#often he likes to be entirely alone though

[envy-of-the-apple]

Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more from you than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down. 

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

🗡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe. 

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies." 

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error. 

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice. 

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately. 

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

🗡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.  

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that. 

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men. 

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often. 

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long. 

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face. 

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone. 

"No, Mr. Gojo." 

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru." 

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval. 

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements. 

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru." 

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds. 

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite. 

"Satoru." You mutter. 

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune. 

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood." 

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod. 

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more. 

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous. 

 Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with. 

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's. 

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of. 

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of. 

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics. 

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him. 

Except, you had no clue where he was. 

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons. 

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you. 

"Hey. You." 

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately. 

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—" 

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque. 

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it. 

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale." 

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour. 

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?" 

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto. 

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?" 

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner. 

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans. 

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself. 

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack. 

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to. 

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement." 

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power. 

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down." 

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—" 

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now." 

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat? 

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside." 

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. 

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod. 

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up. 

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you." 

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles. 

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time." 

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier. 

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

🗡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent. 

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else. 

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything. 

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you. 

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure. 

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you. 

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages." 

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open. 

You turn to the devil. 

"Can you...help?" 

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles. 

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips. 

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling." 

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?" 

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat. 

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly. 

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him. 

Not yet. 

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least." 

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different? 

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart." 

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more. 

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey. 

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?" 

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

🗡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before. 

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold. 

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.") 

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands. 

Matching rings. 

You felt sick. 

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you. 

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty. 

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click. 

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here. 

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around. 

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves. 

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first. 

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you." 

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy. 

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you. 

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain. 

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal." 

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it." 

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body. 

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand. 

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

[galedekarios]

epilogue outfit descriptions

i finally looked at the item descriptions of gale's epilogue outfit and they're so cute:

embroidered ensemble a delicately-embroidered outfit inspired by the decorative spine of sharro's 'a sommelier's guide to the forgotten realms.'

i love how this not only ties into gale's love for books (his library in his tower in waterdeep, wooing the protag with a book in his act 2 romance scene, enchanting his camp clothes to smell like a library, among many other instances) with gale (presumably) commissioning an outfit based on the binding of a book, but it also highlights his love for wine:

(Gale: Sembian wine, Cormyrian ball, Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road.

Gale: I have a cat, a library, and a weakness for a good glass of wine.

etc, etc, etc)

i think it's very cute to imagine him going to a tailor in waterdeep with the book in question in hand, showing them the decorative spine of it, and asking for an ensemble inspired by it.

elegant slippers these bejewelled slippers were made for sipping good wine among even better company.

i just really love this for gale, someone who is so gregarious and full of love, after so long of being isolated and alone, during what was arguably the worst time of his life.

he goes from:

Player: You don't have any friends? Gale: Sadly not. If I'm being entirely honest, my social circle is rather small. More of a dot. Or a pinhead. Gale: I've got aquaintances, certainly. Plenty of colleagues. But friends? Those are precious indeed. Gale: I hope, though we've only known each other for a short time, I might be able to count you among that number?

Player: You must have been lonely, with only Tara for company... Gale: Sometimes. But I imposed it upon myself, after all. I set up enough wards to keep an army at bay, never mind the few colleagues who sought to inquire about my welfare. Gale: Tara did her best to keep my spirits up, of course, but there's only so much one tressym can make up for one's entire social circle. And she was often gone seeking items to treat my condition. Gale: You're the first person I've spent any significant time with in a year or more. Spending time in your company, I realise that I may have left behind the greater part of my wit, and sensitivity, in my tower.

to having companions and friends and (potentially) a partner, who love him just as much as he loves them, who are excited to reunite with him and spend precious time in each other's company.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer Pt 4

The story continues. I'm still enjoying this one, so we'll keep going!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 linked here. (If I get to 5+ parts I'll make a master post)

Enjoy!

___________________________

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Natalie! You’re here!”

Jack shouted with excitement when he saw me. Garrett and Rita trailed behind him, their expressions happy, if a bit mild and unenthused. I was still sitting on the ground, catching my breath after my first battle in this strange world. The corpses of the monster flowers had faded into the grass, leaving little evidence of my fight behind. I waved to them, feeling a strong sense of relief in seeing familiar faces.

The three of them had been my teammates in Fantasy Realm, even if they weren’t the kindest people I had ever known. While playing together they were often inpatient with me, unforgiving of mistakes, and constantly pushing me to spend more time and money improving my character when they knew I had very little of both. I had always given in, and disliked myself for doing so, hoping it would improve their opinion of me, knowing deep down it wouldn’t. I might call them friends… and I would be shocked if they called me the same.  But after waking up in this weird real world of the game, I was just happy to know anyone at all.

I was afraid to be alone.

The group reached me, and with a grin, Jack reached out and helped me to my feet. I brushed the dust off of myself and looked them over. They all looked like they had in our old world, the only difference was their clothing. Jack was dressed in leather armor, reinforced my metal along the chest and back. Garrett had a large sword strapped across his back, with scant coverings over the rest of his enormous frame. Rita had a simple cloth robe and a large wooden bow.

“We all chose our familiar classes.” Jack saw my studying look and informed me. “Seemed the safest thing to do given that we don’t know what happens if you die in here.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you guys are taking this seriously! This can’t be real. We're still in the game! It’s just some hoax, someone hacked the game. Eventually my dad will tear the VR company apart, sue them into oblivion and then we’ll be let out!”

I paused at that. “We weren’t playing the game when this happened though.”

“We just forgot.” She answered forcefully, her gaze annoyed as usual as she met my own.

Rita had always disliked me. Our parents knew each other, her father was a well-known lawyer who had pushed her to follow in his footsteps. As someone who had struggled with the weight of parents’ expectations, I sympathized. But she had quit law school after a week, turning to full time gaming instead. She didn’t do well enough to make any money, but fortunately her mother paid her bills.

Her father was disapproving to say the least. He apparently used me as an example to her of someone successfully “taking over the family business,” never mind that I hated the pressure, resented my parents’ strict expectations and escaped whenever possible. It didn’t matter. Rita despised me, and no attempts from myself or from Jack could smooth the rift between us.

Garrett looked me over from head to toe, confused. “You don’t have a weapon.”

I froze at his words. Garrett had a large sword, obviously a barbarian type class. Jack had a one-handed sword, a fighter or swordsman. Rita was an archer with her bow. But me…

There was only was class in the game that couldn’t use weapons.

“No…” Rita started laughing, so hard that tears were forming in her eyes. “No… you DIDN’T do something so STUPID….!”

Garrett was shaking his head, frowning disapprovingly. I ignored them, my entire attention was on Jack. We had been friends since freshman year of college. He had helped me find my first class, I tutored him in chemistry. We had supported each other through ups and downs, told each other about our fears and dreams…  

And he was looking at me with hatred in his eyes.

“You are a Healer.” His voice was quiet, but the lack of emotion in his tone made my hackles raise. I started to back away.

“Jack… I…”

His hand gripped my throat, and I was lifted off the ground. I gasped, unable to get air, and struggled against him, but with a strength stat of -10 I knew there wasn’t much hope. I wouldn’t be able to cast my healing spells either, without being able to speak the activation word.

I need to be able to cast without speaking. My brain focused on that, almost desperately avoiding dealing with the situation I was currently in: My friend was killing me.

**The Healer enters an early hypoxic state - 10 damage for each second that airway compression remains in place. **

**The Healer takes 10 damage. **

I had only seconds to live.

** The Healer takes 10 damage**

I grabbed his hand, focusing all my desperation into the need to cast my only spell: Small Incision.

** Through sheer force of will, The Healer has discovered Wordless Incantation**

**The Healer casts Small Incision. Jack the Hero takes 1 damage.**

As the messages floated across my vision, Jack yelped in pain, clutching his bleeding hand, dropping me to the ground. I laid still for a few moments, focusing on breathing, the pain of my neck and in my lungs a reminder of what had just occurred. I stared up at Jack, hoping to see remorse on his face.

There was nothing but rage.

“How DARE you pick a useless class like healer?” He snarled, holding pressure on his hand to stop the bleeding while staring down at me. “Our lives could depend on doing well in this game, and you seriously chose a class with minimal fighting potential, whose healing abilities are worse than any potion that can be purchased in a shop?”

He stepped closer, and I flinched back, my heart beating wildly. “You are so obsessed with your parents’ disapproval, that even in a life-or-death situation you had to pick being a doctor? Are you really so messed up?”

I opened my mouth to explain. I knew this class well, the strengths and weaknesses. I could use it to the team’s benefit. I had been a good teammate, one of the reasons we had placed so highly in the last tournament. I wanted to say all this and more.

But as I stared into the disappointment in his eyes, I felt myself slipping into old habits. Of staying quiet and nodding. Of keeping the peace and letting myself take the blame. I hated it, despised myself for it… but kept silent all the same.

“Should we just leave her behind?” Rita asked, giving no concern to me as I struggled to catch my breath after Jack’s strangling attempt. “She’s useless after all.”

“She used to provide good support.” Garrett spoke up. “We can keep her on the team until we find someone more useful…”

“I am not giving a spot on our team to a healer.” Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a moment, as if trying to calm himself down. Finally, he looked down at me coldly. “You can tag along with our team, without an official spot. You will do your best to be useful. Otherwise, we will leave you to die.”

Leave them! My heart screamed at me. Being alone is better than this! You didn’t commit some great sin by becoming a Healer! You just chose the best you could! Tell them!

Slowly, I nodded. “Fine.” My voice was still hoarse from the pressure he had placed on my throat. I adjusted my tone with the ease and familiarity of practice. “I’ll follow along.” I pushed the screaming voice in my head back, along with my pride. I knew I was worthless, a failure. I had been told that every day by the two people on the planet who were supposed to love me the most. Jack was only the latest person to say it out loud.

This was what I deserved.

The first month passed quickly. We went on multiple quests together, and settled into a comfortable rhythm. Jack would take the lead, with Garrett beside him to tank. Rita picked off far away opponents, and supported from the back. And I…

I did everything I could.

Outside of fights, I was cooking, keeping inventory, asking for quest information, and keeping the gear repaired and functional. Many nights I stayed up late, sharpening swords or repairing gear, only to have my hard work receive a nod and no other recognition.

In fights, I demanded even more of myself. Slipping in between enemies, causing damage. I delved down most of the “surgical” pathway of the healer ability, which allowed me to cause a diverse array of damage. I built up my MP until I could activate Wordless Incantation, as I found the group's irritation was a lot less if they couldn’t hear me. I immobilized enemies and allowed the others to finish them off. Because I had a hand in almost every single enemy’s death, I received a good amount of XP and fame from each fight, which angered Jack to no end.

“Stop stealing our experience!” He snapped after a fight, reading the notification that stated the rewards and experience given out.

“You asked me to immobilize them.” I answered quietly, feeling tired. “Do you want me to stop?”

“…” He glared at me silently for a few moments before answering. “Figure out a way to do it without taking my XP.”

“…sure.”

“I mean it, Healer.” From the moment he heard my class, he had never called me by my name. Our friendship, the time we had spent together… none of it meant anything next to the weight of the one undeniable fact:

I was a Healer. And therefore, in his eyes, I was a burden.

I kept my head down, trying to help out as much as possible. I learned not to ask for recognition. To not expect thanks. And I thought things would never change.

And then came the day we met Winter.

________________

PRESENT DAY

“Ouch!” Stephanie yelped as I carefully placed the needle through her skin, placing a simple suture across the wound on her calf. I didn’t hesitate with her cry of pain, tying the knot and moving on to the next stitch.

“The area has been numbed with magic, don’t pretend it hurts.”

“Yeah, I was just messing with you.” Stephanie laughed stuck her tongue out. “How did you know?”

“Because I know how it feels to sew my wounds shut without the local anesthesia spell.” I kept working without looking up. “You wouldn’t just be saying ‘ouch.’”  

“Uh…Well, thank you.”

I felt surprised at her words. After a year with the Hero’s party, I was so used to doing things without any gratitude or recognition. You’re not with them anymore. I let out a mental sigh of relief at the thought, and smiled at Stephanie. “You’re welcome.”

“YOU SMILED!” Stephanie tried to get up to hug me, but Alton reached over from where he was sewing cloth nearby and pushed her back down, shaking his head with a grin.

“Don’t interrupt her work.” Winter’s response was much colder, causing Stephanie to freeze in place.

“I’m on the last one anyways.” I squared off the last knot on the suture, cutting the tails and placing a clean bandage over my work. “Keep it dry for 48 hours, and then you can remove the outer covering and bathe.”

“Not to cheapen all the work you just put into repairing this cut for me…” Stephanie hesitated. “But wouldn’t a healing potion be easier?”

Alton shook his head, but before he could say anything Winter spoke up. “Stupid human.”

“HEY! I’m not stupid!” She glanced at me. “Right?”

“No, you’re not.” Raising an eyebrow at Winter, who settled down with a grunt, I continued. “Have you noticed that over time you’ve had to use more powerful healing potions?”

She thought that over. “Well, yeah, but… I’m higher level, and have more HP… Isn’t that normal?”

“Have you tried to use a basic potion recently?” I pulled one out, and tossed it to her. “Here.”

Stephanie caught it, clearly confused. “I’m only missing 5 HP… I don’t need something that heals 10…”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “If you insist…” She drank the potion quickly, and then flinched at the notification. “…It didn’t work? … Not even the cut healed.” 

Alton continued to sew, but spoke up. “The more you use healing potions, the less they work. Fortunately, this seems limited to healing potions… mana recovery and other types of potions such as detoxification seem to not develop the same resistance. It’s also a slow process, but it’s becoming a universal issue. If you check the world chat this is a heated topic of discussion. Most people believe the that it’s related to level… but that’s not the case.”

“How do you know that?”

“They still work on me.” I answered quietly. “That’s why I carry the basic ones around.”

“Foolish humans… these potions were meant for true lifesaving emergencies… a basic healing potion should be enough to recover up to 50% of your health… but you drink them like water until they are worthless to you.” Winter sighed, looking over at me with a small smile. “That is why the Healers are such a vital class. In a world of constant danger and battle, of destruction and pain, only they have the power to heal and preserve. They are a noble, selfless light that protects those around them… someone to be protected at all costs. There should be a Healer in every party… but instead Nat is the only one left.”

“You did save me before!” Stephanie did get up unobstructed and hugged me. “Thank you!”

“And me.” Winter added, staring at the ground. “She saved me as well.”

“Hey, I distinctly remember passing out in front of her and being saved too, guys!” Alton spoke up, tying up his thread and checking the repair on his cape before looking at me. “I guess we are all indebted to you.”

I stared at all of them, feeling disturbed in my heart. “You guys… I’m…”

I’m worthless. Weak. And my weakness was used to destroy countless lives.

“… Thank you.” I silenced the words in my heart, and spoke a simple thanks instead.

“…” Winter was staring. I always felt he could see more than I wanted him too, as if my hidden thoughts and feelings were on display in front of him. But instead of commenting, he simply bent down, plucking a blue flower from the ground, and handed it to me.

“That’s so cute!” Stephanie clapped her hands, before freezing. “Wait! Are you two…?”

Alton paused in packing up his things and stared in our direction.

I shook my head silently at her before turning back to Winter. “Thank you. The mountain wild flower’s petals have strong anti-inflammatory properties. I’ll dry it out and process it for medication at our next stop." I pressed the flower carefully in one of my books and packed it away.

Winter nodded at my words. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s for medicine?” Stephanie frowned, disappointed. “Well, that’s boring. Where’s my drama?!”

Alton smiled widely. “Oh, don’t worry, I got your drama! Look in the world chat!”

Pausing, all of us pulled up the chat, excluding Winter, who leaned on a tree nearby and watched the display over my shoulder. The top topic in the chat was skyrocketing with engagement… and seeing the title it wasn’t hard to understand why:

___________________________

“TROUBLE IN PARADISE? HERO’S PARTY SEEN ARGUING WITH NEW MEMBER REBECCA THE SORCERESS! IS THE USELESS HEALER MISSED?”

There was great discussion today among players as a loud disagreement broke out among the Hero’s Party after their last quest line. Although it is unknown the exact nature of it, it seems to be surrounding the recent addition to the party.  Rebecca the Sorceress is the newest member of the Hero’s Party after the departure of the much-despised Healer. Many had cheered her arrival, as well as supporting the apparent budding relationship between the Hero and his new magical lady.

___________________________

“And you guys ask why I think humans are stupid.” Winter muttered as he read along with me. I shushed him and continued on with the post.

___________________________

But is there a fracture in the once iron-strong team? Words such as “Useless,” “Hiding” and “Potion sponge” were heard shouted by Rita the Holy Archer, with the Hero defending and Garrett the Giant siding beside Rita. Rebecca appeared to be in tears. Is this bullying the newcomer? Is Rebecca actually dragging the team down? What does this mean for the plans to attack the forty second gate in a few days?

Discuss your thoughts below!

___________________________

I sighed and closed the chat, seeing that comments were mostly just going back and forth over the juicy gossip. “What a mess.”

“You don’t sound surprised.” Alton commented with a grin.

“No. I’m not. Rebecca… she’s…”

“Useless?” Stephanie interjected.

“Full of tears and excuses?” Was Alton’s contribution.

“A snake who poisons those foolish enough to trust it.” Winter quietly added.

I laughed. “… I was going to say she’s a lot of drama… but I like your answers better. They are used to a certain standard of having everything done for them, even if I backed off quite a bit towards the end, when things had gotten really bad. I don’t think Rebecca will see my role within the group as appealing, though.”

“Oh well, their loss is our gain!” Stephanie cheered, hugging me again. “Let’s go hunting! I want meat for dinner!” She pulled out her sword excitedly.

“Yes, Natalie should have some meat to help her recover from all the battles we’ve been through.” Winter nodded, checking his bow and following.

Alton stood up and looked over at me. “Meat for dinner doesn’t sound bad… what do you think, Ms. Healer? Do you want to go hunting?”

“I don’t want to ruin their fun…” I started to say, looking at the backs of the two already moving ahead.

Alton’s voice was serious. “No. I’m not asking about them. I’m asking what YOU want to do.”

I paused, and my gaze met his own. After a few moments, I smiled. “Meat sounds great for dinner.” And I meant it.

“Then let’s go hunting with them.”  Was his answer.

And hunting we went.

With only two days left before we would face the forty-second gate.

[bellaxgiornata]

Congrats Bella!!! From one mama to another - what are your headcannons for Matt and Frank with a pregnant partner and how do they adjust to fatherhood (again in Frank’s circumstance)?

Thank you!! 💕And ohhh boy, do I have THOUGHTS on this topic for Matt and Frank in particular. Some of the thoughts about Matt you'll see bits of in Seeking Forgiveness and even more in future installments of FFTD (like way later for that series), and the ones for Frank I've wanted to include in a possible second part to You're Body is Not a Graveyard or something else entirely because there is a lot that can be discussed. Of course, I'll put everything below the cut (and y'all can keep sending things in from my celebration post here).

Matt Murdock Adjusting to Fatherhood

From the very beginning, right after initially finding out you were pregnant, Matt would absolutely be internally beating himself up. That man would be thinking he's going to fail as a father right from the start because despite all Matt's cocky confidence, he's got a lot of self-loathing and insecurities going on under the surface. And if you were having a boy? You can guarantee that comment about the Murdock boys having the Devil in them would be in his head constantly.

But despite that, the very first moment he hears the baby's heartbeat would bring him to his knees. That rapid, fluttering sound would become one of his favorites instantly. Because despite his fear of failing you and baby, knowing that child was his would have him feeling a love he's never experienced before. Especially with how much and how long he has been feeling alone in the world after his father's passing, knowing that baby was his family would be a very big deal to Matt and would often leave him indescribably emotional.

With his heightened senses, Matt would become bonded to baby quicker than most fathers generally are before birth. He would always be checking in on baby's heartbeat, zeroing in on the sound of baby's movements as they grew bigger, and even the way he'd be feeling their movements over your stomach would be an entirely different experience for him with his sense of touch. You'd definitely catch him occasionally grinning to himself in the apartment or while you were out because of something he was listening to baby doing. 

When it came time for baby to be born, the man would be in a panic getting you to the hospital. It would be almost comical to see, making it seem like he was the one about to give birth with how he was acting. But really? He would be hearing every painful contraction you were suffering through with his senses, suffering through each one with you in his own way because he hated seeing you in pain and not being able to help. He'd be having a hard time trying to keep himself in check in the hospital while you gave birth, his senses making the entire experience terrifying for him, but he'd do his best to be there for you. 

Once baby was born, Matt would be all about the skin to skin. He would shed his shirt and want to hold the baby as soon as you'd give him the chance. And that newborn smell? With his nose it would be something even more amazing to Matt–a very big dopamine hit for him. 

Back home, he would do his best to help out with baby despite feeling like he was in over his head. But he would quickly realize he was amazing at anticipating what baby needed with his heightened senses, knowing when they were hungry or tired or needed a diaper usually right before they even started to cry. 

But Matt would still be going out as Daredevil in the evenings. Despite his fear of leaving his own child fatherless through his actions (like his own father), it still wouldn't be something he could give up. Though he'd do his best to compromise with you about it all. But admittedly, he'd always have a part of himself distracted, keeping an ear out for anything going on back home. Because as much as he loves Hell's Kitchen, his own child would ultimately come first.

Frank Castle Adjusting to Fatherhood for a Second Time

Frank would initially have a hard time discussing starting a family with you after everything he'd been through with losing the family he thought he'd always have. But deep down, he'd ultimately know that's what he wanted with you. Not a do-over or a replacement family, but a chance at being happy again, of feeling that love he once felt instead of the empty, hollow space in his chest.

Finding out you were pregnant would be a mix of emotions for him. He'd be crying on the bedroom floor with you when you brought him that positive pregnancy test. Tears of joy at the new life already growing within you, but also tears of a deep, indescribable grief at the memory of the first time Maria had told him the very same thing.

He would attend every OB appointment you asked him to come to. Every ultrasound he would be right there holding your hand, fighting tears as he watched his baby's movements up on the screen. And every time he heard the baby's heartbeat when they checked would be like the first time all over again, a wave of relief crashing over him to hear that sound and to know everything was okay. Because deep down he'd always be terrified of another loss.

Frank would be going out of his way for you during your pregnancy. You're craving a cheeseburger or cookie dough ice cream at midnight? You can guarantee he'd be out the door getting it for you. Your feet are sore or swollen or your back was killing you? He'd be demanding you sit down, kick your feet up, and let him give you a massage. You're throwing up because of horrible morning sickness? He'd be right there holding your hair back without a word, bringing you your toothbrush and some mouthwash afterwards.

But that doesn't mean you wouldn't find Frank occasionally sitting outside in the backyard or on the edge of your bed alone and crying. Mourning the loss of Lisa and Frank Jr. along with Maria. Because the pain of that would never leave him, something you'd long since understood. There would certainly be times you'd be the one silently offering him comfort while he struggled with his grief being painfully brought back to the surface during the entire experience.

On lazy days and late nights, you'd be sitting with Frank, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling as you listened to him talk to your growing bump. His large hand would be affectionately resting atop it, and if baby managed to hit or kick him? He'd chuckle and happily accept the interruption.

When it came time for you to give birth, you can absolutely believe that man on the outside would look completely calm and in charge. He'd have the hospital bags packed and in hand while guiding you to the car. He'd stay awake with you through labor, no matter how many hours it lasted, and getting you whatever you needed. He'd be there calmly talking to you and doing what he could to ease your mind. But internally? He'd be panicking. Terrified of something going wrong, afraid God or someone would punish him for the things he's done and take both of you away from him in one fell swoop. And if that happened, he'd believe he deserved it, too.

But once baby was born and he was assured that you were both perfectly safe and healthy, he'd be pulling off his shirt and accepting his newborn from your arms. And he would be a hysterical, bawling mess as he held that tiny baby in his big arms. Whenever he could finally get the tears to lessen, you'd be hearing him promise that baby a million things with the biggest, watery smile on his face.

Despite Frank still having quiet moments of grief that you'd catch him trying to hide from you, moments where he'd be mentally reliving experiences from his past that still hurt him, he would be present for absolutely everything with you and baby. Diaper blowouts, late night runs to the store for formula, burping baby over his shoulder and being entirely unfazed by baby spitting up all over himself. Every cry in the middle of the night would wake him and he'd be right there, doing whatever needed to be done without a single word of complaint no matter how exhausted he was.

Frank would internally have long since made a vow to protect both you and baby no matter what, and he'd take that vow very seriously. But he'd also vow to never miss or not appreciate a single moment this time around--a smile, a first word, first steps. He'd be there for it all. And you'd certainly never catch him miss an opportunity to read them a bed time story to sleep every single night.

I could certainly go on with way more, but then this post would be massive 😅 These are just a few of my thoughts about these two as fathers!

[youandiwerealive]

Wish you could see you through my eyes [rd]

Author’s note: Roommate!Rúben is finally here! I want to thank the anon who dropped this scenario in my inbox because this… changed my life forever 😭 I loved writing this one and I hope my girls enjoy it! Mwah

Warnings: hold tight because this one is intense!! MINORS DNI!! Masturbation, wet dreams, some dirty talk, protected sex (finally), oral sex, multiple orgasms. Let me know if I’m missing something!

wc: 7058 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

It’s been three weeks since you’ve moved into the new apartment you will be staying in while you’re at university. The house is small but perfect enough for you and your housemate. His name is Rúben, he told you he is Portuguese when he introduced himself at the welcome party in the beginning of the semester.

You had a house that you shared with two other girls, but since they started some drama with you, you were desperately looking for another place to stay.

“I have a spare room in my house, my old housemate already finished his degree and he moved out” - Rúben said after hearing your story while you’re telling it to some friends that you two had in common - them bringing Rúben along to your group of people. You didn’t have another option, really, so you accepted his offer.

He’s alright, he seems calm and hasn’t been pestering you too much since you moved in, so you’re thankful for that.

You noticed right away that night that he is very interesting in the looks department - silently thanking god to be able to look at him every single day, but you’re not really interested in starting something fiery with your housemate, not wanting that kind of drama inside the house that you will be living in for the next two years.

On the other side, Rúben finds you very interesting as well, his mind is already creating a thousand scenarios where you two could be together, doing some of the most devilish things that can come to his mind.

He doesn’t want to push it right away though, thinking about knowing you better first - completely enticed by you. That shouldn’t be difficult, since you’re both living under the same roof.

Rúben plays football for the university’s team. You can tell that he is very focused on his goals by the way you always see him in the kitchen cooking all his meals, preparing his entire weeks worth of food, instead of acting like the usual 19 year old that would just order some pizza if they didn’t feel like cooking.

You often try to avoid being in the same place as him for too long - feeling a little anxious by the way he looks so dominant and intimidating to you. He is tall, much taller than you obviously, and he uses his free time to work out, having a toned body that would make a lot of guys jealous.

Sometimes, you decide to study in the living room when you’re home alone. When Rúben arrives, you feel the need to immediately pick up your books and go back to your room. He’s nice to you, he’s soft spoken and has a light smile on his face, but you would rather not get too close to him.

You feel small and intimidated by the way he looks at you, feeling like he could set you on fire, your cheeks burning every time you feel his eyes on you.

But you know he’s a caring guy, you can’t forget the way he helped you when you were desperately searching for a place to live, that alone has made you feel eternally grateful to him.

But it’s not just that. It’s the way he’s softly knocking on your room door now, pulling you out of your thoughts and studies. The door slowly opens, and your face turns into a smile once you see his face poking in.

“Sorry to disturb your peace” - he says with a shy smile. “I just thought I could invite you to come have dinner with me in the living room? We could watch a nice movie to get a break from all the studying.”

You look at him, like you’re trying to understand why would he invite you to that.

“I noticed you’ve been here for hours now, too focused studying, and you haven’t eaten yet. Plus I’ve been cooking so maybe I thought you could have a bite? Only if you want to, of course” - he looks at you like he’s begging you to accept his offer.

You smile at him. “What movie are we watching?” - you ask and Rúben lets out a breath that he didn’t knew he was holding.

And that’s how it started. You and Rúben had a routine now: you would have dinner together every night and watch a movie after. That was the only way Rúben found to spend more time with you. He loved hearing you laugh when you were watching comedies, the way you would always ask him a million questions when you were confused about the movie, and how you looked so adorable when you were scared of horror movies. The last one really making him want to hug you tight and cuddle you so he could make you feel safe and protected in his arms.

You’ve started to open up around him more as well, letting your bubbly personality show. You too got used to having his presence around, feeling sad when his football practice would run late and he couldn’t make it in time for dinner and movie night.

At the same time, Rúben didn’t look at you in a normal housemate-type-of-way. Neither did you. The sexual tension was noticeable near the both of you, but you just played pretend, believing that it was all in your head.

Until there’s one night, when you’re in your room studying - after having movie night with your housemate. Everything seemed quiet, little noise could be heard, mainly coming from the street, since your window was open. You kept writing down your notes, until you heard an unusual sound. You froze in place, trying to understand what kind of noise it was and where it came from. Sounds like… a moan? And it sounds like it comes from Rúben’s bedroom - being right next to yours.

You can’t help but blush while you imagine him in such an amended state that he didn’t even notice how loud the moan he'd let escape was.

You start thinking about how thin the walls in your apartment actually are, and remind yourself to be careful while making any type of noise, while you put your headphones on, so you can stop listening to Rúben while he is clearly having “a moment”.

You try not to overthink the sound that you heard coming from him. He’s a boy, after all, you shouldn’t be surprised to know that he was jerking himself off. But that changed the way you saw Rúben.

The next morning, you were having breakfast when you saw your housemate going to the bathroom, ready to take a shower as he took a towel with him.

The water starts running and you notice that he didn’t turn the water heater on. Why was he taking a cold shower?

You wait until he gets out of the bathroom, your eyes immediately glue to the water drops, slowly diving through his toned abs when he comes into vision. The towel was wrapped around his hips, and you can’t help but wonder what would happen if it accidentally fell to the floor.

“You’re staring, you know?” - he laughs cockily, taking you out of your trance.

Your cheeks immediately turn bright red, feeling so embarrassed by that moment.

“Why were you taking a cold shower?” - you ask back with an eyebrow raised at him, erasing the smug smile from his face.

“Oh-” - he stuttered a bit. “You know, it’s good for the muscles and all. Need to be careful, we have an important game coming up” - he told you, unsure of himself and definitely not convincing you.

After that, you take notice of Rúben’s behavior in your shared house, and around you.

You start noticing the times his hand would immediately go to his bulge, when you two were having a movie night. The way he would immediately close his legs when you would get closer to him on the sofa.

When the movie ends, he always goes to his room, and it gets very silent. It’s always unusual when his room is so silent: he is always listening to music, watching some videos, playing games, you name it. It’s only truly silent when he’s asleep, but yet… his light is still on.

It’s always the same routine: dinner, movie, Rúben goes to his room, absolute silence, and after a while, he gets out of his room, goes to the bathroom for a bit and comes back to his room to actually turn the light off and fall asleep, after sending you a good night text - not wanting to knock on your door in case you were already sleeping.

Rúben is unaware that you've noticed his routine. When he goes back to his room, it’s only him and his brain. The way you’re always plastered on the front of his head, the only thing he can think about all day, it was driving him insane. He lays in bed and thinks about how good your touch feels on his arms when you touch him. It’s an innocent and harmless touch, but he can’t stop thinking about how good it would feel on his entire body. He feels goosebumps on his skin when your delicate fingers touch him in such a light way. He loves being close to you, he loves how soft your hair feels on his arm when you lay your head on the sofa, next to his shoulder. He wants to touch you, to feel you.

All these thoughts wrap his head in a knot, and the only thing he can do is feel himself through his shorts.

His hand travels from his abs to his bulge, already growing at the thought of you. He massages his dick through his boxers, lowly whining at the feeling. After teasing himself for a bit, he pushes his underwear down, letting his hard dick spring free from his tight clothes.

He feels how hard he is, how much you fucked up his mind - and how unaware you are of it.

You turn him on. Everything you do. The way you look at him with your eyebrow raised, the way you roll your eyes at his cockiness, the way you laugh at his jokes. The way you make him lose his mind when you appear in the middle of the living room in the morning, looking so beautiful even after waking up, with your pyjamas. He loves the way your pyjama shorts hug your waist, embody your ass and allow your legs to be in full display for him. He loves it. He loves looking at you, he’s always daydreaming about you. He fantasizes about you all the time, he imagines how it would be if you were in his bed with him, right now. How would you react if you saw him touching himself, his cock painfully hard because of you.

His hand is wrapped tightly around his dick, thrusting up and down in a slow motion, not wanting to rush the film that’s going through his head right now. Picturing you doing all kinds of dirty and devilish things with him, thinking about your lips wrapped around his dick while his mouth would devour your pussy, giving you the best hard yet passionate sex you could ever have. His other hand travels behind his neck, helping him get more comfortable as his head is now thrown back, his eyes still shut - dreaming about you. His breath turns erratic as he starts pumping himself harder and faster now, like he is pumping life into his veins and he can’t stop. He growls as he pictures you on top of him, straddling him and jumping on his dick - oh, how he wishes that dream would become reality.

He tries his best not to moan loud at the feeling he’s giving himself and the obscene thoughts he’s having. His mind rushes, silently praying that you would walk through the door and help him chase his orgasm. But just knowing that you’re on the door next to his room, is enough to make his stomach swirl, feeling dirty by doing it while he’s thinking about you, without you even dreaming of it.

He sustains a moan as his hand speeds up, anxious to cum. He finally breathes out when he feels the bubble in his stomach burst. He cums in his stomach, disappointed that he didn’t get to cum anywhere on your body, like he wishes so badly. He grabs a towel and cleans himself before going to the bathroom and quickly shower to get rid of the dirtiness he made - he wishes he could get rid of the thoughts surrounding his head, but that won’t go away with any shower.

He goes to bed, as he feels lighter after hitting his high and falls asleep in a few minutes.

But his mind is always playing tricks on him, even when he is sleeping.

There’s an image splattered on his mind, dreaming about going out with you - on a proper date. You look so beautiful in his dream, wearing a red dress that is making him feel things already. Rúben starts moving on the bed, his waist searching for you, for the way you’re sitting on his lap in his dream. He starts breathing heavily as he pictures you two making out in such a dirty way. He needs that feeling, he desperately can’t wait to put his mouth on you, needy to taste you, to feel you, to devour you.

His dream proceeds, and now you take a seat on his face, gripping on his hair as he eats you out like he’s starving for you. His mind recreates the sound of your moans - how he thinks you would sound like. He feels hot while he’s still in a deep sleep, not wanting to wake up and ruin the scenario. His hands are all over you, holding you still as his tongue plays with your wet pussy. You reach out and start stroking his hard dick before putting him on your mouth. You lay your body on his, completely 69ing each other. He takes the opportunity and slaps your ass - now in full view in front of his eyes.

The feeling he’s having is too much to bear, his dream looking so real right now that it could drive him insane. He wakes up with his alarm ringing - it’s 8 am already. He’s sweaty and hot from the nasty dream he just had. He tries to compose himself, breathing in and out, when his hand goes to his bulge and he gets a sticky sensation. He came in his boxers, during the night - the movie playing in his head being too much for him to hold it in. He sighs, ashamed that he actually had a wet dream like he was still a teenager.

He goes to the shower, his mind still thinking of all the dirty things you two could do together. You’re in the kitchen having breakfast, he saw you before entering the bathroom, so he can’t feed those thoughts any more right now. He needs to get them out of his mind, and his growing dick needs to calm down. So, he decides to take a cold shower, hoping that would ease his heartbeat too.

His days have been like this, it has become a routine already. He’s been having wet dreams with you nearly every night, even after he masturbates before going to sleep. It’s actually driving him insane, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to tell you, to hit on you - he would do it to any other girl, but not to you. You’re different and he feels that in his chest. He doesn’t want to just get you in his bed. He wants you, entirely. He’s falling for you.

“Are you planning on going to Jack’s party tonight?” - you ask Rúben while you two are having lunch together, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I think me and boys will show up” - he informs you. “What about you?”

“Me and the girls are going too” - you say with a smirk. - “I’m going to start getting ready after we eat.”

Rúben’s face shows a confused expression now. “Y/N? It’s 1pm. You know the party only starts at 10pm, right?” - he confirms.

“Duh, of course I know that. But I want to look good, and perfection takes time” - you laugh.

“You always look great, you don’t need much” - he confesses, being completely honest with you.

“Yeah but I want to look my best, who knows, I might find a hot guy at the party” - Rúben’s face falls when he hears your words. Yeah, find a cute guy to make out with - one that is not him.

He doesn’t respond and you look at him, trying to read him.

“Hey? What’s up with you? You went mute out of nowhere?” - you question.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking of all the studying I still have to do before the party” - he lies.

You smile at him. “Don’t worry, I bet you’ll find a cute girl too. Maybe someone who studies business too, so you two can have private study sessions and all” - you giggle and Rúben just fakes a smile.

He doesn’t want a girl who studies business, like him. He wants a girl who studies law, who's perfectly balanced, has the beauty and the brains he’s looking for. He didn’t have to search much to find her, since she lives in his house. He just wants you. He's never seen you act like this - you were never the kind of girl to go out every single night, matching Rúben in that matter. You two would only go out once in a while, but he never saw you talking about finding a guy to make out with. You are an extrovert and he loves your bubbly personality, you are always honest with yourself and the others and you always say what’s going on in your mind and in your heart.

His heart drops and his chest hurts, thinking about how oblivious you are of his feelings towards you. It’s not your fault, obviously, he doesn’t have the nerve to confess his love for you and that’s all on him. He feels down for the rest of the afternoon, trying his best to focus on studying, but he just feels so disappointed at himself, for not having the courage to ask you out. He can’t bear the thought of you making out with some other dude, so he just prays that you two would go different ways at the party, and not see each other again until you get home.

While you were choosing the perfect outfit to go out, you called your best friend. She keeps insisting that Rúben is a hot dude and that you should enjoy the time you spend alone with him at home more.

“Is Rúben your pair for tonight’s party? Are you two gonna dance with your bodies glued to each other?” - your friend asks on the other side of the line, you know she really means it.

“Of course not. He will be with his friends and I will be with you girls. Plus, I already told you that I don’t think that messing with him is a good idea. We live together and I don’t want to lose my room again” - you try to reason with her.

“What if you mess with him and things turn out alright? You’d still lose your room, only to move in to his own” - your best friend really tries to convince you that having sex with your housemate is actually a good idea.

“Girl, that’s not even a thing. Nuh uh, that won’t happen” - you firmly decline.

“Just admit that you fancy him, please! This is getting tiring already” - she notes.

After some moments of silence, you decide to give in. “Of course I think he’s crazy hot, I have two eyes on my face that see him walking around the house wearing only some shorts” - you remember. “But I think he fancies someone else. I’ve heard him moaning once, he was probably touching himself… and I’ve noticed that his routine has been a little strange lately” - you continue speaking on the phone.

“Oh my god! Hearing your housemate touching himself is actually insane! God he’s so fucking hot Y/N, I would die to hear him moaning” - your friend loses herself in her dialogue, too focused on picturing Rúben in the scenario that you just described to her.

“Babe, just stop, please. I literally just told you that I think he likes someone else” - you answer, your mood drowning a bit by imagining him with another girl.

“How do you know that, bitch? He’s probably jerking himself off to the thought of you, duh! You’re beautiful as fuck and you’re working your ass off to become a successful lawyer, you have the beauty and brains bestie, I would be surprised if that man didn’t fall for you” - she calls you out, and her words echo in your head.

Could there be a small chance of Rúben fancying you? Your heartbeat accelerates by just thinking of it, you don’t have the courage to face the guy who you share your house with, and confess how hot you think he is, and how much it tortures you to see him walking through the house with just a towel wrapped around his waist. There’s no way you can actually do that, so you would rather just find a random guy that seems decent enough for you to flirt with him and get some action, even if it’s just some kisses.

You asked Rúben if he could wait for you to keep you company on the way to the party, not really feeling like walking in the middle of the night all by yourself. He can’t say no to you, so he was in the living room waiting for you, and his jaw dropped when he saw you. You looked so gorgeous, wearing a red dress like the one he saw you with in his dreams - could this be a sign or something? Rúben doesn’t believe in any of that, so he just shrugs his thoughts away, and looks at how beautiful you look.

“You look stunning” - he says with a shy smile.

You smile back at him. “You look hot as well. I bet hundreds of girls will beg you to get in their pants” - you laugh, trying to hide your feelings and Rúben doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just talks about how you two should get going.

Once you two arrive at the party, you and Rúben split, you decide to go meet your girls while Rúben joins his football team members.

Through the night, both you and Rúben act similar, even if you’re not by each other’s side. The two of you decide to have some drinks to cool down from the anxiety forming in your stomachs.

You feel anxious so you try to have some fun and really find a cute guy who could make out with you for a while. You don’t go out every weekend, but now you feel needy and desperate to take some risks.

Rúben feels anxious because he knows what you’re looking for tonight. And it pains him that he’s not the guy you’re looking for. You could have him, all of him. He would do anything for you, he would never turn you down, and yet, he’s not the one you’re looking for.

You both take a couple rounds of shots with your friends, mixing beer with other drinks that you don’t ever know what they actually are.

When Rúben decides to go back to the bar to grab another drink, he freezes at the sight in front of him. He catches you kissing a random guy he’s never seen in his life, his hands driving through your hips, getting dangerously close to your ass, while his tongue is entirely inside your mouth.

He feels his blood boiling right now, closing his firsts in a ball, clenching his jaw, unable to control his anger at what he’s watching. He turns away and exits the party, leaving you behind with your newfound “friend” and your activities.

Rúben gets home quickly, his feet moving fast by the way his anger is fuelling his entire body now. He knew damn well that you were trying to find a fling at that fucking party, the only thing he silently begged was for you to spare him, so he didn’t have to see you with another guy that wasn’t himself.

He enters his room, slamming the door behind him, trying to find a way to alleviate the strong feeling in his chest.

He is sad, disappointed and he hates what he saw. Rúben is a possessive guy, and jealousy is all he can feel right now, wanting to punch that prick's face. It should be him that you were kissing, not a random dude.

His breathing itches when his mind starts making up scenarios of potential things that could happen once you get home. Would you go to his room, searching for him? Maybe you would tell him how much you regret kissing that boy. Maybe you two would finally confess your feelings to each other? Rúben feels so jealous now that he just wants to show you how he could be everything you need and more. He wants you to regret kissing another boy when you could have kissed him instead all this time.

He goes back to his routine, maybe having a release would help him remove all the tension on his body right now. He lays on his bed, taking deep breaths as his bulge is already aching in his pants. He quickly removes his clothes, not in the mood to take it nice and slow. He’s angry, jealous, fuming at the thought of you with someone else.

He anxiously touches himself, already feeling the protruding veins in his cock and stroking himself fast, imagining how sex would feel like if he was punishing you after what you did. How you would moan and sigh when he would fill you up, roaming inside of you, feeling your wet and warm pussy around his cock, your juices mixing up with his already.

His hand works fast and hard on his dick, he doesn’t control himself as he starts moaning loudly at the feeling - he was sure that he was home alone, you would probably still be at that stupid party, or even in that guy’s bed already.

His mind went blank at how excruciatingly hard his dick is in his hand, precum already dripping down his shaft.

You walk inside the house, stumbling a bit on your own feet, feeling a little tipsy because of the few drinks you had at the party. Your chest feels heavy, you truly feel guilty after kissing a random guy while Rúben was the only one in your mind the entire time. You should have gained the courage to talk to him, to shoot your shot. When you realized that he had already left the party, you immediately went home to find Rúben - praying that he actually decided to go home.

But he doesn’t hear the door open, too lost in his thoughts and sounds, absolutely enticed by his moment. You walk inside the house and hear him moaning - your heart sinking at the thought of him actually having another girl over.

You carefully walk through the corridor, getting closer to his bedroom door. His sounds get louder and more consistent, and you stop next to his door, trying to understand if he’s alone or with someone else.

The way you only hear Rúben moaning and breathing heavily, makes you realise that he’s alone - probably touching himself like crazy. The thought of being so close to him while he’s jerking off is enough to make your legs weak, already feeling your pussy throbbing at how erotic he sounds. The alcohol in your blood was already making you feel brave enough to talk to him about how you feel, but hearing him groaning at the way he’s touching himself… that is definitely making you desire him like crazy. You need him, you want him, and you’re going to shoot your shot.

You decide to open the door to his bedroom, your hand shaking as you turn the handle open. Your eyes land on Rúben, sprawled on his bed, with his hand tightly wrapped around his hard cock. He stops stroking his dick momentarily when he sees you, his mouth slightly agape, shocked and slightly embarrassed that you’re in his room, seeing him like this. But he’s also feeling brave tonight, and he starts stroking his dick again while he makes eye contact with you.

You share a look in silence, eye fucking each other at this point. His hand doesn’t stop moving in his dick, but it starts slowing down as you walk closer to him.

“I was looking for you” - you breathe out.

“Oh yeah? Did your friend turn you down after shoving his tongue in your throat?” - he answers bitterly.

“No… I just wish it was your tongue exploring my mouth, instead of his” - you confess while sitting in his bed, next to him.

You could see the sparks in his eyes igniting at your words, and he stays silent, trying to think of the right thing to say.

Your index finger carefully travels through your bodies, sliding up his dick, gathering his juices in your tip. You open your mouth, placing your finger inside and sucking on it, tasting how Rúben feels hot and sweet at the same time.

He groans at the sight in front of him and completely loses it. He grabs your face and finally kisses you hard and passionately, his tongue now fighting for dominance with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth - like he was supposed to all along.

You move so you’re now straddling him, your dress already pulled up, while Rúben’s hands discover your body. You can’t stop kissing each other, needing the other one so badly, making out in a dirty and raw way, with saliva already dripping down your chin. You moan into his mouth as you grind your hips on his dick, the thin fabric of your panties being the only thing separating you two right now.

He pulls your dress off of your body, admiring you and kissing every inch of skin that his lips could find as his hands keep travelling your body. He looks at you shocked when his lips find your boobs and he realizes you have a nipple piercing - something he never even imagined you could have, and it’s doing wonders to his mind. You smirk at his reaction and pull his head between your tits more, encouraging him to play with the metal piece between your nipple.

His mouth wraps around your nipple, sucking on it while his tongue draws circles around it. Rúben is desperate to touch you, he needs to feel you, he needs to make sure that you are real, that you are really here with him, naked in his bed like he’s been dreaming all this time.

“Do you know for how long I have been dreaming about this?” - he says, breathless from all the kissing.

“Oh, is that right?” - you say seductively, as you keep moving your core against his hard dick.

“Fuck, I’ve been dying to kiss you since I first met you. I’ve been having these fucking wet dreams about touching you like some horny teenager. I want you so badly, Y/N” - he confesses, his hands secured on your hips.

“Oh, yeah?” - you say as you get up from your spot on his lap.

You take off your panties slowly, without never breaking eye contact with Rúben, putting on a show for him.

He looks at you hungrily, like he’s already devouring you in his mind.

“Let me give you a taste of what you’ve been missing, baby boy” - you say as you sit on his face.

Rúben’s tongue is already working on you, licking your folds like a cat. Your hand immediately wraps on his hair, as the other goes to help you hold yourself up against the headboard. You moan at the vibrations his mouth sends through your body, unable to control your sounds.

You grind your pussy on his face, completely riding his mouth now, and you moan breathlessly at the way his tongue devours you while his nose keeps hitting your clit on purpose, making you shake with a crazy amount of pleasure.

You notice Rúben’s reaction to your moans, as his hand leaves your hip and wraps around his dick, still painfully hard from being so turned on and not getting a release. He starts pumping himself while he eats you out, you look back to see the sight and moan at the view. You can’t stop thinking about how you two look like a recreation of a movie, looking so erotic and needy for each other.

His lips wrap around your clit now, sucking on it and making you scream out of pleasure. The way he’s devouring your cunt makes it almost unbearable for you to hold your orgasm inside, and seeing the way he is touching himself like crazy to you, makes the bubble in your stomach burst. You cum on his face, riding him more to chase your high, the feeling he’s providing you being unmatched to anything you’ve felt before.

Rúben moans underneath you, his mouth still on your pussy, collecting all your juices in his tongue, tasting you entirely. His hand speeds up and he cums some minutes after as well, groaning at the feeling of finally having a release. You get up from your seat on his face, allowing him to breathe properly now, his nose, mouth and chin drenched in your cum. The sight of Rúben lying under you, still tasting your juices and his stomach dirty with his own cum, was enough to make your cunt throb again, wanting to feel him more.

“You taste insanely delicious” - Rúben says in a hazy state, completely high off you.

“Better than in your dreams?” - you tease him with a smirk.

“Fuck, way better. I can’t believe this is actually real” - he laughs, still trying to catch his breath.

“I need to feel you, Ruby” - you say in a needy voice, using his favorite pet name that he told you about in one of your conversations.

He takes a condom out of his bedside table, kissing you again passionately as he wraps it on his dick - already hard again, you being an absolute menace to his libido. Rúben lays you on the bed, towering over you now, as he looks at you with love and fire in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly next to you while you wrap your legs around his hips. He kisses you sweetly and carefully before slowly entering you. You both moan into each other’s mouth, still kissing with your bodies glued now.

He thrusts slowly into you, wanting to take his time and enjoy all the feelings he’s getting from this moment with you.

You moan when he fills you up nicely and easily, not really believing this is happening either.

“You feel so good, baby, fuck” - he groans into your ear as his mouth is now leaving kisses on your neck. You pet his hair gently, not really having words to describe the energy and the connection between you and your housemate.

“I need more, Rubes, please” - you beg him to go faster, needing to cum again on his dick now.

Your wish is his command, he could never say no to you. He picks up the pace, going faster inside of you right now, leaving open mouth kisses on your nipple again - the piercing still driving him insane.

“Fuck, you’re so good Rubes, you fuck me so good” - you breathe while your nails scratch his back at the sensations he’s providing you.

The sounds coming from your wet pussy fill the room, along with the moans and heavy breaths that you two share.

Rúben feels your walls clenching around him, and his thumb goes to play with your swollen clit, his dick now roaming inside of your cunt, desperate to cum again too.

He could lose all his composure just by listening to your sounds, going crazy at the way you feel so wet and warm, your cunt desperately clenching around his dick. Plus, you look so beautiful to him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head out of pleasure, while he hears you moaning so erotically and whispering incoherent words, completely fucked out of your mind. He loves knowing that he’s the one making you feel like this, giving you this much pleasure. He can’t stop feeling cocky at the way his girl is sprawled on his bed, begging him to fuck her harder and faster so she can cum on his cock.

His thumb doesn’t stop bullying your puffy clit and you can’t hold it any longer.

“I’m not gonna last, Rub-“ - you cry out, the pleasure being unbearable right now.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my cock, I need to feel you cumming around me” - the dirty talk could send you straight to heaven.

And your body obeys. You cum, moaning his name over and over again, your pussy pulsating around his dick, encouraging him to cum as well. After a few more strokes, Rúben fills his condom with his seed, breathing heavily at the feeling you both just shared. He collapses on top of you, his head now buried on your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your skin as you both try to catch your breaths.

You hug him tightly, not really knowing what to say, and you both stay like this, enjoying each other’s touch. Soon, you both fall asleep, the alcohol in both of your bloods and the tiredness from the previous events knocking the two of you out in a matter of minutes.

The next morning, you wake up wrapped in Rúben’s arms. You feel safe, protected, it feels right. The sun is shining, warming up your face and Rúben slightly moves in his place, pulling you closer to him.

“Good morning” - he says in his deep morning voice.

“Hey” - you say back with a smile. He kisses your shoulder while hiding his face in your neck, taking in your scent, not believing that last night was real, not wanting to let you go out of his embrace.

You turn around so you’re facing him now. The two of you giggle at each other like true teenagers who just fell in love.

His hand goes to caress your cheek sweetly, looking at you with all the love in the world.

“Hope you don’t regret last night” - he says honestly.

“The only thing I regret from last night is kissing another random guy, instead of kissing you earlier” - you confess with a smirk on your lips.

He laughs softly at your words.

“How could I regret anything? Really, I only regret not knocking on your door sooner… I’ve been thinking about you a lot for the past weeks” - you continue speaking.

“Well, guess we can say that I’ve literally been dreaming about you a lot” - he says with a laugh, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red now.

“I had a dream of us going out on a cute date” - you tell him, reaching out to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Really?” - he looks surprised that you’ve been feeling the same way as him for the last couple of weeks. “I guess I should turn that dream into reality, then” - he kisses your hand lovingly.

“I would love that… I’ve been trying to shut my feelings out for you, I didn’t want to mess with my housemate and end up without a place to sleep, again” - you confess.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen” - he says with a soft smile. “I’ve been hypnotized by you since the first time I saw you, Y/N… it’s been killing me to drown in my feelings all the time because I didn’t have the courage to confess how I felt towards you. I am in love with you, I really am. I think you’re the most beautiful, caring, funny and intelligent girl I’ve ever met. We get along so well that I can’t stop thinking about how I want this forever. I want our movie nights forever, I want to take you on cute dates, I wanna share this house with you without having to hide away from you, literally when I have a boner because of you, or emotionally when I feel jealous or like choking on my feelings because I wanted to blurt them out and I couldn’t. I don’t wanna hide anymore. This is me, with my good parts and my bad parts as well, and there's nothing more I want than for you to take me as I am. Because I for sure will take you as you are, through the good and the bad, I want to have you by my side forever, as I promise you to always be by your side as well” - he breathes after finally letting his feelings show.

You smile widely and kiss him once again.

“It’s hard not to fall for you, Rubes, I wish you could see you through my eyes” - you kiss him again, unable to stop. You can’t believe you have Rúben all to yourself.

You two start making out again, smirking at each other and giggling between kisses.

“I just hope you want more amazing sex like the one we had last night” - you wink at him as your hand is already palming his dick, hungry for him once again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me” - he sighs as you two wrap yourselves between Rúben’s bed sheets again, truly on cloud nine from finding out that love can actually be closer than you think. In this case, it was under the same roof, right next door.

[sixeyescurseuser]

Thinking about an alternate timeline where Geto never defected; he and Gojo took Megumi and the twins in, raising them as one little family. 

Whenever smol Megumi had a nightmare, he would sneak into his parents room and wiggle his littol body in between Gojo and Geto.

Upon hearing Megumi’s sniffles, Gojo would instantly wake up. He'd pull the child in to fit against his tummy, softly shhhing him and telling him it’s safe so go back to sleep. 

Or whenever Geto reads his books on the couch, the twins love mimicking him. Well, Mimiko mimics him with an actual book while Nanako is more content to brush her doll’s hair. But they’re still spending quality time together doing their own activities.

If Geto helps the kids with homework, then Gojo whips up a five-star-dinner. 

When the Gojo/Geto household go on a road trip, Geto dutifully drives and Gojo points out whatever interesting things - cars, scenery, landmarks - they pass by.

Because he’s the youngest, Megumi is awarded the middle seat in the back. He frowns the entire car ride to their destination. 

(“Megoomi! Relax that face, or else you’ll have wrinkles in your twenties,” Gojo teases.

Through the rearvie mirror, Megumi glares at him like a grumpy cat.)

A couple years later, teen Megumi steadily grows, and Geto has to tell the twins: “Okay girls, let Megumi-kun have the side. He’s taller than both of you now.”

***

When Megumi enters Jujutsu Tech, he’s fawned over because he has the famous dads in the jujutsu world. Some of the curses even know about Megumi (who has traces of his dads’ cursed energies on him) and want to mess with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru’s kid. 

Sometimes, a little part of Megumi wishes he could exist without being recognized as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru’s kid.

But at the same time, he wouldn’t trade them for the world. It’s just that shouldering the expectations and Gojo/Geto name is a lot to handle as a younger teenager. 

The first year consists of adjusting for Gojo and Geto as well, as they have to be professional and treat Megumi as any other student. At times, the line between parents and teachers can be difficult to manage. 

Megumi lives in the dorms now, so he has a space away from his parents. Though he knows he can always crash at his parents' house if he wants. 

In fact, Megumi goes home often to see his sisters - who have opted for normal school - and enjoy his dad’s (Geto’s) cooking. 

***

On his sixteenth birthday, Megumi makes a drastic mistake.

He hadn’t meant to be a party pooper on his special day, it’s just that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night prior, and his body still ached from the injuries he sustained on his previous mission.

Moreover, even though he requested a quiet gathering later in the day, Megumi now sits in front of a cake at ten in the morning, surrounded by his friends and family who have dragged him out to a restaurant that is infamous for having a whole production for customers who dine in on their birthdays. 

Under the pressure of dozens of eyes and non-stop talking, cheering, and singing, Megumi inhales deeply, then exhales, blowing out all sixteen candles-

and making the impulsive wish to be alone. 

***

Megumi wakes up in his dorm room, alone. No signs of people singing happy birthday or the taste of cake lingering on his tongue. 

This is…perfect? 

Megumi lets out a long yawn. He glances out the window, he briefly wonders where all the snow went? Did it really all melt after one night?

A light rapping at his door breaks Megumi out of his stupor.

“Fushiguro! Are you awake?” Yuji’s voice filters from the hallway. “Gojo-sensei sent me to check on you. Our meeting started five minutes ago.”

Meeting…what meeting? Weren’t they on winter break? It had just been his birthday, right? What could the meeting possibly be about?

“Coming!” Megumi calls out, then quickly jumps out of bed to get dressed. 

Walking to the classroom, Yuji whistling by his side, Megumi realizes it’s not even winter anymore. The flowers are in full bloom, and the sun shines down in all its glory. 

Something is seriously off, Megumi knows.

This is proven even further when the meeting Gojo called his students for is to inform them about the upcoming Goodwill Event with their sister-school from Kyoto. 

Megumi has no recollection of his parents discussing this to be so soon, nor does he know how the seasons suddenly changed and everyone seemed to be on the same page except for him.

Feeling sorely out of the loop, Megumi takes advantage of his classmates’ constant chatter to wave his father over. Gojo approaches Megumi’s desk with his hands shoved in his pockets, and black blindfold secured over his eyes.

“Dad, what’s going on? I thought we didn’t start up classes until the new year,” Megumi says. Gojo’s lips twitch into a smile, hesitant yet cheerful.

“Oh? What is this? Are you going to call me Dad after all these years? Megumi is finally coming around!" Gojo exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow in deep confusion. 

"What? But I always call you-" Megumi starts, but Gojo has already turned away to answer one of Nobara's questions.

Megumi's heart sinks.

His father has never turned away from him like that before. Never.

Without thinking, Megumi pulls his phone out and frantically searches for his other dad's number. The longer it takes for Megumi to find the contact "Papa," the more Megumi's heart dangerously speeds up. 

This can't be, Megumi thinks as he finishes scrolling through his contact three times. 

It's- it's not there.

Something is very, very wrong...

When the meeting concludes, every student except Megumi filters out of the classroom.

(Fushiguro? You coming?” Yuji questions. Megumi shakes his head and explains he has to ask Gojo-sensei a couple questions. 

“We’ll meet you at the front in fifteen minutes. I need some new outfits for this event,” Nobara says. She and Yuji shuffle out after that.)

Now alone with his father(?), Megumi asks where his Papa Geto is. 

Gojo instantly freezes at those words. “What did you say?”

“Papa…he’s not here. I can’t find his contact in my phone either,” Megumi elaborates, holding up his device. “Where is he? Usually, you’d be all over him by now.” 

“Who, Megumi, who?” Gojo pushes.

Megumi answers, “My papa, Geto Suguru?” 

Gojo is silent for a short beat, then utters the first thing that his disassociating mind can muster: “You're not my Megumi."

And he slams Megumi against the wall. 

“DAD? PLEASE STOP! YOU’RE HURTING ME! I-I DON'T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON!?” Megumi yells, his heart slamming against his ribcage now being on the receiving end of his not-father’s attack.

Meanwhile, Gojo shoves his blindfold off and uses six eyes to scan the boy up and down. But nothing about Megumi's cursed energy seems off. Everything seems to be in place…

This is Fushiguro Megumi. 

"Dad...I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong," Megumi whimpers, gripping the wrists that pin him with unmovable strength.

His traitorous eyes begin to tear up, paralyzing fear crawling down his spine. He wants to go back to bed and wake up between his parents after this horrible nightmare, wants to wake up after being squished in the middle seat during their five-hour car ride, wants to go back to the familiarity of his home where his family was-

"I want my Papa b-back…” 

Gojo abruptly releases Megumi from his hold, crystal-blue eyes shaking in disbelief. 

Megumi collapses to the ground but scrambles back up and flees.

What have I done? The two of them think to themselves.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[ccycloneblogging]

Ok I gotta ask. Has DogDay ever had a panic attack? How does CatNap comfort him?

I was originally going to draw a comic for this but...

I hope you don't mind a short fanfic in it's place.

Content Warning: Panic Attack (though it is brief).

You're mostly getting fluff out of this one.

Story under the cut!

It was almost noon - that much he knew. The dog always had a gift at being able to judge the time --- so long as the sun was up. Noon was the easiest to tell, as he would often feel the most energy the second the sun was at its peak.

Normally, it'd be a rush of excitement. Gathering his friends and seeing what sort of fun games they could play, or setting up a routine or two to make the children laugh.

Today... Today, he was far from PlayCare.

He sat down on the cold and stained floor of the factory, not entirely sure where his Angel was leading them... But, he trusted them.

They saved him.

They saved CatNap.

He would give anything to keep the human safe, and so he sat watch as they took a well deserved nap. They were peacefully curled up on their side, their face finally relaxed instead of the constant frown or look of irritation that he was familiar with.

Still... DogDay was certain he could see the good in them - in anyone, really. That's what he did best. Optimistic, forgiving, loyal. A true best friend - as by his own definition.

As he continued to watch the human, he could feel his energy rising. 12PM to the exact second.

He took a deep breath in, looking up at the disgusting ceiling.

He could easily remember it.

Looking up at the statue in the center of PlayCare, blood soaking his fur. Locking eyes with an elongated cat, it's dark eyes narrowed at him with a look of disappointment.

He remembers shouting something to the cat. Pain in his chest, tears stinging in his eyes. He remembers being grabbed by several arms that pulled him backwards and away from his beloved friend. Reaching for him, begging like the dog he was. Watching the cat's look change to a pained expression. His chest felt so tight at the thought.

He remembers kicking and screaming at no one, as it was the very first time he had been left alone. His lungs burning for air as he continued to beg and plead to an unseen force. Anything that would listen, that would bring them back. Being so tired, so hurt... He couldn't stand it anymore.

He remembers being so fed up, angry... He couldn't stop himself anymore. He remembers walking out in the open, screaming for the cat. The tug to his heartstrings as he saw the condition he was in. Starved, tired, angry... There was only one solution. Challenge him, make him see they're on the same side.

And he failed.

His lungs were on fire, begging for him to take a deep breath.

He couldn't.

His hands were gripped tightly around himself, only able to manage quick short breaths as his body violently shook. He felt like laughing, though it held no humor. He felt like running, but his body was locked in place.

He couldn't stop. The energy surged through him, no where to go. His neck, his wrists, his stomach... They stung, begging for the chains to be clamped around him again. It's what he deserved.

He earned his fate through inaction. He deserved the isolation, the guilt, the overwhelming smell of blood and...

Lavender?

He blinked, not realizing that his head had been tilted back downwards. He was now looking at CatNap, eye to eye.

The cat held a tired frown, the worry clear in his eyes as he gently wiped the tears from DogDay's face. He hadn't realized he had been crying, but he could feel the gentle stroke of CatNap's thumb across his cheek.

And...

He could hear it.

Underneath his own panic, he could hear the cat purring away. His chest rumbling as he leaned closer, sending the calming vibrations through his body as well. And still, hidden in the sound of the purr... A lullaby.

It was strained, as CatNap's voice was almost completely destroyed - thanks to the Prototype. But DogDay recognized the melody easily. A little tune the cat would sing to the children. A song that he would try to listen in on every single night.

Even now, though tired and pained, the cat's voice was beautiful.

DogDay's breathing finally began to slow as he focused on the cat in front of him. His panic slowly fading, only to be followed by the sickening realization that his left hand had been subconsciously yanking at the belt on his stomach. Constricting his body, adding to the pain in his lungs.

He felt ashamed.

It didn't last long, as CatNap gently pulled his head in closer. Just enough for their noses to touch and their eyes to meet.

The cat couldn't speak, but there was no need for words. Seeing that gaze, filled with worry, regret, and a touch of longing... No sentence could have made it more clear to the dog.

He smiled, his heart fluttering in a far more pleasant fashion this time as he basked in this moment.

Carefully, CatNap leaned forward, gently pressing his lips on top of the dog's snout. Short, simple, sweet. Yet, DogDay found himself being consumed by the amount of love he felt.

He couldn't stop himself, as that energy finally found a positive outlet. Without hesitation, he reached out for CatNap and placed his hands on either side of the cat's soft face. It only lasted a moment before he pulled him in, pressing their lips together.

It wasn't perfect, as he pulled him in a bit too fast. Their teeth clinked together, the angle a touch awkward, but... DogDay's tail wagged nonetheless. He felt like he was melting at the overwhelming taste of lavender.

He could feel CatNap's purring grow louder, rattling both of them as the cat wrapped his arms around him. He's certain CatNap could feel his own heart, thumping just as wildly as his tail.

CatNap slowly began to pull away, though he only managed a quick inhale before DogDay was on him once more. The dog simply couldn't help himself, pressing kiss after kiss across CatNap's face.

He could feel CatNap readjusting in his arms, slowly allowing the dog to drag him on to his lap. The soft purple fur pressed up against his body as CatNap's tail slowly wrapped around them.

DogDay was so engrossed in the moment, so content in his calming, cuddly kitty... He never wanted to let go. He absolutely wouldn't have considered such a thought.

...Until he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

CatNap immediately unwound his tail, ripping away from his grasp.

"...So, are we going? Or do you want me to give you some privacy?" Angel was sitting up now, that annoyed expression back on their face as they sat up.

CatNap gave a frustrated huff, his fur bristling. Meanwhile... DogDay simply looked away, able to feel the dopey grin that spread across his face. His tail loudly smacked against the floor.

"Oh! Um... Didn't know you were awake, Angel."

"I'll give you two ten minutes, but we really need to get moving." The human stood up, at least having some humor in their voice. "Just try to keep it down. I'd rather not overhear you two."

"Angel!" The dog gave another embarrassed laugh.

CatNap rolled his eyes on response, raising his hands as he began to sign.

"We can try to keep it family-friendly, but I cannot promise anything."

"Moonbeam!" The dog whipped his head toward the cat, his fur fluffed out.

Angel paused, blinking for only a moment before they raised their hands. Though their expression remained neutral, DogDay could easily spot the mischief in their eyes as they shockingly signed back to CatNap.

"Well. I won't come to save you if your little 'session' attracts unwanted attention. Best to keep it in your metaphorical pants, cat."

If DogDay's face was tinged from CatNap's words, he was completely red from this. All he could do was reach for his large floppy ears and cover his face. All of that previous energy had finally left his body, his mind now screaming for him to quietly go and hide.

Noon had most certainly passed, and DogDay had survived... Though he couldn't be sure he'd last long with these two around...

[tangerinesgf]

yooo, could you write for Thom Ryder (or whatever his name is ) someee maybe hurt/comfort stuff. Cause I love your writings!!!,💋🙏

Tom Ryder x GN!reader

Summary: Tom Ryder is an addict. But only the person closest to him knows that.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Some fluff, Paranoia, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

A/N: Yaaayy my first Tom Ryder fic!! Tysm for your request. I'm having so much fun writing for this man. I hope you like it. Also Tom Ryder is British right? Correct me if I'm wrong here pls, his accent was so confusing to me

It was the night after Tom Ryder’s big movie premiere. Or well one of them. Another big blockbuster on his name, another couple million dollars in the bank and like every big occasion in Ryder’s life it called for a party. As his partner you have been to all the premiere's with him. From London to Paris and even Tokyo, all the way back to L.A. You were by his side through it all. The good and the bad. 

Tonight was all good. He just had a busy press tour behind him and was finally ready to unwind. He invited all of his friends and their friends to his house, or as he called it his ‘kingdom’. 

The first few hours you stuck to each other like glue, laughing dancing, ofcours a bit of flirting and kissing too. After a while you told him you were gonna go to the bathroom for a second and after some serious looks that told him that he couldn’t come with you.

When you came back Tom wasn’t in his usual spot anymore, but you didn’t really think anything of it. He was probably outside smoking weed or hanging around with his friends.

At some point during the evering you started to miss your boyfriend and started looking for him across the dancefloor, expecting to find him grinding with some random person he just met.

You’ve come to find his behaviour when high or drunk to be quite predictable. Whenever you found him dancing with another girl he’s quite genuinely confused, saying sorry over and over again, because he thought he was dancing with you. Though you couldn’t entirely blame him for it since he was high off his nuts and completely disoriented. Besides that, he was absolutely adorable while begging for your forgiveness.

Inside that asshole he protrayed himself to be was just an insecure little boy who didn’t get enough validation from his parents. 

So here you were searching his entire loft, shoving people aside left and right to find Ryder, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it appeared to be. His loft was huge with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms and just random rooms filled with whatever crazy thing Tom wanted to try this time.

As his girlfriend you were often at his place, which means you were there last week when he turned one of his rooms into a small makeshift jungle for his new Koala. You gave it 2 weeks max before animal protection would show up at his front door. 

His loft felt like an absolute madhouse everytime he held a party there, the music was deafening and the smell of weed and alcohol hung in the air. You were pretty sure Tom didn’t even know half of the people in his house right now. 

To your surprise he wasn’t shagging up with some random girl, in fact he was nowhere to be found at the party. Usually you’d stick by him during parties like this, especially when there were drugs involved. So when you couldn’t find him with his usual group of friends and he hadn’t come to find you, you knew something was wrong. 

You abandoned the party downstairs and went to find the actor upstairs where the guests weren’t allowed. The bedroom was empty, as was his second bedroom and the room he uses to practice his scenes (that particular room had a huge mirror).

“Tom? Love?” You call out in the hallway as you walk past all his movie posters. Then suddenly you stop in your tracks as you hear a voice coming from the bathroom, it sounds like Tom talking to someone, but there’s no other voice talking back. Like he’s all alone in there. 

Silently you walk over to the bathroom, the last thing you wanted to do was scare him right now. The door was open just a bit as you leaned beside it, looking through the little slit in the door. Tom was pacing the room back and forth like madman. You couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying because most of it came out hastily in a mumble. 

You decided to approach him carefully since you had no real perception of the state he was in right now. Ever so softly you knock on the bathroom door to announce your presence. At the sound Ryder’s head immediately snaps up in your direction, he looks like a deer caught in headlights with those wide eyes.

In a split second he grabs his hairbrush from the shelf above the sink and holds it in front of him like you would a knife. Ofcours you knew he wouldn’t get very far with that, but right now you just wanted to make him feel comfortable so you hold your hands up in the air to show him you mean no harm.

“Tom..” You say softly as you take a step closer to him. The beads of sweat on his forehead become apparent to you as do his frantic eyes which are constantly scanning every part of the room for threats. 

His movements are erratic as he holds the brush out in front of him and you wonder if he even reconizes you as his partner at this moment. “Stay back- I know why you’re here… I know it. Where are your friends, hm?” He raises his eyebrow at you, skeptical of your intentions. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” A frown appears on your face as he starts ranting nonsense. You were well aware of Ryder’s drug problem, but you really hated seeing him like this. The poor guy was really in a miserable state.

It had all started quite innocent, just one joint to take the edge off before a press tour or a premiere, you even did it with him sometimes. Then at parties he started to dance on the edge of safe and dangerous. Taking more and more different kinds of drugs with the excuse of ‘just experimenting’. 

In the last couple of weeks you’ve found him throwing up in the bathroom, pale as a ghost more than once. You’ve tried to offer advice but he never wants to hear it. He’s Tom Ryder. He can do whatever he wants. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You came all the way up here to get me alone, right? So there’d be no witnesses when you kill me.” The brush is shaking in his hands and his words are quick, full of distrust towards you.

You can tell it’s bad this time. You’ve never seen him so paranoide before and it’s seriously concerning. Lately one or two hits just aren’t enough for him anymore, it’s like he’s trying to numb himself. From what you wouldn’t know, he’s not exactly open about his flaws and weaknesses. That’s vulnerability and that’s bad. 

“No I’m not-” You step closer, but he cuts you off by throwing the brush in your direction which you just barely manage to dodge. You look at him with wide eyes and before he can grab the bar of soap from the sink to throw that as well you rush over to him to grab his wrists.

“Tom, listen to me- fuck..” You mutter as he struggles against you, trying to push you off him. 

“What do you want from me?!” Ryder shouts desperately. Even after doing all those movies and action scenes he has really no idea how to fight, so most of his attempts to fight you off go nowhere. 

“It’s me, Tom. No one is trying to kill you!” You yell as you finally manage to remove the bar of soap from his hands. You quickly reach your hands up to cup his face. With closed eyes you take some deep breaths to slow down your heart rate. You weren’t exactly sober either, so you took a moment to steady yourself before looking back at him.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where the paranoia came from, ofcours you did. Tom Ryder is the most famous actor in the world, everyone who didn’t want to be with him, wanted to be him. Let’s just say that both of you have experienced first hand how far some people are willing to go for celebrities. 

Yet when sober Tom didn’t seem necessarily concerned about it, more annoyed or angry when another fan tried to touch or attack him. And don’t get it wrong, Tom loves the attention and validation, but he doesn’t exactly want those crazies near him.

“Hey, hey look at me, yeah? Look at me.” Your voice is demanding and his eyes immediately snap back towards yours. His sunglasses do a poor job of hiding his wide blown, red eyes. 

“You’re okay.” You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb to try and calm him down like you’ve done countless times before. “You’re okay..” You repeat in a softer tone, a small smile spread across your lips.  

“Baby?” He whispers quietly. His eyes have softened and you can feel the man you love coming back to you. 

“Mhm..” You hum softly. “No one’s going to kill you, I promise.” 

You notice Tom’s eyes starting to water a little as he realizes everything is okay and that you’re with him to keep him safe. He holds his head down in shame.  “I’m sorry..” His voice barely comes out as a whisper as he leans forwards and buries his face in your chest. 

You wrap one arm around him, the other gently stroking his messy blonde hair to comfort him. He’s always had a weak spot for you when you played with his hair. 

“And I’m sorry I tried to hit you with my hairbrush.” He mumbles again.

“I know, love..” You whisper back as you hold him close. Then without warning Tom starts sobbing into your chest, it sounds broken and helpless. Every single thought inside his head just spilt over, unable to keep it in anymore, yet also unable to actually talk about it. 

You pull him into a tight hug, leaning his head on your shoulder as you rub his back. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before and while it felt a little bit weird, it also felt good that he trusted you enough to let himself be vulnerable with you.

For now you'd just hold him, let him air his heart as long as he needs to. You can both work on your issues later. In this moment being in the comfort of each other's arms is enough.

A/N: I'm a firm believer that Tom Ryder swings both ways, but cannot hold a normal stable relationship to save his life. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this and please if you have any Tom Ryder requests send them in.

I don't have a Taglist for Tom Ryder fanfics yet, so if you wanna be on it lemme know.

[theyreonlynoodlesmikee]

something softer but the lost boys going to disney world edition [au where they live and stay with the emerson’s instead and yknow happily ever after. blah blah blah]. does the timeline matter? no, don’t think about it too hard.

alan and edgar made them special “sun deterrent” spray for the boys. yeah, they’re on their side now, so what? basically gives them 24 hours to be in the sunlight with minimal discomfort so they packed up the bags and off they went.

marko insisted on staying at the animal kingdom lodge because he would have been able to showcase his expertise in animals. he really just also wanted to pet the giraffes. but 1 to 7, they decided to stay at saratoga springs instead, and once they were there, marko didn't complain because the beds were actually really nice and he could spend the morning cuddling with paul while the others went to the pool.

dwayne and sam spent most of the day at tomorrowland in magic kingdom cause the funky, futuristic beats made them feel like they were tripping. marko’s favorite rides were dinosaur, figment, and living with the land. he liked the aesthetic and calm atmosphere of living with the land, and paul would often join him on that ride to point out the plants at the end and go “ha, weed.”

marko wouldn't stop talking during the safari either because he was more knowledgeable about animals than the low salary college student who was driving the truck. he started sharing facts about animals [like how crocodiles can’t stick out their tongues or how giraffes can hum.] at that point, the employee just allowed him to do his thing.

david and michael didn't score any points on buzz lightyear, they spent the entire ride trying to shoot each other.

paul and marko also got the "we're married" pins, even though they had gotten married literally like. 80 years ago. nobody has to know that though.

max and lucy went to epcot alone. the rides in the other parks were too intense for their old butts, and they thought epcot was a nice spot for them to do gross couple-y things. however they are permanently banning both blizzard beach and typhoon lagoon from their future visits because they lost the boys for a good 3 hours. turns out they were trying to hide out there until closing [they were caught].

bonus points if david proposed to michael during the fireworks. realistically inaccurate but it would be sweet.

laddie had one of those child-proof leashes because god forbid he runs off and takes refuge in it’s a small world.

[vllergy]

painkillers

vesen request, 2.1 k, cold fic ty to @scatter-snz for this elite prompt i hope this is what u had in mind!!! jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

It's Jin's first day being back after a record two days off. In his six years on the force, he can't remember the last time he took actual sick leave. To be fair, he doesn't get sick that often and when he does, he's aways been the type to grin and bear it. Part upbringing, part police conditioning. If you're not dead, you're fit to serve. Or at least that's the way it always has been. The Kheelen changed that. Human officers aren't spread thin these days due to the partnering initiative. So his cases that would have once fallen to the wayside in his absence now fall to his partner, Vesen. And he's expected to trust that his taciturn, ill-mannered Kheelen counterpart can handle that shit on his own when Jin is otherwise indisposed.

For the most part, Jin does. Vesen may be an ass, but he's a competent investigator. Unfortunately, he and Jin's methods when it comes to gathering information are still wildly disparate. Something he knew, but didn't truly understand the consequences of until now as he sits across their latest subject in the interrogation room.

In the two days Jin took to nurse the cold from hell, it seems Vesen has taken it upon himself to put the fear of God into this man.

The man is visibly sweating. His eyes are only focused on Jin, though every so often they twitch Vesen's direction only to snap back as if his very image is a chemical burn. His cuffed hands tremble on the steel surface of the table and he picks at his cuticles the longer they sit there. Jin doesn't blame him, necessarily. Vesen is, objectively, terrifying. Even just sitting like this you can tell he's the apex predator in the room. He's so much bigger than both Jin and the other man--he overpowers the chair and the room itself, looking comically oversized for the entire thing. Jin thinks all the Kheelen look a little silly in the human precinct, actually. Crunching themselves into tiny desks, massive hands cupping small coffee mugs, ducking under doorways--it'd be laughable if they weren't all sure the Kheelen would crush their skulls for even a giggle about it. Jin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Intimidating is usually an advantage in an interrogation, but whatever Vesen's done to this guy over the past two days has pushed it over the line. He's not just intimidated, he's shitting his pants. There's no way they're getting through to him now. And frankly? Jin is too tired to rectify the situation. He's still not feeling great. His head is fuzzy and dulled, his painkillers are wearing off, and part of him knows he should be back in bed. But he's legitimately worried Vesen will frighten this man to death if he leaves him alone with him for any longer, and that's a bad look for everyone. Sniffing softly, Jin blinks and tries another tactic. "We want to help you, Anish."

Vesen scoffs at this, and Jin just barely manages not to roll his eyes. "But you have to give us something to work with," he continues.

Anish shivers and shakes his head, "It doesn't matter! You know it doesn't! These bastards are taking over and they're just pretending to play nice until they don't have to anymore." Oh boy, here we go. Vesen's hackles rise, just as Jin expects. The alien leans forward, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Artificial light flickers over his lilac skin and makes his dark hair shine like ink. "You dare insinuiate my people are not here out of good faith?" he hisses, sharp canines flashing, "When you are accused of aiding in a terrorist attack against them?" Jin reaches out for his arm. Down, boy. His fingers drift over steel muscle beneath Vesen's uniform as he tries to tug him back into his seat. He's about to say something to try and reign him in when he realizes with sudden horror that he's about to sneeze instead. "Hhh?" He quickly turns away, angling himself away from the table and steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. His eyebrows crash together as an embarrassingly sharp breath snags in his lungs before-- "chhSH’iew!!"

And it's never just one. "CHshISHh’iu!"

Two is actually pretty good for him, especially with this fucking cold. He gives a tentative sniffle before raising his head and clearing his throat. The tickle abates for the moment, but he can feel it buzzing dully in the back of his sinuses, tickling in the corners of his eyes. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care. Sneezing in public isn't his favorite thing, given how he feels about the activity in general, but he's never been good at stifling so it's not something that can be avoided. But sneezing in front of Vesen is a new hell in and of itself. Without even looking, he can feel the intensity of his partner's gaze on him and it makes heat begin to crawl up his throat. Fucking hell. "Excuse me," he says with a soft sniff and clears his throat again.

At the very least, he's dispelled the tension. "Arguing about who started what or whose intentions are genuine isn't going to get us anywhere. So let's not even get into that," he says, sending Vesen a warning glance. Vesen, he suddenly notes, is staring directly at his nose. For some reason that revelation sets off a nuclear detonation in Jin's lower belly and all the blood in his body rushes south. Self-consciously, Jin rubs at his nostrils and tries to think about anything else. But that only aggravates the dormant tickle, and he has to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to curb the impulse. "Fine," Vesen hisses, turning his eyes back to Anish, "Then let us stick to the facts." Anish gulps. Jin strokes a finger down the datapad in front of him, bringing up a few files. They could pin Anish with his money transfer trail. Or his text messages. He and Vesen haven't which way they were going to do this--they hardly ever agree anyway--but he shifts the pad closer to his partner so that he can look too. "The facts are, you are a coward, Anish," Vesen suddenly purrs, "And you will not survive a week in prison if I put you there." Jin could strangle him. He does roll his eyes this time and looks toward the ceiling, as if asking some higher power for the strength not to. "What my partner means is that you nee--" The bright lights overhead tease the last bit of the tickle out at the most inopportune time. The fuzzy, static feeling inside his head snaps like someone struck a bolt of lightning into the middle of his face. He whips to the side, his elbow in front of him and his hand braced on his opposite shoulder. "Hh--excuse meehh'IIsHH!"

He mists the inside of his elbow, shakes his head softly and then gears up for another. His breath stumbles, eyelashes fluttering. "Are you going to continue sneezing?" Vesen deadpans. "Hhhuh?" Jin blinks blearily, his cheeks going red as he tries--unsuccessfully--to pinch off the next one, "nnTTchSHH'iu!"

"Madrax. What is that inane human saying? Bless you, Jin-young."

Vesen stands as Jin pulls a crumpled tissue from his pocket and tends to his nose. In the next second, he feels his collar being tugged and himself yanked up from his chair. Feet stumbling under him, he struggles to get his balance for a moment until Vesen's large hand steadies him at the small of his back. Vesen's low voice simmers with what sounds distinctly like a threat, "We will return, Anish. Make yourself comfortable."

Then, before Jin knows what's happening, he's being guided out of the interrogation room and back into the hall. The door shuts and Vesen's hand retreats from his back. In a moment, the alien is towering before him, arms crossed over his broad chest and staring down imperiously at him. "Jin-young," he says disapprovingly. Jin blows his nose softly and retrieves another crumpled tissue. "Vesen."

"You are still ill." "I'm on the tail end of it."

"I do not wish to work with you when you are not well."

Jin scoffs, dabbing at his red nostrils, "I thought the Kheelen didn't get sick. I'm pretty sure you can't catch this."

"It is not my well-being I am concerned for."

Jin's eyebrows shoot skyward. Vesen, concerned for someone besides himself? No fucking way. He might have said as much if his nostrils didn't suddenly swell double. He crushes the tissue to his nose and mouth to muffle a tired sneeze.

"hdj'SHMMf!!"

"Bless you."

Jin blinked and gasped, "Hh'chhmpf!"

"Bless you."

Jin adjusts the tissue to try and find a dry spot, missing the next sneeze entirely and directing it to the floor. "You don't have to say it every ti-hiime--hhCH'ISSH'iu!"

"And why not? Bless you. You said it is something humans say when another sneezes. You are sneezing, are you not?"

Jin blushes darkly as he attends to his nose. Does Vesen have any idea what he was doing to him? Clearly not, or else he'd be raking him over the fucking coals for it. But somehow him being oblivious is making it so much worse. "Look who's suddenly so concerned over human-Kheelen relations," Jin gripes hoarsely, trying desperately to deflect. Anything to stop talking about him sneezing and Vesen blessing him. He'd rather be waterboarded. "You should go home, Jin-young." "And leave you to eat our sole witness alive? I don't think so." Vesen bristled, "You doubt my abilities."

"If we were torturing the guy? Not for a second. But we're trying to get him to talk to us, Ves." "Ah yes, and sneezing at him incessantly is doing the job just as well. Perhaps there is some merit to that," Vesen leans forward, grinning, "You look so unspeakably pathetic that he might take pity on you and finally tell us the truth."

Jin tosses his sodden tissues in the nearby wastebin and scrubs at his face.

"Fuck you," he groans, "Can we just go back and get this over with?"

"No, you are going home."

Vesen grabs his upper arm, his grip like a vice. Jin never really forgets how strong the Kheelen are, but every so often a brazen display hubles him completely. Vesen steers him effortlessly back down the hall without any hope of him struggling against him. "Wait, Vesen, c'mon--" He struggles anyway, just on principle. But a moment later he yanks on his grip unintentionally as he wrenches away from him with another ill-timed sneeze. "Hh'CHISSihuh!" He nearly bends double on that one and Vesen abruptly pulls him to a stop. The alien holds fast to his arm as if he can sense that Jin is going to lose his balance if he's not tethered to anything. "hah'hhCHHishh! iSSCchuh!" His ears begin to ring. Distantly, he's aware of Vesen's other hand bracing against his shoulder. That second point of contact sets his blood on fire. Before he can think too hard about that, another sneeze tickles the inside of his sinuses and he attempts to smother it with his free hand, "PpshhiSHHch!"

"Bless you," Vesen sighs as Jin straightens back up wearily, "Are you finished?"

"Yes," Jin lies and then shakes his head rapidly, turning away and pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, "NnghsSHH'iu!"

Vesen taps his shoulder. It almost feels...sympathetic?

"Go home, Jin-young. I will wait until you are well again to interrogate our witness."

Jin sniffles and glances up with watering eyes. "W-wait, really?" It's an unexpected gesture of charity from Vesen who has been historically uncharitable all the time he's known him. He narrows his glassy eyes, skeptical. Or at least, he tries to look skeptical despite the fact that his heart is in his throat because Vesen is still holding onto him and just watched him sneeze his head off with rapt, disgustingly erotic attention. "What's the catch?" "There is no catch. Just go before I lose my patience," Vesen said.

Jin knows better than to argue with that. Vesen is someone who loses his patience extraordinarily quickly, and it's never pretty. If he's giving him an out, Jin might as well take it.

Sniffling, Jin nods and gives him a tiny salute, "Thanks, Ves."

Vesen finally lets go of him. He grunts in response, gives him one last unreadable glance, and then turns on his heel. Before Jin can say anything else, his impossibly tall figure disappears back down the hall towards the interrogation room.

Jin isn't totally sure, but he thinks Vesen might not be such a bad guy after all.

That, and he's suddenly unreasonably horny.

[crguang]

a lover’s goodbye kiss

Are we ever truly done with grief?

angst, hurt/comfort, gn!reader, ptsd. 6k words of mourning and bitter reunions

A/N: this really got away from me, i also cried while writing it so do with that what you will. not entirely satisfied with it, but it’s okay. hope someone enjoys it regardless

Grief is a part of you. It seeps into your pores, settles in your bloodstream like cancerous chemicals and forces you to live with it, to endure the brunt of it lest memories pull you under permanently. For long-life species, grief is ironically common. The belief that Xianzhou natives are unaccustomed to death is a false one; though it is slow to come, it envelops them regardless, often twice over. The Mara curse is first. Its inevitability leaves an imprint in people’s hearts, a sort of impression they are born with and cannot outgrow. To be a long-life species is to become Mara-struck, a shell of your former self driven by bloodlust and fragmented memories. That, in itself, is death. Your body is no longer your own and neither is your mind, you are a senseless abomination destined to roam the world until someone or something delivers the fatal, long-awaited blow needed to end your misery. Though this heavy subject is not often discussed among the people, accepting that fate is done with bloodied teeth and scorched fingertips, a personal battle with grief from which you come out only somewhat victorious. Knowing that you’ll eventually be stricken by Mara is one thing, accepting that your loved ones will walk the same path is another entirely. No one talks about the worst part. Nobody tells you what you’re supposed to do when the memories fade away, replaced by the acrid smell of sulfur and a chill in your bones that you can never shake.

Hundreds of years of memories— content smiles, sun rays onto sweaty skin, cold hands in pale locks of hair, unspoken devotion— are hidden behind mist requiring immense focus to see through. You are not Mara-struck yet. Your mind is still your own, as much as it can be, and you are still alive. You ask yourself why often. Why it was her, first, and not you. Why you’re stuck living with holes inside of you when maybe you should’ve died along with the hundred Cloud Knights that had the misfortune of crossing her path that night. Loss has made you ashamed, you can’t even speak her name. It’d been erased from history and forbidden after that night, out of social disappointment and shame, but that is not why you can’t bear to utter it. It’s unfair that this is what you remember most of her; the collapsed buildings, the unbearable smell, the frozen corpses… Her beloved blade through your stomach. The way her gaze softened after a few glasses of wine has been replaced by the flash of crimson you caught a glimpse of before her sword buried itself in your guts. You vaguely recall how endearingly tight her muscles always were, how you or Baiheng had to smooth the knots out of her body once in a while. The news of her breaking out of the Shackling Prison, however, along with the screams that followed form a clear image in your treacherous mind. What use are memories if they are so fickle, so easily supplanted by horrors that quicken your heartbeat on thought alone?

If anything, you do not shoulder this immense grief alone. Jing Yuan was a scrawny, eager boy when you first met him, almost half your height and always trailing behind her like the dutiful apprentice he was. His enthusiasm lit up the training yard and his youthful determination quickly earned him a place amongst your most cherished. He would seek you out after hours of conditioning, sweat still clinging to his bushy brows, and request a friendly spar to show you what he’s learned, how fast he was getting, how swift he could slash his sword. Your position as a Lieutenant of the Cloud Knights made him look at you with naked admiration, he’d hang onto your every word with a seriousness unfit of his age and at times offered insight only a boy who had never known war could come up with. You think you remember a figure in the shade of a growing tree standing several feet away from where you and Jing Yuan sparred. Quiet as a golden eagle, diligent gaze making note of every sloppy thrust and slow retreat she would reproach her retainer afterwards, his master only revealed herself when the tip of your blade against his neck announced his defeat.

Jing Yuan was the one to rescue you on the ice. His quick intervention allowed for healers from the Alchemy Commission to reach you in time and tend to your injuries. He was also the one to end her. It had to be him, you know, but you regret your own weakness, your faltering steps and half-hearted parries— it’s a burden you wish he never carried. He bears it with a solemn glint in his eyes and an impeccable posture but he’s not General of the Xianzhou Luofu to you, and so he lets you keep him close whenever he visits your empty home. His appreciation for the comfort goes unsaid, though his shoulders stand inches lower once he sets out the door. After all, he lost her too.

You get déjà vu when Jing Yuan walks across the training yard with a skinny blonde boy in tow and introduces him as his retainer, Yanqing. His apprentice is just as eager and energetic as he was, and it’s easy to fall back into old habits when the boy eventually nags you into sparring with him. He’s talented, determined to achieve his goals, but a little too proud and overconfident. His arrogance reminds you of an old friend who once forged the sword you still wield like an extension of your arm. It’s somewhat endearing, and not entirely unearned. A part of you vaguely recalls the annoyed purse of the Sword Champion’s lips whenever your mutual friend would go on another spiel about mastering the way of the sword. Your fingertips trace the sheath of your blade at the thought.

The Stellaron crisis plunges the Luofu into disarray. It brings destruction and death to the Xianzhou on a scale that reminds you of her, of the illuminated moon in the night sky and the blood on your hands. You can’t allow the memories to paralyze you like they often do, however, so you work with Jing Yuan and the Master Diviner in order to eliminate the internal threat that pose the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus. The Mara-struck fall twice under your steel and the rest of the Abundance’s abominations quickly become light work for someone as experienced as you are. Since the Ambrosial Arbor crisis, they’ve been gathering in Stargazer Navalia the most, forcing an evacuation of all civilians to safer areas of the Luofu.

Though he has plenty of work on his hands, this is where Yanqing likes to disappear for an hour each day— additional training, he says. You trust his abilities, but today he is needed at the Alchemy Commission and is currently unreachable. No one has seen him for a while. You have an idea of his whereabouts, so you offer to look for him and relay the General’s message.

Two Cloud Knights stand guard as you enter Stargazer Navalia. Their posture straightens when they see you and they nod once in greeting.

“Has anyone seen Lieutenant Yanqing come through here, by any chance?”

One of them replies, “He was there an hour ago on an official investigation. Passed through here and went further into the docks.”

You don’t know about any official investigations but you offer a thankful nod anyway before walking past the Knights. The large shipping containers and crates create paths that workers use during the day but you figure it’d be easier to look for Yanqing if you had a better view of the area. You jump on top of a container and carefully skim the place ahead. As expected, abominations and Mara-struck lay on the floor, strewn about like discarded clothings. You follow their trail further inside Stargazer Navalia, between growing starskiffs and through already opened doors. It takes a little over ten minutes to catch up with the freshly cut-down enemies laying about as you hop from container to container. Shards of rock hard ice glimmer in the sun near the bodies, no doubt Yanqing’s doing. Honestly, that boy…

You can see his blonde hair when you advance a little further. He’s turning a corner, so you take a shortcut running above a long, empty container and land on the one behind him with a thud. The sudden noise alerts him and he swirls around with a hand on his sword, ready to attack, but you’re not looking at him. The ghost of a woman long gone stands beside him, her back to you, with a stillness that indicates she’s been aware of you before you made your presence known. The sight of her pale locks burns into your brain. The intricate design of the familiar attire she dons chokes you like firm hands around your throat, and you falter. The blues and whites and reds mix together as you blink to regain your footing.

“Lieutenant!” Yanqing straightens up, sheathing his blade. “What are you doing here?”

You taste ash on the roof of your mouth. Your fingers curl around the handle of your sword. Falling buildings, frozen corpses, sulfur burning your nostrils. Her blade through your stomach. (Hesitant fingertips against your cheeks, implied confessions, oiled palms on tense muscles.) A feeling that has been dormant for centuries stirs in your guts, snakes around your intestines and tightens your stomach. It travels through your ribcage and up your bobbing throat, forcing you to swallow it back down. There’s the slow ascent of the moon behind your eyelids with each blink and the stutter of your chest with each breath— a chill spreads over your limbs and they tense as if frozen in place. It paralyzes you; you feel mocked by the way your feet are glued to the metal under them. You are reminded of your previous weakness, of your blood on the ice and its frigidity seeping into your skin. You grit your teeth.

“Jingliu…” Her name is forced past your lips, evicted after uncomfortably sitting on your tongue for hundreds of years.

She does not move, except for the flicker of recognition that goes through her fingertips. A mirage, she has to be— a nasty trick of your fractured mind because she cannot be here, breathing, when Jing Yuan assured you of her demise.

“Huh? You know her?” Yanqing asks, oblivious to your struggle as he glances back to the woman next to him. His query confirms that she is flesh and blood but leaves no hint as to her state of mind. If she is the same as she was centuries ago, then he and the Luofu are in great danger.

“…Yanqing. The General is looking for you. Alchemy Commission.”

The boy frowns. “Did something happen? There’s something I have to finish up before—“

“Yanqing.”

He stops in his tracks with furrowed brows, displeased at having been interrupted. You finally tear your gaze away from Jingliu’s tense posture to look at him. He sees your hardened eyes and hesitates, turning towards his new acquaintance for a few seconds before clenching his jaw and nodding once. You outrank him, and though it often pains him to do so, Yanqing knows to respect the Cloud Knights hierarchy. He walks away without a word and disappears between the various shipping containers.

You stand above her, a hand on your blade, and breathe in the smell of the docks to loosen the pressure in your guts. It’s the middle of the day, the weather is warm, your skin is uncut. Blurry images of grasping hands sinking into bed sheets and locking lips fill your mind until you can’t see anything but the way her asymmetric bangs frame her face as she hovers over you, breathless. The crimson of her irises are dulled to a lustful cherry and she looks at you like she doesn’t believe you’re real. A fragment of her one-track mind and hateful heart made tangible for one night, to appease the disgusting yearning for closeness that lingers in her bones. She is not a weapon used against the Abundance and you are more than the fellow Cloud Knight that joined the ranks before she was thrusted into them. As her knuckle trails down your cheekbone to the corner of your parted lips, you are a new constant in her future, an immovable force that she cannot plan around, and she is just a woman. Not a survivor, not a fighter, she is a woman who longs for another’s recognition and gentle hands. And as she leans down to graze her bottom lip against your top one, you feel the searing pain of her blade piercing your flesh.

Blood trickles on your tongue and you realize it is from how hard you are biting the inside of your cheek. The visions are gone, replaced by Jingliu turning around to face you, her free hands limp at her sides. Her chin tilts slightly upward. She’s wearing a dark blindfold over her eyes— some part of you is grateful to be hidden from her sight— but you know it wouldn’t alter any of her abilities.

“Lieutenant…” She only says a word, trails off as if it leaves a strange sensation in her mouth. It’s not a question or a tentative statement; she utters your title with an infuriating fondness, like you’re an old friend she hasn’t seen in a while. It makes you sick.

“…...You are not dead,” you state blankly.

Jingliu takes a short breath. “Not yet, no.”

There’s a sluggishness to her words and a rasp more prominent than you recall it to be. Her voice is raw and breathy like every sentence comes at a price, and you are reminded of the curse that plagues her. You don’t understand how she’s standing here, seemingly sane, when the Mara had overcome her the last time you laid eyes on her. Still, the hand on your sword tightens its hold. There’s a thousand things you want to ask, a thousand more you wish to convey through touch alone, but you cannot trust her.

You wonder if she remembers almost ending your life. You wonder if she is haunted by regret and grief the same way you are. You wonder if some part of her still clings to that stricken body.

“You can let go of your sword,” Jingliu says, “I mean the Luofu no harm.”

“And me?”

“...You?”

You swallow a lump in your throat. Your toes tingle with sudden restlessness and it thaws the rest of your limbs, allowing you to take a measured step forward. “And me, Jingliu? Will you draw your blade against me once more?”

She is silent for some time, tense, and her fingers slightly curl inward in a momentary loss of composure. You can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t recall ever doing that or because she does and the thought brings her pain. Finally, she shakes her head.

“You are not my enemy.”

“I wasn’t your enemy back then, was I?”

“…Your trust in me is inconsequential. I came to the Luofu to atone for my sins and surrender myself to the Alliance.”

Your jaw clenches. Past the initial confusion, you feel cheated. Angry. Hundreds of years of broken memories, lasting grief and paralyzing terror have eroded you, flayed you until you are nothing but bones and ligaments. You are walking the earth as less than half a person for no other reason than this is the destiny of all long-life species. Your closest friends have either fallen or withered around you, and that loneliness has debilitated you. How utterly unfair. You have dedicated most of your life to the Xianzhou Alliance and its people, you have been selfless, understanding, devoted, and you are rewarded with injustice. The person who you once called your strength has become the main character in your nightmares, and here she stands, ready to give up the pieces that are left of her to the same people who have ostracized her out of shame for centuries. For all the unbearable pain she caused you, she came back for them. You are the one she has a history with, you are the one whose life is intricately woven with hers. You are who she should be seeking atonement from, not the Ten-Lords Commission and the Arbiter Generals.

You don’t notice how pale your knuckles are from the grip on your weapon or the heaviness of your chest quickening your breath. You stare her down with gritted teeth and Jingliu doesn’t shy away from the growing fury in your gaze.

“Inconsequential,” you repeat in disbelief, your voice a little louder. “Inconsequential, me!”

“This is what I have to do. It is bigger than you, bigger than me.”

You jump down the container to land in front of her. She simply adjusts the inclination of her head.

“Do you remember, Jingliu? What you did to me?”

Her lips form a thin line. Her lack of response angers you further. You unsheath your sword and point the tip to her own weapon resting against her hip, then to her chest.

“Draw it.”

Jingliu makes no move to obey. “I will only unsheath my blade against my enemies, and you are not one of them.”

“You are cursed to forget, but I cannot. It is in every blink, in every pause; the destruction you caused, my—” you swallow, features twisting in a pained grimace, “my blood on your sword.”

Jingliu doesn’t reply, though her fingers twitch with restraint. Her chest rises and falls a beat faster, the only indication that your words are getting to her. You know this is unfair, that you’re only contributing to the injustice you have to face as a long-life species, but anger clouds your judgment and incites this hostile behavior.

“Draw it!” You exclaim in frustration. “Unsheath your blade and face me!”

You lunge forward in an instant, your weapon raised in a practiced arc towards her neck, forcing her to move out of the way. Her body instinctively bends into a defensive stance, but she makes no move to use her sword. You repeat the motion, over and over, and Jingliu evades each strike with an expertise only she possesses. She still refuses to fight you, to revert to the mindless abomination she was that night. You force her into a corner and as your blade descends at an angle to make contact with her bare shoulder, she leaps high over your head and lands gracefully behind you.

“Must we do this?” She sounds mentally exhausted, each word is spoken through pursed lips and a quiver goes through her sword-wielding hand.

You swirl around, molars grinding in anger. “Yes! You have haunted every part of me and replaced every cherished memory in my mind! You are what I see when I lay down at night, standing over me as I choke on my own blood!”

Jingliu brings a clawed hand to her temple and utters, “Enough…”

“You are the face of my nightmares, Jingliu.” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “It ends today.”

When your weapon comes down to strike her this time, its steel meets Jingliu’s specially crafted blade. She uses the momentum of her parry and pushes you back with so much force it sends you flying, your back colliding into the side of a shipping container. You rise to your feet with a shaky breath.

The clash of swords rings in the air as you move between incubating starskiffs and metal crates in an emotional dance. Street lamps fall, stationed starskiffs are cut in two, jade wheels are damaged and incubators break. Jets of their liquid explode everywhere Jingliu returns your strikes with stronger ones, and soon you’re crashing into yet another door. Blood trickles down your nose. There’s a nasty cut on your hip that will require medical attention. You stand, unwavering, and pounce towards the other woman once more. Jingliu grits her teeth as her parry brings your face close to hers. The distinct melody of her blade in movement fills her ears and the ground shakes under her feet. All around you structures are falling, narrowly missing you.

Your muscles strain with exertion but with the feeling comes a strange sort of relief that only intensifies when Jingliu has you pinned to the pavement, swords previously discarded some feet away with an experienced flick of her hand. You’re both breathless for a long moment and for the first time since her reappearance in your life, you don’t taste smoke in the back of your throat.

The pink of her parted lips is the same shade it was almost a millennia ago. The world blurs and you see a flash of a moment long passed of the two of you in the same position; Jingliu’s smug smile hides the sun from view and the bustle of the training yard resumes the minute her victory is announced. When you blink your way back to reality, only a few seconds have gone by. You stare up into the blindfold, chest heaving. Your fingers hesitantly lift to graze the apple of her cheek. One of them slides under her veil and her hand wraps around your wrist to stop you from going further.

Her name is a breathy exhale past your lips. Her shoulders suddenly tense and her head tilts away from you. The moment breaks as she separates from you, rises to her feet and takes a couple steps back. Almost immediately, Cloud Knights rush to the scene in formation, followed closely by the General and his retainer. You let out a sigh, gaze raising to the clear sky. You lose yourself in its endless blue, a heaviness in your chest, until Jing Yuan’s outstretched hand appears in your vision. Jingliu is gone when you accept his help and stand with difficulty, along with Yanqing and the squad of Knights. Jing Yuan wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, steadying you, and you make your way back in silence.

He doesn’t leave your side even as you step into your home and make a beeline for the bathroom. His arms are crossed over his chest and he leans on the doorframe as you rummage through your cupboards for bandages and disinfectant. You find what you’re looking for after a couple minutes and sit on the toilet seat, lifting your armor over your head and discarding the bloodied shirt underneath. The cut on your left hip stings when you gently inspect it. It’s deep enough that it won’t be able to close on its own but not life threatening. You softly apply disinfectant so it doesn’t get infected, clenching your jaw at the pain.

“You should let the Dragon Lady take a look,” Jing Yuan finally speaks up, “or the Alchemy Commission have other experienced healers. They’ll treat you in minutes.”

You almost roll your eyes. You’ve been patching up wounds before he could hold a sword.

“Pass me the stitches.”

He complies, tossing you the plastic box on the counter. You catch it with a hand. Another silence settles between you as you sink the needle into your skin and tighten the thread, occasionally sucking in a breath. The space lingers with tension but neither of you acknowledges it until you break the thread of the stitches and apply a large bandage over the wound. You sigh tiredly and raise your head to meet his guarded gaze.

“Why did you lie, Jing Yuan?”

He takes a moment to reply. There’s a hint of guilt in his golden irises. “…I thought it to be the best course of action at the time.”

You don’t blame him. The days following Jingliu’s departure from the Luofu are a blur, hidden behind a smoke screen so thick you might as well have forgotten them. You only recall the sting in your throat, raw from how much you cried, and the darkness of your bedroom. Jing Yuan was there, as much as he was able to, so he must remember those days better than you; how shattered you were, like fractured shards of glass swept under the carpet. You can’t fault him for wanting to bring you closure.

You rise from your seat and put back the supplies in their rightful place. Jing Yuan steps aside as you walk out the door and watches you disappear in the bedroom for a change of clothes. You grab the first top you see and shrug it on. You don’t bother fixing your hair, you just make your way back to the living area to put on your boots and grab your discarded sword near the door. Jingliu should have been brought to the Shackling Prison after her arrest, so this is where you’ll go.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jing Yuan says from behind you, making you pause. “We don’t know how stable she is.”

“She seemed stable enough.”

“For now.”

You turn to face him. “Then, why are you here? We both know bars can’t hold her.”

“I wanted to check up on you.”

“...I need to do this.”

Jing Yuan only shuts his eyes in defeat and nods once. He doesn’t follow you when you leave the house and shut the door behind you.

You have no issue getting into the Shackling Prison and acquiring Jingliu’s cell number. It’s not a place you visit often despite your position, the memories it holds have a way of consuming you and leaving you clenching your throbbing head. You navigate its somber hallways and silent cell blocks with an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your steps are swift, determined. You don’t stop to think about what you’re going to say once you’re face to face with her again. Jingliu is being held in a special containment chamber only used for dangerous criminals, with two Cloud Knights standing guard in front of the reinforced steel door. They look at each other when you plant yourself before them.

“No one gets in, General’s orders,” one of them says.

Your relationship with Jing Yuan is not a secret and often opens a lot of doors for you but encountering soldiers eager to please is a common occurrence. You have a few dozens under your command, they’re usually easy to deal with. However, the day has been long and you’re lacking the required patience to do so.

“Take it up with Jing Yuan, then.”

You push past them and they hesitate to stop you, glancing at each other. They grip their lances tighter when you open the door but don’t move as you enter the cell and close it after you.

The chamber is big enough to hold a single bed and a toilet in the corner, though its grey walls make it seem smaller than it is. The room would be casted in total darkness if not for the dim glow of the singular lightbulb on the ceiling. Jingliu is seated on the untouched mattress, legs crossed and palms flat on her knees. Her back is straight, her blindfold in place even in the low lighting, and you seem to have caught her in the middle of a meditation. She doesn’t speak as you stand awkwardly near the door, a hand curling around the handle of your sword in search of familiarity.

A couple minutes pass in tense silence with only the gentle buzzing of the electricity crackling through the lightbulb. You take that time to observe Jingliu for any sign of Mara. The even movements of her chest indicate her calm state of mind. Apart from the veil, she looks exactly the same as she did centuries ago; there’s no trace of the curse on her, and you are suddenly reminded of the first time you noticed her— you were the previous Lieutenant’s apprentice and she was a thin, pale girl haunted by nightmares of burning planets and suffocating fumes. That day, she crossed the training yard with a limp and cuts over her body, shattered sword held tight in one hand. You hadn’t gone out onto the field yet, your master didn’t think you were ready, but Jingliu had and you remember thinking that despite her poor state, she must be stronger than you. She would walk back at the end of each day with splintered and bruised skin and you would sneak her a glance, wondering what enemy she could have encountered this time. She was forced to survive and grew on the battlefield long before you did.

While you both learned the way of the sword, you did it to protect and she did it to cut down the object of her nightmares. Together, you climbed the ranks of the Cloud Knights and surpassed your masters. The burden of war brought you closer and your relationship transformed over the centuries; from comrades, to friends, to the one she went to whenever she craved peace from the visions plaguing her, to something more. You are deeply embedded in each other, her life story is yours and your mind is hers. The Mara curse might twist your perceived memories of her but it could never erase the affection you hold for her. It’s precisely because she means so much to you that thoughts of her have been tormenting you so.

Jingliu raises her head in acknowledgement and you’re brought back to the present with a blink.

“Sending you to interrogate me,” she says with a short exhale, words slow and raw, “how cruel.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

She doesn’t reply, waiting for you to continue. You swallow the emotion in your throat.

“I’m here for closure.”

You take your eyes off her and turn away, facing the blank wall with a hand in your hair. You take in a slow breath and exhale through your mouth as fatigue begins to take over your limbs.

“You don’t get to come back,” you start. “After all those years, you don’t get to reappear and trail all those memories along with you. You said you were seeking atonement from the Alliance. So you remember, then.”

Jingliu is silent for a moment. Your back makes contact with the wall as you sit on the floor with your legs limp before you. You don’t look at her, instead staring at your covered toes.

“…I remember the voices,” Jingliu says softly, “so loud I couldn’t hear anything else. I remember people, the ice… you.” She takes a breath and shakes her head. “I am aware of the hurt I’ve caused, of the sins that cannot be erased. They will follow me until the end, but I cannot let them hold me back.”

“From what?”

“From cutting the heart of a star.”

The turn of phrase transports you back to a drunken evening and Baiheng’s contagious laughter, to the sweet aftertones of fruit in red wine and the flush in Jingliu’s cheeks as she stares at the setting sun. Flashes of that day appear in your mind; Baiheng’s ridiculous dares, your shared competitiveness, Jingliu’s tipsy kisses as consolation prizes. The unexpected memory warms you.

“Revenge, then. Even stricken with Mara, this is what you hold on to.”

“I was never satisfied with letting our enemies come to us.”

That much is true. Jingliu only ever plays the offensive.

Your head turns to face her. “Do you remember us? Even I only recall bits and pieces, now.”

Jingliu’s pointer finger taps her knee for some time. Then her chin tilts to the left, towards you.

“Bits and pieces, yes…” she repeats pensively. You wish you could see the pinch of her eyebrows. “You used to hate losing to me in duels.”

“Of course you’d remember that.”

There’s a hint of a smile on Jingliu’s lips. A light silence descends between you. It’s strange, being in a confined space with someone who you thought long dead; even stranger conversing with Jingliu after everything that went down with Yingxing and Imbibitor Lunae, with Baiheng, and the Luofu’s growth that she didn’t get to witness. You never thought you’d have a chance to see her again, let alone hear her voice speak back to you. Your fingertips twitch with the desire to hold her close.

“I forgot to ask, earlier,” you say, “about the blindfold.”

“It keeps me from seeing that which pulls me under the influence of the Mara. I have pushed past the limits of my mind a long time ago, but… the reprieve it gives me is welcomed.”

“Your will is admirable. Always was.” You think for a few seconds, then speak up hesitantly, “Will my touch be a trigger?”

Jingliu is slow to respond. You see her lips part to let out a sharp exhale and notice the new tension in her shoulders. You feel selfish for needing a semblance of the intimacy you once shared when her mind is so fractured and fickle. The feeling tightens your throat.

“…It shouldn’t.”

Your emotions threaten to consume you as you stand and wipe your palms on your thighs. You take some steps forward, hesitating when you reach the bed. Her head tilts backward as if staring at you through the cloth over her eyes. With a gentleness that surprises even herself, Jingliu uncrosses her legs and outstretches her hand. Your fingertips touch hers and with a flick of her wrist, slowly lace with hers. She pulls you into her, your knees on each side of her hips and your nose in her shoulder; her freezing hands travel over the expanse of your back and her head dips to breathe in the smell of your hair. You pinch your trembling lips and squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use when you can feel the empty sockets that loss has dug inside of you over the years fill up with tenderness. A quiver runs through you. You feel Jingliu’s shaky breath near your ear as she pulls you tighter into her. Your arms wrap around her with as much emotion and warm tears roll down your cheeks over her frigid skin. Her touch makes you whole again, if only for a moment— she is tangible against you and not a fragment of the darkest recesses of your mind. It would seem unreal if you couldn’t feel the softness of her flesh beneath your fingertips.

“How lonely you must have been,” Jingliu mutters into your hair. You know she relates.

“I mourned you,” you manage to say, voice tight. “I’ve accepted that you’re gone. I won’t grieve any more.”

“Good. Then allow me a proper goodbye.”

You cry into her for a long time. Jingliu simply holds you closer with a hand on your back and fingers buried in your hair. You won’t see her again, she will be tried and judged on the Xuling and will go back to being a ghost of your past years. You only hope that this time the memories will be softer, full of her touch as she cleans your cuts; the curve of her mouth when you whisper good morning into her shoulder; the exhilarating sensation of her lips on yours after an exhausting day of wielding the sword. She remains your strength even as your tears dampen her clothes, with the scent of her around you and her breath in your ears, you feel strong enough to let her go. You lost her to the curse of the Abundance once, but she won’t slip through your fingers now. Regret and shame fade away, replaced by this new warm memory of you in each other’s arms. Her unnatural coldness expands your heart instead of constricting it and you let go of the collapsed buildings and acrid sulfur in the air; there’s only Jingliu’s lingering fondness and her calloused palms on your body. In this confinement cell, you say goodbye to a part of you.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Honors From the King: A Short Story

The sword felt strange in Mia's hand. It fit perfectly in her grasp, but it still seemed impossible that it was hers. A few days ago it had made her into a hero, but in the confusion of the battle, she barely remembered making the lucky blow that felled the giant who had terrorized the Southern Forest for ten years.

Now she, an ordinary eleven-year-old from Iowa, was the hero of a fantastical realm, waiting to receive honors from the king himself.

Elbera bustled around Mia in the antechamber-turned-dressing room of the village hall. The elf woman—barely taller than Mia—had served almost as a mother to her since the strange wind had left her in the elfin village. "Now, my dear, as you're being honored for valor in battle, it's right for you to carry the sword, but you must never put the point toward the king. If you're nervous about it, you'd best sheathe it."

Mia sheathed the sword before Elbera finished the sentence.

Elbera continued, "Since you've slain a well-known terror, it's customary for the king to offer a boon. If he offers up to half his kingdom, don't take it—it's only a polite phrase. Best to ask for something useful—perhaps a sum of gold to rebuild the bridge outside the village."

From what Mia had heard of the king, he'd do that anyway. No, if Mia was to get a boon, she would ask for only one thing.

She wanted to go home.

For nine long months, she'd been stuck in Athelor. The cheerful, dainty elves had been kind to her—sheltering, feeding and teaching her without complaint—but they weren't her family. Her parents had to be frantic about her. And her six siblings—what had they done when that strange summer wind took her away from them? An entire school year would be gone by now. If she stayed away much longer, she'd be so far behind, and it would be harder and harder to fit back into ordinary life.

The elves had been unable to provide any suggestions about how to get back home; they only told Mia to wait for the wind. But the elves had sung praises of King Edonniel's library, spoke with awe of his scholarly works about Athelor's history. If anyone knew how to get her home, the king would.

The door to the chamber opened, and a palace guard escorted Mia into sunlit wooden expanse of the main hall.

At the room's far end, the king stood among his guard. Though over fifty, he was tall and fit, with a reddish-gold beard and a noble bearing, resplendent in royal armor. He was like the good king in every fairy tale Mia had ever read, like her father, and she forgot to be afraid of him. The king was a great man—warrior, poet, scholar, diplomat—but Mia knew in an instant that he was kind enough to help a lost girl.

The assembled crowd—all the elves and talking beasts from the village—cheered as Mia approached the king. Mia tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the king’s kind face.

The king stared at her. He stood frozen for several moments, then stepped toward her. “Mia?”

Mia stumbled to a stop. "Yes?" This seemed an informal greeting from a great king.

In a blink, Mia found herself in the king's arms, crushed in a warm embrace.

"I can't believe it." The king's deep voice sounded right next to her ear. "I thought I'd never see any of you again, not here."

Mia tried to push him away. King or not, this was too weird to put up with. "Any of who? What are you doing?"

The king pulled away and looked into her face, drinking her in. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't know me. Mia, I’m Danny. Your brother."

*

In the privacy of Elbera’s good parlor, Mia sat alone with the king. Her brother. Her ten-year-old brother. Who she never in a million years would have connected with the great scholar, warrior, and king the elves, in their musical accents, called Edonniel.

She couldn’t doubt that he was Danny. He remembered their parents, their farm, all their family, even the dinosaur village she and he had created two summers ago. With only a year and a day between their ages, they had often been mistaken for twins, but Mia had always reveled in her superior age. Until now.

Danny seemed so dignified; he made Elbera’s soft chair look like a throne. His eyes had wrinkles around them. His red-gold beard hung down to his chest. He sat so steady, so still, gazing at her like she was his long-lost child—instead of the sister whose hair he pulled when she beat him at Mario Kart.

As Mia sat across from him on Elbera's other chair, the only thing she could think to say was, “You’re older than me.”

The king guffawed. “I’m older than Dad. But you—you don’t look a day older than when I last saw you. How long have you been here?”

“Nine months.”

“It’s been forty-eight years for me.”

Mia’s head spun at the idea. “How?”

“The wind that carried us into a different world carried us into different times. I landed on the shores of the Beryl Sea forty-eight years ago. Ever since I became king, I’ve made a study of Athelorian history, trying to find the rest of us.”

“Us?” Mia had been with her siblings when the wind had taken her, but she’d assumed they were back home in Iowa. “How many of us are in Athelor?”

“All of us,” Danny said with surprise. “Didn’t you know?”

Mia shook her head. “I couldn’t see much.”

“And when you landed here alone, you had no reason to guess that we weren’t all safely at home,” he said, understanding.

“Is anyone else here?” Mia asked, half-hoping another brother or sister would pop out from behind the furniture.

“I crossed paths with Thomas not long after I arrived, but you’re the only one I’ve met in person since. Everyone else, I’ve had to track down in history and legend.”

“You met Thomas?”

“He landed among the trolls of the northern mountains,” Danny explained. “Became a master smith—the greatest in Athelorian history. He forged that sword you carry. I have no idea how it got into the elves’ hands; I’ll bet there’s a story there.”

Danny never could stick to the point of a story. “Where is he?” Mia asked in frustration.

“He was a very old man when I met him,” Danny said. “A hundred and twenty-seven, by some counts. Some say his life was extended by working with the stones from the heart of the world.”

Was? Her little brother had been only six years old when she’d last seen him. He couldn’t be—

Mia sank back into her chair, stricken.

Danny, caught up in his story, didn’t seem to notice. “Jane lived among the centaurs and elves of the Skyveil Plains seven-hundred years ago. Became a legendary warrior and explorer, defender of the weak. Beloved by all the beasts. First to step foot on the Daybreak Isles and meet the talking mice.”

Seven-hundred years?

“Now Ben,” Danny said with a laugh, “has popped up all through history. Rarely seen for more than a day or two, but he always has some dramatic effect. Some scholars speculate he’s extraordinarily long-lived, but my theory is that time is playing with him in a different way than the rest of us.”

He said it all so calmly!

“Nora?” Mia dared to ask about their oldest sister.

Danny’s gaze turned dreamy, his voice hushed and reverent. “The legendary Queen Eleanor, present at the waking of the world.”

Danny was talking about Nora—bossy Nora!—like he was in awe of her.

Her sister—all her siblings—had become legends. They weren’t waiting for her at home. They were long dead, had been dead ever since she’d arrived, which meant they were gone forever, and there was no way home—

Mia burst into tears.

Danny reacted about like how she’d have expected him to react. He sprang up from his seat and hovered awkwardly over her chair. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

Through tears, despair, and frustration, Mia blubbered something that included the words, “They’re all dead!”

“Dead?” Danny asked. “Who said they were dead?”

Mia wiped her tears on her sleeve and glared up at him. “You did! You said Thomas was ancient, and Jane lived seven-hundred years ago, and Nora’s as old as the entire world!”

“That doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“I’m not stupid! No one can live that long, not even here!”

Danny crouched down next to her chair. He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Mia, look at me. I’m telling you: they’re not dead.”

Before his fatherly gaze—even with the beard, he looked a lot like Dad—Mia’s sobs became mere sniffles. “Then where are they?”

“They’re home. Safe. I promise. The same wind that brought us here brought them back home after their adventures were over.”

Just like the elves had said. But when Mia had thought she’d have to wait to go home, she’d thought it would be a few years at most, not—

“You said Thomas was more than a hundred years old.”

Danny said, “I’ve done a lot of reading about people like us. We’re not the only people who’ve come here from Earth—or gone home. The stories all say the same thing. No matter how long we spend here, the wind takes us back home to a time only minutes after we left, and we’ll be just the same age we were then. Reunited from across history, as young we ever were. A foretaste of heaven.”

His voice had gone dreamy again. The elves had said he was a poet.

Mia dried her face and sat up straight. “We’ll all be together? At our normal ages? Like we never left?”

“Exactly.”

“You and me and Thomas and Ben and Nora and—“ Mia realized something. “You never said where Claire was.”

“She’s the only one I haven’t found in history yet. That means her story’s probably still in the future. Maybe we’ll run into her someday.”

That did sound exciting, but Mia didn’t like the idea of waiting decades like Daniel had.

“How long do you think it will be? Before we go home?”

Danny stood and walked toward his chair. “I can’t say. Whenever the wind blow lately, I get the strangest feeling that I won’t be here long—maybe five years.”

Five years—half her life—not long?

“For you,” Danny continued as he sat down, “I can’t say. But I have a feeling that your adventures are just beginning.”

“I don’t want more adventures,” Mia said, as another tear dripped. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Danny said, his voice husky with sympathy. “The first year is the hardest, and you’re so young.”

The idea of Danny—Danny!—treating her like a little kid! “I’m older than you!” Looking into his very-much-not-a-kid face, she amended, “Well, I should be.”

“You will be again, one day. But until then...“ Danny leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and suddenly sounded more like an American kid than he had all day. “This sounds so weird, but if you like, I can adopt you. You can live in the palace under my protection, and I can show you everything about Athelor. Maybe name you my heir if you like the whole royalty thing.”

He was planning a whole life for her. Plotting out a future. Here. Even without the weirdness of Danny acting like her dad, it was too much.

Danny noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know we’re all called here for different purposes, and I don’t want to keep you from your intended mission.”

“I thought the giant was my mission.” Mia had constructed such a tidy tale—and now it was unraveling. “I came here, I slayed the giant. The story should be over. I should get to go home.”

“It will always be waiting for you. Until then, you have Athelor.”

“Athelor isn’t home!”

“It can be,” Danny said. “It’s been a good home to me. It can be a better one, now that you’re here.”

Mia suddenly realized how old her little brother was. How long he’d been waiting, searching for his family through books. And now she was here, after all this time.

Maybe that was her mission. To help this great king while he was here caring for the people of Athelor.

“I guess I can try,” Mia said. Even if she had to stay a long time—well, Danny had managed to do some amazing things, and she couldn’t let her little brother outshine her. “When we do get back home, I don’t want you to have a better story than me.”

Danny grinned—and for just a second, he looked a little like the kid she remembered. “Mia,” he said, “I think you’re going to be fit for legend.”

[imtrashraccoon]

Do you have any romantic headcanons or headcanons in general for dirk, maul and reven? Dovovan can be added into the mix too! Just curious on those three since we've only seen how they interact with somebody who they are fighting against, being soulmates with their boss and joining the team. :o so curious on how they would do with somebody they fall for.

Oh boy, oh boy, do I?! So, I'm actually gonna just spitball some general headcanons as well because I love these guys and need to write for them!

The Dark Fortress: Headcanons

Dirk

- He's a really crass kind of person. You've never heard so many different ways to curse before meeting him and most of the time, you have no idea what half of what he says even means. He's also loud, obnoxious, and endlessly flirtatious towards anyone remotely attractive in his eyes. No one is safe, even those in commited relationships, but his advances aren't ever serious. Well, except for when they are.

- He struggles to feel much of anything most days. Which is why he acts the way he does most of the time. He needs stimulation. He needs to stay busy. He needs to interact with people or he'll go crazy. Depending what phase his soul is at the moment also impacts how he responds to people. He doesn't really like talking about his soul though.

- Despite what you might think, and what he insists, he's not from high society. He had very simple beginnings, think a farmer or something to do with physical labour, but he never talks about his childhood. If it ever comes up, he gets deathly quiet and withdrawn. You get the sense that whatever actually happened to him was pretty bad if the guy who never shuts up suddenly refuses to talk.

- He doesn't really talk about anything before he joined up with the band of brigands actually. He likes to boast about all the heists he took part in and how much he made from them. He doesn't talk about what happened to cause him to snap completely and kill the people he used to call brothers, but considering how much he values loyalty, you suspect it's somehow related.

- He's a huge flirt but somewhat surprisingly, he won't pressure you into anything that you aren't comfortable with. If you clearly tell him to stop, he will, no questions asked. He mostly flirts for his own amusement since he finds other people's reactions incredibly funny. He does get up to his own escapades whenever the opportunity presents itself, which isn't as often anymore now that he works for Donovan.

- As for how he'd react towards something more long term? You'd think a guy with a penchant for messing around and flirting with anything that breaths might be a poor choice in a partner. His unyielding loyalty means that he'll be there for you through anything and everything, providing you do the same for him. He's your ride or die, but woe to anyone foolish enough to betray his loyalty.

- With Dirk as a partner, you will never be bored as he won't allow it. He struggles with any type of emotion that isn't passion or violence, but once you become close with him, you'll begin to see an entirely different person.

- Dirk is oddly sweet when he's alone with you. He loves snuggling, usually he'll insist on being the big spoon, and will often find excuses to stay in bed with you. He's a physical touch kind of person already, generally giving it, but he would love it if you did the same for him.

- He's really good at giving compliments and if you're feeling down, he's quick to try and cheer you up. You're his rock and if you're sad, he's gonna be sad and neither of you want to see that.

- He's still a really dangerous person though, even with all his obnoxiousness and flirting. No matter how long you're in a relationship, he's still scared of accidentally hurting you. Oddly enough, being around you does calm him down if he's worked up, so unless he's in an actually dangerous state of mind, you might get shoved into the same room as him if any of the others need him to calm down quickly.

- While he enjoys killing people for the chance to get more EXP, Dirk has a couple of more "normal" hobbies. He likes to "collect" weapons and cool looking armour, even if he won't actually use most of them. He just likes having dangerous and shiny things. He also likes animals, especially cats, but most animals don't do well around the corruption from the dark fortress. If you somehow find him a pet that can survive, you'll be his best friend for a while.

- He knows how to properly use most types of weapons, even some obscure ones, but he prefers a dagger since it's easier to sneak into places he's not supposed to have weapons. He's totally the type to have multiple knives hidden on his person at all times, sometimes even while sleeping.

Maul

- If Dirk is the loudest and most energetic, Maul is the quietest and generally the calmest. He speaks pretty much only when spoken to and when the question can't be answered with a simple yes or no. Even then, he keeps his answers brief and moves on to whatever he was already doing before being interrupted. This changes when he realizes that he likes you though.

- Maul generally keeps to himself when Donovan doesn't have need of him. He's basically a brick wall most of the time anyways, but he does show some emotions at times. This is mostly the occasional grin, raising a bonebrow, or frowning if he's annoyed. It's rare for him to emote since he doesn't want people to know what he's thinking, but occasionally he'll catch himself reacting to something genuinely funny or express some of his frustrations.

- Maul mostly spends his free time doing chores like sharpening his greataxe, maintaining his gear and armour, or working on his hobbies. He enjoys cooking, especially baking, and often is the one in charge of meals. Except for maybe Donovan, who is at least competent in the kitchen, he's the only one who can cook well. Maul also likes taking care of animals or gardening, although it's harder to do either of those now that he's staying in the dark fortress.

- He doesn't talk about himself, at all. If you can somehow start a conversation with him, he'll talk about literally anything else but his past or the things he's done. Just be patient, as his idea of a conversation is letting you do the bulk of the talking while he listens, usually while doing something else, and occasionally answering with grunts or one word answers.

- The thing is, while Dirk is immediately up front if he likes you, Maul isn't really, at least not to any outside observers. He's just doing normal things that anyone would do for others, right? He'll randomly make foods you like, bring you something to drink or eat if you've been busy for a while, and come see you just to "hang out". To the others, it's very, very obvious that he likes you as he pretty much ignores them most of the time, but you might have a more difficult time figuring it out.

- He even starts to engage with you about topics he's knowledgeable on. He knows exactly how to sharpen any weapon or tool and while he may not have as much martial knowledge as Reven, he could probably still teach you a thing or two about throwing your weight around in battle. He doesn't do sneaky or small weapons though so if you want tips, you're fresh out of luck with him.

- He'd love it if you joined in on whatever he's working on. Making food for others is one of his ways of showing he cares, so to do it with a partner is a great way to bond with him. You'll get bonus points if you have experience cooking/baking already, especially if you've memorized recipes or have made up some of your own.

- Maybe when you get really close, he might let you in on his backstory, although it'll take a while to put together all the pieces since he isn't gonna sit you down and explain everything at once. Instead you'll get little comments here and there randomly like how he learned to get meat to stretch as far as possible or how much he despises tyrants. He definitely didn't come from wealth but it's hard to tell if he had a simple upbringing like Dirk or if he was enlisted into military service at a young age. He doesn't care how anyone perceives him anymore but he struggles with believing that anyone could find him anything but scary.

- His head injury has impacted his memory and changed a lot about how he processes emotions and approaches situations. He sometimes takes a bit to respond to questions but at least combat still comes as naturally to him as breathing does. He's much more patient as a result and takes his time doing tasks so they're done correctly the first time.

- He's a very doting lover. All he wants is to have a calm, relaxed life without having to fight for survival each day. If he had his way, you wouldn't have to lift a finger for anything. Things like breakfast in bed and cuddles in the evening by a fireplace are a regular occurrence. He also loves physical touch, both giving and especially receiving, but his larger size makes it a bit difficult for him to be the small spoon while cuddling.

- He's also majorly protective, almost like a guard dog. If he thinks someone's bothering you, he'll come up to you, wrap his arms around you, and frown at them. To you, he doesn't look that scary, but to anyone else outside the dark fortress, he's downright terrifying. He's not above growling at people if they don't get the message but unless you're in an actually dangerous situation, he's more likely to pick you up and leave than actually start a fight. Not that it would be much of a fight for him, but he doesn't enjoy needlessly killing people, especially in front of you.

- He experiences nightmares and zoning out fairly often. He's been through a lot before joining Donovan, including a coup that overthrew the monarchy which resulted in a famine and caused many citizens to suffer. He stood by as people starved and did nothing but follow orders like a good soldier should. It took his own brother attempting to stand up to the tyrannical general for him to act. In the resulting conflict, he was mortally injured although he survived. The head injury left him with a memory gap so that he isn't certain who walked away from the fight or who was dusted. He doesn't even know if his brother made it out or not.

Reven

- Reven is somewhere in the middle, although he tends to be a bit more quiet rather than chatty like Dirk. He generally likes to sit back and observe the situation before injecting himself. He's a schemer by nature and thanks to his incredible observation skills, he often notices details that others won't. If he's approaching you to talk before you have a chance to approach him, it's likely because he thinks he can get something from you.

- He's prone to random outbursts of laughter, especially if the room has been quiet for a while. If asked what's so funny, he usually attempts to brush the question off by claiming that you wouldn't get it. He's aware that it probably makes him look insane but it's the truth.

- He won't readily admit it but he hears the voice of his dead brother constantly as he's haunted by him. It's unclear if it's actually his brother's soul or just a figment of his insanity, but Reven fully believes that he literally has his brother haunting him. While his brother normally has murderous tendencies, if that behaviour isn't directed towards you, then Reven is gonna pay extra close attention.

- You catch him staring a lot, like a lot, a lot. His face is almost always hidden by his hood but you can usually still see his eyelights and feel the intensity of his gaze. Even when you catch a glimpse of his face, it's like he's wearing a mask. His expression rarely changes but when it does, he tends to grin with unknown glee or glare at whatever has irritated him in the moment.

- It often takes a lot to make Reven actually angry, but when something tips him over the edge, you better hope there's nothing particularly valuable or fragile nearby. He wouldn't dream of actually hurting you but there isn't any guarantee that you won't get caught in the crossfire. Most of the time, Dirk is the target of his anger but he likes to purposely rile Reven up when he's bored, which is fairly often.

- It's true that Reven used to be a paladin before snapping. He and his brother were raised in a dusty backwater kingdom that has since collapsed but when they were young, they decided to join a holy order to defend those who couldn't defend themselves. They were brave and noble paladins until disaster struck of course.

- Reven doesn't talk about what actually caused him to snap. It's possible that he was responsible for his brother's death and doesn't know it, or he is very much aware and just refuses to even think about it. Either way, he abandoned the order after this and eventually his insanity led him to become the serial killer responsible for the Crimson Stabbings. His obsessive nature led him to never actually be caught, although he was spotted often enough to become known for his red cuirass.

- He occasionally gets the itch for more EXP and will look for opportunities to kill again, for this reason he isn't usually left alone on stealth missions. He's good at what he does though and with the proper motivation, will complete any mission perfectly without anyone even knowing he was there.

- His obsessive nature can lead to concerning situations, especially if you haven't figured out that he likes you yet. You'll start receiving gifts from an unknown admirer that are very obviously tailored to your preferences. Sometimes you even get the feeling of being watched but there's never anyone there. Hopefully, you already know him before he makes a confession of love and hopefully you accept his affections. Otherwise, well, he doesn't do well with rejection and there's no telling what he'll do.

- He's really sweet when you're in a relationship though. He enjoys spoiling you with little gifts and lives for your gratitude since it makes him feel oddly fuzzy inside. He's also super cuddly and will find any excuse just to sit with his skull on your shoulder and arms around your waist. He also likes PDA and will shamelessly hold your hand in front of others. He may not actually kiss you in public but if he does, it's probably because he thinks it'll upset someone or make you embarrassed, which he thinks is really adorable.

- It goes without saying that his mental state is unstable but just be patient with him. If he's having a bad day, give him some space to calm down but if you approach him later on, he'd love it if you comforted him. You'll probably get confined to the couch with him holding onto you. He's not that heavy as he's a skeleton but it's a bit difficult to move around with a whole person hanging off of you. Best to wait it out.

Donovan

- Donovan is an interesting case. He claims that he can't feel emotions beyond negative ones, which is technically true. Once he finds his soulmate though, he starts to question everything that he knows about himself. While he isn't the person he used to be anymore, maybe there's a semblance of his old self still there?

- No matter how much you look or how many people you ask, there is no information on him. It's as if he just popped into existence or something. He's not exactly one to talk about the past either, which seems to be a running theme by now, but maybe someday he'll tell you what happened to him. He wasn't always covered in corruption or had tentacles protruding from his back after all.

- He's really not a nice person and while he's generally very patient and reserved, even his patience has limits. He tries not to get upset at you but there are times when he inevitably snaps and says something he shouldn't. He usually regrets it immediately afterwards but sometimes he won't notice how upset you are for a few hours.

- Most of the time, he acts cold towards you and the boys but he does care in his own way. He makes sure you have anything you could need to survive and be happy as he struggles with anything more. He's fiercely protective of those he calls his own, which may come as a bit of a surprise at times, but he really does consider you and the boys as his "family".

- He has no patience for foolishness or people trying to deceive him. This is why he might lash out at people and harshly punish those who wrong him. Of course, he's also rather selfish and isn't above just taking what he wants. He very much sees himself as a god and everyone else as being below him.

- He has genuinely sweet moments, although these are strictly reserved for his soulmate. Something about the closeness with an uncorrupted soul seems to almost "heal" his own very damaged one. Maybe there's hope for him after all?

- He's actually a little shy about PDA, although he doesn't mind holding onto you if he can excuse it away with being protective but behind closed doors it's an entirely different story. He loves touching you. He loves how warm your body is, how soft you are, and especially the little noises you make when he touches a ticklish or sensitive spot. He's super mindful of his claws and his own physical strength as he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he seriously hurt you.

- He will gladly snuggle with you and will often drag you into bed if you're taking too long for his liking. He wouldn't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with but you may have to get firm with him if he's distracted and not listening. His tentacles are basically an extension of his own body and mean he has an even easier time hanging onto you. If anything, he prefers to touch you with them since they are soft and squishy, as well as cool to the touch.

- He was very lonely before the boys and you especially came along. He collected them because their souls ooze negativity and he enjoys having an easy source of it nearby. He also wanted to have henchmen to facilitate his own plans and spreading more negativity. Over time though, he's come to kind of see them as his own and not just pawns. It's an unconventional arrangement at best though and they butt heads a ton, but he's provided a place for the destitute, the lost, and the vagabonds to stay.

- When you've earned his trust and been together for a while, you'll learn about who he used to be and where he's from. This could be through an ancient book that he keeps locked away for safekeeping or through bits and pieces of what he tells you. However, you learn a few things such as how he was once a prince of a lost kingdom, had a twin brother, and barely survived an assassination attempt.

- There was a massive tree at the center of his kingdom which bore two kinds of magic fruit. It was rumoured that if you ate one, you would gain knowledge beyond all measure and the power to defeat all foes. The fruit also had the power to influence your emotions but this wasn't of much interest for those who lusted after them. Donovan ate all of the negative fruit in an attempt to survive a mortal injury and protect the tree. However, he was overwhelmed by the power and failed.

- He aimlessly wandered the world for many years before he grew into his powers and decided to make a move to create his own kingdom. This is why he created the dark fortress and collected the boys. At the moment, his goal is to spread the corruption and his influence, but contrary to what some may think, he isn't all powerful. There are many powerful people out there who may take issue with him if they heard about everything he's done.

[scekrex]

Hey first time requesting a prompt but maybe a Sinner!Adam x Incubus!Reader story? Maybe he hired reader to try to explore his sexuality and ends up liking his vibe so they hang out outside of sex and either of them end up catching feelings maybe?

Okay so I assume you wanted fluff, what you get though is hurt, frustration and an open ending lol I got carried away so if ya want fluff instead just lemme know and I can make that happen

I love it - you son of a bitch

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt - no comfort

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When Adam had first paid for your services he had never expected for the night to end with cuddles. But there he was, laying in his own messy sheets that stank of sweat and cum and you were curled up against his chest, taking deep, long and steady breaths as you slept.

He had never been the guy to cuddle - that was not entirely true though. Back in Eden when it had been just him and Lilith there had also been cuddles. He had hugged the woman, had held her head close to his heart to let her listen to the steady beat of it pumping blood through his body for her and only her. But that had been long ago and after the blonde babe had cheated on him with God’s favorite and had left him because she had chosen hell over life with him, he had never let a person get close enough to hurt him like that again. No angel he had fucked in heaven had ever wanted to stay the night, neither had he ever spent the night at his hookups’ places.

But now that he was trapped in hell, surrounded by sinners he saw no point in following and obeying heaven’s rules anymore, not when Lucifer’s kingdom granted him free will. He had thought that a stranger would do well to experiment with his sexual interests. The first man had always found men attractive in the way he found women attractive, he had just never acted on it. Back in the early days in Eden, back when Lucifer had paid him visits because the king of hell had felt pity for the human - Adam had been so alone after all, back then he had told the former angel how majestic he had thought the blonde looked.

You mumbled something that the brunette was not able to understand as you inched closer to the taller male, seeking warmth. When his golden wings wrapped around you to keep you warm, Adam questioned not only his sexuality, he also questioned his emotions and their stability. Because why in God’s holy name was he allowing a sinner to touch his divine body so softly, almost lovingly? Why didn’t he kick you out when he had the chance to do so? For Christ’s sake, you had even offered to leave. Adam had basically invited you to stay the night. And deep down he knew that this would always remain the first but never the last meeting of you and him.

-

The brunette had invited you over quite a few times after your first hookup, he had always assured you that it was just because the sex was good. Yet ‘just sex’ meetings turned into you and him ordering take out, watching movies and cuddling again more often than they ended in sex. Adam knew he was getting attached and while you sent him signals that clearly showed you were honestly interested in him in the same way, the first man found himself quite scared of the new feelings that were slowly growing stronger.

Your routine that concluded Adam calling you to book your service, you coming over to his place late at night and you two doing whatever got crushed when you sent him a quick text in the middle of the day, asking the former angel if he was interested in grabbing a smoothie together and just go on a walk afterwards.

The brunette’s hands were shaking when he read those few words over and over again, not able to fully understand them, yet he responded ‘sure’ before he pocketed his phone and left his home to meet you outside.

“Sup, big bitch, didn’t think you’d actually fucking agree,” you greeted the first man with a confident smile on your lips as you leaned against the dirty wall of the building Adam lived in, the brunette only rolled his eyes at your comment as he tried to play it cool. “If someone’s anyone’s bitch here then you’re my fucking bitch,” he countered, you did not let that slide though. The former angel headed into the direction of where the store you wanted to visit was, expecting you to simply catch up to him - and you did. “Yeah?” the shiteating grin on your face was telling Adam a lot, yet he did not address it, “‘s that why you moan my fucking name loud enough for your cunt neighbors to complain about all the fucked out noises you make?” Adam side-eyed you, he decided to remain silent though, anything he wanted to say would blow his cover, would force him out of the closet and into the pit.

His silence made the vibe change though, he noticed you getting a little more serious as you spoke up again, “Y’know that you don’t fucking need to pretend that you just like the motherfucking sex, right? Like bitch, I know I’m good, probably the best you’ll find down here, right after Angel Dust, but that fucking amazing that it causes you to casually wanna hang out with me? Sweetface, even my dick isn’t hellish enough to fucking do so.” That caused the taller brunette to stop in his tracks and look down at you. His usually neutral eyes were filled with so many emotions, too many for you to read any of them. His voice matched the look in his eyes though, he sounded desperate, hurt even, yet his voice also held anger and frustation, “The fuck do you wanna hear? That I caught feelings for a cheap slut? That I could’ve had the most fucking heavenly dick ever before those cunts left me? That I fucking hate that the most amazing person I’ve ever met is fucking dirty demon filth? Do you wanna fucking hear that?”

His words left you speechless, you weren’t sure how to respond at all, Adam felt like a ticking bomb and every word you might speak would get him closer to explode. So you just looked in his eyes and said, “I want you to cut your bullshit act and tell me the goddamn truth, Adam.” You had never said his name before, not when he had introduced himself, not when you had watched movies with him, your head in his lap.

Adam didn’t want the truth though, he was scared of the truth, he was scared of his feelings. He hated that he had developed feelings for unholy filth like you, he hated that you treated him with respect even though he was the most respectless piece of shit in all of hell, he hated that he loved you on so many levels. “The truth? The truth, motherfucker, is that you’re a fucking bitch but I still somehow ended up fucking falling for your slutty, bitchy self.”

[sheyshen]

while i’m on the screw major companies kick, i’d like to add in an enthusiastic screw you to amazon, and walmart, but mostly amazon.

two of the major local grocery store companies that are in my town are merging because amazon is driving them out of business. (albertsons and kroger) I have my own personal grievances with albertsons from working at jewel for a few years a few years back, but i’d rather not see them go down because of amazon.

[diseaseriddencube]

okay well i lost every screenshot i took from the last volume that had all the evidence for my npd!mizuha headcanon but FINE here's sometihng at least

like she just murdered her mother and her main concern about being caught is not being perfect or socially acceptable anymore