#now several more things are implied but only if you squint...

[sunandflame]

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers. 

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

 “Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant. 

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. 

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful- 

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go…  I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again. 

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?” 

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair. 

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers. 

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.” 

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them. 

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku!  You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue. 

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple. 

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again. 

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly. 

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap. 

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt. 

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss. 

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. 

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.  

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother. 

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.” 

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap. 

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 12 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Summary : You help Daemon with his insecurities. Truth comes out in the open.

Warning: 18+, smutty smut, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her..don't like don't read), feeling of hopelessness, uncle Daemon kink (you don't have to squint), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, masturbation, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking, physical violence implied

“Can I ask you a personal question?” You mumbled softly in his ear so he hummed in response.

You were currently lying down in his arms on his bed, feeling the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his embrace. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and the two of you had the mansion to yourselves since your parents were out of town again and your aunt Polly took the family to her mother's. He had a dark gray full sleeves t-shirt on with a matching pair of trousers and as soon as you saw him in the set you knew you wanted to snuggle into his arms and lay there for as long as he'd allow you to.

Daemon wasn't dating you, he was courting you and you wanted to take things slow but you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to entice him now and then, that's why you had a flimsy tank top on with a pair of shorts.

His fingers were tracing circular patterns on your bare shoulders while he used his other hand to do the same with your thigh..

“What made you want to let go finally? What was the breaking point in your marriage?” You asked him softly and he sighed, he was quiet for a moment as to figure out how he wanted to answer that heavy question.

To be honest there were several breaking points in his marriage, he should have gotten out of that relationship a long time ago, a decade ago but he continued to set himself up for failure.

“It was her wanting to keep our marriage open for other people..basically our bed ”

You looked at him a bit shocked and frankly disgusted by Stella's behavior as he said that, she spent years with him so she must have known what kind of man Daemon was. A man like him could have never allowed that to happen, he was too possessive of his girl, you knew that now very well.

“That negates the whole sanctity of marriage..she didn't deserve the countless chances you gave her" you caressed his chest with your fingers so he hummed again

"I could never ever share you with anyone, it would honestly destroy me”

He held you tighter as you said that, a smile appeared on his face as he felt your possessiveness towards him but then his insecurities kicked in for a moment.

“Mmmm really? I'm nothing special that you'd want to keep me all to yourself ”

You looked at him sharply as he said that before you got out of his arms and climbed on top of him.

“Do you want me to show you how special you are to me?” You asked him in a seductive manner as you pushed your hair behind your shoulders and his eyes flickered as he gazed at your strained nipples and your breasts threatening to spill out of your tank top but then he controlled himself. He won't fuck you until your parents had learned of this thing between you two, keeping them in dark was starting to make him feel extremely guilty.

He couldn't do this to your father, he knew it didn't make much sense but he still wanted to hold on until the truth was out in the open.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, your sweet scent immediately engulfed him,

“Would you feel the same way when I'm older and unattractive and you'd have the attention of every other man out there?” He asked you softly and your eyes filled with several different emotions, in that moment not only did you want to adore him but you wanted to protect him as well, protect him from all the insecurities he had about himself.

“Why don't you get old with me and find out for yourself?” you smiled as you spoke but his eyes teared even more up so you immediately scooted closer to him and hugged him tightly, lips pressed soft kisses on his neck, he hardly ever showed his emotions like this so you knew he was always genuine with them.

Your birthday arrived a week later, and as usual, your father had arranged a celebration for you. However, this year, things were a bit more grand compared to previous years. He had thought of everything and made sure every detail was taken care of, from the food to the music, to the decorations. And unlike all those years when he had been too busy with work to be there with you, this year, he made sure he was right by your side, not caring about anything else. And you had the best present you could have gotten from him, he brought back Daemon into your life, you'd have traded everything for him.

The corner of the living room was filled with presents you had received. From expensive jewellery to imported perfumes, your father had gone all out. He even gifted you a brand new car, and those who attended the party also brought with them their own lavish gifts, making you feel like a queen.

However, Daemon couldn't' help but feel a pang of guilt because he didn't have anything nearly as valuable to give you for your birthday. He was still paying off alimony since he didn't file for infidelity claim and he was saving up for his own place, making it impossible for him to spend an extravagant amount on a present for you.

As Daemon watched you being doused in expensive gifts, he couldn't help but feel inferior with the simple necklace he had gotten made for you. He shoved it back into his pocket and tried to ignore the feeling of regret that crept over him. He didn't want to spoil the night for you by bringing up his own issues, so he just kept quiet and then while you were busy with other guests he quietly left for his room.

However, when you sneaked away from the party and came to his room, he knew he couldn't keep up the facade any longer. He had intended to give you the necklace, but now felt embarrassed by its simple nature in the face of all your other luxuries.

“It's your birthday sweetheart…go get drunk” he told you nonchalantly so you pushed past him and entered his room.

“Where's my gift?” You asked him as you stood in the middle of the room with your arms behind your back elegantly, you looked drop dead gorgeous tonight in the red dress and face full of makeup. All he could think about was wanting to ruin and smear that deep red lipstick all over your face or more like his face.

“I got nothing for you pixie…sorry” he looked away as he leaned against the door so you walked towards him and kissed him softly, your hands were still behind your back and when you finally brought them forward you had a small Rose in your hand which you tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket.

“I brought one for you since you love roses” his eyes teared up at the simplicity of the gesture and he immediately wrapped his arms around you to hug you. Hiding his face between the crook of your neck he held onto to you for a while before he pulled away from you, you didn't enjoy watching him sullen like this but you did cherish these moments of vulnerability that he chose to share with you especially because you knew he wasn't like that with anyone else.

“I do have a present for you babygirl” he muttered softly and it made you smile.

“I know”

“I just didn't think you'd like it”

“And that's stupid you know that right?”

He nodded as you said that,

“You're my favorite present, you came back and I have prayed for that to happen since you left, my prayers were finally answered this year. You can give me a bag of dust if that's all you can afford and I'd rub it all over myself as if it's an offering from God, because that's what it is, that's how much I value you”

As you finished speaking you watched the tears roll down his eyes and he cupped your cheeks to kiss you passionately. He hadn't gotten the chance to do so all day long so he really needed to douse you in his sweet sweet love that he felt for you but wasn't able to show most of the time.

“Close your eyes” you smiled and closed your eyes as per his request and then you felt a necklace wrapping around your neck, you didn't even have to look at it, you just knew you'd never want to take it off ever again.

Your fingers curled around his neck as you kissed him again, you didn't have much time, you knew you'd have to go back downstairs before somebody will come looking for you so you wanted to make the most of the time.

He turned you around and pressed you against the door, fingers worked your zipper down slowly as he pressed kisses on your bare back

“Uncle?” You moaned the forbidden name and he knew he wanted to please you right then, treat you to a good release for your birthday, the way you just melted in his arms made him believe that you had never been taken care of this way and he wanted to change that, he wanted to make you feel like a treasure, make you feel pleased and valued..

“Mmm baby what do you want?” his voice was a husky whisper in your ear and it sent shivers down your spine,

“Want to show you how I look in your present”

“I can see baby..you're the most beautiful girl I swear on my dead mother, you're so precious my love”

Your eyes teared up but there was also a sweet smile on your face as his words raced your heartbeat.

“Mmmm..want to show you how i look in just your present uncle, i want to wear just that”

He gasped as you said that and as he reeled in the look on your face he just wanted to oblige and give you everything you'd ever need, a sweet, caring loyal woman like you deserved every bit of affection in return.

He lowered the straps from your shoulders slowly until the dress fell down on the floor and you were left in a red glittering lingerie that matched the dress you had on.

He turned you around swiftly and grabbed you by the hips to pick you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing, your lips stayed on his as he laid you down on the bed, the dim lighting in his room made the atmosphere even more sensuous.

As you took your bra off slowly his eyes were stuck on your almost naked form and as you slid the panties down he could see the arousal dripping from between your legs.

“How do I look?” You asked him nervously, you had never been so bold in your life before, especially in bed but the way he cared for you made you feel confident enough about yourself.

“Gorgeous babygirl, so fucking beautiful” he licked his lips subconsciously as he looked at you from head to toe.

You knew he wasn't going to fuck you so soon but you were all prepared to show him what you wanted to give him when he'd finally give it to you.

He took the rose out from the pocket of his jacket and leaned right over you to caress your face with it gently, your chest was heaving up and down as your breathing fastened from his action. The contrast of him being fully clothed and you being all naked with just his necklace on you was tantalizing.

He dragged the flower from one nipple to another very slowly before he traced it over your stomach and he took his own sweet time before he reached your mound, the delicate petals of rose then swiped between your legs for barely a moment and it was drenched with your arousal.

He brought the flower closer to his mouth and then clasped the soaked petals between his teeth. You couldn't help but moan loudly just at the sight of him being so primal at the moment, all of a sudden he had your legs pushed apart and his mouth between your legs, he kissed and licked your freshly waxed and sensitive mound before he wrapped his lips around your dripping lips, tongue played with your clit tenderly before he sucked on the swollen nubs.

Your fingers curled around his hair and you couldn't help but pull on it as the sensation between your legs reached the pit of your stomach. Back arched as his tongue slid inside you and you couldn't stop yourself from crushing him between your thighs and gods he wanted you to suffocate him like this, he could have spent hours between your legs this way..

You have had dreams like this before and a part of you still felt hazy, all of this felt like a dream come true. A dream that you knew would end someday.

“Oh god…daemon”

His pace only intensified as you moaned his name so sweetly, his hands slid up to grab your bosom and he pinched the soft flesh between his palms.

As you managed to look down he had his eyes on you, he was watching every little movement of yours, drinking in every little gasp and moans that you emitted for him, as a whiny cry escaped your throat he knew he had you right at the brink of your release..

“Cum my sweet little girl, let go in my mouth, i know you want to let go for your uncle don't you?”

The vibrations you felt from his words and his constant stimulation was enough to push you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around his head and body convulsed like a fish out of water as you rode your high and chanted his name over and over again.

The kink was mutual and it didn't feel perverted no more, he was slowly and definitely learning to accept that his feelings for you wasn't a sin, it was a blessing, at least for him it was. He had no hope or will to find love again, he didn't think he'd ever be ready for that but you had changed it for him so quickly.

He kissed up from between your legs, leaving a trail of your wetness on your skin and as he reached closer to your mouth you kissed him back filthily.

There was no going back now, you knew things would never go back to the way they used to be before you two walked down this path. He'd always think about how you crumbled beneath him whenever he goes to bed alone at night and you? Well you didn't think you'd ever get over the way he made you feel, not just in sexual ways but emotionally and spiritually.

As you breathing leveled and you came back to your senses you found him sucking on your nipples softly and the gesture was enough to turn you on again. As he realized that he pressed his head up to kiss you one more time before he made his way to the bathroom to clean his face and then he returned to do the same with you, however you weren't just done with him. He was standing at the edge of your bed so you sat up and cupped the bulge in your palm, his eyes squeezed as a wave of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Darling.. I'd cum like this, I'm an old man now” you smiled as he said that, his voice came out all breathy.

“Then cum uncle, it's my birthday, you can give me what I want”

“Ohh sweet girl..i..” words died mid sentence in his throat as you unbuttoned his pants and rubbed your hands over his briefs and as soon as you had placed your mouth on his clothed cock to leave wet kisses his fingers clutched into your hair and you knew he had let go like he had said he would.

And you didn't judge him for that, nothing could have made you feel more desirable than a man like him cumming in his pants just from your touch.

He had to make another trip to the bathroom and when he came back this time you were already dressed so he hugged you from behind.

“I can do better than that i promise”

“Mmmm I don't care, as long as I get to have you in my bed..i don't care how long it would take me to make you cum”

You turned around and kissed him softly, there was a sweet smile on his face, all those insecurities he had somehow felt so foolish right now.

“Happy birthday my sweet puppy”

You giggled as he rubbed his nose against yours and kissed you again and then again. And then one more time.

When you went downstairs again, Rhaenyra gave you a smirk and you knew that she knew, there was no hiding it from her either.

And you wished she was the only one to find out your secret so soon but she wasn't.

Daemon was in your dad's office a week later and you went to see him there to wish him goodnight, since your father wasn't there you leaned into him to give him a quick kiss but as you turned around your dad was standing right at the door with a look of anger, disappointment and betrayal plastered all over his face.

His fists were clenched at his sides, and he was taking deep, angry breaths as he stormed towards Daemon.

And Daemon knew right then that there was no point of return from here onwards, this day had to come sooner or later. So he didn't even flinch when your father’s fist connected with his face, he just took it and perhaps he deserved that, he would have felt the same if his old best friend was caught kissing his daughter.

“Dad..” your voice choked on your tears but your dad just glared at you, the way he looked at you in the moment was heartbreaking for you. You had never been a cause of anguish for him, you were always the good girl.

“You shut up, you stay out of this y/n” he said to you so you shook your head in response and you wanted to break the fight and calm his anger but Daemon gestured you to stay quiet.

“And you..you bastard, this is what you came for isn't it? A petty revenge, after all these years you lied to me that you had forgiven me but this was your plan all along wasn't it? Using my daughter for a payback, I never thought you'd stoop so low” Your dad grabbed Daemon by the collar and punched him again but Daemon didn't say a word, he just took it as if he deserved it so that's when you intervened because you had to. You had to stick up for him even though he didn't want you to do that.

“Dad ..stop…please..it's not his fault” you pleaded with him as you stood in front of daemon but your father was so enraged that he didn't even care at the moment, he grabbed your shoulders and shoved you aside forcefully which made you trip and fall and that's when Daemon stepped out of the self loathing and pushed your father against the desk to calm him down and take control of him.

“Enough mate..i know you're cross but you're not going to hurt her” his voice was firm but still respectful, he didn't blame your father for being so erratic, any loving father would have reacted the same way.

“She's my daughter..i have loved her more than anything, you don't get to teach me how to respect my daughter when you have been fooling around with her ..you should be ashamed of yourself” as your father took another swing at him Daemon grabbed his hand, by this time your mom had joined the commotion too and she was standing at the door shell shocked, this felt like a deja vu to her, the last time they argued like this was a decade ago..

“I'm not fooling around with her, i love her…I love your daughter”

Daemon said fiercely, his voice had plenty of emotions and you didn't know how to react, you just stared between him and your dad, his confession had warmed your heart but the situation you were in was making you so anxious you didn't know what to do. You had disappointed your parents, that's all you knew.

“Love? Oh you love her now do you? You don't love her Daemon..if you loved her you wouldn't be putting your hands on her like this..good lord I'm disgusted by your perversion, you're no different than your wife”

Daemon stayed quiet as your father accused him like that, he didn't want to blow this argument out of proportion because he was afraid your father would say things he shouldn't say in front of you or your mother for that matter but it was too late now, things were about to take a turn for the worse.

“I invited you into my home again, and made you a part of my family”

"Calm down--" Daemon tried to intervene but your father didn't even listen to him

"Now I know that you came here just so you could take revenge for that one fucking mistake I had made by fucking your whore of a wife”

Your eyes widened in shock as you heard your dad's words but you didn't even have time to process what he had said because your mum heard him as well and the truth was so heartbreaking for her that she had collapsed right away.

In the fit of his anger your father had revealed the secret he had been hiding for years. You rushed to your mother's side and so did Daemon but your father stood there in his spot, not moving, not saying anything.

And you wished this awful truth was the end of it all but it wasn't, what you were about to discover next was going to change your whole life and a part of you knew you'd have to lose Daemon again.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Taglist

@serving-targaryen-realness @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @mcufan72 @insertsomethingsillyhereple-blog @silentf @ajthefujoshi @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ammo23 @shuichiakainx @daddylokisqueen @ipostwhtifeel @anehkael @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @dixie-elocin @urmomsgirlfriend1

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.

[blooming-violets]

Can I add on to the Suicidal Peter thing? I feel like that would cause so much stress for reader? Like her hair would be going gray and maybe she faints from exhaustion because she's staying up all night making sure Peter wouldn't try to off himself again? Would he notice that she's extra clingy because she's that nervous of him being alone with his thoughts and whatnot? Maybe she wouldn't tell him because she doesn't want him to feel any more guilt that he already has? Sorry if that was alot, just thinking about how that would be for his girlfriend

Trigger Warnings: This is all about suicidal ideation, self harm, and losing yourself to take care of someone who is suicidal. Includes panic attacks, severe weight loss from lack of eating due to anxiety, mentions of blood and cutting, attempted suicide on top of a building. It's a suicide/depression/self harm/broken lovers fic. Be careful if those topics are difficult for you<3

Reminder: This is a depiction of an extremely toxic relationship. It is not cute or healthy or something to strive for. Just, like, as an fyi. Don't do it. Stop. Not healthy. No. Not even for Peter Parker. Don't do it. Stop it right now. Never get on a ledge for a man wtf are you doing.

I think she would be in a state of constant hyper vigilance and high anxiety. He would take over all her thoughts until she can't function anymore. Never eating. Not able to work. Doesn't even want to take a shower because she's afraid of having him out of her sight. Not wanting to sleep.

God forbid she wakes up in middle of the night and he's not in bed, she'd be thrown straight into a panic attack. There's been times when he's woken up to go to the bathroom and returned back to find her hyperventilating on the floor.

Peter dried his wet hands on his boxers as he turned off the sink. His eyes were squinted closed, still half asleep, and he shuffled out of the bathroom. He had no idea what time it was and he didn't care to turn on any bright lights to find the clock. He rubbed his fingers through his shaggy hair and let out a quiet yawn, fumbling with their bedroom door handle to push himself back inside.

A dull flurry of tingles ran up his spine as his hand grasped the knob.

Spider-senses. They weren't super intense or threatening but they let him know that someone was crouched behind the door. He knew it was her and not a threat. His senses always felt dulled down when she was around. His ears perked up to listen to her quiet, muffled sobs.

Peter frowned and gently opened the door so not to accidentally hit her with it.

She was curled up against the wall. Her eyes were wild, the whites flashing back and forth as they scanned the dark room. Tears spilled silently down her face and her body racked with heavy pants. Her teeth bit down on the sleeve of her shirt to keep her cries muffled.

"Baby, what happened?" He asked, quickly kneeling down in front of her. Five minutes ago she was sound asleep beside him.

He scanned her for any external injuries but came up with nothing. He placed his hands against each of her cheeks to get her to look at him. His thumbs brushed the tears from under her eyes.

"You-" she gasped, eyes wide, like she was forcing them to focus on him. "You...you...here...you're here."

Peter nodded. A weight of guilt dropped in his stomach as he realized what she was implying.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm here. I'm always here. Just went to the bathroom. 's okay. Are you hurt?"

Her chest heaved with each quickened breath but her shoulders stopped shaking the longer she took him in. Her mouthed moved like she was trying speak but no words ever came out. Only more sobs.

He flicked out his wrist to shoot a web against the light switch, tugging it on, so she could see him better.

"See?" He spoke softly, trying to soothe her the best he was able. "Look at me. I'm here."

Fresh tears welled in her eyes and spilled down over his hands. Peter sighed sadly, sliding an arm under her legs and the other behind her back to scoop her up into his arms. He carried her back to the bed. She cradled into his lap and he pressed the side of her ear against his chest so she could hear his heart. He was alive. There was physical proof she could hear.

"I'm here," he continued to reassure her. "I'm not going anywhere."

They both doubted that statement but neither of them dared to challenge it.

He slipped his hand under her shirt to gently scratch her back, humming softly against the side of her head.

Slowly, her breathing regulated. He felt her body melt against him. Her eyes closed.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

She gave a soft nod, mumbling as sleep started to grip her once more, "Nightmare. Nothin' to worry 'bout."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, feeling her drift off, and knew the nightmare she was talking about wasn't one that happened during sleep.

Some days are better than others. Some days he seems almost normal and she finds herself able to breathe a little easier. But she can never allow herself to fully relax. Relaxing means getting sloppy. Relaxing means she might miss the signs.

The dark circles overtake her eyes. Caking on makeup can only do so much. They still poke through until she eventually just gives up trying to cover them. The whites of her eyes have become a permanent state of bloodshot.

She's losing weight. At first people compliment her for it. They don't know why it's happening. All they see is a loss of weight and think it's purposeful and think they need to praise her for it like it's some great accomplishment. Soon it becomes a clear problem. Food doesn't want to stay down. Her stomach was too filled with anxiety to make room for anything else.

Her friends no longer text her. She never responded anyway. She can't go out. That would be the perfect time for Peter to lose it.

She struggles to keep working. Her job is suffering as a result of her mental state. Too many sick days taken. She's days away from being fired but she doesn't care. All she cares about is Peter. Nothing else matters. Keeping him safe becomes her obsession.

The lack of sleep makes her dizzy.

Peter stared at the television. He couldn't focus on what was playing. His mind was...elsewhere. He dug his nails against the skin of his thumb. It pissed him off that he cut them short earlier in the day. They weren't long enough to scrape against his skin with the force he wanted. He wanted blood. He wanted pain. His nails were giving him nothing but a mild annoyance.

He couldn't get up to find anything sharper when she was curled up beside him. She watched him like a hawk. If he moved, she moved.

His gaze landed on the steak knife thrown against his empty dinner plate still laying out on the coffee table in front of them. Once he caught sight of it, he couldn't see anything else.

He couldn't see that her plate was still full of food beside it, untouched. He couldn't see her eyes glazing out of focus as she stared at the television, equally unable to pay attention to what was in front of her as they "watch" their show. He couldn't see her shaking hands from lack of sleep or proper nutrition. He couldn't see the gauntness to her cheeks or the red tint in her eyes.

All he could see was that knife.

He imagined dragging it across his skin. Slicing it open. Spilling his blood. He imagined cutting it across his palm to mimic the color of Ben's blood on his hands. George's blood. Gwen's blood. He imagined stabbing it into his neck. So fast that she couldn't stop him. In and out. Real quick. Over and done just like that.

"Do you need more water?"

Peter's eyes snapped up to attention as she broke his trance.

"What?" He mumbled.

She nodded to his empty glass of water, "Want me to get you more? You looked like you were staring at it? Thirsty?"

He gave a slow nod, lost in thought. Good. Let her get up. Let her move away. He could grab the knife while she wasn't looking.

She reached for the glass and stood up. He was too focused on the blade to notice how she stopped to sway unsteadily on her feet before walking off to the kitchen.

He heard the glass crash a second before her body hit the floor.

He was up and leaping over the couch a heartbeat after, the knife immediately fading from his mind.

"Babe," he gasped, reaching her in seconds. He gently slapped a hand over her cheek. "Hey! Wake up! Baby, wake up!"

Peter fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket, ready to call an ambulance, when she groaned. He dropped it beside him to tend to her instead.

Her eyes blinked open, hazy and confused, "Wha-"

"It's okay," he breathed through the rising panic. "Try not to move. You fainted. Hit your head."

Oh god, her eyes. Had they always been that sunken in? When did her face start to look so skeletal? He couldn't remember. When had she changed? Was that...

He ran a hand over her hair.

...grey hair?

Sporadic grey strands slipped through his fingers. She looked sickly. She wasn't right.

She lifted an arm to rub her eyes with a muffled moan. A trickle of blood ran down the back of her arm where she had landed on the shattered glass. It painted a trail of red down her skin. His eyes widened at the sight, unable to look away. He tunnel visioned. His sight blackened around the edges as he stared.

Blood. Her blood.

His head twitched. He hurt her. He did this. He made her get up because he wanted that knife. He didn't even more water. He wasn't even thirsty. She was up because of him. She was...broken...fallen...Gwen fell...she broke...he broke them all...dead...all of them...blood...so much blood...always blood...

Her hands were pressed to the side of his head. She was sitting up now. He hadn't even seen her move. Was he-

Crying.

Hot tears streamed down his face. He was sobbing. Gasping. He couldn't remember starting that. Time was slipping through his fingers. He was losing bits and pieces. What year was it? How old was he?

He was sixteen, holding Ben's body.

No, no, no.

Eighteen, Gwen in his arms. Shattered. No.

Twenty...six? eight? Had he turned thirty yet?

Fuck, he couldn't remember.

"It's okay, Peter." She was soothing him. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'm okay. Breathe, Pete. Deep breaths. Stay with me."

He was supposed to be the one taking care of her. What was he doing? What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop crying?

She was running her fingers through his hair, pressing her forehead against his, kissing away his tears.

He clung to the front of her shirt, tugging her closer, he couldn't get her close enough. He needed to feel her. He needed to breathe her in, touch her, fuse her through his skin until she melted straight into him forever.

She wasn't dead. It was just a cut. A cut.

She clutched onto his head, pressing his face against her breasts, holding him close. This was the wrong way around. He should be holding her. He was failing. Nothing was working right. Everything was backwards. Everything was wrong. He didn't remember who he was anymore.

"I got you, Peter. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She cupped his jaw in her palms to lift his head to hers. She placed soft kisses against his lips. It made his head spin. He wanted her closer but he was afraid if he reached for her, she would crumble away into a fading memory like the rest of them.

As she kissed him, his hand reached out besides him instead, fingers finding a shard of glass and silently slipping into his pocket.

For later.

Just in case.

Peter's stopped being Spider-Man because she asked him to. She's afraid to have him out of her sight. Spider-Man is too dangerous for someone who's suicidal. He can't be trusted. She struggles to breathe when he's not around.

They spend most of their time on the couch "watching" tv. She makes him shower with her. She stays up to watch him sleep, now. When she does doze off, any small movement or sound will jerk her straight awake. Her eyes only ever look for him. She can't see anything else.

At what point does she become an enabler to his behavior? There's being a caregiver and then there's letting someone ruin your life. He's not getting external help because he has her. They're eating each other alive. Sucking the life out of each other. Soon, there will be nothing left to leach off of.

By continuing down this path, it's only a matter of time before she hit rock bottom beside him.

I think that might be the only thing that pushes Peter out of the hole. Because he loves her. He's broken and depressed and a neglectful boyfriend but he does love her. Either they both end up dead or they end up alive. There's only two options here with them because neither of them will ever leave the other. Drag each other down straight to death or lift each other to something brighter.

It had been about an hour since he last saw her. That was unusual. The past five months, she had been his shadow. Attached at his hip. Never out of his sight for more than a minute or two. He dragged himself off the floor where he had been laying. He had bent down to reach for the remote that had fallen off the couch and ended up on the floor without the willpower to get back up. He had just laid there, staring up at the ceiling, letting time pass.

Except too much time had passed because she wasn't here.

Peter sat up, feeling a bit dizzy from the change of pressure in his head, and called out her name. When she didn't answer, he called her again, louder this time. Still nothing.

That worried him.

He jumped to his feet and focused his hearing to listen for her. She wasn't in the apartment. He didn't have to search. He just knew.

His heart began racing. His skin was exploding in tingles. Goosebumps. Anxiety swirled in his stomach. Colors intensified. His hearing dialed up to its full extent. His senses kicked into overdrive.

Trouble.

He hadn't felt his Spider-senses in months. They overwhelmed him and caused him to stumble back against the couch. He had gone so long without feeling anything. Suddenly, there was everything.

He gave a few rapid blinked, trying to focus his eyes and gain back control of his body.

He had to find her.

Peter stumbled out their apartment door, barefoot and sweating profusely, looking wildly up and down the empty hall. He yelled out her name once more. He knew she wouldn't answer but it burst out of him with a longing desperation anyway. He hadn't been away from her for this long in months. He couldn't breathe.

When had she left? Why hadn't he heard her open the door? How far gone had he let himself get that he wouldn't notice her walking out?

He forced his breath to steady as he paused, taking a deep breath, and letting those familiar senses work like they used to.

The roof.

He had to get to the roof.

She was up there. If anyone ever tried to ask how he knew, he wouldn't be able to tell them. He just knew. That's how his senses worked. They told his body where to move and how fast to go and where to be. They told him of danger.

And they were telling him that needed to be on the roof as fast as he could move.

Peter took the stairs two at a time, leaping over railings, and throwing himself up the three flights until he burst through the roof door.

It was snowing outside. When had it become winter? How long had it been since he looked out a fucking window?

His bare feet slipped on a patch of ice but he quickly righted the fall and lunged forward.

She was here. Standing on the raised edge of the building roof. Her hair whipped around her head from the freezing wind. She was in her slippers and pajamas. He hadn't even remembered what she had been wearing until this moment. It was like she had become invisible to him. Always there, always needed, but never truly seen.

He saw her now.

She had gotten so skinny. Almost skeletal. Her body stood on unsteady legs, the wind thrashing her around like she was nothing, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Instinctively, he arm shot out to shoot a web at her back, but nothing came. He had taken off the damn web shooters forever ago. They were lost on some dust filled, cluttered dresser under a pile of clothes. Somewhere completely useless to him.

He shouted her name, pain laced heavily in his voice, running towards her. If she fell before he could catch her, he would throw himself straight off this roof after her.

She turned to look at him.

Jesus, she looked like an entirely different person. Her eyes were dead. Her body might still be hanging on but the life inside of her was gone.

"Dont!" He a broken scream ripped from his throat. "Don't you fucking dare!"

She took a step back, her slipper sliding against the ice, heels hovering over the edge.

"I can't," she whispered, voice getting lost in the howling wind.

Maybe it wasn't the wind. Maybe his own horrified cries.

"I can't do it anymore." She took another shuffled inch back and teetered dangerously on the edge. "I'm sorry."

He reached her the second she stepped off. His hand latched onto her wrist at the last possible moment before it disappeared from view. The weight of her falling body lurched him foreword and he braced himself against the ledge, sticking his feet to the frozen ground as an anchor. He reached his other hand over to scrunch up the front of her shirt, using both her arm and shirt to drag her back up to him.

She didn't fight him. Didn't move. Didn't react.

He dragged her limp body over the hump of the ledge wall and tumbled her into his arms. He fell to the ground, collecting her in his lap, clinging her protectively against him in an iron clad death grip. He chest was heaving. Tears spilled hot down his red, windswept cheeks and blurred his vision. He was struggling to breath. He couldn't catch his breath.

Everything was her. All he could feel. All he could see. He held her close, frantically running his hands over her body, over her face, feeling her, making sure she was really here. It was her. She was here. In his arms. She was alive. She was breathing.

She looked so defeated. Broken. Gone.

"Why?" His voice cracked. "How could you-how-"

Why not?

He had.

She had learned from the best.

It hit him all at once. Clarity. Realization. Everything fell into place the second she stepped off that ledge.

His entire life flashed before his eyes when she fell.

This life they were living...this life was not sustainable. It was his fault.

He had brought them here. He dug the hole and led her straight down to the bottom after him because he was afraid of being alone. He brought her down to his level because he was selfish. Needy. Weak. Afraid. She didn't belong here. He didn't either. If he had his web shooters on like he always used to, he would have reached her before she even knew he was there. He had given up everything in his life. Family, friends, Spider-Man, her.

He given up on everything and almost lost it all.

He had dug this hole for them.

Only he could help them out.

a/n: HI! Of course you can add to it! It makes me so happy that anyone gives a shit to actually contribute and join in on the story telling. I am just very slow at replying sometimes, esp during the days that I work, but I will always get there!

I dipped a toe into exploring the role of caregiver in Nicest Thing too and what it can potentially do to a person. Because I think it can really eat someone alive to be on constant high alert until there is nothing left of them except a shell of who they once were. At some point, you're going to have to chose between losing yourself or potentially losing Peter. He has to be the one to help himself. No one can force someone to get help, they have to make that choice themselves, which is the sad reality of loving someone who's going through shit. And I say that as someone who gone through a lot of shit in their life and had to have people put my ass on suicide watch. Being a caregiver of someone suicidal is a lot of thankless, hard work. If someone doesn't want help, they'll find ways to weasel around everything you to hit them with, until they're ready to do it themselves. So, keep yourself sane and healthy.

I'd like to think that after this, he helps them both. He helps her by getting better himself. Since she followed him into the hole, I think she would follow him out. Slowly. But seeing him put in the effort would give her the strength to do it herself.

Go listen to Don't Try Suicide by Queen and don't fucking kill yourself, okay? Great? Great! xoxo Katie

[lieutenantfloyd]

When Duty Calls Part 1 | Cyclone x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Your return home brings you inner turmoil, prolonged typing bubbles, and what may turn out to be a chance to mend what you broke.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, a lot of internal thoughts/monologue, implied non-platonic feelings (if you squint).

a/n: This took a bit longer to get out than I’d hoped, but I’m so excited to have gotten the ball rolling!

Read on AO3

In your experience, one of the hardest parts of being back stateside is the noise. Both the quiet and the loud.

Your former home — An aircraft carrier somewhere in the middle of the Pacific — was by no means quiet, but each sound, each movement, each person, had its purpose. the low hum of radio chatter or the sound of planes taking off overhead had become a strange comfort to you. You were one of the lucky ones who quickly found where you belonged amongst that noise. Now after years spent painstakingly carving your name into the Naval history books, you were far from just another officer. And yet, in some twisted way, that glorious reputation of yours is exactly what brought you back here in the first place.

Exactly 23 hours ago you were still stationed on that aforementioned aircraft carrier, completely unaware that you would soon be summoned and informed — albeit with more eloquent verbiage — that you were to pack your things and head back to TOPGUN. A thousand different questions brewed inside you, but you were well aware that the Navy has never been the place to voice them. Instead, you honored each following set of instructions with nothing more than a simple "Yes sir, no ma'am".

The subsequent hours were filled with personal chaos and three different modes of transportation. Luckily, not much could phase you at this point. At least not enough for anyone to pick up on your external cues of panic. Contrary to the aviator stereotype, you liked to think of yourself as level-headed with a strong preference for flying under the radar, both in a literal and figurative sense. You'd weathered through everything the last 24 hours had thrown at you without so much as a snide remark. You kept your calm when the airline briefly lost your single piece of checked luggage. You even brushed off each lingering stare and every all too frequent ask of "So, Is your husband/brother/father/next-door neighbor in the service?". Yet, approximately three and a half minutes ago, something in you started to crack. Logic told you that this was just your nervous system coming to terms with what the next several weeks would entail, but an increasingly large part of your mind knew that that was only half the story. But seeing as you currently found yourself frozen in the back of your Uber, gripping the door handle as if your life depended on it, these facts were neither here nor there. As the latest wave of anxiety runs its course you suppress a shudder and call on your now-sapped willpower. Logic once again tells you that fresh air helps in these situations, so you force your pointer finger out and roll the window down. You hold the button until the window is right above halfway down. Just far enough to let the bright San Diego sunshine in while still allowing you to lean your head against the cool glass. After a few deep breaths, you run your tongue along the outside of your lips. The air is laced with the familiar taste of sea salt. If your memory served you right, you were just under a mile from the ocean and no more than three from base. The thought had barely crossed your mind before the pang of countless different emotions hit you. You silently curse your faultless sense of direction. In sudden need of a distraction, your free hand reaches into your bag and pulls out your phone. You blink away the dryness in your eyes before shifting your attention to the small screen which only takes a halfhearted tap to flash to life. You swipe through your notifications before tapping on the message that's been lingering in the back of your mind since the early hours of the morning.

I'm assuming you've been made aware of your latest assignment. received 7:13 am. — followed by — We hope your trip back goes well. received 7:26 am.

I landed about an hour ago, you text back. Headed home now.

It didn't surprise you that Warlock would be the first to reach out. Given his rank and location, he probably knew all about the mission. Plus, if you knew anything about the man, it was that he's always been the diplomatic type. From the stories you heard of their younger years, a part of you has always wondered if this is why his friendship with Cyclone worked so well.

Speaking of Cyclone, you click the back button and select his contact. Your last conversation with him — dated just one day before your deployment — quickly appears. God, had it really been almost five months since you last spoke? At this revelation, you sit staring at the screen for a few beats. You knew him and his personality far too well to expect him to welcome you back with open arms, but that didn't make the radio silence hurt any less. You want nothing more than to reach out, but with a shaky breath, you remind yourself that he's a horribly busy man with fewer personal relationships than you can count on one hand. However, this doesn't stop a flash of sadness from coursing through your body.

Exiting the text thread, you click on the only other new message. It's from an unsaved number and its contents inform you that everyone who's been called back is meeting up tonight at the Hard Deck. Just as you are about to send back a quick "thank you. Who is this?", something else pops into your mind and grabs your interest entirely. You quickly back out and tap on Warlock's contact. You read his second message again, Then at least five more times after that.

We hope your trip back goes well.

We?

You weren't one to get into the semantics of things, but the ambiguity of his word choice hung heavy over you. There was a possibility that he was innocently referring to himself and his wife. Yet there was an equal, and far more electrifying, chance that he was talking about himself and Cyclone. It was no secret to Warlock that the pair of you were, at least at one time, immensely close. That familiar itch returned to your fingertips, though this time you feared it would be here to stay. Over the last five months, You've been down this path countless times before. Yet each time it got harder and harder not to simply dial his number and ask about his day as if no time had passed at all. Reminding yourself that the chances of him picking up were firmly in the negative, you looked from your phone entirely and instead redirected your sights to the world outside. As you look up, The car rounds one last corner and the familiarity of your surroundings kicks into overdrive. The lump in your throat grows as both the ocean and your house come into view. Your heart swells as you realize your neighborhood hasn't changed a bit. You were fully prepared for your homecoming to be emotionally taxing, but what you hadn't prepared for was just how right it would all feel.

You come to a stop at the curb directly across from your house. You thank the driver as you exit, and a moment later your feet hit the concrete. Your hands are surprisingly steady against your luggage. The car slowly pulls away. You are left standing in your yard, phone in hand, staring up at your long-established home. The walk up the driveway is one you've made at least a thousand times. And something in you knows that it's the bittersweet familiarity of it all that finally allowed your one inescapable urge to take hold.

The rational side of your brain — the one you should be more inclined to listen to in this situation — told you that he's probably terribly busy doing all those terribly important Vice Admiral things he spent far too many hours a day doing. But the emotional side — the one that above all else, won't let you forget your history together — told you that all you really wanted was to hear his voice again. Or at very least get a few words of blunt (and often trenchant) encouragement. Your suitcase rolls over polished hardwood as you close the door behind you. The only thing you're greeted by is a stale silence. Your friends in the area had been kind enough to stop by while you were gone to ensure remained in working order, but that didn't make the stillness any easier to swallow.

Surely there's no harm in simply reaching out, right?

It was in that moment, standing with your back against the front door, that you hoisted up your white flag of defeat. Almost instantly your fingers were fast at work typing out your message before your conscience could reckon with how bad this idea was. Your words of choice were innocuous enough, yet you feel nothing but anguish the moment after you hit send.

Hey there. I know it's been… a while. You probably know I'm back in town on orders. If you have the time, I'd love to catch up. Sent >1min ago.

You kick your shoes off with a frustrated huff and immediately head for your bedroom. For what you lacked in the typical aviator ego, you made up for tenfold with split-second impulsiveness. On the bright side, you at least had the sense to leave the "I miss you so bad please respond" part unsaid. It's a short walk, and you toss your phone onto your bed once you're there with the full intention of taking a quick shower. Only, your phone lands face up. Leaving you watching in horror as your still unlocked screen proudly displays the typing bubbles on his end slowly appearing and disappearing.

Somewhere between bolting back out of the room and spending 45 minutes under the ice cold water coming out of your shower head, you pulled together a crude course of action. For the duration of your time here, you will do nothing but keep your head down, execute the mission, and be the Navy's perfect little flying angel. Somewhere between the lines of the damp post-it note you jotted this down on are the words "and no more attempts at reconnecting with the people you left in the past.". though even you know that even your best attempt at following that step will wind up unavailing at best. Post shower and with a slight semblance of a plan in place, you were already starting to feel like yourself again. Like every other mission, your ability to execute the plan would make or break you, and If the secrecy surrounding why exactly you were called back to Top Gun was anything to go off of you would have to be entirely focused and at your most cutthroat.

Exiting your room, you made your way to the front door where you quickly pulled on your boots and grabbed your keys from the dish in the entryway. The route from your house to the Hard Deck is one that's permanently etched into your mind. This wasn't the time nor the place to be making friends and in all honesty you wanted nothing more than to stay in and order takeout. However, you knew that you needed to scope out your competition as soon as possible.

You check the entryway mirror one last time before turning the knob and passing the threshold. You square your shoulders as you make the short walk to your car while also doing your best to ignore the growing feeling that the first of many wrenches is about to be thrown at your freshly made strategy.

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @katesmadness, @natasharomanoffisbaebby, @nobody7102, @idiomaticpunk, @thebeckyjolene, @paintballkid711, @simpledyiing, @barbiewritesstuff, @bbooks-and-teas, @starshipfantasy, @saramaple, @marchingicenotes7, @bayisdying, @princessofglitterland, @katesmadness, @shakira-sasha, @xoxabs88xox, @nyx2021, @qardasngan, @fanboyluvr, @mrsjaderogers, @bellamy1998, @alexxavicry, @madamemelancholysstuff, @autumnleaves1991-reads, @dozcan123, @nani-kenobi, @noxytopy, @accio-boys, @the-winter-marvel33, @justameresimp, @abaker74, @starlightmoon2020, @comfortzonequeen, @flrboyd, @heyitskay-21, @kmc1989, @kkrenae (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[leejungchans]

rich girl — l.mh

word count | 3.2k

pairing | lee minho (skz) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions, a lil swearing, reader has icky friends

genre | fluff, angst if you squint, high school au, ???-to-friends/implied lovers au, lino’s a bit of a tsundere

note | i imagined this whole thing as a kdrama scene while writing which is why it’s kinda cliche and dramatic at parts 😭 not proofread but i will when i wake up

summary | of all the places to run into you, lee minho never expected it to be at a convenience store.

a/n | happy new year everyone 💖 i’m so sorry i haven’t posted anything in a bit, had a bit of writer’s block which is why this took months to finish but i’m slowly getting back into the groove!! to everyone who requested in my 1k event, i promise i’ll get to every single one of them so dw!! i hope you enjoy!!

“Thanks for today,” Yang Jeongin murmurs shyly, bowing his head as Minho pockets the money. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Even now, Minho still remembers the look on his friends’ faces when he told them he wanted to try tutoring the younger kids at school. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not the worst way to earn some extra money.

“It’s fine,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lemme know how the test goes and text me anytime if you have more questions.” He doesn’t really mean the latter part—responding to texts outside his self-scheduled working hours is hardly appealing—but it feels customary to say.

Jeongin nods, his arms hanging at his sides as he walks Minho to the front door. “Okay, thanks again. Have a good rest of your night.”

If the older boy had noticed how tense he is, he doesn’t point it out. It’s no secret that Lee Minho has a reputation at school for being intimidating, and while he was surprisingly patient for the entirety of those two hours, Jeongin still finds it hard to shake off that feeling of being scrutinised when his sharp, cat-like eyes constantly feel like they’re probing right into his soul.

“You too. I’ll see you around,” Minho says, hardly bothered by the awkward energy of the empty apartment as he slips on his shoes. He wonders for a brief moment where Jeongin’s parents are, but doesn’t entertain the thought for long because he cares more about going home to his cats. Going to a private school comes with a hefty price tag, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Jeongin’s parents are still at work much like his own. 

The sun has long set by now, draping a blanket of dark indigo over the bustling streets as people rush to get home. Up ahead, Minho sees the glowing sign of a convenience store, and as though being reminded his stomach rumbles, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten since lunch.

He could go for some ramen, and this way he wouldn’t have to cook and do the dishes.

From the stocked shelves, he picks out his dinner—a bowl of Shin Ramyun, a tuna triangle kimbap and a bottle of green tea. Simple, yet so satisfying; his go-to no matter how many times Hyunjin teases him for getting the same thing time and time again.

Hyunjin makes fun of him, he lovingly threatens to shove tissue down his throat. Minho wouldn’t have it any other way.

A fond scoff falls from his lips as he waits for his ramen to cook. His eyes scan the store, flitting from the bored cashier picking at his nails to the girl sitting at the table just several feet away from him. It takes a few seconds for him to realise she’s wearing his school’s uniform, and another few to notice the polished shoes with the dainty gold buckles that look all too familiar.

It’s not just anyone from school—it’s you.

The realisation has him turning on his heel immediately. Surely, his back profile isn’t too recognisable? His heart skips a beat in his chest and only one thought consumes his mind as he hastily straightens his tie and redoes the first button on his shirt—what the hell are you of all people doing in a convenience store?

“You know, most people eat their noodles before they get soggy.”

Minho resists the urge to let a few colourful words slip. He doesn’t think your parents would appreciate learning that the student-guide assigned to their precious daughter was the one who taught her her first swear word.

Huh, that was a little mean. Distantly, Chan’s disapproving voice rings out from the back of his mind.

“Give her a chance, Minho. Just because she’s from a rich family doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. I’ve talked to her a few times, she’s really nice.”

His feet move slowly as he turns to face you, finding your eyes still trained on him as you await his reaction, glossy lips curled up amusedly. He wants to flee, wants to curse the gods for making him run into you at such a time and place. But he’s already made the ramen, it’s too late to leave.

Reluctantly, he grabs his dinner and makes his way over to the table, making sure you’re separated by a seat as he plops himself down on the squeaky bar stool. You don’t seem bothered, the little grin still ever-present on your face before you turn back to your dinner.

Minho watches from the corner of his eyes as you pick up your half-eaten kimbap, dunking the corner into the spicy broth before taking a bite. Maybe he’s a little impressed, he didn’t expect you to know the only correct way to eat kimbap and ramen—at least, the only correct way in his eyes.

“Don’t seem so surprised,” you quip lightly without looking up, “rich people eat ramen too.”

His cheeks grow warm from being caught staring. “Just didn’t expect you to hang around somewhere like this.”

“Are you kidding? I love convenience store food. They didn’t have the stuff here when I was at boarding school, I had to order everything I wanted online.”

“Must’ve taken a long time to get them shipped to you,” he muses. It’s strange, he thought he couldn’t care less about what went on in the fancy boarding school you attended before transferring here, but it’s refreshing hearing you talk about mundane things like bulk-buying instant ramen as though a squirrel stashing food away for the winter.

“Oh, it felt like forever each time! I felt like I was going to die craving all the snacks I couldn’t get there.” For a second there you sounded just like Hyunjin during his dramatic moments, like that time when Minho refused to pay for his ice cream and he acted like he was left to fend for himself in the wilderness.

He finds it oddly endearing.

“That’s not the worst part,” you continue, “the worst part was dealing with thieves in the dorms. I can’t count how many packs of ramen I had stolen from me.”

“Oh, the tragedy!”

You roll your eyes at the exaggerated gasp he lets out, though the action hardly holds any genuine annoyance. “I can’t tell if you’re still being serious.”

A small grunt leaves Minho as he twists open the bottle cap of his bottled tea. “I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if people stole food from me.” The worst Jisung’s done to him is snagging a few gummy bears, and that already feels like a criminal offence in his book.

“I guess that’s the second thing we have in common.”

“What’s the first? Having good taste in convenience store dinner?”

“I knew you were smart, Lee.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffs, yet his the corners of his lips can’t help but quirk up at the devious, teasing grin you flash him.

He’d rather do Hyunjin’s PE laundry for a month than admit it, but you’re kind of cute.

“What’re you doing in this area so late, anyways?”

You offer a smile in thanks as Minho holds the door open and gestures for you to go first. The two of you step out of the store, the frostiness of the winter night penetrating through the layers you’re wearing and settling deep into your bones.

“I was with Hyebin and the others.” He doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, the twinkle in your eyes dimming like a fallen star. He’s never liked the friend group you’ve found yourself in ever since you transferred over to the school. They’ve always given him the impression that they were more interested in your money and brains than anything. “They needed help with their homework.”

“Of course they did,” Minho scoffs.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“You need to be more careful with this stuff. The teachers aren’t as stupid as you think, just because you’re not the one doing the copying doesn’t mean you won’t get into trouble.”

“Gosh, what’s with the lecture? Why do you care who I hang out with?”

He freezes, pursing his lips together as he thinks of a counter. You’re right, why does he care? Perhaps your earlier conversation in the store changed his admittedly biased perception of you. Or perhaps despite everything he's ever thought about you, he thinks you still deserve better than Hyebin and her goons.

“W-Well, I was assigned to be your guide to the school,” Minho splutters, “sorry for taking my job seriously!” It’s a horrible excuse, so he’s not the slightest bit surprised when you don’t buy it at all.

“That’s funny, because you’ve made it pretty clear from the day we met that you couldn’t care less about a spoiled brat like me!” He hates that he still finds you cute even as you’re fuming and ranting at him. “Everyone at school is exactly like you, always making your own assumptions without even bothering to get to know me! Well, I’m telling you right now that I don’t need you to—”

“Watch out!”

Your foot gets caught on a raised ledge that you hadn’t noticed in your moment of frustration. You trip with a loud shriek, knees scraping painfully against the pavement as you break your fall with your hands. A burning sensation spreads across your face, and you’re utterly mortified that you just embarrassed yourself in front of someone the likes of Lee Minho while you were giving him a piece of your mind.

“Are you okay?” You feel his hand wrap around your arm as he helps you up, refusing to meet his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “You need to watch where you’re going.”

You tug your arm out of Minho’s grasp with an aggravated huff. “I’m fine!” you snap, but the pained hiss that whistles through your clenched teeth says otherwise as you attempt to stand without his support. Your left ankle throbs with a sharp pain, causing you to lose balance and stumble.

“Seems like you’re not,” he observes without his usual snark as he reaches out to hold you steady again. This time, you don’t shake him off. “You should get that checked out soon, it’s probably a sprained ankle.”

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. Scraped knees and a sprained ankle? You dread the earful you know you’ll be getting from your overprotective parents. Thankfully, your family’s driver is only parked a few blocks away from where you are, so you shouldn’t have to hobble too far—

“—get on.”

“H-Huh?”

Minho rolls his eyes at your dumbfounded expression, his knees bent as he gestures to his back with a tilt of his head, signalling you to climb on. “You said your driver is waiting for you nearby, right?” You nod. “I’ll carry you there.”

“You better not tell your friends that I forced you to do this,” you mutter sulkily.

“Jesus, Y/N. I don’t stoop that low. I’m the one who offered, okay?” At your hesitation, the sharp angles of his face soften ever so slightly. “I swear. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you walk three blocks on a twisted ankle.”

The sincerity in his eyes has knots forming in your stomach out of guilt, embarrassed that you’ve been so harsh on him for his intentions when all he’s done was offer help. Murmuring a thank you, you gingerly wrap your arms around his neck as his arms hook around your thighs. With a soft grunt, he draws to his full height and begins heading down the street.

The proximity between the two of you floods your cheeks with warmth. You’re certain you harbour absolutely zero romantic feelings for Lee Minho, your less-than-enthusiastic guide to the school who cares more about the stray cats lingering outside the gates than ninety percent of the student population—at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You suppose he can be charming, especially when he smiles; it’s a sight you’re hardly privy to seeing, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of his toothy grin when he’s talking to Chan or play-wrestling with the tall kid who’s on the soccer team.

And you suppose he’s pretty charming now too, not an indication of annoyance towards your current predicament as he piggybacks you the rest of the way to your car. A faint jasmine scent greets your senses, and it takes all your willpower to resist leaning in closer. Ugh, of course his shampoo just so happens to be your favourite scent too.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there,” you say quietly after a while. “I was frustrated with people at school but took it out on you, which was really unfair of me.”

For a brief moment, Minho doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he’s still upset. It’s understandable, but it leaves you with a sinking pit in your stomach and you’ve never wanted the earth to swallow you whole so badly until now.

“It’s okay.” You perk up a little at his unexpected response. “I get it, really. I’m sorry too, for letting all those stereotypes and assumptions get the best of my judgement. I was a pretty shitty guide, huh?” he jokes with a soft chuckle.

A smile slowly appears on your face at his attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ve seen worse, and in a way you did kinda help me learn my way around campus.”

“By avoiding you like my life depended on it while you searched high and low for me?”

“Questionable execution, successful outcome.”

His head tilts back as he lets out a genuine laugh, the bright sound only increasing the palpitations of your heart. “That’s how I roll. Leaves an impression.”

He certainly has. Never would you have guessed that you’d be seeing this side of Lee Minho tonight, or ever, and you don’t doubt that you’ll be thinking about this moment for the next week even if he goes back to being all ‘bad-boy’ with you tomorrow. It feels like you’re witnessing something you’re not supposed to, and it’s exhilarating.

His gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts. “I was serious about Hyebin. They’re using you, both her and her friends,” he says, spitting the last word out like it’s venomous.

“I know.”

“You know?”

You hum sadly. “My family runs a conglomerate and I’ve attended more of their functions than I can count. I learnt very early on what it looks like when someone’s only being nice to you because they want something.”

Minho nods in understanding, yet your response only begs the next question. “Then why do you still hang out with them? What do they have that you don’t?”

“Nothing, but… who else do I have at school? Almost everyone else is either no different from them, or are too intimidated to approach me even when I’ve done everything I can to prove I’m anything but.”

Something about how you don’t bother hiding the defeat in your voice makes his heart twinge with sympathy. He knows you’re right—hell, he considers himself unbelievably lucky that he managed to find people he genuinely sees as his close friends in a sea of snobbish, self-centred students.

“Hang out with us. Really,” he adds when you fall eerily silent. “I know we’re probably the furthest thing away from the people you’re used to associating yourself with, and I guess we can be a little weird sometimes—” admittedly, maybe a lot weird—“but we’re good people, especially my friends.”

Minho stops himself upon realising he’s already begun rambling, but the quiet giggle that reaches his ears relaxes him a little.

“I like weird.” Despite currently looking ahead, he can still hear the smile in your voice. “Wouldn’t I make things awkward, though? I don’t wanna intrude on anything.”

“Are you kidding? Once you're friends with Chan, he’ll find a way to make you feel comfortable no matter what. Do you like anime, by any chance?”

“Actually, yeah. I do.”

He chuckles, “Then you’ll have no problem getting along with my other friends too.”

“And what about you?” you ask softly. “Are you okay with it?”

“I’m the one who offered, of course I am.”

You’re unsure if you can consider Lee Minho your friend yet—or rather, if he’d want that or not—but one thing’s for certain: his authenticity is both admirable and appreciated. You don’t question his kindness now because he wasn’t afraid to show his genuine indifference in your encounters prior to today.

“Thank you, Minho. I don’t know what else to say other than… thanks, really.”

Spying your family’s car just down the street, he turns to grin at you, eyes curved and smile reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “Feel free to also comment on how unfairly handsome and strong I am.”

You respond with a fond roll of your eyes. He’s not wrong, but you don’t need to tell him that either. “Very funny, but yes, thank you for this too. I’m sorry you had to carry me all the way here.”

Now it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Stop apologising, Y/N, I wanted to. Hopefully your ankle isn’t too seriously sprained.”

“My parents are going to make such a big fuss if I need a cast.”

He snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the first one to sign it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumble sulkily, though it only makes him laugh harder. It’s beyond him how it’s possible for someone to sound this adorable even while swearing.

Carefully, he lets you down upon reaching the car, still holding you steady by your arms as the door slides open to reveal luxurious leather seats. He helps you into the backseat, offering a shy nod in greeting when your driver looks back to give you a questioning look.

“I’ll explain later,” you tell him before turning back to Minho, “let us give you a ride home.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he reassures, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I live really close by.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You better not be lying to me.”

Dramatically, he places a hand over his heart. “I swear.”

“I’m gonna ask Chan first thing when I see him.”

“You do that,” he replies smoothly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Relenting, you nod and return the smile he gives you. “Okay, get home safe. Good night, Minho.”

“Good night.”

Your eyes never leave his as the door shuts between you two. You look back at Minho through the tinted windows, finding him still standing at the same spot as he watches your car take off down the road. Even as you make a left turn, causing him to disappear from your line of sight, you don’t turn back until your driver feigns a cough, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“That boy,” he begins, eyes briefly flickering to meet yours in the rear-view mirror, “is he your classmate, Miss L/N?”

You nod.

“You two looked close.” He must’ve seen the look on your face because he lets out a hearty laugh, one you’ve grown accustomed to over all his years of service to your family. “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t tell your parents,” he reassures, “I just wanted to say that he seems to like you a lot.”

“Huh, is that so?” is all you say, yet you can’t fight the smile that appears on your face the second no one’s looking.

༉‧₊˚✧ thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog if you enjoyed my writing, and any form of feedback is greatly appreciated ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

[grimoireofhayley]

Hi! First time ever requesting anything! Any chance you could write Draco Malfoy x Reader arranged marriage? Preferably she/her pronouns P.s. loving your scream fanfic right now can’t wait for more chapters 🙏

The Betrothal

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Slow Burn, Language, Implied Smut, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Blood, Eventual Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Forced Marriage 

Word Count: 0.8k

Summary: (Y/n) and Draco have always disliked each other; constant bickering back and forth between and during classes, nit picking about each other’s looks and interests; it only got worse when they were forced to marry. 

A/n: Thank you so much for my first ever request, I greatly appreciate that. It means the world to me. I love this prompt and I was quick to start writing it, lol. Let me know what you think!

CHAPTER I

“I will not tolerate it, Draco!” Lucius fumes, slamming his fist down on the chestnut-coloured desk. “For Merlin’s sake, you are 26 years old and are not married yet.” He scoffs, swiping his papers to the side, flaring his nostrils. “You are a pureblood.” Lucius limps around his bureau, his cane banging on the ground with each step he took, ignoring the frequent protests of his eldest and only son, Draco Malfoy. “I am old and nearly at my deathbed, I will not let this bloodline fail for the likes of you.” He snarls, taking out his handkerchief, coughing into it as copper-coloured phlegm coats the silk. 

Draco rubs the slope of his neck, rubbing at it, avoiding his father’s gaze. 

Lucius took heed at his son’s behaviour and he tsked, his now-white hair, falling at the sides.

Bringing his cane up, he hit the ground with a thud, causing a sharp sound to reiterate around the room. 

Taken aback, Draco stumbled in fear, his eyes glossing, but he wasn’t willing to cry, he wasn’t going to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him so vulnerable; his father scared him, yes, but he always had, however, his father seemed more volatile today than he was before.

“Are you listening to me, boy!?” He screeches, his face a shade of pink from anger. 

Draco nods his head, stepping back, fearing his father may hit him. 

“You WILL marry, (Y/n), and continue the bloodline. If it’s the last thing you do.” Lucius inches closer, his hand placing a firm grasp on Draco’s shoulder. His son trembled, squinting his eyes.

“Do you hear me, Draco?” 

“Y-Yes, father.” 

Lucius’ grip tightened, almost burrowing his elongated fingers into the blades of Draco’s glenohumeral joint. 

Draco winces, the pain sending a burning sensation through his arm. 

“Good.” Lucius’ lips curve upward, a cheshire smile taking ahold on his features. 

The door to the study creaks open, causing Lucius to jolt. He immediately let go of Draco and stood upright. 

“What is all the commotion?” Narcissa steps in, her long whitish-silver and black hair flowing behind her.

“Nothing, Mother. Father was just informing me about the…” Draco clears his throat, adjusting his tie, then flattens his suit, “The arrangement…” 

“Ah, how wonderful.” She clasps her hands together, delighted to hear the news, completely oblivious to what was happening beforehand. 

--

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You growled under your breath, folding your arms over one another, tapping your foot, seemingly aggravated at the news. 

“It’s going to be fine, (N/n).” Your mother smiled, putting an arm around you, hugging you close. “Draco seems like a decent betrothal.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Decent?” You laugh, amused. “He’s far from decent, momma, he’s the complete opposite.” 

“How so?” Your mother glances at you, her emerald hues glazed with curiosity. 

You frowned, seeing how her reaction was.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” You twiddled with your thumbs, “Just forget about it…” You sighed, looking down, kicking at air, not wanting to soil your mothers happiness as you got lost in your head.

You haven’t seen Draco in several years, not since the battle of Hogwarts, though, you couldn’t help but wonder how he’s been doing.

(Y/n), dear, you okay?” Your mother shakes you slightly, deterring you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine..." You look away, averting your gaze.

Your mother smiles, a mischievous glimmer in her expression.

"Good because you're getting married tomorrow."

[imrowanartist]

Thought I'd share some of the writing I've done for the Rosie AU! The plan is to post a fully formed fic (written together with @narcissosbythepool) to AO3 eventually, but I've also written some snippets here and there which I'll start sharing here too.

Words: 988

Tags (also at the bottom): Trans Gaz, Implied trans pregnancy, mention of c-section and just pure fluff :)

-

“I can’t stop looking at her,“ John mutters, and while his voice still sounds gravelly, it’s also the softest Kyle has ever heard him. 

His partner is sitting on the edge of Kyle’s hospital bed, and he’s been holding and looking at their newborn for well over ten minutes now. 

“She’s pretty cute, isn’t she?” Kyle confirms, a smile pulling on his lips as he quietly observes the wonder in John’s eyes. It still hasn’t faded since he first laid eyes on their baby over 24 hours ago.

“We did that,” John says, then turns and looks at him, his eyes so impossibly soft, “You did that.”

Kyle grins, despite the pain and exhaustion currently still coursing through his body. “Damn right, I did.”

John chokes on a laugh, then gently shushes Rosie who makes a soft sound of disagreement at the sudden movement. “Ever the humble one,” he chuckles at Kyle, then asks, “How are you feeling?”

Kyle shrugs. “Remember that guy who sliced you up in Latvia?” John’s eyes narrow but he nods anyway. “Like that, but with less emergency staples and no infection.”

Despite his current pain level, the well-performed c-section stands low on his list of worst injuries ever. He’s dealt with much worse and he knows he’ll be due for new painkillers soon anyway.

“Hmm, unpleasant,” John confirms. He looks down at Rosie, who is starting to become a little fussy. They’ll have to feed her again soon. “Do you wanna hold her?”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, holding out his arms. They’ve been feeling empty ever since he was forced to get some rest earlier and had to let her go. John carefully maneuvers Rosie into his hold, making sure to support her head just as Dotty has shown him. It makes Kyle’s heart do funny things to see him being so gentle with their baby.

When she’s held securely in his arms again, Kyle looks down and can’t help but marvel at her. She’s so innocent and small. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, “how are you so tiny? You felt much bigger while I was lugging you around inside me.”

John snorts, then gives him a disapproving look. “Don’t swear around her.”

“Sure, captain ‘bloody hell, I have a kid now’” Kyle returns, dropping his voice in an imitation of John’s and they both chuckle. 

“Glad to see you’re feeling good enough to make fun of me again,” John mutters, standing up and adjusting Kyle's pillows so he can sit up a little better. The movement pulls on Kyle’s stitches, but he ignores it. A nurse will probably come by soon anyway, with painkillers for him and formula for Rosie. 

John takes his seat again on the chair next to the bed once Kyle is comfortable. Rosie seems to have settled too, for now, only letting out small huffs as she sleeps. 

Very gently Kyle strokes a finger over her downy hair. It’s so soft that he loses himself a bit in just feeling her warm weight in his arms and her silky little curls under his fingertips until the sound of a phone chiming several times in a row makes him look up.

“Who’s that?” he asks curiously, as John grabs for his phone and unlocks it.

John squints at the messages. “Kate’s demanding more pictures of Rosie,” he grunts.

“So she’s not mad at us anymore?” Kyle snorts, vibrant memories of the less-than-pleasant conversations they’d had with her unwillingly coming back to him. She was happy for them too, but she’d definitely let them know how much of a hassle they had caused for her.

“Hnngg debatable,” John grumbles, “I think she’s still quite pissed about you rushing her administration by four weeks.”

“Like that’s my fault-“ Kyle argues.

John gives him an amused look. “You could have sent her a little more warning than just a blurry photo of the hospital.”

“Yeah okay fair,” Kyle huffs, “Though in my defense, I wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time. And it was pretty funny to see her reaction.”

“For you maybe,” John says, his tone suddenly more serious, “You scared us all shitless.”

Kyle sighs, readjusting Rosie a little in his arms. John is right. If it hadn’t been for his sister’s quick handling, things might have gone very differently. They’re lucky that despite the emergency c-section, there seem to be no further complications so far. For him or Rosie.

“I was scared pretty shitless too,” Kyle says softly, then adds, “still am actually.”

He looks up and when he meets John’s eyes he can see understanding in it.

“Me too,” John admits, then reaches out a hand, “But we’re in this together, eh?”

Kyle takes the offered hand and holds on to it, his other still supporting Rosie. He blames the hormones for the tears that slowly make their way down his cheeks.

“We better write our own field manual,” he sniffs, “Cause I have no idea what we’re doing.”

John squeezes his hand, and Kyle can see how his partner’s eyes are now watery too. “In my experience, manuals go out the window anyway as soon as the action starts,” John jokes, though his voice is rough again.

Kyle chuckles wetly. “I suppose we are pretty good at improvising.”

John lets go of his hand and Kyle mourns the loss for a second until John offers him a tissue instead. Then his partner gets up from the chair and moves back to sitting on the mattress. Kyle gratefully leans into the contact it provides.

“Bloody right, we are,” John says, reaching out and stroking Rosie’s cheek.

“What happened to no swearing?” Kyle jokes, watching in fascination as she blinks open her eyes for a moment and lets out a happy sigh. Even though Kyle knows she can’t see much yet he swears she looks right up at her da, who laughs fondly.

“Eh,” John says, ”she can’t talk yet anyway.”

[miyu-hyperfixates]

Recently, I've been thinking about how the narrators of MXTX's books become progressively more unreliable with each new work. And how the more reliable they appear to be at first glance, the more unreliable they turned out to be.

1 - Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

Let's start with SVSSS.

Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu is your typical unreliable narrator in several ways.

First, regarding what happened in the original. At the beginning the only thing we knew about PIDW came from Shen Yuan's knowledge and own interpretations of the book. So of course we're taking everything at face value and accept all lot of Facts that OG!SQQ was an unredeemable scum villain (lecher, murderer, abuser, low IQ etc) for example. Though it becomes quite apparent half-way through the story (with the introduction of Airplane and when hints of OG!SQQ are shown) that Shen Yuan might not have been informed of the whole picture behind PIDW. There were a lot of background information and character depths that Shen Yuan weren't aware of (and he is discovering them at the same time as us the readers, but even if we're given hints and can infer about some things, the whole picture would only become apparent in the Extras ).

This is of course due to the fact that Shen Yuan used to be a Reader just like us and wasn't privy on the thoughts and disastrous plotting process of the Author.

Secondly, the narration in SVSSS is heavily influenced by SQQ own thoughts, views and interpretations of what he is living through. We know most of if not all his inner thoughts without much filtering. And it is very obvious right from the beginning that SQQ considers himself (due to his status as a transmigrator) an Omniscient Narrator (spoiler he is so not.)

Now the thing is, SQQ is very genre savy, okay? And say what you want, but he's actually quite observant... and it's not even that he can't identify the tropes when they happened to him (the amount of times he complained to the system from being involved in a wife plots) .... it's just that his internalized homophobia and his previous knowledge of PIDW is preventing him from reaching the right conclusions.

We, as readers, don't have this problem though. And this is why, SVSSS is a comedy, it is playing with the fact that we know SQQ is an unreliable narrator and it only works if we manage to notice what SQQ is missing. SVSSS thrives from SQQ being an unreliable narrator and all the misunderstandings that derive from it. I mean the whole Jinlan arc would read very differently if we were taking things at face value.

So yeah, SY | SQQ is an unreliable narrator and we were meant to notice that he is one right away.

2 - Mo Dao Zu Shi

Let's move on to MDZS and its narrator's, Wei Wuxian.

Now, WWX doesn't appear like an obvious unreliable narrator. His thoughts and feelings do, of course, colored the narrative when describing facts and people (and boy, that man has Opinions) but that is to be expected in any narrator.

Like SQQ before him, WWX is very observant but blind to his own impact on other people's lives. And it was implied thoroughly through the novel that he failed to notice the depth of people's feelings for him. And because of that, since you're seeing the world through WWX's eyes you have to try to read between the lines to understand some people actions. A lot of things are left to (more or less) interpretation, which is why some characters characterization wildly differs from one adaption to the other. (Jiang Cheng is probably the one who suffers the most from this problem, *squinting at the donghua adaptation of JC*).

So while WWX seems like a case of typical slightly unreliable narrator due to chronic obliviousness, you might not feel the need to label him as an unreliable narrator.

Until you realize that WWX tended to downplay a lot of things regarding his own sufferings and most importantly that he deliberately left things out of the narrative. Like... you know the whole thing with his golden core.

... Which is worse than SQQ, because at least SQQ didn't try to hide anything from the readers and you know.... conveniently forgetting a lot of things because he's got a bad memory.

3 - Tian Guan Ci Fu

Oh boy.... where to begin?

Xie Lian's narration, contrarily to both SQQ's and WWX's, appears to be sort of dry, a little matter-of-fact even? He is a lot less transparent with his own thoughts, so much that I've even been reluctant at the beginning to qualify TGCF as being from XL's POV. And more importantly he often doesn't bother to tell us things that he already knows (and he knows a lot of things). Which makes him the worst narrator ever.

I mean, you think the guy 's got a case of "a little bit oblivious" what's with him so half-assingly trying to "check San Lang's status/true identity" or him not realizing that the Middle court officers were obviously his former general in disguise.... But then speed forwarding to the next arc (or several next arcs in the case of Mu Qing and Feng Xin) and you realize that he actually knew all along and just didn't bother to tell us...

And it's super funny because he's like, "What? Do you think you guys were being sneaky or something?"

Another thing that makes him so unreliable is that you see him reading aloud the story of the demise of some general and then ten chapters later you realize that the general was him all along and he didn't even twitch while talking about it.

That of course prompted the running gag that if some random characters appears in the background/past of the current arc relevant character, then that random character had a 90% chance of being Xie Lian.

So yeah Xie Lian is most unreliable narrator of all three MC, because you don't have a clue that he's one until it's hitting you in the face.

4 - ??

So, seeing as how things have progressed so far, doesn't it mean that the 4th MC would be even worse than Xie Lian?

At this point, I wouldn't even be surprised if we spent two third of the 4th novel bemoaning on how the MC is so oblivious about the ML's (and his wholeass harem of side-characters) affection for him and then we got a scene like:

4th MC, after witnessing ML drinking vinegar, grinning affectionately: Pfft, we've been married for ten years and he's still being like this.

Readers : ....

Readers: !!! WHAT?! You're married?! Since how long?!

4th MC: Oh did you not know? But we've been holding hands the whole time?!

Readers: You didn't mention any of that!

4th MC, blinking: Oh we've been doing it so often that it just didn't register as something needed to mentioned?!

Readers: What about others things though, like kissing or papapa? Didn't you think it would be worth mentioning?

4th MC: Okay first, it's none of your business what me and my husband are doing behind the scene and secondly... bold of you to assume that I would have enough senses left to narrate anything while being intimate with my husband.

[stardustincarnate]

PARTNERS IN CRIME // Grell Sutcliff x Reader

FEMALE READER.

SUMMARY : You had been suffering in the hands of the thing known to be your husband. You had enough. You wanted him dead. And so you began to devise a plan to kill him; when suddenly, you stumbled upon a flirtatious redhead, who, unbeknown to you, was willing to be your partner in crime.

WORD COUNT : 5957 words.

GENRES : angst. very slight fluff if you squint. smut.

WARNINGS : domestic abuse. physical and mental torture. 19th century misogyny. implications of rape. cheating. reader is implied to have serious mental health issues and is on the brink of insanity.

watch out for typographical/grammatical errors.

♡ writing commissions are open! ♡

CLICK HERE FOR THE WATTPAD VERSION.

"You duffer! What do you think you're doing back there?!"

My livid husband -- as much as I didn't want to call that fiend that title, for the sake of continuing my family's legacy, I did, for three unbearable years -- lashed his whip at me, at the same time screaming with such shrillness that all dignity was lost. A new set of wounds overlapped my barely healing ones. I bit back a sob. Being used to being deliberately abused didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt anymore, or that I'd eventually grow numb to it. At the time I had two choices: to answer his rhetorical question or not, but both always led to the same outcome.

Another whip of the lash, which welted my cheeks and smeared blood around the area. The tears which formed on my eyes fueled that manic bloodlust on his abominable face. He laughed and said, "Don't come crying now! Weren't you the one who was so complacent earlier? Disrespecting your husband in public. Have some shame, you harlot! You don't get to talk back to me. I am the man here. You're just a woman who can't even follow the simplest rule."

The following whips were ceaseless and more jarred than the last. The butlers and the maids... they could only watch with empty eyes. No remorse, no guilt about being not able to do anything for the one who had kept them so they could sustain their families. 

Those ungrateful rats...

By the end of the night, the sleek, white floor had been tainted with my blood. Its iron smell filled the room, and the fiend had told the servants to clean up the filth. Then, he took me back to the bedroom.

"Surely, you're not dumb enough to think that I'd actually sleep with trash like you tonight. Go and fix yourself. You earned this. And if you let any wounds be left uncovered for the meeting tomorrow, you know what I'm gonna do."

Gritting my teeth, I seized the bedsheet with quivering hands, looking at the door which the fiend had just closed. I couldn't hear his footsteps nor the wind that howled forlornly that night. In fact, the only thing I could hear was my raging heartbeat and the voice in my head which vividly spoke to me. The voice which overwrote any other thoughts and told me what I needed to do.

I had to kill that bastard.

⋆ฺ｡*:･

Several days later.

My plan was fixed. All that was left to do was to put it in action at the right moment. I still had to wait for it to come, and it left me furious, filled with even sicker thoughts, that I could not set it in motion immediately as I had wanted -- needed.

I found myself at a jewelry shop at the time. Perhaps some of the beauts could offer just the tiniest amount of relaxation for me. I stooped and stared at the jade in the selection, when suddenly I sensed an encroachment, a figure looming behind me. Fearing that it might be the bastard, I immediately turned around. But it was only a stranger -- a stranger who possessed possibly the most vibrant shade of red hair and a peculiar pair of chartreuse irides. She seemed too pompous to be in a place like this. I wondered if she had taken interest in the jade I was staring at. I moved to the side, but she began speaking to the confused purveyor.

"Those amethysts suit the lady very well, don't they?"

It took me a while to figure out that she was indeed referring to me. She reeked of no harm, but I did not understand why she was acting so familiar with me, so I put my guard on nonetheless.

"L-Lady Everleigh, would you like to take a look at these amethysts?"

The stranger suddenly smiled at me. I looked at the purveyor and nodded. As he took it out for me to see, the redhead walked closer to me.

"Lady Everleigh, is it?"

I instinctively hissed, a subtle one so she would not notice. How much I loathed being called by that surname.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around here."

She chuckled, almost coyly. "Oh dear, I have been around here for quite a while now."

"Really? Because I'd remember that pompous red hair anywhere. What's your name?"

"I'm Grell Sutcliff, the one and only." The flirtatious nature surrounding her only expanded. "Now now dear, I certainly won't let you go without knowing your full name, so, pray tell."

"I am Lady [Y/N] Everleigh of the House of Everleigh. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Sutcliff."

The merchant who had just come back looked like he was about to apologize profusely on behalf of Grell's ignorance. Yet I decided to not mind it nonetheless. Strangers are sometimes better than people you know, because the latter often judge harsher than the former.

"So, why did you think that these amethysts suit me, Grell?" I stared at the purple gems glinting before me, then stared at her. I could not help but be mesmerized by the peculiar color of her eyes. They were fascinating. I didn't think that I had seen such pair of vivid eyes like hers. She was also observing me, but I had observed longer. She looked pleased at my astonishment, well-aware of her own beauty and charisma. I averted my eyes back to the gems.

She was, undoubtedly, pulchritudinous.

"Why they suit you? Well, no other reasons than them being so pretty! I would've liked them to myself if it weren't for the fact that purple isn't my usual color. It clashes horribly with my hair color!"

True enough, they were beautiful. Beautiful enough to like, beautiful enough to loath. They were pretty, but they did not suit me, for amethysts were supposed to symbolize one's chastening and purity. It would be horrible, wouldn't it? For such a lovely gem's worth be brought down only because someone so tainted already and filled with nothing but murderous thoughts, someone who couldn't be fixed with purification, had worn it.

I forced a smile. "I'll take it. The lady said it suits me, so it does." The merchant looked delighted, and as I was giving my payment, I accidentally glanced at the ruby placed at the bottom, then at Grell. An idea struck me.

"Grell. Would you like to have dinner with me later? You need only to tell me of your address. I'll send a carriage by 7. How does that sound?"

"Oh let's see -- hmm, Will probably won't mind if I... delay my duties for a bit, won't he? Besides, I deserve a break after all the hard work I've put in this job!" She mumbled on, noisily, the fact that she was in a public place slipping from her mind. Her mind had begun to wander aimlessly at the thoughts of how a certain colleague of hers bothered her to the brim.

I coughed, gaining her attention. Through the pristine glass window behind her I could see the sun starting to drown in the horizon, layers and layers of warm hues overlapping each other, with a promise of a darker sky looming on the back.

"How I would love to go out with you, Madam. However, I shall be the one to escort you to our place of dining. Well, you see, whether I like it or not, I live in such poor conditions -- and I can't bear the thought of Madam's reaction once she finds out how terrible it looks from the lips of her assistants!"

I suppressed a smirk. We all have secrets we don't want anyone to dredge, so I understood the reason behind her lying about her living conditions. It was not my part to be curious, at any rate.

"I understand, yet I'm afraid that cannot be. My... husband is such a baby, you see. He absolutely loathes it whenever friends of mine come for a visit. Rather petty, innit?" I furtively winked at the merchant who was too obvious on listening intently to my conversation with Grell. "How about we meet here by 7pm? We could take a walk to our dining place. It won't be that long. I wouldn't want to tire you out, would I?"

"Oh, but the weariness would be worth it for you." She smirked, and I found myself smiling. She added, "Anyway, I'm fine with it. Do be careful, darling. I shall see you around later."

"Looking forward to it."

With that, we both left the jewelry shop and parted ways.

An unbidden smile found its way to my lips as I recalled our encounter. Amidst all the problems besetting my life, I had made a sudden acquaintance, and found something to look forward to, as if I had been stuck wandering in the woods wherein daytime ceased to exist, and finally I had caught glimpse of flames. A bonfire. The premonition of freedom awaited me... There, in the flames.

I stared at the setting sun in awe and contemplation. The illusion at the sky was that of a dancing flame, vivid red.

Grell. Such charisma. A very charming lady, indeed.

⋆ฺ｡*:･

The remaining hours passed speedily. I had gone out to our meeting spot solely and without consent (as if  I needed an utter dingus to tell me what to do), as the abomination had not yet arrived. The butlers and maids did not bother to ask where I was headed, though I saw how their eyes wandered apprehensively on me. If the abomination would have to arrive before I did, he would ask them, yet they had not a clue where I went, which put my heart at ease.

The familiar figure that I was strangely but utterly delighted to see was leaning against the wall, shadows casting over her face. As I walked closer I began to see that flirtatious, smiling countenance once more, and I automatically smiled.

"Shall we, my lady?"

"We shall."

And so we began walking side by side.

"You don't seem to have a lot on your plate these days, now do you, Madam? I was actually surprised that you managed to ask me out on a date."

I coughed. "Pardon?"

"Well of course I meant a friendly date. Just two beautiful ladies hanging out with each other."

"I don't have much to do, you see. One might think that living inside a huge mansion is a privilege -- in which case, it is, as seen from a more incisive perspective -- however, it has been quite... monotonous, these past few... weeks? Months. I have lost track of time. Seeing the same old people, their same old habits and emotions, or lack thereof..."

When I looked down, I saw that our arms had been linked together.

"I reckon you must have been so lonely, Lady Everleigh."

I sighed as I peered into the distance, looking at the signs. "I am. It's rather difficult to maintain a reputation amidst all the turmoils happening in one's life," I paused, then smiled. "Pardon me. I ramble too much."

"Ramble as much as you'd like. After all, it's merely the two of us here. Well, excluding passers-by, of course." She smiled, almost wistfully, as our eyes met, her features illuminated by the pale moonlight. I stopped my tracks, flabbergasted by her beauty. I swallowed the uninvited lump in my throat and then looked around, suddenly interested in the most mundane things around. We continued walking.

What was this? What's up with her, or with me? Why did I feel like opening up to a complete stranger? Why was it that I had the urge to release and lay everything upon her?

Somehow... It was almost like a bone-deep feeling, that she was someone to be trusted.

"But of course, I can ramble for you instead if you don't want to. Nobles do like to be conservative and mysterious after all, don't they?"

"Please, not all. And certainly not when it comes to you," I chuckled, "I would go on and ramble, only if you don't mind the mudslingings about my -- "

"Your husband, I reckon?"

"Yes, that thing."

"Ooh, my, my. Let me guess, you had enough of him, don't you? You want to find someone new -- someone who will give you all the thrills and excitement that he's lacking!"

"Yes, and no. After all the experiences I had with him? I dare not think of engaging in another relationship with anyone, as they could only be far worse than him."

"Oh dearie, you might eat your own words someday."

"And what makes you say that?"

"I have a very strong feeling about it."

"That's not very reliable now, is it?"

"So you're saying my feelings are invalid, huh!" She said in a frivolous manner.

"Now now don't be so belligerent, Grell. I never said anything." I chuckled. "But it must be nice, you know, to have someone who reciprocates your actions for a spouse. Perhaps in another life. This life? I don't suppose." Quietness enveloped us, before I continued. "I do not think it's appropriate, especially for someone of my status, to tell a stranger a secret, but I know for certain at least everyone in this miserable world had shared their secrets to people worse than strangers -- for instance, backstabbers. But, going back, you already know my secret -- but I'm once again saying it for emphasis: I am not happy with my marriage. It is horrible."

The atmosphere began to feel oppressive. Even talking about him was enough to smother me. I felt my heart beat faster. I regretted it, talking about him. It felt as if he was around me again -- lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on me, afflict my psychological being and feist on it. I was about to separate my arm from hers, but she suddenly said, "My, he must've been so bad in bed for you to be able to say that."

I stared at her blankly as she gave me an inconspicuous, knowing look, pushing me against the nearest brick wall. Then I burst into a fit of giggles, my chest genuinely feeling lighter.

"You are rather bold, aren't you? I wasn't pertaining to the explicit part of a relationship. But, I suppose, you aren't wrong in that regard."

"Absolute incompetence!" There were feigned puking noises, and then, "You know, my dear, if you're looking for an exuberant time, I have a suggestion."

"Exuberant time?" I raised a brow eloquently. She grinned like a chesire cat.

"I know how you feel. Your husband is awful in every aspect. You live a lonely life, I daresay."

Unlinking our arms, she backed me into the nearest brick wall. My breathing hitched, but it wasn't another panic attack about to occur. Blood seared throughout me, painting my cheeks, neck, and ears red, the feeling only intensifying as she slammed her left arm against the wall, right beside my head.

"You know, Lady Everleigh, someone so beautiful like you isn't suited for the life of marital loneliness." I tried valiantly to control my breathing as she leaned her face closer to mine. Her hot breath against my neck sent shivers down my spine. I could feel her eyes piercing through my collarbone, and the feeling was oddly... thrilling. She lifted her head up so that our eyes were meeting. The atmospheric tension grew thick with something akin to sinister longing. I was afraid that I would melt right on the spot with her radical gaze.

Suddenly, she whispered, and I dreaded even more, my legs daring to tremble.

"I can fix that." She was smirking now. "What do you say?"

It was clearly a tempting offer. Though I had a vague feeling of wrongness coating me. But was it wrong? Was it any more wrong than the sick thoughts in my head? I had always envisioned killing my abusive husband in many, many creative ways. Was envisioning myself having fun with this redhair any wrong?

I smirked back. But in the end, I had to shake my head.

"No." She pulled herself back, disappointment on her face. But not until I added, "Though I might consider."

After a few more minutes of walking and idly discussing arbitrary topics, we arrived. Once inside, her explicit remarks were blocked out by the chatters of everyone else. I took us to a table and scanned the menu, then we patiently awaited our dishes to be served.

Grell was looking around, her eyes were full of idleness, yet also longing.

"It's been ages since I've eaten properly in a cafe with someone! Ah, terrible days I don't want to reminisce. Thank heavens the image of you in such cafes is enough to block out those unwanted memories," she mumbled, "Though I daresay the menus sound more promising this time."

"Ages? Work must be real tough for you. If only you could work for me, but it would be a drain for your mental well-being. And imagine having to see Mr. Everleigh everyday for a start. You might age rather quickly because of such." I grinned.

"As long as I get to see you, I don't really mind, -- " she winked " -- ugh, if only Will doesn't mind as well. Life can be so horrible, can't it?"

I assented, then a shadow fell over our table. Expecting our food, I looked up with the friendliest smile on my face, only for it to immediately dissolve into a frown once I saw the face of something I had loathed more than anything in the entire universe.

"[Y/N], my darling. Where have you been? I was worried sick! Why did you leave the house without permission? Who knows what could've happened to you! Ugh.. Never leave the house again, okay? I'm so glad I had Roger tail you when you left."

The dingus took my arm, an act of sincere worry to the public, but a torture for me. His nails were digging my skin. I had to suppress a moan because if I didn't, he would hit me -- but what difference would it make, again? Something worse awaited me that night, I felt it.

He looked at Grell. He seemed to be judging her from head to toe. A small sneer formed on his face. I was compelled to slap him but thought better.

"So sorry to interrupt your little bonding, but my wife and I have matters to attend to. Don't we, [Y/N] darling?"

Hearing the nickname physically pained me. I looked at Grell apologetically. She looked very pissed as she stared at the abomination beside me, who had by then elbowed my stomach.

"You're not even gonna let her finish her meal?"

"You don't have to worry about that. We have far better meals at home than this place could serve. The bills will be taken care of, and you could go eat on your own."

Now Grell looked like she was about to burst. I bit my lip as his nails dugged into my skin harder. He clearly didn't expect Grell to answer back. He was too used to people being submissive to him. Clearly, that was a shock.

"Good sir, you can see that your wife clearly doesn't want to go home! Don't ruin her fun."

That popped a nerve. Now, the abomination wasn't even trying to put up a front, losing inauthentic dignity.

"Listen, you mingler. This is a marital matter, so you better stay out of it. My wife, my rules. She doesn't have to listen to someone like you. Goodness, do you even know whom you're talking to? Come on now, [Y/N]."

He looked at me sharply. I knew what that look meant. I mentally prepared myself for the worse, but I couldn't help my body's intense quivering. The abomination took me by the arm, and we walked out of the cafe as if nothing happened, then I looked back and mouthed "I'm sorry." at Grell. The jolly, frivolous aura had completely left her by then, replaced by an unnatural gravity that looked undoubtedly intimidating to those who would accidentally place their gaze upon her. The insignificant other squeezed my arm and I supressed a yelp.

Hell had awaited me patiently that night in what people of lower status might see as a safe fortress. I would continue not to speak of the disturbing event which took place later that evening in the mansion, for it was too much to bear -- too much to even think about to this day. The only thing I could say was how much I had shamefully wept afterwards, holding the blood-stained clothes I had worn that evening.

The night air nibbled on my skin as streaks of moonlight found its way on the bedroom floor. Almost nude if not for the thin piece of fabric I enclosed myself in, and with limping legs, I traipsed onto the veranda and looked down miserably.

It was compelling to fall to an untimely death; but the latter would only benefit the bastard, and that was not what I wanted.

All those screaming... And yet not a single guard, maid, or butler had given effort to sneak into my room to console me, let alone give just a single glance of sympathy.

Those who had turned blind eyes were just as guilty and filthy as him.

And they would all pay.

I felt eyes on me, the fine hairs on my back standing up. I scanned the area below; there was none looking at me, even when I turned around.

I went to my bed and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. Somehow, I still felt like someone was watching me. But then, it wasn't just a feeling anymore -- I was certain that someone was there, watching me as I struggled to sleep. I could feel their shadow looming over me. My eyes were kept squeezed and shut, afraid that if I opened them, I would meet his sardonic grin, and then his fist hitting my face.

But then the person had caressed me -- had caressed the bruises, the brokenness beyond compare, and their soft touches had almost mended me. If not physicaally, at least mentally. And I knew that the bastard would never do that to me.

My right eye opened to a slit. A brown fabric -- then red hair billowed above it.

Pompous red hair.

I could've just been dreaming, but wished I didn't. I feared that I would never come to a definite answer as I had already fallen asleep. And when I awoke, alone, no evidences were there to support what I believed had happened.

⋆ฺ｡*:･

Two nights after.

That was when I decided to finally put my thoughts into actions. I knew that my husband's mistress would be coming in; I overheard the bastard talking to her the day before. Unfortunately, she would just be an innocent bystander who'd get dragged to the impending accident because of her choice of man. But what did they say? The more, the merrier.

I had dined in the restaurant where I usually spent my lonely evenings before, talking to some other haughty noble ladies. I disliked them fiercely, but they would give me the best alibi, given their lack of sense of time. I had enganged myself in mundane conversations with plenty of them before furtively exiting and going back to the place that was about to become literall hell, choosing an unusual route and making sure that no one else saw me as the usual Lady Everleigh.

I had spread a generous amount of gasoline all across inconspicuous places at the mansion, though particularly at the backyard, leading to the library just right next to the room where the bastard and his mistress would be staying. All that was left to do was to lit the match.

However, when I arrived, something I had never expected greeted me.

There, in the middle, tied up and naked, were the devil himself and his mistress, writhing in agony. They were the only ones conscious. Every guard, butler, and maid, were also tied up, sound asleep and unknowing to the misery that was about to befall them.

A figure emerged from shadows behind the throng of unconscious people, red hair billowing. The abomination widened his eyes and looked at me, having the guts to beg for my mercy.

"I saved the best part for you. They're all yours, partner."

Grell smirked, a flash of sharp, white teeth, feeling just as pleased as I was upon seeing the filths getting what they deserved.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind though. I just couldn't help myself! I had been overthinking -- what if some of those cheap minions escape the fire you had prepared for everyone? That would be a shame, really. Everyone is invited to have fun; why, this is exclusive! They should appreciate your effort, really. Though I admit, walking into imbeciles doing unorthodox things weren't pleasing! Not to mention the lack of passion. Also -- "

I suddenly cut her off by planting my lips against hers, firm and rough, releasing all the built up tension that had formed since the other night. I felt her respond to my kiss, pulling me by the waist closer to her body. She parted her lips for me to enter, my tongue  exploring every inch of her wetness. She began to whine as I dominated her mouth, my hands taking and gripping her wrists. Reluctantly, we pulled away for air, panting and gasping, and for a moment I had almost forgotten that I was supposed to kill tonight, if not for an irritating, stifled whimper.

"Sorry, unfinished business. We'll have to continue later..." I panted. Grell stood behind me, her hands on my shoulders. Then, she handed me a matchbox just as I was about to reach for the one in my pocket.

"Grell, I can't help but wonder... How?" I looked around in awe before facing her. I already had an answer in mind, but I wanted a confirmation.

"I've been watching you, darling. I knew that I couldn't leave you on the hands of a bastard. You're too beautiful for that, didn't I tell you? I was planning to kill them all for you, but I figured that you might want to do the latter yourself. This is the least I can do for you, my little amethyst."

"Oh, Grell... So it was really you. I wasn't imagining things, then."

A blush found its way on my cheeks, remembering the night she had cared for me. Then, just like on that night, she began to caress my cheek. Her thumb made its way to my mouth; I gaped slightly, and her thumb began rubbing circles on my lower lip. I stared at her charteuse eyes through my half-lidded ones.

"Go on, sweetie. Kill them. You can do that for me, hm?"

I nodded, half-dazed at her low whisper. I turned around reluctantly -- I was still relishing the feeling. But it would have to wait.

I couldn't help but smile as the thing I once had called my husband writhed uselessly in fear. He was sweating profusely, trying to say something through the duct tape that was stifling his mouth; meanwhile, his mistress wasn't even moving anymore, just staring vacuously at nothing in particular, already accepting her fate due to her own stupidity.

You got yourself in this mess, you courtesan.

"How does it feel now? Regretting everything you did to me? Has your conscience finally started working? Do you feel bad now? Do you feel bad now that you realize what you've done to me? That those actions of yours created a monster inside me? How do you feel now, you peasant, under me? Can you finally feel what I've felt, all throughout the years that we've been together? Oh, but don't worry! Consider yourself lucky because you're only going to experience the immense fear once; while I had to. Every. Single. Day."

Venom coated my words, and I felt my anger raising up. I had to control myself from running towards the kitchen to get the butcher's knife and start cutting him up like the pig he was. There were so many ways he could die in my hands -- death by asphyxiation, by arsenic poisoning, by thrusting a knife in his anus until he bleeds to death -- hah, the list was endless! Butchering him up came second next to fire. I chose the latter in the end because I felt it would give him more time to get bonkers due to the pain. It would be slow, and excruciating -- perfect.

I began laughing maniacally, my eyes twitching as the euphoric feeling enveloped my entirety. No more of that constant fear. I was finally ridding the earth of yet another monster. I was doing the world a favor by removing this unwanted dirt together with its worms. And I knew, deep in my bones, that this was only the beginning of a vast purge.

"See you in hell."

I said, lighting the match. His whimpers grew louder -- more panicked -- and the mistress seemed to have changed her mind, as she began to twist, her eyes filled with tears. I relished the scene before me. It was fun seeing people get what they truly deserve; though a little detail irked me, I couldn't lie. I wished Grell had left the workers conscious so they would know how it felt to have people watch as you suffer and turn a blind eye on it.

The match was now lit, its flames reflected on their eyes as I walked towards them. By then I was about to drop the match, but took a moment to appreciate the look of despair on their faces. I frowned, trying to mimic their expressions, but laughed, realizing that it was futile -- I couldn't even see their  full expressions! Their mouths were covered in duct tape! Though it would have to stay that way. Being unable to speak must suck, right?

I smiled as I finally dropped the match. Flames began engulfing their desperately struggling figures. The whimpers were much louder now; stifled screams of agony which only gave me serotonin. I watched them burn for a minute or two. They were beginning to get crazy! My eyes lit in anticipation. They were gonna die with their minds unhinged! It was so fun to watch!

At last, I turned my back as the flames grew bigger. Grell and I had walked a bit further from the inferno that I -- no, we -- created. The flames doubled up in size in no time, successfully encircling the mansion. I could see everyone's burnt, dead figures still being consumed by the tangible fury that they had placed upon me. I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Served them right!

I turned to look at Grell, who was staring at me with adoration. I had been with the devil -- but now, an angel had saved me. Though, she didn't much radiate the aura of an angelic being. She was an enigma, and the aura of death surrounded her.

Death. It was more apt. Death had saved me.

"Now that that's been taken care of, shall we go back to where we left off?"

Before I could answer, she slammed my back against the nearest post, our lips and bodies meeting in a harsh collision. I closed my eyes as this time, it was her who dominated my mouth, her tongue encircling mine, pushing it back as sloppy, wet sounds emanated from the both of us. The tongue-fucking continued until I was once again half-dazed, intoxicated by her sweet taste.

Thank God, for I wasn't wearing a petticoat that evening. I had chosen to wear a relatively thin, green longsleeved dress which had puffy shoulders on it and ruffles in the front. Grell had easier access to my thighs, slipping her delicate fingers underneath my skirt and squeezing my inner thigh, sending shivers down my spine and causing me to let out an uninvited moan which she giggled at. I felt a bulge hit my heated core as she wrapped my right leg around her waist, and this time the moan that I emitted was louder, needier as she created a friction that had enslaved my mind between our sexes.

Grell whined, just as needy as I was. She had then begun marking my neck, unaware of the right spot at first, which was why she had made every bite fiercely, waiting for my reaction until finally, I let out a growl, throwing my head back in pure bliss, both from the way she rutted her sex against mine, and from how tall the flames were now; the mansion was completely engulfed by it, and for certain by then, someone had already noticed it.

"Oh.." I gasped when she wrapped my left leg around her waist, and now that both my legs were around her, she lifted me up and pushed my back further against the post. Grell took my gasp as an opportunity to enter my mouth once more. Sounds of lust mixed with the sound of burning as the new position gave us both a new wave of pleasure. Gnawing on my lower lip, her right hand trailed from my stomach up to my breast, which she began to squeeze. Not too hard, gentle, but not so. Like a creature in heat, I moaned against her lips and squeezed my eyes. It was beginning to grow too hot, the fire was nearing the distance we'd deemed safe before. She pulled away from the kiss, a sliver of saliva connecting our swollen lips.

"Grell... It's getting hot..."

She looked at me with ravenous, wide eyes, a lecherous look on them as she smiled coyly. "Mmh yeah? Take off your clothes for me, darling. I want to see you. All of you."

I panted. She was making it extremely difficult to focus. "G-Grell you misunderstood. It's getting hot... Literally. The flames."

A digit was suddenly put inside my mouth, and then another. It was her index and middle fingers, which she began to thrust inside. Drool slipped from mouth, down to my jawline, and to my neck. Grell licked it off, slowly, almost teasingly. Goosebumps were all over me, and all I could do was whimper with her fingers still thrusting inside my mouth. I glazed my tongue over them, and feeling the action, Grell stopped thrusting and instead focused on circling her digits around my tongue, her working counterclockwise and my tongue going clockwise. Unexpectedly, she pushed her digits further in my mouth, and in return, more drool came gushing out of it.

"Were you saying anything, darling?" She asked through half-lidded eyes, her voice like velvet. A knot formed in my stomach given how ravishing she looked at me at the moment, with the flames blurry behind her attractive figure. A different flame danced in her eyes, one which I had wanted to indulge in every passing moment.

"We're not even halfway through our exuberant time, right, partner?"

Sighing fondly, I gave into the exhilarating feeling vibrating all over my body, with no heed to the physical heat that conquered the darkness of the night, nearing towards us. We still had ample of time before it got too hot to the point of scorching us; in the mean time, we allowed ourselves to indulge in the luxury of succumbing into our desires.

The monster was gone for good. I was safe now; safe in her embrace.

And I would never let go.

[candycandy00]

The Experiment - A Mr. Compress x Reader Fanfic

Part of the League of Villains Halloween Horror Anthology! Featuring Mr. Compress as a Mad Scientist!

Smut. 18+. Oral sex, blood, implied gore/death/torture (“offscreen”). Mr. Compress in glasses. F! Reader. Zombies. Horror.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Eerie red light flooded the room. You squinted and held your hand over your eyes, not quite used to the emergency beacons flashing wildly as a siren screamed from overhead. It was only the second time you’d experienced such a thing. Working in the top secret laboratories on the island was certainly not boring. 

At least a dozen people in long white coats were running back and forth, scrambling to gather up weapons and shouting into communicators. “Another one got out!” someone screamed, and you shuddered. The thought of one of those things running around loose made your skin crawl. 

A woman stopped beside you. “Hey, what are you doing?! Don’t just stand there, grab a gun and help us find it!” 

You blinked at her, thinking she couldn’t be serious. I’m only an assistant. This wasn’t in the job description. I don’t even know how to use a gun. 

The woman huffed angrily and ran off. You were relieved. You glanced around the room, watching the chaotic scene. People appeared and then disappeared into the hallways, through three separate doors. Monitors along the far wall displayed every possible nook and cranny in the building as the cameras searched frantically for the missing experiment. 

One of the doors flew open yet again and a familiar voice yelled, “I found it! On the third floor!” 

Your eyes fell on the man standing just inside the room, panting as he tried to catch his breath. A rifle was in his right hand. He looked up and noticed you, then grinned at you from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I found it,” he repeated in your direction. 

You nodded, smiling. “Good job, Doctor.” 

“Would you like to come help me catch it?” 

Your face turned red. “You... want me to come with you?” 

The doctor looked at you, puzzled. “Sure. I’ll need all the backup I can get!” 

You lowered your eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t know how to use a gun.” 

He looked surprised. “Really? We’ll have to fix that. Sit this one out then!” And with that he waved and headed back into the hall. Several more people ran after him. 

You flopped into a nearby chair and sighed. So much for being alone with him. But I guess hunting down one of those things wouldn’t really be that romantic. 

You had been Doctor Sako’s assistant for the past two months, from your first day on the job. It was love at first sight. He had stepped out of one of the experimentation rooms, splattered from head to toe in blood, and given you the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Like he was genuinely happy to see you. Like he’d been waiting for you. All his life. 

He was handsome, in an unconventional way. Wavy dark hair, warm brown eyes behind large glasses, a perpetually stained white lab coat worn over a button up shirt, suspenders attached to black pants. He wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, but his smile lit up any space he walked into. 

The room had gone quiet. All the scientists involved in the search had followed Doctor Sako to the third floor. You looked up at the monitors, where you saw them all standing around in the hall. The floor and walls were covered in gore. Blood, clumps of flesh, battered internal organs, all splashed across the hall as if someone had just exploded. A few minutes later Doctor Sako returned, so covered in guts that his messy hair looked completely red and you couldn’t find a single spot on him that was clean. 

He smiled at you again. “Well, that’s done.” 

You laughed nervously. “You have an exciting job.” 

“Yes, but now we have to get back to the boring work,” he said with a chuckle. 

You were happy as you stood up and followed him to his office. Your small desk was across the room from his, facing him. You spent a great deal of time filing papers and organizing files and helping him go over test results. You didn’t have clearance to go into the experimentation rooms with him, and so you never knew exactly what was going on. But you had seen some of the test subjects and always waited just outside the door for him, ready to fetch anything he might need. 

“Do you need some coffee?” you asked, walking toward the door to get some for yourself. 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” he said, eyes quickly scanning a document in his hands. 

You left the office, closing the door behind you and heading for the meager kitchen area. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, then another for the doctor. You hummed happily to yourself as you added cream and sugar to his cup. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt extremely pleased to know exactly how he liked his coffee. He liked sweet things, you had realized within a week of working for him. And so you occasionally brought chocolates to work with you and always made sure to offer him some. 

The lady scientist who had yelled at you earlier appeared in the kitchen, filling a glass of water. She looked at you with disgust. “What are you so happy about?” 

Your faint humming stopped suddenly. “Excuse me?” 

The woman frowned. “Today was a disaster. Three weeks of work just went down the drain. Millions of dollars wasted. Anyone who cares about our work here would be devastated, not humming and grinning like an idiot.” 

“That’s not true!” you found yourself saying a little too loudly. “Doctor Sako cares about his work more than anyone and he’s still smiling!” 

The woman stared at you. “The way you talk about him, the way you look at him, is highly inappropriate for a working environment. Besides, you have no idea what kind of person he is.” 

“I do know! I know he’s a sweet and friendly person. I know he’s brilliant and kind and always makes time for others!” 

“But have you seen him working? Have you been in the experimentation rooms?” 

You reluctantly shook your head. “Not yet, but he says that after I’ve been here long enough, I can.” 

The woman laughed. “You’re in for a big surprise then. Doctor Sako is a monster in those rooms, a butcher. He has absolutely no regard for human beings.” 

You hesitated for a moment, not sure how to respond. You glanced at the doctor’s sugared coffee and remembered his smile. “You’re wrong,” you finally said. “He’s a gentle person. I’m sure he has to hurt people sometimes for his work, but it’s important to him.” 

The woman chuckled again, highly amused. “Whatever you say, honey.” 

You grabbed the two cups of coffee from the counter and hurried into the hall, nearly colliding with two people before reaching the doctor’s office. You sat his coffee on his desk and he looked up at you with a smile. “Thank you, my dear.” 

You nodded and returned to your own desk, but you couldn’t focus on your work. You couldn’t stop watching him, thinking about what the woman had told you. Doctor Sako was cute and charming. He couldn’t possibly be that bad. You finally spoke up. 

“Doctor?” 

He looked at you. “Yes?” 

“What exactly do you do... in the experimentation rooms?” 

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, as if the question surprised him. “Well, we test our products on them. See how their bodies react to the different strains we’ve created.” 

“Strains?” 

“Of viruses. To use for biological weapons. And of course we’ve been trying to create reanimated corpses that will serve as soldiers in the future.” 

“The zombies?” 

The Doctor held his hands up immediately and made a shushing motion. “Don’t let the others hear you say that! They really hate that term.” 

You were embarrassed. “Oh, sorry.” 

“But yes, the zombies. We’ve been able to create twelve so far, but none of them have lasted very long and we’ve had varied results on their motor functions and cognitive abilities.” 

“I see,” you said. “So... the work you’re doing... it’s for a good cause then.” 

“Oh, absolutely! It’s the most important thing in the world for me!” 

The doctor was beaming with pride, and you decided he had earned the right to do so. He was the head scientist over the whole lab, the top paid employee of their mysterious company. He only answered to a select few people, men in fancy suits who showed up once a week to check the progress of their work, dish out money to fund more experiments, and occasionally fire someone who wasn’t doing their best. 

The doctor suddenly smiled at you. “You want to visit the experimentation rooms, don’t you?” 

You were taken off guard by his question, but nodded slowly. In truth, you were a little uneasy about seeing what went on behind the locked steel doors. But the thought of getting to know Doctor Sako better, of being able to understand his work and his goals, overcame your fear of the unknown. 

“I’ll ask Shreve tonight. He’s coming for the weekly meeting.” 

Your heart fluttered. He really wants to show me his work. He wants to share it with me. 

A clock chimed somewhere in the building and the doctor stood up. “Time to do a check-up,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from a nearby dispenser as he left the room. You followed him into the hall and stopped just outside a large shiny door. 

“I’ll be waiting here, doctor, in case you need anything.” 

He waved in return and closed the door behind him. You stood quietly for several minutes before sliding down the wall into a sitting position on the floor. A few scientists walked by and gave you dirty looks. I don’t care. I’m Doctor Sako’s assistant, not theirs. As long as he’s pleased with me, nothing else matters. 

You’d been waiting for nearly two hours before the door swung open and the doctor peeked out. “I need some assistance!” he yelled, but his voice was nearly engulfed by another sound. 

Screaming. Someone was screaming from within the room. It was so loud and high-pitched that you couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female. As the doctor stood in the door way, you stole a glance into the room behind him. Something laid on a table, something that took you several seconds to realize was a human being. You could see an arm and two legs, but everything in between was just a big bloody pile of goo. At the top, you could almost make out a face. But it was so distorted and twisted with shock and horror that it did nothing to help you distinguish the gender. 

“What is...” 

“Listen, dear!” the doctor suddenly yelled, and your attention was snapped away from the grizzly scene inside. You realized then that in Doctor Sako’s left hand was an arm. A bloody, mangled arm. In his right hand was a saw. 

“Yes... doctor?” you managed to say, feeling a little dazed. 

“I need some buckets right away!” 

The bizarrely serious look on his face made you scramble to your feet and dash off without another word to the supply closet to grab the requested buckets. They were large and bright orange and you couldn’t carry more than two. You reached them to him and he immediately dropped the arm into the first bucket with a disgusting thud and thanked you as he shut the door again. 

He emerged another hour later, covered in a fresh coat of blood, and this time there were no sounds coming from the room. The lights were off and you couldn’t see anything before he closed the door and locked it with his personal key. He pulled off his glasses and pulled back his soaked lab coat, holding up the collar of his shirt to wipe the lenses. 

He looked at you and grinned. “Second time today,” he said with a laugh. 

You watched him uneasily, not sure what to say after having seen something so disturbing. You finally decided to just ask him about it. You took a deep breath. “Doctor, what was that?” 

He replaced his glasses. “Oh, you saw? Just another reanimated corpse. After we lost one today, I thought we’d better try to create another one quickly to replace it. You know, the meeting tonight and all.” 

“Did it work?” 

“The subject didn’t respond well to the virus. We had to terminate the experiment.” 

“I see,” you said. 

“I have to go clean up. Shreve will be here any minute.” 

You nodded and watched him disappear around a corner. You returned to his office, sitting down and laying your head upon your desk. Maybe the other scientist was right. Maybe he does do horrible things in those rooms. But it was just a zombie. It was already dead. You can’t hurt something that’s already dead. 

The terrible screams you heard earlier flooded your mind and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to force the memory out. It’s for his work. This will make our military stronger. It’ll make our country stronger. He’s doing good things. He’s a good person! 

Doctor Sako came back to his office with a fresh lab coat and most of the blood washed from his face and hands. Stains still littered his pants and clumps of stuff you didn’t care to identify still clung to stray strands of his hair. He sat down in his leather chair and began typing at his computer. You watched him intently. 

He suddenly caught your eye. “Is something wrong?” 

You hesitated for a moment, then stood up and closed the distance between your desk and his. “Doctor, I... really enjoy working with you.” 

He was staring up at you and looked a little confused. “I enjoy working with you too,” he said. 

Your heart was pounding furiously and your cheeks were beginning to burn, but you’d made up your mind. You had to tell him how you felt, before your mind became any more clouded with doubts. You swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes. “Do you have anyone that you love?” 

He looked even more confused. “I, uh, love my work.” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

His eyes widened. His pale face became pink. ��Oh... I...” 

You felt like your knees would give out at any moment, but it was too late to turn back now. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings, but I wanted you to know how I feel. I don’t want you to treat me differently. I don’t want this to change our working relationship. I just...” you trailed off, taken surprise by how adorably embarrassed he looked, like a school boy. You wanted to laugh, but realized how inappropriate that would be. Had no girl ever confessed her love for him? Had he never been in a relationship? 

You felt a little more confident as a smile tried to creep onto your face. You walked around his desk and stood over him. You leaned down, inching closer to him. You were moving slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop you or pull away or push you back. But he seemed to be frozen, watching you with shock. When you were close enough to feel his breath on your face, you paused. “Could you accept my feelings, Doctor?” 

“I... uh... think you’re very pretty and... I’m flattered, really.” 

You blushed, extremely pleased to receive the compliment but now fearful that he was preparing to reject you. You were just waiting for a ‘But’. 

“But...” 

You quickly pressed your lips to his, effectively cutting him off. You couldn’t bear to let him finish, to hear his rejection. You wrapped your arms around his neck and within seconds you were in his lap. You eventually became aware of his hands on your back, pulling you closer to him and somewhat clumsily creeping beneath your lab coat. He does like me! He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t like me. He’d be pushing me away. 

You didn’t dare to break the kiss, even as he pulled off your lab coat and slid his off his shoulders. He was so warm and soft and his mouth tasted sweet like the candy and cakes he was always eating. This was a dream come true. This was what all your fantasies were made of. Just this moment in Doctor Sako’s arms. 

After a few moments, you slid from his lap and onto your knees in front of him, looking up at him as you unbuckled his belt. He was breathing harder as he watched you, his dark eyes wide behind his glasses. He looked flustered, but he made no attempt to stop you as you opened his pants and slid the waistband of his boxers down far enough to free his cock. You were surprised that he was already hard, and when you glanced at his face, a light blush had dusted his cheeks. 

You couldn’t help smiling. You leaned forward and licked gently at his tip, and you heard his breath hitch. Feeling emboldened by his reaction, you took him into your mouth, using your tongue to circle his length. His hands were gripping the arm rests of his chair, and his eyes never left you, seeming entranced. You moved your head back and forth, sliding your lips up and down him, using your saliva to keep him slick. 

He made quick, stilted moans that turned you on as you continued sucking his dick, determined to get him off. It didn’t take too long. He was probably even more inexperienced than you were. His entire body went rigid when he came into your mouth, a shuddering groan filling your ears. You swallowed every last drop, locking eyes with him as you licked up any remaining drops. 

You got back to your feet and he pulled you back into his lap, his hands tugging your skirt up as you wrapped your arms around him. 

A harsh knock came at the door, causing you to practically leap from Sako’s lap and retreat back to your desk. He looked nervously at you, his face red, then stood up and straightened his lab coat, making his way toward the door. He reached up and tried to smooth out his ever messy hair before turning the knob. 

Shreve, a stuffy looking business man in a black suit walked in. “Did I interrupt you, doctor?” 

The man’s eyes very pointedly shifted to your discarded lab coat on the floor. You blushed and sank lower in your chair. Doctor Sako laughed uneasily and picked it up. “Not at all, sir. I was expecting you.” 

Shreve made no attempt to participate in small talk. “Let’s step into the meeting room. I want a full report on what happened here today. I’ve heard some disappointing things about the newest subject.” 

“Of course, sir,” the doctor replied, draping your coat over his own chair and giving you a weak grin before leaving with Shreve. 

You were left alone in his office, your face still burning with a combination of embarrassment and excitement. I can’t believe it. I kissed him. He kissed me back. It was so perfect! Why did Shreve have to ruin it? 

You spent a few minutes sulking before an idea hit you. Doctor Sako had said he would ask Shreve about giving you clearance to go into the experimentation rooms. If he’d found your behavior inappropriate, he wouldn’t ask. But if he liked you, and wanted to spend more time with you, he would. 

You quietly exited the room and crept down the hall, toward the meeting room. You arrived at the door and stood beside it, trying to listen. You could hear Shreve’s raised voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. You very carefully reached down and twisted the knob, sliding the door open just a little, enough to allow sound to escape. 

“You’re wasting our money and our time! If you can’t start producing real results, we’re going to have to cut off funds.” 

Doctor Sako’s voice sounded strained, worried. “We’re doing our best. We just don’t have enough subjects to work with. You were supposed to send us more. As of today, we have no new subjects in the entire building.” 

Shreve’s voice sounded like a roar. “Then find your own subjects! I want results this time next week, or there will be serious consequences!” 

You slid the door shut and silently walked back down the hall. You felt guilty for listening in, and felt sorry for the doctor. How could he possibly ask about getting you clearance when he was already in trouble? Things had went from amazing to depressing in the course of ten minutes. 

You stopped beside Doctor Sako’s office and leaned face-first against the door. You felt so stupid now for saying such silly things to him, for putting on such a shameful display. He had enough on his mind. How could you face him now? 

You started to turn around when you heard a loud, sudden cracking sound, almost like a bat hitting a baseball. White light flooded your vision and you felt the sensation of falling backward. All sound then melted away, and you lifted your eyes to see the ceiling above you. Through the haze of light, you thought you caught a glimpse of Doctor Sako’s face. And then, nothing. 

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you hurt. Everywhere. It was as if someone had simply poured a bucket of pain over your entire body. Your eyes seemed blurry and you strained to see in front of you as objects started to become clear. You could see a plain white wall at first, and slowly the rest of the room came into view. A tiny video camera sat in the far corner of the ceiling, pointing at you. To the left, you could see a large metal door. And to your right... 

“Good morning, my dear!”

You turned to the voice and blinked. Doctor Sako smiled at you, the same smile he had given you the day you met, the smile that told you he had been waiting for you all along. The smile you fell in love with. 

“What happened?” you asked, and you realized your voice was tiny and weak. Your whole body was aching severely and you couldn’t move anything. It took you a while to realize that your arms and legs were tied down with leather straps, and you were completely naked. 

You jerked wildly, your first instinct to cover yourself, then cried out when sharp stabbing pain shot through your arms. The dull aches became unbearable stings. “Doctor, what’s going on?! What’s wrong with me?!” 

He reached out a latex glove-covered hand and patted your head. “Calm down. It’s alright. Your body adjusted to the virus wonderfully. The first part of the experiment has been a great success.” 

You heard the words but your brain couldn’t seem to process them. “Experiment?” 

“I explained it to you before, didn’t I? Creating reanimated corpses. Wait, what was the term you used? Zombie? Yes, you’re a zombie now.” 

You stared at him in horror, not able to believe what he was saying. All the more terrible was that he was still smiling. “No... please... you can’t do this to me!” you cried, “I’m your assistant! You’re a good person, you wouldn’t do this!” 

The smile faded slightly. “I thought you understood. This is a very important experiment. In fact, today we’re going to start the second phase.” 

“Second phase?” 

The smile returned. “You’re the most successful subject we’ve encountered so far. Judging by your reactions since waking up, you’ve retained all your motor functions and have incredible cognitive abilities. You can still think, talk, and feel. You’re a perfect specimen to study.” 

You tried to shake your head, but your neck was so stiff that the pain was too great. Tears fell down your face. “I don’t understand... I can’t be dead! I’m not dead!” 

Doctor Sako seemingly ignored you. “The next phase of the experiment is to find out just how much damage a subject can take before it finally dies a second time. Oh but don’t worry, you’re quite durable now. I think you’ll last quite a while!”

Your vision was becoming blurry again from your tears. You tried to control your sobs, as each time your body shook you were racked with excruciating pain. “Please... please don’t do this.. I love you. I thought... I thought you...” 

He patted your head again. “I told you, I love my work. Now you’re my work.” 

You gaped at him, still not able to get over the shock of what he was saying. He even turned a little pink, as if he were confessing his love for you. “Oh God... she was right... the woman in the kitchen...” 

But your voice broke off when you spotted the large saw in the doctor’s right hand. He held up his left hand and grinned. “Look, I remembered the buckets this time!” 

And anyone unfortunate enough to wander by the experimentation room as Doctor Sako entered or left would find their ears overwhelmed by the sound of screaming. And some would wonder what lurked beyond the door, perhaps even catch glimpses of a bloody mess that vaguely resembled a once beautiful young woman. But the doctor would smile and lock the door, cheerfully returning to his office. 

End

[rreskk]

Make me

Boohoooooo, I’m copying some fanfics from my Ao3 (WHICH YOU CAN CHECK OUT BY THE WAY~) 

Right here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRESKK

TW: Bottom boy Trevor, and implied smut at the end Summary: To all the hotties who’d like to see more of bottom boy Trevy Trev.

He flared his nostrils and breathed in the intoxicating smell of gasoline from his red plastic cup. Trevor lets out a satisfied groan from his throat and leaned against the kitchen counter, hazily watching the News. It was sunset and he had an exhausting day of dealing with business (totally not assassinating anymore of his enemies).

“I found it!” He heard from his bedroom.

“Found what?”

You appeared in the doorway and smirked, raising a visible steel tweezer. “This.”

Lowering his cup, he stood alarmed. “Don’t you go anywhere near me with that fuckin’ weapon.”

“Yeah… But your eyebrows need plucking.”

Trevor shook his head. “My eyebrows are fuckin’ beautiful, leave ‘em alone!”

You squinted your eyes at his dismissive behaviour. You could see his monobrow from here. Where did it even come from? Who knows. You only hope you pick it.

“Come here.”

“No,” He refused. “You drop that fuckin’ thing or I will make you regret it.”

You rolled your eyes and walked closer. Your smile grew wider with every step you saw him took back. Big bad Trevor afraid of some tweezers? Priceless.

“Don’t you FUCKING dare!”

“It’ll be fine if you lowered your voice, sweetie.” You teased with a laugh. It took several minutes to properly hold onto Trevor, managing to reach his shoulder despite his cries of help. Dramatic.

Trevor tried to corner himself in the kitchen and failed TERRIBLY. He lifted his head up, soon feeling your harsh grip around his neck. Suddenly his fears were not existent. He tilted his head and smirked widely.

“Babe… If you wanted to fuck me, just say.” He cooed.

You scoffed. “I’m not fucking you. I’m trying to pluck your goddamn eyebrows.”

Your hand dug deeper on his throat as he slowly dropped to his knees, watching you closely.

“You know, your tattoo should say ‘choke here’ instead of ‘cut here’.”

Trevor licked his lips. “Are you suggesting that we-“

“Oh my God, no Trevor. Just let me fucking pluck your eyebrows!” You protested with frustration, forcibly pushing his head back against the cabinets so he sat stationary.

“Fuck babe,” He choked out, impressed. “You never told me you were a good choker.”

To shut him up, you dived into his eyebrow and yanked out a mismatched hair which led to him yelping.

“Fuck! You sadist!”

“Stop being a baby,” You winked. “Only a few more hairs and we’ll be done.”

Trevor gulped but remained silent. His hand found your wrist, using it for support whenever he can feel the cold steel move closer to his face.

You managed to pluck as much hair as you can, releasing your grip from his neck, “We are done here.” You moved to the sofa and sat down.

“You can relax now.”

With a sly grin, he lifted up your right leg and moved it over his shoulder. His scarred hands began moving up and down your leg, squeezing and rubbing.

“I can’t relax.”

Using your free foot to press against his forehead, you showed no mercy and threw him back. He liked it rough.

“Jesus!” Trevor laughed. “You can’t just do that and expect me to relax?”

“Oh my God, Trevor! Just sit down and chill!”

He looked at you through his eyebrows.

 “Make me…”

The next hour was a blur. You recalled grabbing his neck once again but what did you do? Out of your memory. Was it the adrenaline? Probably. You were tired, maybe you called it a day and forced him to sleep? Well… The position you woke up in says otherwise.

His face was buried in your lower stomach, hands cradling your hips and legs open wide. You were positioned beside him with your leg wrapped around his body keeping him close. You were still fully clothed, but Trevor was stripped naked.

Oh

My

God.

His back was covered in claw marks and his neck, if you looked closely, was smothered with bruises and hand marks. He looked so peaceful sleeping? Like he doesn’t look brutally assaulted.

He unknowingly lifted up his and gazed over to you.

“Remind me to tell you that… You can pluck my eyebrows any damn day you want babe.”

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 7

this was sooo fun to write :)) i love kyoko

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

More Byakuya and Kyoko antagonism. I think they should kiss

I tried reading a book with my dad's old glasses that are super-strong prescription and made myself so light-headed I had to lie down. Byakuya how and why the hell did you power through this

Implied Naegiri (blink and you'll miss it). It's just the barest shred of Naegiri. The softest suggested whisper of Naegiri

Beta-read by @moonlighttogami :))))

Content warning tags: Byakuya and Kyoko argue at each other. A lot of pettiness being thrown around.

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The next few days, he staunchly avoids Naegi.

It’s not an easy task. Despite now having two floors worth of space to occupy, he keeps crossing paths with the other boy; who, usually, was just a few steps behind Kirigiri. Each time, Byakuya would ignore them, head raised high and eyes fixed straight ahead.

It annoys him. It seemed that no matter how careful he was, luck just wasn’t on his side. Several times he would carefully, casually, scan a room before entering, confirming the absence of a brown mop of hair and green jacket, and walk in only to realize that Naegi had been just out of his periphery. Or, not a few moments later, Naegi would walk in anyways.

A few times, the boy even dared to try and come up to him, making awkward, stilted attempts at conversation. Each time, Byakuya stood up and left without a word.

The library became his base of operations, where he could reside undisturbed. A few days ago, he was pleased with this room, and its wide selection of classic literature and academic essays, proving itself to be a mine of information. Now, however, it was a frustrating place to be.

It was a bit of a blatant observation to make, but it doesn’t make a difference to a blind man whether he’s in a desert or the Library of Alexandria. If anything, all it served was to irritate him, as Byakuya wavers between holding a book a full arm’s length away, then so close it nearly brushed his nose, before giving up entirely and setting it down on the table with a sigh.

It’s no use, he thinks, eyes sliding shut as his head begins to pound with the now-familiar tells of a migraine. The medical textbook he’d been struggling with sits before him, as blank to him as fresh-fallen snow. After a few hours of squinting, he’d managed to find a page that could have a round, circular diagram, possibly representing an eye, but it still meant nothing to him if he couldn’t read the damn thing; the exact remedy that he needed could be right under his nose and he’d be none the wiser.

It was Naegi’s fault. Byakuya had misjudged him, had thought him half-capable based on his remarkable observation skills and performance during the first trial, and mistakenly believed he could handle learning some painful truths. But instead, the insolent brat stormed off, emotional and hurt, leaving Byakuya - his benefactor - in favor of some cryptic woman who was about as trustworthy as a spider. Doing the one thing Byakuya warned him against.

The whole thing was ridiculous to the point of being laughable. He thunks his head into the open book, tired of it all. His glasses dig into the bridge of his nose, but he ignores it in favor of reaching into his inner jacket pocket, rummaging until he comes up with a folded handkerchief.

He unfolds it slowly in his lap, careful not to spill its contents. It was too loud and annoying to carry around a bottle of pills, so instead he wrapped a few tablets of ibuprofen in cloth. He picks out two of the little chalky pills, then fumbles clumsily over his desk for the cup of tea he’d left there earlier.

He’s only just swallowed them down when there’s a knock on his door. He lowers the cup slowly. “What is it?”

“It’s Kyoko.” He scowls, and sets the cup down with a quiet click. She was the last person he wanted to see, so to speak.

“And what do you want.”

In lieu of a reply, he hears the creak of the heavy library door, and then footsteps. Two sets of them, and for a moment he wonders if Naegi was here as well. For a moment he thinks so, based on the slight, green-dressed figure hovering near the door, but then they speak up, voice wavering and high.

“U-um…” Chihiro Fujisaki’s voice is a trembling, nervous squeak. She seems to be vibrating where she stood, somehow blurring even more in his deteriorated vision. “H-Hello…”

He turns to Kirigiri, ignoring the other girl completely. “Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to walk in without permission?” He asks scathingly, while discretely folding up the cloth in his lap and tucking it back into his pocket. No need for her to think he was being troubled by anything.

“I doubt you would’ve given it even if I asked.” She replies. She was already walking around, eyes scanning the shelves. ”You and Makoto had a dispute. Why?”

Straight to the point. He’s not surprised that she’s asking about Makoto, considering how often he saw the two of them together. “You’re unexpectedly direct. If only you had displayed such a drive during the trial.”

“I had my reasons.” She turns to him. “But you are the one avoiding the topic now. Please answer my question.”

How demanding. Of course, she would know of his dismissal of Naegi. He wonders if it was because that miserable fool blabbed, by words or by mere sullenness. “I had my own reasons as well.” He parrots back, offering a vapid smile. “Is there something else you need?”

She turns away and continues inspecting the shelf of case files. Apparently irritated by his uncooperativeness, or at least, he hopes so. He turns to Fujisaki.

“Why are you here?” He asks bluntly, and she jumps.

“U-um-! I, that is-” She wavers. “Uh…”

“You can speak up, Chihiro.” Kirigiri says, attention still focused on the shelf. “Don’t you have a question to ask him?”

“Th-that’s-!”

A question? Immediately, his mind jumps to his previous school years, spent being dogged by simpering, pathetic admirers. Some of the more memorable ones were persistent to the point of needing to be dealt with by force; he was not interested in repeating such an experience.

“I’m not interested in hearing it.” He deadpans. Better to shut it down now rather than later. Fujisaki seems to droop, and after another moment, turns around and flees.

“Cold, aren’t you?” Kirigiri observes, after the door shuts.

“Hardly. I could have been much harsher just then.” He actually had been prepared to say more, but he hadn’t been expecting the girl to run so quickly. No matter. “What are you still doing here? Isn’t your business done?”

Secretly, he would rather she stay. Between languishing over migraines and unreadable texts, to suffering long stretches of boredom, any company would be welcome.

“It’s not. You haven’t answered my question.” She pulls out a folder and begins rifling through its contents. “Makoto is very despondent that you won’t respond to him.”

“Is he now?” Byakuya actually wasn’t aware of that. “That’s not my problem.”

“Perhaps not, but it is a problem that he is no longer by your side, no?”

It takes a moment to absorb the meaning of her words. He straightens and turns to look at her, but she seems, to him, to be fully absorbed in the contents of the file. “...What are you implying?”

“You should take better care of the materials here.” Is what she says instead of an actual answer. She lifts a page from the file. “There’s tea all over this.”

He squints. “That page is fine. I don’t see any-” He begins, before halting. But it was too late.

Kirigiri lowers the page. “There’s no need for us to beat around the bush, is there?” She sounds almost smug. He glares, furious.

What an impertinent little... But she got him. He silently berates himself for letting his guard down, even with a headache he had no excuse. “Fine.” He sighs, lifting his hands in defeat. “You got me.”

“What did I get?”

“Do you really want me to say it out loud?”

“In that case, please confirm or deny what I’m about to say.” She slides the folder shut again, and she steps forward, voice lowered. “From what I understand, you are currently blind, or at least, your vision is impaired. You previously had employed Makoto to assist you, but due to some disagreement, you are no longer accepting his assistance.” He wonders at the sudden show of secrecy, before remembering the cameras that were present in every room. How thoughtful of her. “Am I correct in assuming so?”

“Oh, well done, detective.” He claps slowly, mockingly. “Do you want a medal?”

“I’m just making observations.” She walks closer, sets the folder on the desk. From her, she stands above him, her face dark from the dim lamp behind her. It unnerves him, more than he’d care to admit. “Byakuya Togami. What did you say to Makoto Naegi?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m surprised that you care so much for him. Does he draw your interest that much?” He drawls, letting the insinuation hang clearly.

“He is intriguing, isn’t he?” She nods solemnly, and for a moment he wonders if she missed the sarcasm of his tone. “But that’s beside the point. Apparently, what you said to him has affected his morale. To be frank, it’s been depressing some of the rest of the class as well.”

He allows himself to feel a bit self-satisfied at that. I hope he’s moping. It would serve the stupid idiot right. “Again, that’s not my problem.”

“It will become your problem soon. Surely you didn’t forget his performance during the last trial?” How could he? As clumsy and stuttering as it was, Naegi delivered an impressive demonstration of skill, threading logic and evidence together to the right conclusion. He hadn’t been able to suppress the pang of envy as he witnessed it, the drawing of clear lines where there had previously been none.

The thought of that sours his mood. “You say as if everything hinges on him. Do you know something the rest of us don’t?” He sneers.

“Don’t you have any other comebacks? This one’s getting old.” She retorts swiftly. “We can accuse each other as much as we want during a trial. But answer my question, now.” She slams her hand against the open book on the desk with a muffled thump, leaning over him. From this position, she is a dark shadow, looming above.

Not for the first time, he feels a surge of anxiety. Some people had strong features and expressions that even he could read, such as Ishimaru or Naegi. But Kirigiri was not one of those people; in fact, she was the opposite.

To him, she is as faceless as a specter.

He tries to discreetly swallow the lump of unease. “...Fine. But get off me.” She backs off, suddenly obedient; had that sudden aggression just been a show? “You wanted to know what I said to Makoto Naegi? All I did was tell him to be careful.” He smiles, and even on his own face, it feels more like an ugly baring of teeth. “After all, there’s no telling if he’ll survive being a hapless lackey twice.”

It’s essentially a declaration of war. I won’t let you have your way. He didn’t trust Kyoko, and likely wouldn’t even if he could see her face.

He was planning on forgiving Naegi eventually, anyways. He was too useful a pawn to throw away now.

“...How hypocritical.” Kirigiri says after a moment. “Accusing me of trying to take control over him, as if you haven’t tried doing so yourself?”

“You know my reasons for doing so. And he’s been promised sufficient reparations.”

“Reparations he might not survive to see?”

Ah. That was right. He’d been so wrapped up in his own situation, that he nearly forgot about the greater problem at hand. So far he had been lucky with the killing game, imposing enough to not be victimized and unobtrusive enough to not be targeted, and had been dedicating his time and ability to trying to find information to heal his sight or identifying the mastermind. But, sighted or not, it’d make no difference if he was dead.

This game could only have one victor, after all. And Byakuya was no longer confident that he would be able to win.

“A Togami keeps his word. Somehow or another, I will uphold my end.” He’s already prepared some of his own personal stationary, and his signet ring, and had been planning on having Naegi help him put the details of their agreement to paper. If something had gone wrong during a trial, he would’ve passed off these things to the survivor to take outside.

Kirigiri hums, hand raised to her chin as she thinks. “It’s hardly a solid promise.” She muses.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“I think that you do. This agreement is based on mutual benefits, and yet it seems like you’re the only one benefitting.” She shakes her head as he opens her mouth to correct her. “What you are offering is based on a promise that you have now way of proving you can uphold. Isn’t it no wonder that he left your side so easily?”

He feels his eyes narrowing. “Again. What are you trying to imply?”

“You are incredibly arrogant for someone who has nothing.” She says bluntly. The words strike him like a physical blow, and for a moment it feels as though the wind was knocked out of him. “You know there’s nothing you can offer in these circumstances, so stay out of the way and stop interfering.”

He gapes at her, stunned, as she turns and walks towards the door. She pauses, one foot past the threshold, and turns.

“And take better care of the documents here. The one I held up earlier had a footprint on it.”

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[voidcat]

— for a moment, I parry

characters: gojo satoru/reader

genre & word count: angst, slice of life, closure if u squint – 5.2k

notes/warnings: discussions of death, dying, drowning, attempting to murder someone. mc p much trauma dumping to gojo at one point. that one theory regarding love and cursed techniques being passed down is implied. timeline is not linear. this fic takes place few days before the shibuya arc. Song is Люди by Дайте танк (!)

a/n: the warnings are listed above so please try to avoid reading this fic bc discussion of those topics take a good chunk of the middle of this fic. normally I keep things vague but I find this one my heaviest? fic- as in most effective in bringing your mood down. regarding the “love and cursed techniques” theory, if u don’t know u can ask, I’ll explain w context of this fic

i. the night slips right out of your hands

ii. the sea in your palm; and love, the greatest curse of them all

The sun shudders above, rays of light and warmth spreading, stuttering.

In the distance you can hear the first years run around and yell, cheerful chatter, sounds of joy and teasing fill the air.

Have they never been given a time off like this? A moment's breath, allowed to rest?

Yaga was an agreeable man at least, though he didn’t accept it all so easily.

A day off for the first years, and for second years another day. The requests for exorcisms have severed as of late, this was a time as good as any.

Turning up the volume of the song slightly, you watch the kids as they splash water at one another, run and swim– typical teen activities a group gets to at the beach.

Reaching out for the can, you let the liquid dissolve on your tongue, the cold, numbing sweet feeling spreading all over.

Gojo appears a little later, holding more cans with him, tossing the alcoholic beverage your way, cracking open what seems to be fruit soda for himself.

He raises the can and shoots you a grin, as if saying ‘cheers’ and gulps down what you assume to be half the contents.

Blindfold ditched for the sunglasses sitting perched on his nose, the look almost brings you back to your younger times.

At least he looks presentable enough, lest anyone else drops by.

The thought itself catches you off– why would you care, now of all times? Why would you think about your teenage years as if it was a lifetime ago, as if you only witnessed it from the audience.

A finger poking your bicep from the side, you push away the thoughts and turn to where the interruption came from. 

“Where did you go just now?” he pokes one more time as you try and back away slightly to evade his index.

“I’ve been here this whole time.” your voice comes out neutral but a slight eyebrow raise keeps the confusion clear.

His chuckling only makes it rise higher. “I am well aware of that.” he brings his soda to his lips and you decide to refocus your attention on the kids.

You know better than to entertain Gojo, or further feed into whatever he has to say– or does not have.

You have conflicted, and complicated, feelings when it comes to being around Gojo Satoru. Or so you've decided early on, from that lifetime before.

Sure, he is the strongest, and quite irresponsible, still manages to get the job, work when it matters and work hard.

For all the awful teaching skills– or lack of it, would be a better way to describe, you can tell from your limited time around that he cares about his students. And his methods, as stupid as they are, work. How can they not, when experience is the best teacher after all?

All in all, despite being one of the most irritating, demanding, petty, spoiled and persistent people in your life, he was a good man.

At least, he hadn’t done anything that would disprove that, yet.

The thought of it alone was unnerving.

He was unnerving, to be around.

For all the responsibility, pressure and just the weight alone of his techniques, he still seemed intact, no more of a mess than you are– and that was telling enough.

And yet, being around him was something you were not a fan of.

Being with him, in a crowd, among people, in front of people, that was even worse.

“There it is again.” His voice draws you back, “where did you go this time, Robin?”

Nose scrunched up at the nickname, you opt to ignore him.

You did not like being Gojo Satoru, you had decided years ago. His behavior even today held proof to that decision, making you somewhat grateful for your intuition, and for him to keep acting like whatever this is, giving you more the excuses to stay as far away as work allows the two of you to be.

“Are you a Larvivora akahige?”

Confusion seeps through your entire being. Why would anyone mistake you for a …bird, was it?

“Because you’re robin’ my heart!” 

A second, another one, a needle drop worthy moment and the horrifying pun was said in quite the awful English, the messy accent on purpose and all.

Above all, you do not like the implications as to why your technique never held even a sliver of effect on Gojo Satoru since day one.

“That was quite the song, you know.” There he goes, again, filling the serene silence of the sea, the noises coming from the kids and the sound of heat waves radiating.

“The one you danced to with Kugisaki?” He adds in, tone more of a question this time.

Attempts of being civil can be rewarded once in a while, especially when it is Gojo Satoru in question.

A curt “Thanks.” He should be grateful he is getting this much now.

Yet the sound of his chuckle filling the air shows that he is choosing arrogance over gratitude.

“Interesting lyrics, too.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew Russian.”

“Who says I do?” He replies. You resist the urge to steal a glance this time, knowing full well the stupid grin on his face that awaits you.

“With techniques such as yours, one would go and learn several languages, expand their knowledge of things and all.” you mutter as you take a sip.

“And what makes you think I don’t?” He asks again, his voice lower than before, head tilted forward, his eyes peeking from behind the glasses. the grin morphed into a smirk, waiting for the fish to take the bait.

Well you are no god damn fish, as his stupid nickname for you has attained that much.

“Relax, I saw the song title on your phone and decided to Google it. I must repe-“ “Guess I’ll bring a walkman or a radio next time.” You cut him before he can finish.

You do not want his emphasis, nor that knowing smile, the arrogant face that claims he knows everyone and everything, anywhere all at once.

Not today, not when the weather is lovely and you’re by the sea.

“Oh, so there will be a next time.”

He sounds enthusiastic about it already, ready to pack his imaginary bag for the idea of a second get away.

Always count on Gojo Satoru when it comes to slacking off.

“Maybe.” You decide to inquire, “one you will be excluded from. That, I can attest to.” A swing of the can and you gulp down the last of its contents.

From the increasing volume of the voices, you can tell the kids are retreating for the moment. 

Getting up, you toss the can into the trash bag.

Eyes locked on your form intensely, you can feel his gaze burning a hole.

Watching intently, waiting for the opportunity, to do whatever it is he set his mind to this time. Because god forbid Gojo Satoru could ever allow a day to be ordinary, just, no conflict present.

“Don’t.” you hiss, watching as he tilts his head to the side, almost touching his shoulder comically. “‘Don’t’, what?”

You squint your eyes at his fake innocence. “Don’t go around, acting like you’re ready for something you have no idea about.” your index shaken in the air, scolding the manchild before you. 

“Don’t talk as if you know anything,” you spit the words, his gaze behind the shades only making your mood worse. “Don’t act as if you’re seeing some big picture- some secret to uncover. Seeing things that aren’t even there!” Once the words come out, they leave one by one, each on their own, each a sentence of themselves. There is no ‘whole’, no integrity, some so desperate to be free, they get out stuttered. You barely notice your hands thrown into the air, pinching the bridge of your nose, every breath deepened. “You don’t know shit just because you got the six eyes!” out of breath, you can sense your throat starting to grow raspy. Having limited your talking just worsens the situation. 

Is this the most you’ve spoken to him, with your own words, in your own voice?

Allowing your head to fall, you let out an exasperated sigh, gulping to smooth out your throat even just a little.

“Don’t act like yo- as if you understand.” the rest leave barely in a whisper.

At the sudden burst of what you prefer not to name, he sits the same, looks the same, stares the same. Azure eyes swirling with everything and nothing all at once, observing you for your next moves.

“I’m going for a walk.” You announce to no one in particular.

But the snow colored participant seems to take the sentence on himself. “I’ll come with.” 

He stretches and tosses his empty can without even sparing a glance at the bag.

The silence resides and you weigh your options as the kids approach.

Pettiness wins over for the second time in that moment.

“I don’t need you to watch over me.” Head turned back, you look at his glasses. 

The words you want to utter hang by your tongue. 

I dont need a babysitter.

I don’t need a reminder of last year.

I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

There is no else on this deserted beach but us, I can handle myse-

“I just like having you around.” He says nonchalantly, as if it is nothing, shrugging as you turn harshly to fully face him.

“And it’s always a bonus to piss you off.” 

And here returns the Gojo Satoru as you know, as everyone else, mocking, immature, annoying, a fruit fly that will not stop pestering you, hovering around your ears, buzzing until there is no tomorrow.

Feet sink into the sand with each step taken.

The igniting warmth of the absorbing sand and the coolness the waves bring to your feet whenever they desire, you walk with eyes half closed, feeling the breeze, inhaling the salty scent of the sea, of the birds nearby and far away chirp, the seagulls a decade ago shriek.

You can see that red moon again if you close your eyes just a tad tighter, travel back into the moment, of the wind kissing your skin, of music in one ear and the sound of the world, lively and lived in, another.

The harsh sounds of another set of feet caving into the sand and pulled out forbids you from touching the memory.

At least he keeps his mouth shut.

Hands dipped into cold gooey earth, you watch as Satoru looks at you horrified.

Palming as much as you can of the substance, you slap your hand on his shoulder with a loud smack and give a reassuring smile.

His scowl only pulls downwards.

It takes a little convincing, and a lot of smiles, sweet expressions and docile voice, you’d rather not give him yet at the end he yields.

Shoulders slouched down, he crouches to get a feel of the clay and slowly smears some on his body.

“Not so bad now, was it?”

He answers in a grumble, making you laugh in return.

It’s worth getting all dirty, smeared in who knows what if it’ll make you laugh like this more.

Seeing his struggle with his face, you take a step closer, fingers lightly touching his cheeks, forehead, tracing his nose, his cheekbones and chin.

Would it be cheating to poke fun at your blush under the clay? Not that he needs the six eyes to know but you’d definitely accuse him of that either way.

“Now what?” “We sit and wait for it to dry– or walk.”

As much as walking by the sea is good exercise, feeling the shy waves of the sea touching him, he chooses to sit.

This way it won’t be a ‘will it, will it not?’ about the waves reaching out all the way to you.

Hands placed behind, you lean your weight against them and raise your head to face the sun– resembling a cat taking a nap under the sun.

That cat, he should say perhaps, it’s not a scenery he viewed often after all.

You watch the sun behind closed eyes and Satoru watches you, your watching, your waiting.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ditched his jacket, this way he could avoid getting a full on, involuntary, amateur spa day from your hands.

Sure, as if he has ever rejected anything coming from you in his entire life, he knew exactly what he got himself involved with.

Even if you are aware of the eyes giving their full attention on you, you do a great job at acting you don’t care. Though your body tells him you are at your own world again, lost in your head.

When you tire of it, or finished with it, you blink a couple of times to readjust to the bright sun, using your forearm for a makeshift shadow over your eyes.

Satoru doesn’t expect you to make much of a conversation after that honestly.

Your silent, non hostile, company is enough.

Maybe the universe truly loves him, maybe you’re in a particularly good mood because of where you were a little while ago.

Because you don’t budge when he lightly elbows your arm, popping the same question from, “Where were you just now?”

When your lips part, you talk of the sea, of the beaches you’ve been to, of living by the sea and visiting it often.

You talk of your mother, and how she found a spot of clay one day midwalk, deciding to spend your hours there that day. How you’d watch when you were little, the way she’d make a clay mask and apply it on her face, fingers working in the same way and order yours did when you applied his.

Days by the beach, breakfasts and brunches, of sunsets spent together with a glass of wine and laughter, sometimes tears of your own in silence, and an arm that wraps around you after.

Sweet, salty, heavy air of the summer, of the gentle sea breeze stroking your cheeks lightly, the sun burning your skin as you’d run away or fall asleep.

You sound as if you’re somewhere else as you talk, a veil over your eyes he can spot, watching something play out only for your eyes.

Are you reminiscing about the past now? Thinking of the good old days when you were just a child, no worry, no curses, no tedious jobs or fellow adults to handle?

Of sunsets and meteorite showers, he learns you like the beach, a lot.

You talk about the body of water as if it’s where you came from.

“It could be partially true, like, the amniotic fluid mimicking water, considering evolution and all.” you muse.

“We could check for a meteorite shower happening tonight.” Satoru offers at one point. “Jujutsu world won’t be on its demise just because we return a few hours later than planned.” his voice comes out louder, almost in a whine when he practically feels you frowning at the idea.

And so you talk, and keep on talking, mindless and conscious, of small things, things that do not matter, afterthoughts and random things your brain locked away into your memory.

You talk and Satoru listens, taking in every word, saving it all away at a certain part of his brain.

It is only the sound of the waves washing over, and your voice occasionally to fill the void.

And he savors every word leaving your lips.

Against the melody nature makes, your voice comes out silent and meek.

“I tried to drown myself once.” 

You say it like it’s nothing. The ‘you know’ you must've contemplated to put at the beginning or the end ringing clear in his mind.

No, I do not know. 

Satoru turns his head slightly to see you, only to find you staring at a random spot in the distance, watching each wave chase one another, grow bigger and faster.

“The view is beautiful down there.” You say, as if this eases the situation somehow.

Rainbow shimmers down, rays of light twinkle, lit and gone in milliseconds.

The waves shiver above, create the illusion of something more, something warm yet just as cold.

“To see from under the water as if you’re above ground. Of course I didn’t stay under much, there was no water flooding my lungs. Just the waves pushing me toward the shore and pulling me back.”

Gojos eyes stay locked on the horizon, doing everything but picturing the image you are describing out to him.

“Dunno.” You mumble “I suppose I was light enough as a kid for the sea to throw me around like that.”

Shouldn’t such a scene raise worry in an instant? He finds it odd no one had noticed.

“Did you know,” your voice comes out much lighter and alive, a tone similar to when someone recalls something random, something unrelated or long gone. “You can never choke yourself to death, the survival instinct kicks in, you cannot hold your breath long enough to finish the job, neither can you strangle long enough…”

A thin fish with prints of a tiger, swimming away in a long stripe, how clear the sea looks, the sand looks bottomless as shadows of water falls upon. 

You must’ve lost the fun in ‘fun fact’, that much your words prove to him.

Warm like the winter sun, the breeze gently stroking your skin.

“Don't get me wrong” you continue to speak in the same tone. “I didn’t have a death wish. I guess I was just curious,”

The use of past tense does nothing to help your case “bored,”

You speak steady, holding each word in, contemplating, waiting, is this an ambush, is that what you warned him about?

“It felt nice to be close with the sea like that, closer than i've ever done with air. Maybe that was my reasoning, though which kid needs a reason for the deeds they commit?”

The silence sits heavy between the two of you.

The serene air to you waits and dispels at the same time, in an instant, without showing itself, loud, quick, gradually and with time.

So you keep talking whenever your mind seems to reach another memory, and Gojo sits next to you listening to every word that drips from your lips.

No sounds indicating he follows, perhaps that’s what you’ve come to find more appealing.

The blazing sun atop burns into every breath he takes, the greenish gray mud crawls at his skin.

You speak of peaches by the beach, small hermit crabs you’ve come across, how your mother made a fuss when you swam too far away, how you always return to the sea somehow.

Gojo knows that to know a person, to truly know someone, you don’t necessarily need to know the details, or every aspect of their life, every minute of their past they can recall or not.

Knowing someone, truly, genuinely goes past that. It is beyond just the pleasantries, it is about the trust, the comfort, the ease one gets as they exist with in the same space as the other, how natural it all feels.

Gojo Satoru knows you.

He has known you for a long time, despite your shared time together falling short compared to all the years long since passed from the moment you’ve first met.

Yet as you speak, that feeling creeps up behind, around, all over, that he realizes perhaps it was all just the surface level, the scrapped bits and pieces– some pieces of a mask, some pieces he gets a peek through the openings and holes of the mask, how vast yet tiny the shell of earth seems compared to the rest. 

Perhaps that is exactly what you meant by your words earlier. Gojo Satoru gets what he wants, once again, yet he stays silent.

As the outer layer is drilled through and goes deeper and deeper, reaching the cold, lifeless magma that roams inside, ready to burn and hit whatever comes into contact, whatever reaches it, and the driller keeps going, and the man keeps digging, hitting piece after piece of earth with the pickaxe.

Is this the same warmth icarus had felt when he flew a bit too close?

Bad analogy, he is aware of it.

Natural just like grass shivering at the slightest of breezes.

“I tried to kill my father once.” you say softly, like a kid telling their utmost secret to someone that yes, it was them who broke the vase, it was them who ate the cookies when no one was present.

“It wasn’t even with any malicious intent or anything. I just recall not liking the guy even when I was younger. Annoying me, annoying mom…” you let your words trail off.

Gojo knows that, it is quite easy to guess, from your choice of words, from the way you act and hold yourself– how it is her side of the family you’ve embraced the technique off while you are clueless what it is even capable of, the technique you should’ve inherited from his side.

“So one day I just grabbed some bottles ive seen in the bathroom, lotions, tonics, the likes– for face, body, to remove a part of makeup, anything. And just spilled the contents down to his pillow.” allowing your words to cool off, you take a pause, “It is ridiculous to think about it, you know. I didn’t even consider a chemical reaction or anything. I just hoped the awful mix of those strong and bitter scents would do something, I guess. Or that’s what I told myself back then.”

He knows a lie when he hears one, as well.

A lie you’re telling yourself, and to him, while perfectly aware you knew of chemistry and its basics. It was most likely the volatility you didn’t take into account, and whatever products you’ve picked weren’t toxic to begin with.

“Oh well, we all know the pig still lives as healthy as ever.” you say with a shrug, with that shift of tone again, like you’ve walked all the way to a restaurant only to find out it’s closed on tuesdays. ‘Oh well, we can visit again another day.’

A butterfly flaps its wings and nothing happens. A bird opens its wings, one strong swing it elevates and everything changes, the moth with the skull print comes, the course of nature, the evident truth that everything changes at all times remains proven correct once more. A caw the bird lets out and death comes, watching from afar.

When he turns his head to face you, your eyes are slightly ajar, unfocused– somewhere else, lost in your head again.

You do appear a little relaxed, he notes. Probably with the help of the sun and memories of the clay hugging you from all sides now.

Perhaps this is why your technique works the way it does, too lost in your head, for as long as you can remember, since forever, conjuring up tale after tale, escape even just for a moment. How the mask fits like skin, how there is one for each feeling, even the cracks filled with a plaster of sorts to keep the play going just a little longer. Nothing could see this coming, painting, dancing, even singing were the more likely candidates, or so it seemed, or so you appeared for it to be. It is up to the artist to pick the medium, which technique to use. It is up to their soul how they wish to tell the tale, create the feeling, rewrite the world when needed.

Tell a lie long enough and it stops being one.

Sometimes things are simple like this.

No great artist ever settled for a single medium after all.

*

Everyone has their turn with the little speaker one by one, each requesting songs, tilting their heads to the melody– or in Yuuji’s case trying to sing, or rap?.. along. An entertaining sight as well as scary you decide.

Nobara complains about everyone’s lack of tastes after a while, claiming none of these match the vibes, and that your 2014 picks barely fit, best of the worst she deems them.

“There is this specific… genre, I can pick from. Not exactly a genre per se, it’s just this wave of songs that get popular during the summer and are forgotten by the end of august.” 

Your reluctant tone is only met with curious gazes that slowly blink at you.

“Uh…” you pause, “Mediterranean songs?” you suggest then shake your head, “Not like that but– god–” (‘Yes, honey?’ Gojo has made it a habit to cut in whenever you utter the word) “I really don’t know how else to explain.”

When explaining reaches its dead end, it’s better to show and tell, and so you do.

Nodding their heads to the song as they listen with serious expressions and all, the council of first years conclude that yes they do get what you mean and your poor definition actually fits.

A day off by the beach, treats, the cold embrace of the waves and simply existing in the moment… certainly does the trick for the kids.

Wrappings of ice cream from a while ago cast aside but you know Gojo bought extras, stored them in the portable freezer.

(I didn’t know they made milkshakes in plastic wrapping.” you eye the halfway melted white treat. He just shoots you a cheeky grin, “You wouldn’t believe the queue.”

As if sensing the arrival of the sugary cold treats, you can spot the kids getting out of the sea as you open the package, only to be met with a vanilla that looks a bit too cylinderic.

Yet again, Gojo turns a blind eye when met with your glare. Something about having never seen you eat one of the classics when you were students, whatever that means.

Two can play this game, so with a shrug you maintain eye contact and bite into the ice cream with force, teeth and all. His gaze fixated on you, you can see his smile waver, gulping almost in fear. ‘I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my life before’.

You only laugh in return, the tense atmosphere morphing into genuine laughter and memories that’ll soon be gone.)

Another song plays next, your head moving accordingly, ignoring the curious gazes of the kids as you begin murmuring along to the lyrics.

You can hear one of them whisper about it, ‘hey isn’t this dangerous?’ ‘could they speak this whole time?’

You cannot blame them for their curiosity, that is what keeps everyone improving after all.

“Up until last year, you could not get them to shut up actually.” Gojo jumps in, shaking an index all knowing. “Well,” he tilts his head to the side, “they’d mostly communicate through songs so that was a tad confusing at times.”

“As long as I avoid certain metaphors, or keep my cursed energy at a low level, I can speak.” you say, “And I’ve been feeling fairly good recently.”

Ignoring the curious gazes that only increase in energy and eyes widening, you get up and grab Yuuji’s hand, pulling him up and moving to the song’s melody.

The chorus is moving, easy to sway, to dart steps here and there, to move your body like one of those old time’s dances. The kid picks up in no time, soon giggling and spinning to the instruments.

With the second verse, you go for Nobara. She must’ve not seen you coming, her yelp proving it pretty much. Compared to Yuuji, she is stiffer, guarded. Arms opening wide and closing, you lean in as you sing the lyric about rings and gems, and by the time she warms up, joining you, holding her hat with one hand yet matching the energy with all the same.

When Megumi gets dragged, it’s by everyone and against his will. He pouts and stands but it doesn’t miss your attention how he bumps his feet to the melody, how slightly he tilts his head, even his frown threatening to break into a faint smile.

How the outro begins and you’re dancing to yourself wrapped in their joy and laughter, four people together yet your form standing alone with each lyric repeated.

This is the most you spoke to him perhaps, and yet you look like it was about the weather and nothing else. Is that how disconnected you feel? 

He knows it’s not that, he sees through your “feeling good today” bullshit, that you’ve managed for so long and did no further improvement to keep it under check simply because you go back and forth with feeling.

“Look, about …that,” one year and you still refuse to even acknowledge it, “ I am tired of staying silent for so long, for living with its fear and ‘what if’s.” You pause and take in a breath, eyes tracing the sand that surrounds his fingers. 

“I am grateful for what you did, really. But I will deal with the aftermath my way. It is my burden to carry, my life in my hands spilling down like sand.”

He only nods, what else can he do, when you’ve said in your life for the first time that you’re grateful? And thanking him on top of that… He’ll take what he can, he realizes, when it comes to you. Mouth still slightly ajar, Gojo remains his posture, eyes on you.

“Everything I’ve said here, we talked about today,” you begin speaking once again, eyes looking into his, cold and distant, still faraway, still behind veils. “Forget about them, they never existed.”

It is not a question, a request, one he cannot refuse.

He doesn’t need to check to know you didn’t use your ability, there is little to no cursed energy left inside you, a hollow shell in the shape of a person.

Seeing no refusal rising from his side, your gaze meets the water again, he can still hear your voice talking of memories. He wonders if the scenery today feels similar to that day you’ve found a starfish, only for it to wrinkle inside your palm suddenly.

Your sudden yawn, and arms stretching over your head pulls him out.

Talk about judging you for getting lost inside your head for too long.

Eyeing the little specks of green dusty, you brush them off your leg, only for more crumbs to rain down. “Guess we should take this off, huh?” 

You get up before finishing your words, already making way to meet the waves once again.

It’s a long shot, he knows, and he has asked before, yet Gojo cannot help but wonder if you’ll show more of yourself like you did today. Allow him to read your words, or listen to them come out of your word, with no malicious intent, with survival not being the priority of your brains.

Following you, he gets up as well, “You think it’s alright to do that?” 

He sounds skeptical, one foot in the air, you freeze in a position he’d laugh any other day.

Placing it down, you turn and open your arms in a big gesture, “What comes from nature, returns to nature.”

You wear a smile and keep your eyes closed but in your words, he can hear someone else– the who of it is a mystery just yet.After few seconds of staring, he shrugs ‘fair enough’ and follows after you, back into the body water.

[philicheesecake]

(UL) Another Path

Masterpost

Warnings: Soft vore, implied character death, injury mention

Word count: 2012 words

______________________

A feeling of burning seared through every inch of his body. Flames sprouted out of his skin. His eyes teared up at the intense heat. He squinted through the flames. A smoky image appeared in the distance, slowly coming into focus.

Warren was back at the Binding ceremony with Eli. Rhyka loomed over them. It started out as a sort of out-of body experience, before he eventually sank into his own body to witness the horrifying scene from his own perspective again. At first he had been certain that this was some sort of vivid dream, but as his senses settled in, and the burning flames faded around him, it became so real. Every detail. The tight ropes around him, the rough earth beneath him, the distant glow of the flames from the giants' bonfire, the horrified gaze in Eli's eyes. It felt like he had been set back in time.

The only thing that went differently was that he felt frozen. While he had been reaching in his pocket for the ice antidote the last time this happened, his hands merely remained by his sides, unmoving for now. He could only stare up at Rhyka. An itching feeling lingered at the back of his mind.

"Watch." A woman's voice whispered in his ear, so quietly he could have imagined it. Maybe he did.

Rhyka took a bold step closer to the twin blonde giants. She was a full head taller than both of them, and was definitely one of the tallest giants among the whole gathering. "That Arawn was under my judgement seven years ago. I'm not asking."

She shoved Daki aside and lashed out her claws to sever the ropes binding Eli and Warren. Her fingers closed around Eli's middle and he was lifted off the ground. Warren let out a startled yelp. The blond giantess quickly reached out to pin him against the tree again.

Eli put his hands against Rhyka's grip, struggling with grit teeth. "You idiot! You know I earned my place! You— you can't kill me!"

"Mmm, can't or won't? Because I think we both know the answer there." She let out a harsh chuckle through her fangs before lifting him towards her face.

Eli's eyes widened and he struggled harder. "No—nono—No—!"

Her jaws opened wide and Eli was forced inside. Warren watched with horror. This didn't happen last time. What was going on in this memory? What was happening?

Rhyka pushed him in further and swallowed thickly. A squirming bulge formed in her throat. The action appeared effortless for the larger giant. She quickly worked him the rest of the way down. More of Eli steadily disappeared past her maw until his feet finally sank past her fangs. The bulge in her throat reformed in her middle, not making much of an impression with how much larger she was than the other giants.

Rhyka sighed once the weight settled in her middle, then looked to the twin blonde giants. Warren's heart skipped a beat. He feared he was next.

Then something strange happened. His arm somehow slid out of the blonde giantess's grip and he stumbled onto the forest floor on his back.

"Run." The same voice whispered in his head again.

Warren didn't need to be told twice. He broke out sprinting through the forest. Miraculously, he wasn't followed. How did the giants not notice? What would become of Eli?

He kept running through the forest until he had run out of breath. The gathering of giants was now well out of sight. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, keeling over. Not long after, he could faintly hear long, lumbering footsteps in the distance. A giant.

He looked over the area, before quickly picking out a tree and climbed up it as high as he could go. Then he waited.

It was Rhyka. She was alone. She walked right past where Warren was hidden without noticing him. She stopped, before she seemed to do something strange. At first it appeared like she was coughing or hiccuping, then the bulge in her middle began to work it's way back up her throat. She reached up to pull Eli out of her mouth, then roughly dropped him down on the forest floor.

Eli was a soaking wet mess. He gasped and gaped up at the giant, trembling violently.

"W-what— what the fuck—?"

"Yes, you're alive Arawn. Do you need any further clarification?" Rhyka spoke dryly.

"Why? I'm an Outcast. I— I don't deserve to live. We both know what I did, what I failed to do."

Warren had never heard him speak like that before. Eli sounded truly broken and defeated.

"You don't have to remind me. I know fully well what you did. But that is not what's important now. I have a very important job for you." Rhyka sounded almost tired.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The apocalypse, Arawn. Someone believes you may be very important to it." Rhyka responded.

Eli went silent, staring up at her for a moment, as if trying to determine whether she was joking. "I don't have time for fairytales." He finally grunted.

"I don't think you have a say in that. You will either stand by my side with this, or I will eat you again... And finish it this time." Rhyka said coldly.

Eli's eyes widened by a hair. "You're serious."

"Have you ever known me to be the humorous type?"

"Well no, but..."

"Eli." Rhyka interjected, growing impatient. "Is that a yes or a no? I will not ask twice."

"I..." Eli got to his feet, brushing leaves off of him. "Fine. But ya gotta fix me if I'll be of any use to you."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Rhyka responded simply. "Come with me."

She began to head off further through the woods without another word. Eli hesitated, before following after her at a hasty pace to keep up with her longer strides.

Warren's eyes didn't leave their direction until long after they were out of sight. He was confused.

He began to back off of the branch to climb down, but that whispering voice sounded in his ear again.

"Wait. Keep watching."

Warren glanced around, whispering back. "Who are you? How are you taking in my—"

"Shh... Here they come."

Warren stopped, glancing back down at the forest floor. A large tree seemed to open up and two figures emerged out of seemingly nowhere. One was very short and wore a long blue hooded cloak and what seemed to be a dragon's jaw bone around their masked face. The second figure was taller with long white hair, seeming to have plants and vines tangled into it. Where she stepped, bright green plant life snaked out of the ground. Warren couldn't describe the feeling that followed them. He could almost feel a powerful energy just from being in their presence. He grew very afraid.

"I don't like where that giant is going with this. We should just kill him. He's just a pawn. He doesn't matter at all." The shorter figure said.

"He's not guilty for the crimes of humanity. We are not here to purge the monsters. They are the only pure spirits in this world. Humanity is our only target, Ackerly." The taller, white-haired figure responded.

The shorter figure, Ackerly sighed impatiently. "The giants are mere children. What are the Elders? Eighty years old? What do they know? They weren't there when Men drove them out of the earth, when I had to hide them from all harm for hundreds of years."

"You mean hide them from the humans. And those are who we intend to eradicate."

"Yes, I know, Sequoia. I'm just concerned about... You know." Ackerly sighed.

"Everything will work out the way it's meant to. Look at where we have been, and look at where we are now. Be proud, Ackerly." Sequoia spoke more softly. "We've made it. The apocalypse is on our doorstep. Let it in."

Ackerly's expression was difficult to read from Warren's perspective, though Sequoia's words seemed to pacify them. There was a pause, then Ackerly's head turned upwards. This is when Warren saw their eyes for the first time. They were empty, and a steady white glow seemed to beam outwards from within. Those empty eyes fixed on Warren.

He took in a fearful breath.

In an instant, Ackerly sprung forward, then suddenly appeared right before Warren and rammed their hand over his throat, pinning him to the trunk of the tree.

How—? Warren was at least twenty feet above the ground. His eyes flitted towards the menacing figure throttling him, then downwards. It was then that he realized that the figure was floating.

His eyes flitted back towards those empty eyes, attempting to choke out a plea.

Blackness was already dancing over his vision from lack of oxygen. His throat burned. Ackerly repositioned both of their hands around Warren's head, and with one quick motion and a sickening snap, all went black.

.

.

.

Warren shot upwards with a strangled gasp, clawing at his throat. His eyes went wide. Each ragged breath burned. Firm hands pressed against his shoulders, trying to get him to lie back down. He didn't register his sister's voice immediately. All he could register was his own rasping breaths. It took a while for his breaths to steady again, but eventually, he was able to calm himself enough to perceive the environment around him.

He was back in the school. Rebeka and Liss were both closeby. Rebeka was repeatedly insisting that Warren take deep breaths.

Warren put his hands to his face, feeling overwhelmed at the moment. He didn't speak for a while, just breathing deep, then shakily, then deep again.

"Warren... Are you alright?"

Warren finally lowered his hands to look at Rebeka. Despite her attempts to appear stable and reassuring, he could sense the worry off of her.

"What happened?" He asked.

"You fainted. You were asleep for a while." Rebeka responded.

"You missed the attack. The hunters fought off the giants though. Everything is okay." Liss piped up.

"Giants?" He rubbed his head, now remembering. "Oh, yeah..." he paused. "Is Eli alright?"

Rebeka appeared surprised. "Why would you ask about him? After all that he's done?"

"I don't know, I just... Had a weird feeling."

"You don't have to worry about him. He's under control." Rebeka said.

"Right..." Warren sighed, slumping back in his cot. He went silent again. His eyes wandered the room for a moment, before settling back on Rebeka. "What's that look for?"

She hesitated. "There's more news... The Legion... says we'll need to move... away from the school... One of the attacking giants got out alive, and Katherine is worried that they'll be back with reinforcements. Parts of the school were damaged. It might not be enough to hold back another attack."

Warren's eyes widened. "What? But where would we go?"

"Clayfield isn't far. Remember when we went to visit my friends there sometimes? Maybe they're still there." Liss said hopefully.

Warren shuddered. "No. No. Don't go there. They'll kill you. They'll kill all of us."

Rebeka gave him a confused look.

"I went there. Vampires took over the town and they're feeding people to the giants. Anyone with connection to the Unseen Legion is food for giants, and anyone who's innocent is food for the vampires. That's why I was gone so long after I hunted Eli down... The vampires tried to feed me to the giants... Even after I escaped, it took me days to get back here."

Rebeka's expression mixed of worry and empathy. "You traveled all the way here with one leg?"

"Well... No... I had help..." Warren felt a pang of guilt. He didn't know if Lexie, Ruth, and Rubin were okay... and maybe even Daki was slowly becoming a little less horrid to him in his mind. "They're still out there... Maybe they can help us."

"Who?" Rebeka asked.

Warren sighed, then explained the rest of the story.