you put a lid on that attitude today.”

“Why?” You winced at the feeling of a thick needle pushing into the back of your neck. “Jesus, fuck! Seriously, how many little bombs do I need in my head?”

“Good luck, puppy.” The doctor sneered as you stood up to follow Waller back out into the corridor.

“This is a black ops mission.” She continued with her usual spiel. “Your commanding officer is Colonel Rick Flag.”

You gasped. “The Colonel Rick Flag?”

She turned to glance at you.

“I have no idea who that is.”

You could hear her sigh in exasperation. “Suit up and go outside to the transport. You’ll meet the rest of the team and fly out to Corto Maltese.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Yeah, the Suicide Squad was a nice distraction from your shitty everyday life...but putting your ass on the line for someone who didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died, and who was always hovering above the button that would splatter your brains all over the wall, wasn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world.

Waller waited as you ducked into a room to change. There was a black box waiting for you, and upon opening it, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your old gear. The dark gray leather suit fit like a glove, and your gun had been cleaned and polished after your last mission, the painfully bright fluorescent lights reflecting off of the barrel with a gleam. You grabbed your gloves and strapped your ammo belts on before buckling a gray carbon fiber mask on.

Wearing your own stuff always lifted your spirits. It was the suit you’d been arrested in a few years ago back in Metropolis, and after seizing it, the feds had been nice enough to give it some upgrades with newer tech. Anything to make you a better government-sanctioned killing machine, you guessed, and it’s not like you were gonna turn it down. After all, killing was how you ended up in Belle Reve in the first place, and it was one of the only things you were good at...it just made sense for Waller to want to put your near-inhuman skills to good use.

You walked out to join her again, lugging a canvas bag of equipment and supplies along behind you.

“Pick that up and carry it correctly.” She snapped as the doors at the end of the hall opened.

“Why don’t you eat my—“

You interrupted yourself by groaning at the bright sunlight as it hit your eyes, raising a hand to shield your face as you managed to spot an armored truck waiting for you.

“You’ll have a lot of new teammates.” Waller called after you. “Be on your best behavior. I’m not responsible for anything they do to you.”

“Probably just a bunch of old farts like always!” You yelled back as you jumped up into the back of the vehicle.

Two guards sat down on either side of you as you got yourself settled in. There was another woman already waiting, her skin orange, her hair in a high ponytail that seemed to be pulled through the top of her helmet. She was regarding you with very little interest, and that was absolutely fine with you. You had a few friends within the Belle Reve prison complex, and you weren’t necessarily looking for more.

The ride was short and uneventful. You passed through a few gates that took forever to open, waited for a few security checks, the usual shit. When the truck came to a halt and you hopped out again, you were at a small airbase hosting a few hangars for planes and helicopters, one of the latter already sitting outside. Guards from Belle Reve were lining the circle of armored vehicles, and as yours joined them and the back doors were opened once more, you grimaced at the bright sunlight.

“Afraid of a little sun?” The orange woman laughed, baring her teeth at you.

“Hurts my eyes,” you mumbled, jumping down after her.

You landed on pavement, looking down at your feet in an attempt to avoid the oncoming headache you knew was imminent. When your shoulder rammed into someone, though, you had to look up anyway.

What you saw wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

A good looking blond guy was looking down at you, a cocky grin on his face. “Whoa, didn’t realize we were getting a babe this time!”

You glared at him, grateful for the mask covering the lower half of your face.

He couldn’t see you blush that way.

“Little girl’s got some ammo, huh?” He reached for one of the belts strapped across your chest,

Your hand flew up to grab his wrist and you held him in a Vice-like grip, your glare more pointed now. “Touch me, and you can see some of it from behind your eyeballs.”

Blondie whistled lowly, relaxing his arm. “You’re tough, huh? I like that in a girl.”

You dropped his wrist and rolled your eyes. “Still gonna like it when I’m ripping your balls off?”

You could swear he was swooning on his feet. “Baby, you are a goddamn tease...”

“Oy, Dickhead!” An Australian voice rang out, “back off!”

His grin faltered for a moment, obvious disappointment flashing over his face. “Oh. Got a man already. Damn.”

“Who, Boomer?” You grinned, unclipping your mask as you turned to wave at one of your only friends. “Nah, I’d never fuck that wanker.”

“I heard that!” The gold-toothed Aussie yelled.

You let out a loud laugh as you looked back to blondie.

You were caught off guard by the actual, genuine look on his face. He was admiring your smile now that your mask was off, his eyes lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second longer than they should have. He was trying to be smooth, you could tell, and most people wouldn’t have noticed something so slight...but you were an assassin working your way through a couple life sentences, and you weren’t most people.

It all only lasted a moment before the cocky grin was back. “So, after this, you wanna come back to my cell, maybe we could, you know...” he waggled his eyebrows at you, making a hip thrusting motion you almost couldn’t believe a grown criminal was making.

“Maybe focus on not dying first, slim.” You patted his chest before turning towards Boomer, leaving blondie to stare after you—or more precisely, your ass—with a dramatic, longing look.

Your friend was regarding you with an amused expression. “Flirtin’ on the job? Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Shut up.” You punched his arm a little too hard and he winced. “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Dick,” Boomer said, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t call me a dick—“

“No, dumbass, that’s his name. Richard Hertz.”

“...very funny, Boomer, but there’s no fucking way his parents named their kid Dick Hertz.”

Boomer shrugged. “Believe me or don’t, I don’t care. Either way, it’s the truth.”

You scoffed and stole a glance over at your new admirer. He was tall and pretty well built, platinum blond hair short, lips pulled back in a grin that showed off straight white teeth. He was dressed in all black, two guns holstered to his chest, and as he messed with a Belle Reve guard by pretending to reach for one, he looked like an overgrown child who should not have been allowed to hold onto firearms.

“Please tell me he’s got a cooler name,” you groaned.

“Why? So you can scream it at night?” Boomer cackled. “He goes by Blackguard. He’s pretty strong from what I hear. Prolly pretty fun in bed, too.”

You wrinkled your nose and rounded on Boomer. “Shut up.”

“You like him.” Your friend grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Just remember to name your kid after good ol’ Uncle Boomer.”

You gave him a rough shove and he stumbled back a few steps, laughing like a madman the entire time.

“Hey!” One of the guards barked at you.

Rather than pushing your luck with your armed babysitters, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. More cars were pulling up, dropping off the rest of your comrades, and while Boomer was distracted with them, you stole another glance at Dick.

He was still messing with the same guard, and was receiving some harsh warning glares in the process. Was he a complete idiot, or was he so cocky because he could actually handle it? He had to have ended up in Belle Reve for a reason. It wasn’t the type of place you went to for innocent misdemeanors. And if he was chosen for a Suicide Squad mission, that meant that his sentence was long enough to warrant risking his life to lessen it...and it also meant that he was useful.

When he winked at you, you realized with a start that he had totally noticed the way you were checking him out.

Fuck.

“Time to load up!” A voice yelled, saving you from any further embarrassment.

A few minutes later, you were strapping yourself into your seat on the chopper, pretending not to notice as Dick struggled with his seatbelt across from you. The guy sitting next to him had to help, and when you finally couldn’t help yourself, you let out a quiet laugh from behind your mask.

Dick’s head shot up to look at you, that cocky grin plastered to his face again.

“Wish you were over here helpin’ me,” he said bravely. “Rather have your hands down by my—“

“Dick.” Colonel Flag warned as he stood above you all with his gun in his hands.

Boomer let out a loud laugh at the unintentionally dirty euphemism and you snorted.

“What? Just makin’ some conversation,” Blackguard said, leaning towards you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. “You don’t mind, do ya, Princess?”

Your cheeks were heating up behind your mask, and he could see the way your eyes crinkled slightly with your smile.

God, he wished he could see your smile again.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice said. “Had to go number two.”

“...Good to know.” Flag sighed as none other than Harley Quinn herself hopped in.

“Harley!” You called, reaching for her with grabby hands as she looked for her seat.

“Hey there, baby!” The pale blonde woman greeted, slamming her equipment bag into Savant’s head. “Hey, Boomer!”

“What’re you doin’ back in prison, Harls?” Boomer asked, hanging onto the nylon mesh cage behind him as he stretched his arms out.

“Got road rage. In a bank.” She finally found a spot between you and Javelin, and as Flag checked everyone over, the chopper took off into the air.

The lighting was dim and red, the thrumming of the helicopter blades blending in with the white noise of the pressurized cabin. Save for that, it was quiet for a while, everybody either sizing each other up, or, in Dick’s case, imagining how you looked under your suit.

“So, uh...how much longer you in for?” He asked you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t exactly think I should be talkin’ about sneakin’ into your cell while Flag is here to rat me out about it,” Dick grinned.

You caught the colonel rolling his eyes.

“Hey, that never stopped anybody,” Harley said brightly.

“Boutta be in a whole big ass jungle,” Boomer elbowed you in the side. “Plentya room in there to be alone.”

You groaned as Dick gave you a sly grin.

“Y’know, this mission’ll be over in no time.” He said, stretching his arms out behind his head. “I’ve got some wicked ass powers. I got this.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, recognizing the way he was trying to peacock and impress you. “Not worried about anything?”

“Baby, I’ll carry this whole team. Just you watch.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Dick.” You bit his name out as more of an insult, but he didn’t seem to care, giving you another wink.

He obviously thought that his flirting and posturing was working...but you were pretty sure he was just annoying. Cute, but annoying. Maybe good for a hook up here or there...but that was about it.

“We’re in a butcher’s freezer, Harls!” Boomer called from the other end of the bench. “Surrounded by dead hogs hangin’ on hooks. Only they don’t know it yet.”

“Leave ‘em alone, Boomer!” She called back with a laugh.

You chuckled at your friends, leaning your head back as you settled in for the flight. Harley was complimenting Javelin’s accent, you still didn’t know what TDK stood for, and Boomer was just starting to mess with him about the fact that all names were made of letters when the freaky weasel-thing next to Dick stole everyone’s attention.

It was one of the strangest creatures you had ever seen. Human height, covered in mangy brown fur, with big bulging eyes and a mouth full of sharp little teeth all made it both fascinating and concerning to look at, and as it made a few disgustingly wet retching sounds, Dick nodded towards it.

“Yo, is this a dog?” He asked.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief. He had to be fucking with you, right? There was no way he meant it.

“Is this thing a dog?” He repeated.

“A...a dog?”

“Yes.”

“What...what kinda dog do you think it is, mate?” Boomer asked.

“I dunno, I’m not familiar with all the breeds.” Dick gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m gonna go with Afghan hound.” TDK said.

“Since when does an afghan hound have bloody thumbs?”

“Oh my god, is it a werewolf?” Harley asked excitedly. “I’ve wanted to meet a werewolf for ever!”

Dick was already up and struggling against his restraints. “Yo, they sat me next to a werewolf?!”

“That’s not right,” TDK agreed as his neighbor slammed into him in his desperate attempt at an escape.

Boomer was laughing loudly, and you couldn’t help but join in. “You’re seriously scared of werewolves?”

Dick glanced up at you as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Yes, I fuckin’ am! So fuckin’—get me out! I do not fuck with werewolves, there is no fuckin’ way—“

“Maybe you should hop onto your new girlfriend’s lap!” Boomer cackled, jabbing a finger towards you.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, and as you saw the look in Blackguard’s eyes, you were pretty convinced that he was about to try to tear his way out so that he actually could.

“Hey, hey, he’s not a werewolf!” Flag yelled over the commotion. “He’s a weasel, he’s harmless! I mean, he’s not harmless, he’s killed 27 children, but I—I think we got him to—I think he’s agreed to this, so relax.”

“Thought you were super tough?” You asked as Dick calmed down and caught his breath. “Gonna carry the whole team?”

Rather than the snarky flirtation you expected, he actually looked a bit defeated. When you raised an eyebrow, though, he took the prompt, and the most desperate backtracking you had ever seen began.

“Yeah, well...” he scoffed, trying to give you a cool look. “Caught me off guard, that’s all. No big deal.”

“Off guard? Isn’t guard, like, in your name?” You teased, your smile genuine behind your mask. Alright...he was winning you over now. He was an idiot, but...maybe he was a lovable one.

He faltered for a second. “I-I mean, yeah, well...”

Flag was shaking his head. “Get into position to drop!”

Everyone unbuckled themselves and collected their things, lining up to jump into the ocean off the coast of Corto Maltese. When you saw that Dick was back to struggling with it, again, you smiled to yourself and leaned down in front of him.

“For what it’s worth...” you said as you pulled up on the metal tab, your hand dangerously close to his crotch, “I wouldn’t mind shacking up somewhere in the jungle with you.”

He stated at you with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face. He really was cuter when he wasn’t putting on such a dumb, cocky facade, and he jumped up as quickly as he could to follow you.

You just laughed as you straightened up and walked away, Blackguard right on your heels. As the door opened and the big, dark ocean came into view below you, you felt a hand brushing against your hip and a firm chest press up against your back. You realized you could have stayed right there forever, patiently waiting to see how far he was brave enough to go...but you were both members of the Suicide Squad, and you had a job to do.

“I’ll see you down there, Dick,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“See you on the other side, baby,” he grinned.

[thatfanficstuff]

Not About You - 8

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x ofc

Warnings: nothing beyond canon

a/n: who knows what happened to the teenager? Damon didn't save her this time.

Damon finally decreed it safe enough to go vampire hunting. So, Lucy was wandering around the rundown area of town armed with stakes and the compass. Ordinarily she would have brought her guns that were equipped to fire vervain or wood bullets but as she didn’t know who she might run into, she decided to leave them behind. The last thing they needed was for her to attract more attention from the sheriff or her deputies.

She had driven around following the pointing of the compass but had shifted to walking when it seemed she was getting closer to their vampire. It was the best way to pinpoint where they needed to go.

“Find anything yet?” Damon asked. They’d been talking over the phone while she searched.

“Don’t you think I would have mentioned it, Salvatore? I’m looking. Be patient.”

He snorted. “Have you met me? Patience is not in my repertoire.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. Okay, I’ve walked around to doublecheck and I’m pretty sure it’s pointing at this old warehouse. What do we do now?”

“Now, you go home and let me handle this.” Damon’s voice came from behind her making Lucy jump.

She spun around and gave him a little shove. “I hate it when you do that. And I’m not going anywhere. I don’t accessorize with stakes for the hell of it.”

Damon sighed and grasped her elbow to stop her when she tried to walk past him to the building. “Please, Lucy. Just go home. I need to know you’re safe.”

She frowned. “I’ll compromise. You go in and I’ll wait here for ten minutes. If you aren’t back by then, I’m coming in after you.”

“Fine. Ten minutes. But you don’t come in no matter what you hear until the time is up.” He pointed a finger in her face to make sure she was paying attention.

“Don’t come in unless you scream for help. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said at all but I’ll let it go because you have a point.”

Lucy gasped and put a hand on her chest. “Did the great Damon Salvatore just admit that I’m right?”

“I never said that. I simply conceded that you had a point.” He released his hold on her and took a step back.

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

Lucy sighed and shook her head. “Whatever, Salvatore. Let’s just get this over with.”

Damon broke the handle on the door and disappeared inside. She checked the time then leaned against the lone car in the parking lot, stake in hand and arms crossed. Only a couple of minutes passed before three gunshots rang out.

Lucy straightened. Why the hell did a vampire have a gun? And why the hell didn’t she have hers. Damn it. She chewed on the inside of her lip as she debated whether to go inside or not. Another minute or so passed before there was another shot. This time she heard Damon yell out.

“Okay, he didn’t call for help, but close enough.” She jogged around the building searching for another entrance. The gunshots had followed Damon’s appearance way too soon for her to use the same door. Maybe a different entry point would give her better odds.

She found another door around the corner of the building. It was far enough from the one Damon had used that she felt better about her chances. Lucy pulled her lockpicking set from the pocket of her cargo pants and knelt before the door. It was another skill she’d picked up from her uncle. Well, not from him directly. He was far too proper for that, but he found someone to teach her. Just in case. He was big on making certain she was prepared for the just in cases.

Once she heard the click of the lock, Lucy put away her tools and took a deep breath. Gripping the stake in one hand, she used the other to ease open the door. Apparently, it was tucked away behind a wall of boxes which she profusely thanked the powers that be for as she quietly closed the door.

She stayed hidden by the boxes and listened, hoping she could pinpoint the location of the two vampires. Gods, she hoped it was only the two vampires. Wouldn’t that suck to find a whole bunch more? Too late to back out now. Stupid Damon. This was his fault.

Quiet conversation drifted to her and she tilted her head as if that would help her hear better. She recognized Damon’s voice but couldn’t place the other male voice. Given the acoustics in the warehouse, it was difficult to pinpoint their location but she made the best guess she could and crept in that direction while doing her best to stay hidden.

As the voices grew louder, the boxes grew sparser. Through a gap, Lucy caught sight of Damon in conversation with another man. They were both sitting on the floor, but Damon’s shirt looked wet. She had a sneaking suspicion it was blood. She clenched her teeth and worked a muscle in her jaw. A half-assed plan came to her which was better than no plan at all, she supposed.

Lucy retraced her steps until she returned to the area where the boxes were denser. Taking a deep breath, she braced her feet and shoved. Shit they were heavy. The stack weaved slightly and she pushed on it again. One more shove had the whole pile coming down. She scrambled away from the area as quickly and quietly as she could. This vampire better be too stupid to listen for her heartbeat or she was screwed.

Damon’s companion jumped to his feet and turned while keeping the weapon pointed at her friend. He looked familiar but Lucy couldn’t place him. “Who’s there?” he called.

When she didn’t respond, he glanced back at Damon. “Who is it? Your brother, maybe? No, he would have already tried something. Oh, I know. It’s that bitch that’s always panting over you.”

“Watch yourself, Fell.”

Fell? As in Logan Fell? She thought he was dead. Well, technically he was.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet. He’s defending your honor.” Logan shot a round into Damon’s leg and Lucy clenched her teeth together to keep from crying out. “Come out and maybe I won’t shoot him again.”

“Don’t,” Damon ordered as he dug at the wound on his leg. He found the bullet and tossed it aside.

“Now, Damon, it’s not very nice warning her off. I thought we were getting along.”

“You shot me.”

Logan tilted his head from side to side. “True.” And with that, he shot him again. In the stomach this time.

Okay, this shit had to stop. She stepped out from behind the boxes. “Enough.”

The asshole laughed. “It is the pretty little bitch.” His laughter stopped and his smile fell. “How stupid of you.” He put three more rounds in Damon before turning the gun on her. “Drop the stake.”

Damon groaned. “Don’t, Lucy.”

Her gaze moved between the two men. There was no way she was getting close to Logan before he put a bullet in her head. “I have to, Damon. I’m sorry.”

She tossed her stake at Logan’s feet.

He glanced at it with a smirk. “You really are a dumb bitch.” His face changed and he charged, ready to make her a meal.

“No,” Damon yelled in anguish just as Logan gasped in pain.

He looked down, his face twisted in confusion as Lucy let go of the stake she’d planted in his chest. He fell to the floor and she kicked the stake with the back of her heel to drive it a little deeper. Her target turned an unflattering shade of gray as he died. Permanently this time.

“Who’s the bitch now?” Lucy asked as she turned to face her best friend.

Damon’s mouth was open as he shifted his gaze between her and the body at her feet.

She shrugged. “Did you really think I’d go vampire hunting with nothing more than a single stake? You should know me better than that. I had one up each sleeve and a couple stashed in pockets. Have a little faith, Salvatore.”

He grunted as he pulled out another bullet to toss it aside. “Forgive me, Williams. I should know better than to underestimate you.”

The wee hours of the next morning arrived with Damon jumping on Lucy’s bed to wake her. “Road Trip.”

She groaned in annoyance. “What. The. Fuck. is wrong with you?”

“No need to be snippy, kitten.” He leaned on one elbow to look at her while she glared at him.

“Have I wronged you in some manner? In a previous life maybe?”

He frowned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then why do you insist on waking me up all the time?” Her voice was just short of a yell.

Rather than being at all cowed, Damon smirked before hitting her in the face with her spare pillow. “Get moving. You can sleep in the car.”

Lucy continued to complain but she tossed the covers aside. As she reached her closet, she glanced over her shoulder at the vampire. “Make yourself useful, Salvatore, and get me some coffee.”

“You got it, kitten.”

And he was gone before she could even complain.

Originally, Lucy had intended to stay awake and talk to Damon during the drive. Then she saw that it was three o’clock in the morning and opted to get some more sleep for both of their sanities.

It was after eight when she woke again. “Where are we?”

He glanced at her with a smile. “South Carolina.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “And where we going?”

“Georgia.”

She thought for a moment before nodding her head. “Okay. Why?”

“I want a drink and thought we could use a change of scenery.” His ever present smirk twisted his lips.

“I wouldn’t put it past you, but seriously, why?” She leaned back in her seat and pressed her bare feet against the dash in front of her.

Damon smacked her feet. “Feet down, Williams.”

Lucy left her feet where they were. “Why?”

“There’s a witch I want to talk to, okay?”

She shrugged and glanced out the window.

Damon grumbled beside her and she looked over with an arched brow. “Problem, vampy?”

“Feet,” he shouted.

She straightened and slid her feet back into her shoes, leaving them on the floor when she finished. “Calm down, Salvatore. All you had to do was ask.”

[officialscaramouche]

HOLAA 🕴 COOULD I ASK OF A READER THATS THE YOUNGEST HABRINGER (like teenager) AND LIKE THE HARBINGERS BECOME LIKE A FAM TO THEM AND OLDER SIBLINGS AND PLATONIC FLUFF? JUST IMAGINE MEAN SCARA LOOKING ALL INTIMIDATING AND THE READER NEXT TO HIM WITH THEIR PYRO VISION AND SOME FIREWORKS LIKE A CHAOTIC CHILD-

I didn’t explicitly say that they’re in ur little circle but I mean it’s pretty obvious ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pairing: platonic Tartaglia x reader, platonic Scaramouche x reader

tw: there are two fucks

wc: 1,019

It was incredible how you could hold a ball of fire and not get burned by it. You wiggled your fingers as the flames warmed your hand, staring into the brightly colored fire intently, before crushing it between your fist. The dreadful feeling of embarrassment and shame washed over you as you recalled your recent assignment.

You were recruited by the Fatui not long ago. Apparently someone had died and you took their place. You were young, but you weren’t ignorant to battle. Growing up in Natlan taught you how to survive with only your fists. But the Fatui was more than you imagined on the day of your recruitment. “You’ll be acting as a representative of our organization,” the recruiter explained. “You are the full stop when things don’t go our way. And you will be face to face with strong opponents.”

“I can handle that.” You said simply, not truly knowing what was in store for you.

Your first assignment was given to you by the Tsaritsa herself. Her beauty and kindness fueled you with pride and excitement. The people around you warned you not to celebrate too early, but your fellow Harbingers told you otherwise. “You’ll do great,” one of them said.

“Something like this is easy.” A pair of twins said. “It’s difficult to fuck up reconnaissance.”

But somehow you did manage to fuck up reconnaissance anyway, giving away your team’s position to the enemy camp. You were overwhelmed and unprepared, as reconnaissance assignments don't require on-field battle equipment. At most, everyone was given a flare gun for MIA soldiers.

Needless to say, you were pretty embarrassed to meet with the Tsaritsa for an informal report. You were practically shaking in your boots while waiting for the Tsaritsa’s call, when one of your fellow Harbingers took the seat beside you. “What happened out there?” He asked, his hair matted and filthy from being in the field for two weeks. “You were deployed, like, three days ago.”

You buried your face in your hands and shrunk. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hid behind them so as to avoid making eye contact with him. “I messed up!” You cried, your voice muffled against your thighs. “It was all my fault! I slipped on some weak stonewall and fell right into their camp! My team was right behind me, with nowhere to go and no directions to follow!”

The harbinger put his hand on your back and pulled you in. He was the friendliest of them all, you thought, as he was always talkative and cheerful. “Ahh, it’s okay comrade! We all make mistakes!”

“Not like this,” you grumbled, peeking over to look at his blue eyes and vibrant orange hair. “I pushed all further assignments back by at least two months!” The man laughed at your worries and nearly keeled over in his chair. “It’s not funny, Tartaglia!”

“Don’t worry, I said! I promise you everyone is delighted about having their assignments pushed back. Except for maybe the ones on the field.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head. “I thought I was the only one out there? Who else was on the field?”

“Me.” You hear a hoarse voice behind you. You spin in your seat in shock, hoping to dear Archons that it wasn’t who you thought it was.

“The B-Balladeer!” You cry out anxiously. “I’m so sorry!!”

Scaramouche looked as cool as ever, despite not donning his mushi no tareginu. He had swapped his shoes for the building’s clean ones and was nearly in an entirely new outfit. The only exception was that he still wore his Harbinger badge and held his insignia, that is normally on his chest, in his hand. “It’s fine,” he kind of sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was out there with the twins. However, everyone was recalled.” Scaramouche took the other seat next to you, sandwiching you between the two Harbingers.

Tartaglia reached across you and pointed at Scaramouche. “What did you do about the equipment?” He chuckled as he spoke.

Scaramouche slapped the hand away from him and snarled. “What else do you think we did?! You think the recovery team will come out on such short notice?!” Tartaglia erupted into laughter, clutching his abdomen and throwing his head back. Scaramouche rose to his feet and grabbed Tartaglia’s grimey collar. “I really hate you, you know! You’re so annoying!”

Before you realized, you had a little smile on your face. It was relaxing having them bicker and make fun of each other, and made you forget all about your upcoming informal report. But when you did remember it, you weren’t the only one there to give one. They were here for that too.

Tartaglia raised his hands in defeat as his eyes swirled with dizziness. Scaramouche continued to shake the man by his collar with a nasty scowl on his face. “Thank you, guys,” you giggled, catching their attention. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Still in the Balladeer’s hold, Tartaglia sobered up and gave you a charming grin. “Everybody makes mistakes, [Y/N]. I’ll always be here to cheer you up and help you train.”

Throwing the man back into his chair, Scaramouche dusted his hands off of the dirt and sweat from Tartaglia’s clothes and coughed into a fist. “Yeah, me too or whatever. But I won’t be able to help you if you get written up.”

Tartaglia scratched his chin. “Oh yeah, we can’t do anything about that, sorry.”

You clap your hands together proudly. “That’s okay. I’ll give her my best pathetic performance and hopefully I can convince her to let me off with a warning!”

The men kind of chuckle at your comment before your name was called from the Tsaritsa’s room by her assistant. “[Y/N]!”

You feel the sweat running down your temple but there was nothing you could do about it now. “Kick some ass, [Y/N].” Tartaglia cheered, extending out a closed fist to encourage a fist bump. You lightly tap the backs of your fingers against his and steady your resolve as you stand.

[spencers-renaissance]

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly

Summary: After Spencer fails his firearm recertification, the FBI believes some hand-to-hand combat and self-defence training is in order, and who better to administer it than the BAU's very own, Derek Morgan? Everything goes swimmingly until Derek decides to simulate an attack from above, and Spencer's thrust into the throes of a horrific flashback.

Tags: hurt/comfort, past abuse, platonic cuddling, angst with a happy ending, friendship or pre-slash, crying, panic attacks, flashbacks, episode: s01e06 LDSK, protectiveness TW: !!Discussions of Underage Rape/Non-Con including Molestation and Incestuous Sexual Abuse!!

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

It’s a dreary day in late October when he fails his recertification test. Later, he’ll look back on this moment with a strange mixture of thankfulness and stone-cold dread, but in the moment all he can feel is the burning of his cheeks and the festering humiliation sat heavy in his chest.

Hotch is kind about it, because Hotch is kind about everything.

“Do you know what happened, Reid?” he asks with a complete absence of judgement, and it’s clear from everything about his body language and tone that he isn’t angry and he isn’t being critical, but Spencer feels his defences rising regardless.

He shakes his head and shrinks back in his seat, avoiding Hotch’s eyes.

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

His eyes snap up to meet Hotch’s and he shifts to sit a bit more upright as he shakes his head with more vehemence this time. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the evaluator, but only because he seemed unimpressed with Spencer from the moment he laid eyes on him, acting as though evaluating someone who was doomed to fail was a waste of time.

Spencer can’t exactly blame him.

Hotch sighs. “Listen, Spencer,” he says gently, “I know you can handle yourself in the field and I know you can handle a gun just fine, but you know how many requirements were overlooked for you to join the unit in the first place, and you also know that your position in the BAU has been controversial with a few of the higher-ups. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to be your evaluator for your next recertification in two weeks, and in the meantime, I want you to do some hand-to-hand training with Derek to improve and consolidate your field and self-defence skills.”

Realistically, he knows that this is the best he could’ve hoped for, and he knows how hard Hotch and Gideon fight his corner when he’s questioned by everyone from witnesses to local PDs to the director of the bureau himself.

That does not mean he has to be happy about this.

He acquiesces because he has to. “Okay,” he says quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as defeated as he feels.

“Reid,” Hotch says, redirecting his attention from the spot on the carpet he’s staring at. He waits for Spencer to look at him before smiling slightly and looking at him with a raw kind of earnest he knows is privileged to witness. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

It’s Spencer’s turn to smile, brightening up from his miserable disposition slightly. “I do.”

⭑⭑⭑

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says cheerfully, slamming his locker closed just as Spencer enters the FBI gym. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Spencer sighs, opening the locker next to Derek’s and putting his messenger bag inside before opening the grocery bag he’d brought his gym clothes in. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says drily as he pulls out his clothes and heads towards one of the two private changing cubicles.

He hears Derek chuckle to himself before he calls back to him as he opens the door to the gym. “I’m gonna set up, you come through when you’re ready.”

Spencer procrastinates for as long as he can, making sure his shoes are tied perfectly and the bows are even sizes, folding all his work clothes as neatly as possible and placing them carefully back into the grocery bag, but before long, there’s nothing more he can do and he has to face the music. He inhales deeply, steeling himself for the next hour, before putting his bag in his locker (closing it with much less force than Derek did earlier) and walking into the gym.

It’s a fairly big hall that’s usually used for academy recruits, large scale demonstrations, and the various sports teams that have cropped up in different divisions of the FBI. Spencer knows that Derek currently plays basketball for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime team, the department that the BAU is part of.

Right now, though, Derek has them set up in a tucked-away corner, both hard and soft mats laid out on the ground surrounded by various equipment Spencer couldn’t hope to identify correctly.

“You took your time,” Derek says when Spencer approaches him, eyebrows raised and an obvious note of amusement in his voice. “But now you’re here, let’s get started.”

They begin with a short conditioning exercise that Derek says is supposed to ‘get the blood pumping’ but in actuality has Spencer panting like a dog and soaked with sweat within minutes. Maybe those higher-ups have something of a point. He knew he was unfit, but this is just embarrassing.

“Okay, now with the warm-up out of the way—”

“That was a warm-up?”

Derek doubles over with his laughter and Spencer can’t help but join in, despite how out of breath and red in the face he might be.

“It’s supposed to be, Spence, but maybe I over-estimated things a little,” he concedes once their giggles have died out. “Alright, alright, let’s move on to some basic self-defence moves. I know you probably already know most of these, but this is supposed to be a refresher, yeah? And to remind you that you can hold your own in the field, whether you pass your recertification or not.”

Spencer winces. “I don’t know, Derek, I mean I did fail every single physical aspect of the academy examination.”

“See, that’s what I mean, pretty boy,” Derek says, standing up from the mat and helping Spencer up, too. “You’re in your own head, and when you’re out in the field, you have enough enemies without making your own mind one as well. You know this stuff, Spence, I’m just here to remind you of that.”

“Alright,” he nods, holding in his sigh. He doesn’t mean to be negative, he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. The last week has been rough.

“Okay, so let’s go through front-facing attacks first,” Derek says. “What’s the first move you can do to protect yourself in that situation?”

“Elbow shield,” Spencer replies, holding out his arm and blocking Derek from coming any closer with his forearm acting as a barrier that Derek presses his chest against.

“Exactly, and what can you do to inflict damage in that position?”

Spencer responds by sliding his forearm up to Derek’s neck and applying light pressure, not wanting to actually hurt him.

“You got it. Okay, now what if I manage to grab you and pull you closer, what’s your move?”

He keeps his forearm locked to keep Derek from advancing too close, but this time he grabs his bicep with both hands and uses his core to bring him closer before he raises his shin and mimes kicking him in the groin.

“See, you know this stuff,” Derek says brightly. “The only note I have is to just remember to keep your thumbs in line with the rest of your fingers, not wrapping under my arm.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. The thumb is easily broken, although the most common injury associated with a broken thumb is actually damage to the larger bone of your hand, the metacarpal.”

Derek chuckles. “Exactly.”

Funnily enough, Spencer actually finds himself having fun as they walk through some other basic defensive movements as well as the best way to use tactical punches to overpower or debilitate an unsub or attacker. They frequently burst into peals of laughter, as can be expected when two close individuals find themselves having to do semi-serious work together, and before he knows it, forty-five minutes have flown by.

“Okay, I want to end with some more up close and personal attacks and the best way to stave them off, alright?” Derek says as he puts away the boxing gloves and pads.

Immediately, Spencer feels a small glimmer of nerves and anticipation for how this might make him feel, but he brushes it off. He knows he’s safe with Derek, and the whole point of the exercise is to defend himself. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Let’s start with an attacker coming at you from behind,” Derek decides, coming up behind him. “I’m going to cover your mouth, and you’re going to use your skills and knowledge to remove me, alright?”

Spencer nods, hoping Derek doesn’t read the hesitancy in it, and he supposes that he doesn’t because soon enough a large palm is tightly covering the lower half of his face.

For a brief moment, he isn’t a twenty-five-year-old agent training with one of his closest friends in the gym in the basement of the FBI Headquarters, but a scared and lonely ten-year-old in his childhood bedroom, trying to fight the persistent, evil man on top of him, wondering why his dad would do this to him—

He snaps himself out of it by opening his eyes and forcing himself to take in the surroundings, and before long instinct takes over and he’s gripping at Derek’s wrist and using his core and bodyweight to bend forward and free himself from the restrictive hold.

“Good job, Reid!” Derek says encouragingly, and there’s no evidence on his face when he turns around that he noticed any sort of hesitation or deliberation, so he suspects that his flashback really was only for a second, no matter how everlasting and all-consuming it felt in the moment.

He manages a shaky smile, and invites his next method of torture. “What’s next?”

“Okay, what if I was to grab your t-shirt and immediately start punching you?” Derek asks, immediately miming doing exactly like that.

Fighting the instinct to go into protective mode, he instead turns around elbow first and uses his other hand to mime punching Derek while his knee goes up to attack his groin.

“Perfect! That’s the spirit, kid. No unsub’s ever gonna get the best of you.”

Spencer blushes a little at the praise, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to meet his eye, but inside he’s beyond pleased, both with the encouragement from Derek and his own self-confidence he can feel flooding back. Maybe he really does have a handle on the more physical side of things. Maybe he isn’t just good for his brain.

“Alright, let’s finish off with some on the ground stuff, okay?” Derek says, sitting down on the mat and inviting Spencer to join him with a pat on the space beside him.

He hesitates a little, and this time Derek notices, his face softening.

“Listen, I know this one is a bit more uncomfortable than the others, but we’re almost done, right? Let’s just get a few moves consolidated and then you can go and have a shower and head home to relax.”

Spencer nods finally and joins him, laying on his back as Derek instructs. The vulnerability of the position has him feeling deeply uncomfortable, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s safe with Derek, but he forces himself to lie still. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to reveal this very personal and private detail of his childhood to his best friend. He just needs to keep reminding himself that he’s safe.

“Right, let’s practice the pinned wrist escape, okay?”

Before he knows what’s happening, before he can process the words and prepare him for what’s about to happen, Derek’s straddling him and resting his full weight over his hips and his wrists are wrapped in a tight grip, pinned to the mat above his head.

It’s so sudden and the sensations so overwhelming that he can’t help the immediate fear response that’s triggered, because he’s not in the FBI gym with Derek anymore, he’s somewhere else entirely.

“No, please,” he begs, voice strangled by a sudden, all-consuming dry sob that heaves his chest, “please don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, please, dad, don’t—”

His sobs suddenly overtake his words and he’s left crying pathetically on the floor, too trapped in the memory to notice that the pressure’s been removed from his hips and he’s free to move his arms, too consumed by the physical and emotional anguish that came with the abuse to hear Derek’s desperate, heart-broken pleas from beside him, begging him to come back to himself.

“Spencer!”

A voice finally manages to break through the fog of panic, and he slowly regains consciousness, the white hot glaze of fear and crippling memory fading incrementally until he can see the high beams of the gym ceiling, until he can hear Derek’s gentle, soothing words beside him.

“It’s alright, pretty boy, I’m here, you’re safe,” Derek tells him gently, although Spencer can hear the urgency in his voice, even in his scared and overwhelmed state.

He covers his face with his hands as his desperate, heaving sobs transform into wet, humiliated cries.

“Hey, hey, Spence,” Derek murmurs beside him, “is it alright if I touch you?”

He considers shaking his head, but really, he wants some comfort right now, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for embarrassing himself further later. He’s glad he does though because Derek very carefully and very slowly lifts him up until he’s wrapped up in a comforting hug, his face buried in a strong chest. He’s not sure he’s ever felt safer than in this exact moment.

“You’re alright, pretty boy, I got you.”

Spencer continues to cry, the overwhelm of having a flashback that intense still wracking his body, but eventually, he starts to calm down, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles as he collapses, boneless against Derek’s body.

“Here, why don’t you have this granola bar and some water,” Derek suggests gently when his tears have dried up, reaching over to the edge of the mat where he was clearly hiding some post-exercise rewards.

Spencer accepts them tiredly, not moving from his position slumped against Derek’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks him once he’s sipped his way through half the bottle and the granola bar is gone.

As much as he’d like to get things off his chest, as much as he trusts Derek, he just— can’t. So he shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting upright position, although he still doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says softly. “I’m gonna drive you home. Come on.”

Spencer numbly walks through the locker room and the halls of the FBI with Derek guiding him until they reach his car, and the motion of climbing in brings a little bit more awareness back to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers as Derek starts the engine and drives them out of the parking garage.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy. No thanks needed.”

They don’t speak on the journey home, and Spencer contents himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery until they enter the city and trees transform into tower blocks. His mind drifts, but he’s just grateful that it doesn’t keep circling back to the flashback, having somewhat successfully resealed those memories like he always does, pushing them down and smothering them with as much good as he can collect in people and memories and things.

The silence between them prevails until Derek steps into his apartment behind him, closing the front door and helping Spencer out of his jacket before hanging his own coat up on a hook and steering Spencer towards the sofa. “You are going to sit here,” he orders, picking up one of Penelope’s hand-knitted blankets from its position neatly folded over the arm of the sofa, “while I get some tea and something to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”

Spencer remembers the satsumas and macaroons Penelope brought over the other day and tells Derek as such, following the other man with his eyes until he disappears into the kitchen and he’s left alone with his hazy thoughts for a couple of minutes.

They pass in a blur, though, and before he can blink, Derek is pressing a mug of warm chamomile tea into his hands and placing a small plate of a satsuma and a couple of macaroons on the coffee table.

The weight of Derek sitting down on the sofa next to him, and the grounding feeling of his palm wrapped around his ankle, has his hazy mind clearing until he’s in a much more present and aware headspace, enough so that Derek clearly notices it.

“You feeling a bit more like yourself?”

Spencer nods, and offers a small smile, trying to ignore the curls of humiliation and self-loathing working their way up his throat. Thoughts he hasn’t had in years are bursting at the seams Spencer had sewn tightly around them, brought up by physical memory alone, and he’s trying to hold them back, but somewhere in the back of his head, there’s his dad again, whispering dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, di—

“Hey, Spence,” he hears, and he snaps his head up, his dad’s voice shutting up and making room for Derek’s — Derek’s soft and gentle reassurances, his promises that he’s here and he’s safe and everything will be okay. “You got a bit lost in your head again there, kid. You alright?”

Spencer sighs tiredly, and a tear runs down his face unbidden. He’s not crying exactly, just— leaking. Leaking in the way a tap that hasn’t been turned on for years does when it finally experiences a much overdue release of pressure. Leaking in the way Spencer Reid does when he has a flashback to the sexual abuse he experienced as a child for the first time in two and a half years.

“Spencer,” Derek says, and something in his voice catches his attention, something serious, something earnest. He looks over at him. “Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

His cheeks pale and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because those words, that means— surely not, right? How could Derek— how could he—

“It happened to me, too.”

And there’s the confirmation. There are the five words that have him breaking down again, tears splashing into hot chamomile tea and onto cold, cold hands, sobs wracking his sore and tired shoulders. No one should have to go through what he did, no one. Especially not— God, especially not—

“Hey, Spencer, listen to me,” Derek says urgently scooting closer on the sofa until he can lift Spencer’s chin up with his hands and raise his head until their eyes are locked on one another and he can bear witness to the pain and the openness and the concern swimming in his dark brown irises. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re safe. Don’t cry, pretty boy, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

He pauses to give Spencer a little time to catch his breath, but after a couple of minutes he speaks up again. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Spencer knows it will break his heart to hear. He doesn’t want to listen to a story in which Derek Morgan was the victim and not the hero, not his hero, but part of him knows that he needs to hear it; needs to know that he wasn’t and isn’t alone. And he can’t help but wonder whether maybe Derek needs to say it. Whether he also needs to tell someone what happened and have them empathise completely, have them say “I understand, I know what you’re going through” and have them mean it.

So he nods.

“His name was Carl Buford,” Derek says, resting the hand not clutching Spencer’s ankle on his knee, “and he was my football coach. A hero of the community. After my dad died, I got in a little trouble on the streets, right, and as a result, I got a record. Eventually, that record was expunged, and I learned that Buford had done it. I was confused, obviously, but he told me I had potential, that I was special, that I was going places and he was gonna help me get there.

“And so we started spending more time together. At first, it was just one-on-one football training and some run of the mill mentoring, and I finally felt like I had a real father figure again, someone who I could look up to and talk to and trust. Until one day when he took me up to his cabin. He gave me Helgeson wine to intoxicate me, and then convinced me to go skinny-dipping in a lake with him but when we came back to the cabin, he started— he started rubbing up against me. It eventually spiralled into… molestation and rape. He used to say "You better man up, boy, look up to the sky" when I would cry out for him to stop, or later — when some shameful part of me had accepted it — when I would wince in pain or he could sense I didn’t want to be there.

“And that went on for years until I guess I outgrew his preference and he— I mean— I guess, I guess he must have moved on.”

Spencer wants to be sick, and he’s pretty sure Derek feels the same, so all he can do is lean forward and wrap Derek in the tightest hug he can manage while they cry together.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Spencer asks after a little time has passed.

Derek nods. “When it started affecting my football career in college, I started seeing a therapist, and I’ve really gotten to a place now where I’ve come to terms with it. As much as I’m ever going to be able to anyway. Half of that therapy was me grieving for the childhood I lost, expressing the anger I felt towards Buford in a healthy way, and then accepting that there isn’t anything I can do to undo the pain except work my ass off at the BAU putting guys like him behind bars since I lost my chance with him.”

Spencer nods. “I’m sorry he isn’t in prison.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders a little, pulling out of the hug. “I keep tabs on him. If I ever so much as catch a whiff of him hurting one of the boys at the centre I’ll be on him in no time. Just… waiting for the evidence, I guess.”

Spencer takes the hand resting on top of his knee and squeezes it, a show of solidarity his tongue can’t manage.

They sit in silence for long, comfortable minutes before Spencer finally feels like sharing. He knows that Derek isn’t expecting anything: if he never wanted to explain, he knows Derek would understand completely, but something about knowing he’ll understand like no one else can, that he can share and feel safe in doing so has his own story rolling off his tongue like it never has before.

“It was my dad,” Spencer says quietly, a confession he’s always been too ashamed to make. “The first time it happened was the night of my sixth birthday. He said that the day was his own celebration, because he’d waited so long and he was finally going to get his prize. He raped me. It wasn’t like that every time, sometimes he’d stop at… touching or— or fellatio, sometimes he’d come into my room and stand over me, getting off on how scared I was anticipating the act that never came.

“He left when I was ten, not far away from my eleventh birthday, and a big part of me always wondered whether the main reason he left was that I wasn’t in his preferential age group anymore. But when I was thirteen, I bumped into him in a hotel in California of all places, and even though I was bigger and stronger and nowhere near as vulnerable, he still got the best of me, he still weaseled his way into my room and took advantage of me again. After that time I carried pepper spray everywhere I went until the FBI issued me a gun. I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

Derek looks desperately sad when he finally meets his eyes again, and before he knows it he’s being wrapped in another hug, and they’re both in pieces again. However painful these memories are, though, the release of them is more cathartic than anything Spencer’s ever experienced; crying together with another survivor over everything they lost, the people that stole their childhoods and abused them for years on end, their younger, scared selves, desperate for someone to save them.

It hurts Spencer’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever felt safer than right in this moment.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about this, Spence?” Derek asks eventually, with his cheek resting on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Yes,” he admits, another tear dripping onto the hands curled anxiously in his lap.

Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye, cupping his face gently and brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m proud of you.”

As broken and unseemly and ripped open and torn apart as he feels right now, as exposed as this entire ordeal has made him feel, for the first time, he thinks he agrees with Derek.

His trust was destroyed by the person supposed to protect him, and he’s carried the trauma of being sexually abused as a young child around with him for the last two decades, and still, he’s here. He’s brave enough to share himself with Derek, and he’s strong enough to cry and grieve and ache for the scared six-year-old boy he wishes he could go back in time and save.

Right now, in the early evening light of the flat and the safe and supportive arms of his best friend, he’s proud of himself, too. And that feels really damn good to finally say.

Please practice self-care after reading this, especially if you are also a survivor. RAINN Rape Crisis UK International Help for Survivors

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @cmily @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (taglist form)

[animeomegas]

Since Jumin is so sophisticated & composed in his daily life you’d think he would be, atleast slightly, calm during the birth process right? Wrong

He’s shouting profanity’s while ripping to shreds/breaking whatever he’s gripping onto and has a legendary temper that has even his mate sweating

The funny part is that he returns to his normal behavior almost immediately after the baby is born, and if his mate doesn’t video tape it, he’ll swear that “he was never that mad” and that “your exaggerating” and everyone who wasn’t in his labor room will believe it 😤

Oh, this would certainly be a sight to see!

Jumin gives birth at home with a whole team of highly trained medical staff and a room full of medical equipment. There's even a helicopter ready to go just in case something goes wrong and Jumin need surgery (pretty much the only thing the doctors can't do at Jumin's home.)

And at first, everything seems to be going just fine. Jumin is breathing deeply through the first set of contractions, handling everything exactly as you expected he would.

But the contractions start getting closer together and more painful, and Jumin starts snapping at the doctors and at you. You didn't put enough ice in the water you fetched him? He's snarky about it. The doctors asking him what he thinks are irrelevant questions? He's snappy about it. And you start to think that maybe he's not handling this as well as you thought he'd handle it.

When the swears start to slip out, you know he's starting to crack. He tells you to 'book a fucking appointment for him to get sterilised because he's not doing this again.' He gets angry if you don't immediately arrange the appointment or delegate it to someone else.

Jumin properly shouts when he's pushing. He also shouts about how someone should have warned him and how none of the books he read made it sound this bad. He shouts about how he knew he should have hired a surrogate, despite the fact that he was very against using a surrogate when you asked him.

It bubbles up and up and he almost breaks his alpha's hand with how hard he's gripping it and he's thrown things off of his bedside in frustration multiple times.

You're shocked by his behaviour, but now that you think about it... Jumin has never been through anything really painful before. He's never even broken a bone before. He has guards and a team of doctors who check him regularly. Of course he wouldn't be able to handle this much pain after so many years living like that.

But the second the pup is out and Jumin falls asleep, exhausted, and he wakes up from his nap perfectly normal. He's back to the way he always is and you're just baffled.

You try to poke fun at him a little for the way he behaved, but it seems Jumin's brain fully deleted all the painful memories, and he genuinely doesn't believe that any of what you're saying happened in the way you said it. He remembers knocking something off his bedside table sure, but he certainly didn't throw anything. And he asked very politely for you to book an appointment for him, you must have let the stress go to your head.

It's very frustrating. And to add to the frustration, no one believes you!!!

..

"That certainly doesn't sound like Mr. Han," Jaehee says in a voice that makes it clear she doesn't believe you. "It... must have been quite the experience."

"Wait Jumin did that?" Yoosung asks, shocked. "Are you sure? I mean... not that I'm calling you a liar or anything! It's just he's Jumin, you know! I'm sorry!"

"Mr. Trust fund?" Zen snorts. "Yeah, right, I bet he was sipping that ridiculous non-alcoholic wine the whole time out of some fancy glass."

..

It's very frustrating. You knew you should have recorded it, but Jumin would have probably tried to divorce you on the spot, the mood he was in... Oh well.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[makeste]

hello! I’ve seen some debate as to whether the 2nd meant allies in general would bolster izuku and although I do think that’s true (ofc any sort of support system that he lets himself rely on would bolster him) I feel like if that was what was meant it would’ve been made clearer? maybe instead of just katsuki showing up, the final panel would’ve had several students burst onto the scene. what are your thoughts?

agreed. and incidentally this is another big reason why it's not Toga. if it was her then Horikoshi wouldn't have devoted any time to OFA II's little hype speech. it just makes it kind of pointless, unless this whole time we've been sleeping on Toga's hidden ability to bolster Deku lmao.

but anyways, yeah. and I mean, Two's commentary here is really just acknowledgement of something we've long since known already. Kacchan is the one who will ultimately be able to reach Deku. we don't actually need a piece of dialogue to tell us this, because the manga has been showing it to us since day one. his resume is fucking stacked. I mean, let's go through it.

he is mean.

I love this you guys. I honest to god love it. because the thing is, if you ask anyone what Kacchan's absolute worst quality is, this would be the obvious answer, right? "he's an asshole" lmao.

but that's exactly what we need right now!! someone who's not afraid to tell it like it is, and won't try to sugarcoat things. someone who's not afraid to argue back and risk hurting someone's feelings. because right now Deku is walking all over anyone who can't do that. All Might tries to feed him lunch and he's like "nah I'm good, anyways bye." Endeavor tries to tell him to rest and he's all "I'm fine" and fucking hangs up the phone. nuh uh. enough of that. what we need is someone who will call him out on his shit. "hah!? don't tell me you're fine when it's obvious to anyone you can barely stand on your own two feet, dumbass."

he is stubborn.

kind of ties into the other thing, but yeah. right now we need a bullheaded asshole who won't take no for an answer if he thinks he's right. good luck trying to sweet talk your way out of this one, Deku.

he understands the situation.

this one is important, because in fairness, simply standing in front of Deku and saying "you shall not pass" isn't gonna be enough to actually accomplish anything here. ultimately he's going to have to be able to reason with Deku too. and so in that respect, it certainly doesn't hurt that Kacchan is someone who understands the OFA situation as well as anyone, and has always had clear judgment about it. he understands the threat of AFO ("they all died young"), and he understands the burden of All Might's legacy. he knows what Deku is dealing with, and that's going to give him an edge when it comes to finding that elusive-yet-critical talk no jutsu knockout blow.

he's been where Deku is now.

Kacchan knows a thing or two about burdens. granted, they've more often than not been ones that he's put on himself, but that didn't make them any less heavy. Deku right now is struggling not just with his feelings of responsibility, but also with all of the misplaced guilt that's feeding into it. AFO is targeting him. if innocent people get caught in the crossfire then that's on him. every minute that AFO stays out there getting stronger and causing more chaos is all on him, because he hasn't defeated him yet. and so on and so forth.

and Katsuki knows what that's like. because he blamed himself for what happened to All Might. that feeling of "if I'd only been stronger" is one that he's intimately acquainted with. that feeling of blaming yourself, of not being able to look someone you care about in the eye because you think it's your fault they got hurt. this is something he knows. this is a road he's already been down. and so if Deku tries to pull any "you don't understand" nonsense, Kacchan is uniquely situated to immediately shoot that shit right down.

he's immune to low blows.

lol I keep thinking of all the different counterarguments that Deku could make, and all the different ways in which Kacchan is perfectly equipped to handle them. anyway, so this particular thing is a very recent development, but very fortunately timed. so as we all know, Kacchan was a first class dick to Deku during their childhood. something which Deku, with his abnormally kind and forgiving nature, has never once confronted Kacchan about, even though he would have absolutely had the right. but anyway, so here's the thing though -- right now I fully believe that Deku can and will do or say just about anything in order to get Kacchan and the others to leave. and that includes hurting them in order to save them. so it would not surprise me at all if Deku goes as far as to throw Katsuki's old, cruel, selfish behavior back in his face as part of a last-ditch effort to get him to back down. desperate times and all that.

and maybe there was a time when that actually would have worked. but here's the other thing -- we know something Deku doesn't. namely, that Kacchan has recently leveled up emotionally and has finally unlocked his atonement quest. he finally understands that it's not all about him. which means that it doesn't matter even if Deku pulls out the big guns. he may hurt his feelings, but he's not going to scare him off, because Kacchan's focus right now is on atonement, not forgiveness. he's not doing this for a pat on the head. he's doing it because it's the right thing to do. and no amount of insults will be able to sway him from that.

he learned from the best.

I said this in another post a couple of weeks back, but yeah. Angsty Nomad Deku has nothing on early Kacchan in terms of pushing people away. early Kacchan was the motherfucking king of pushing peeps away. if you so much as LOOKED at this kid in such a way that SUGGESTED you might even be THINKING about possibly trying to save him, he would straight up throw a ten-year hissy fit lmao. Deku's "All Might, you don't have to tag along anymore"s ain't got SHIT on all of Kacchan's "STAY BACK DEKU"s and "I'D RATHER LOSE!!!"s and "OMFG HOW DARE YOU BE THE ONLY PERSON TO TRY TO SAVE ME FROM THIS RAMPAGING SLUDGE MAN WHO'S ABOUT TO SUFFOCATE ME TO DEATH"s. Kacchan is the undisputed goat here lol.

but anyway, so what this means is that he has accumulated a whole HOST of iconic lines and fateful parallels which he can throw back in Deku's face at a moment's notice. and the best part is that he learned it all from THIS EXACT MOTHERFUCKER, RIGHT HERE. what is Deku even gonna do!! argue against his own past actions?? "well, uh, I guess now that you mention it I should have just sat back and watched you die all those times" OH REALLY?? YOU DON'T SAY. THAT SOUNDS SO CONVINCING.

and so guess what, Deku -- if Kacchan was worth saving, then you're worth saving too. it's an ironclad argument. congratulations son you played yourself.

he always wins.

okay so real talk, we all know that what's really driving Deku right now is his fear of losing people. he's helpless against that. he saw Kacchan get stabbed right before his eyes and it fucked him up. he saw all these other people getting hurt and killed because he couldn't save them, and he straight up could not deal with those emotions at all. he's scared. he's more afraid of that happening again than of anything else. and AFO knows that, and that's why he's resorted to his current tactics, which have isolated Deku even further and caused him to push even All Might away.

what Deku is missing right now, and what he needs to have restored, is trust. trust is the antidote to fear. and when you're as scared as Deku is, it takes an extraordinary amount of assurance in order to ease those fears. basically you don't want to place your faith in anything less than an absolutely sure thing.

but Kacchan is exactly that. this is the exact type of situation that Kacchan's "aiming for the top" overkill confidence was made for. he's the one who never loses!! the hero who's going to surpass all other heroes!! Deku inherited All Might's compassion, but Kacchan inherited his determination. Kacchan is someone who brings reassurance. his confidence is unwavering. and in the end, I think it will be strong enough to pull even Deku back out from the darkness.

he is strong.

Kacchan is Deku's rival in every sense of the word, and I fully believe he's capable of matching him step for step even now. and so Deku can try to push him away, but Kacchan is capable of withstanding that force and staying his ground. Deku can try to run, but Kacchan still has him matched for speed. and as a last resort, Deku can even try to defeat him -- but Kacchan won't ever concede to defeat.

and all of this ties back into what I was saying about trust. because Kacchan is strong. strong enough not to die. strong enough to live. strong enough to not make others worry about him. and that's what Deku so desperately needs right now in order to finally let go of his fears. Deku needs someone who can get him to trust in others again, and to do that, he has to be able to trust in their strength.

and last but not least...

he has a secret weapon up his sleeve.

several, as a matter of fact. his hero name reveal. his apology, if he chooses to give it now (though I could see him waiting for a more sincere moment, rather than whipping it out now when it could be misconstrued as a manipulation tactic). but perhaps most importantly...

never underestimate the power of an iconic role reversal. because that's what I'm getting at here, if it wasn't clear lol. this probably would have worked better if I had a picture of him actually reaching out to Deku. but I mean, that's kind of the point lol. I don't have one because he hasn't done it yet. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE. good luck withstanding that, Deku.

so yeah. look at all that. he really is a one-man Deku-saving army. which is not to say that the other kids won't have a part to play as well, or that it's not important for them to be there, because it is. but as far as the lead role goes, it's Kacchan. like that astronaut meme guy says. always has been.

oh and as a bonus he was smart enough to finally leave the mask at home today lol. LET DEKU SEE THE SINCERITY IN YOUR EYES. YESSSSSSS.