#please don’t ever expect this level of skill again

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: What We Did In The Dark {4}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Small Time Jumps, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, Talk of Pregnancy Termination

Words: 6.2k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius and you have a tough decision to make.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

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What We Did In The Dark {1}**** | What We Did In The Dark {2}* |

What We Did In The Dark {3} |

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four: Into The Unknown

-Y/N-

“Ah, Y/N. Welcome back. I am very happy to see you again,” Dr. Olumichi said as she got comfortable in the high rolling stool.

“Are you?”

“Yes of course. I also knew I would see you again,” she added.

“I didn’t even know I would see you again.”

She chuckled, “I’ve been in the business of babies for a long time, and I’ve developed a skill for knowing who will rise to the occasion and who will choose to have more time to get there.”

“It was touch or go there for a week or two,” you admitted.

“But here we are,” Villie finished.

The three of you smiled.

“Right where you were meant to be,” Dr. Olumichi said as she rolled closer.

“This is Villie, my best friend.”

“And babies’ auntie,” Villie filled in.

Dr. Olumichi smiled then shook Villie’s hand. “Nice to meet you Villie. What an interesting name.”

“I promise it’s not short for villian, just to put that out there.

Dr. Olumichi laughed loudly.

“It’s short for Valenza. Here’s my card in case you ever need an attorney who has got your back for your interests and not my own like other attorneys if you know what I mean.”

All your eyes met, and an unspoken understanding sparked between you. She knew just what Villie meant.

“Thank you Villie. All right, so 1st official prenatal appointment. How exciting, yeah?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

It didn’t sound believable but hey, it was still early.

“Don’t worry. When we get to the main event--,” Dr Olumichi gestured to the sonogram machine. “You’ll be whistling a different tune. Ultrasounds and sonograms are completely different experiences. All right so you are precisely 19 weeks. Welcome to your 5th month. You are practically halfway there.”

“Already? She just started,” Villie chimed in.

“She didn’t. It’s just that she just found out about it because this was a cryptic pregnancy, a definite one especially seeing that they are twins. You’ve gone through the normal time for morning sickness and the drain of energy. The next 2 months are known as the sweet spot of pregnancy, your energy levels out often times you get some energy. It’s known as the most comfortable time before you are too big to move or see your feet. So enjoy this time.”

You nodded and tried to remain present and not panic. As Dr. Olumichi explained what was happening inside of your body with the babies then to your body with you, she went further to explain what you should expect over the next few weeks. As she listed some of the not so cute and fun things to expect your face went from neutral to slightly worried. She immediately noticed and did her best to soothe any worries by offsetting them with more realistic positives.

“You look overwhelmed,” Dr. Olumici said taking a break from information dumping.

You sighed, then took a deep breath. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I can imagine. However, you are in good hands Y/N. I’ve been doing this a long time and the way I work with my moms to be is in a partnership. You worry about remaining healthy and stress free and taking your vitamins and precautions for your safety and I will handle the rest. I will help ensure that you are ready for what happens in fourish months and immediately after.”

Her smile was warm and her eyes kind and instantly you felt at ease.

“Here at Mom to Be & Baby to Be we are more than just gynecology and obstetrics. I pride myself on this organizations work with really working with mothers and ensuring that they have all the resources and help for this lifetime journey. A more prepared mom is a happier and more successful mom,” Dr. Olumici finished.

“That sounds amazing,” Villie said. “Oh my god, Y/N, she’s amazing.”

You smiled and nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. The remainder of the appointment progressed with Dr. Olumici going over your blood work and levels while explaining any risks that were relevant to you. She then took care with measuring your belly growth as well as the babies inside. When she set up the sonogram machine both you and Villie perked up.

“All right the main event. Another thing to think about is if you want to know the sex of the babies.”

“Of course,” Villie squeaked before you could even process the sentence.

She spun around to look at you then made a “yikes” face. “Yes, right?”

You thought for a minute but just as you were going to say yes you thought about experiencing that moment with Lewis. When you thought that you nearly rolled your eyes into the back of your skull. How in the hell would you experience it with him? He didn’t even know and for all you knew he would probably deny that they were his. You must have remained silent for too long or your face betrayed your conflict because Villie’s hand engulfed yours.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to find out.”

“No um—I was just thinking—yeah we can find out. that would be nice.”

“Are you sure? If you would want to wait for the father or some other time--.”

Villie gasped, “Is that your hang up? That is an option, it could be a good thing to wait for him it could be something to ease the news down.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I want to know.”

“Okay. Then let’s give these movie stars their close up,” Dr. Olumici joked as you grabbed the bottle of gel and stood from her stool.

You watched as she squirted an ample amount of gel onto your protruding belly. It was warmer than you’d expected, and you guessed it had to have been heated. As she approached with the Doppler wand, you tried to calm your rapidly beating heart. You didn’t know if you were excited or nervous. It could have been a mixture of both at this point. You’d accepted your situation, but you didn’t think you’d crossed the threshold of being happy about it.

“Okay, let’s see.”

Your doctor moved the wand over your belly, spreading the gel as she went. The sound in the room amplified and filled making you feel as if you were underwater. Three pairs of eyes were glued to the screen waiting for the first appearance of a little body.

“Hm, there’s aren’t many places they can hide at this stage, but I see they want to play hide and seek.”

Suddenly, empty greyness changed to darker grey imaging and then the room filled with out of sync heartbeats.

“Ah-ha, there they are.”

Villie gasped, covered her mouth, then snapped her head to you.

“There are your babies.”

You gaped at the screen staring at their small bodies and allowing the sound of their hearts to fill you.

“Holy shit. This is real.”

“Oh yeah. This is as real as it gets,” Dr. Olumici said.

She tapped across the keyboard then the image magnified leaving you with a clear image that had now turned from shades of grey and white to amber and honey hues.

“They look wonderful at first glance. Let’s go more in depth though.”

You watched your doctor get a view from every angle imaginable. With each angle change, she tapped across the keyboard freezing the image for a few seconds before moving on. Each new image made your heart slow rather than speed up. It was as if the nerves from before were stilling and dissipating, like before nothing made sense but now everything made sense.

“So as a whole, they look great. They are measuring well. The only thing I see is they are maybe 2 or 3 centimeters off to where I would want them to be, but I will credit you not knowing you were pregnant and the need for some vitamins and a balanced diet. Now that you are aware you are eating for three hopefully they will catch up because in the earlier months is when twins gain their most weight. When the womb becomes cramped, growing becomes tough and uncomfortable. So let’s really aim for 3 full balanced meals and two to three nutritious snacks a day.”

You nodded.

“All right. So—sex?”

“I’m not having any.”

Villie snorted.

“No, no. Do you want to know the sex?”

Biting your bottom lip you thought it over once more. Curiosity was pecking away at you and though Villie was right, if you did tell Lewis about the pregnancy finding out the genders together would be a way to drive it home and or bond over the moment. The debate in your head was annoying because each side of the argument gave good points, however, curiosity won with you each and every time.

“Let’s do it.”

The two other women in the room smiled then focused back onto the screen.

“All right, let’s do it.”

Dr. Olumici took just a few moments and each second that ticked away made your heart pound even harder. This was excitement. When Villie saw a smile on your face she squeezed your hand.

“You’re excited too right? It’s not just me.”

“I’m excited,” you said finally and truly meant it.

“Ha, the easiest inquiry,” Dr. Olumici began with a snort. “These babies are not shy.”

“Wonder where they get that from,” Villie said eying you.

You rolled your eyes and leaned closer to the screen. “What are they?”

“This one on the left is a boy and on the right is his sister.”

Your eyes bugged as an “oof” escaped you. You felt like you’d just gotten a foot to gut but it didn’t hurt.

“What was that!?”

“I just saw it. That would be your daughter asserting herself early with a kick.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Really?”

Your doctor nodded as a wave of euphoria washed over you. You remembered this feeling. It was similar to how you felt when you’d gotten the call that a broadcasting channel wanted to pay you to travel officially and put you on every streaming device across the globe. You felt like that but only 100 times better. The kick to the gut came again and again.

“Oh my god.”

“They’re really awake now. Say hello mom.”

You stared at the screen at the two life forms that were growing inside of you with awe and wonderment. You didn’t know they existed a few short weeks ago but now that you knew and had seen and felt them you couldn’t ever imagine going back. You couldn’t believe your situation now. In theory you knew how babies were made and everyone knew that whenever they had sex there was always some chance of one being made but no one ever thought that they would really make one even if they didn’t use protection. Looking back pregnancy was the last thing on your mind that night and now it was the first.

The remainder of the appointment went by in a blur. You went through everything related to the pregnancy and your concerns and fears with Dr. Olumici then made a detailed calendar of appointments and check-ins. By the time you left 3 hours had passed and you were equipped with every kind of tool known to pregnant women support known to the mental health field plus one auntie-godmother who was just as equally on cloud nine as you were.

~~~~~~~~

Now sitting in a corner booth at Cheesecake Factory you were fully indulging your craving for cheesecake with not one but three slices of your faves while staring haplessly at the sonogram pictures of your babies.

“You look so in love,” Villie said.

You looked across at her with a wide smile.

“Cheesecake and a belly full of cute babies. How can I not be?”

She chuckled then sighed. “They are cute. Totally unfair to the rest of society, I mean you see the gene pool. I saw some resemblance in the forehead area.”

You snorted. “You know you not right.”

Villie laughed then took a sip of her drink. “I kid. I kid.”

You sighed then put a large forkful of cheesecake into your mouth. “Think this counts as a balanced meal?”

“No, Y/N, but I think it definitely counts as 1 of 3 nutritional snacks.”

You smiled wide. “I love you.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” Villie teased.

Just then her phone rang drawing both of your attention to it. The smile on her face told you just who it was.

“Go ahead.”

“Hello?”

She sounded like a lovesick freshman who was so under the spell of her paramour that everything and everyone else ceased to exist. ‘When you saw her twirl a thick strip of dark curls around her finger you scoffed. Must be nice, you thought before your mind went back to all those weeks ago when you’d felt anything close to what she felt.

The memory of Lewis’ hand brushing against your cheek sparked a heat inside of you that gently simmered until the memory of his thick thumb slid across your bottom lip. That slow, simmering heat kindled into a mild inferno. The more you remembered from your night together, the hotter you became. Thankfully, before you could fall deep into this dangerous desire you still felt when you thought about him, you felt Villie’s hand on your arm.

Her eyes were boring into you. “Are you all right? Is it—,” she asked dropping her eyes to your stomach.

“No, no. I’m fine. Sorry. I just—zoned out.”

Villie nodded and then brought the phone back to her ear. “Call me when you land. Okay. Bye.”

When she dropped her phone back into her purse, she looked at you.

“Miles come into town?”

Villie nodded but she didn’t make eye contact with you.

“So y’all have a date tonight?”

“Not quite.”

“It’s okay Villie, we don’t have to hang out every night. I will be fine alone. Honestly, I’m not alone anymore,” you said cradling your newly popped bump.

“No, I um—I told him I wanted you to meet him.”

Your eyes bugged then. “You did what? When?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. I really want to know what you think of him before things go any further.”

“Villie—.”

“I know. I promise I didn’t bring it up to back you into a corner or anything. I was actually planning for it to happen before you told me about the pregnancy. I’m sorry.”

You took a deep breath and tried not to freak out.

“Don’t apologize. I get it. It’s fine, it’s what we do.”

“So, it’s okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll do a late dinner.”

Villie jumped out of her seat and onto you, throwing her arms around your neck, “Thank you, Y/N. I swear I will take your lead about the pregnancy.”

You smiled and tried to hide the rising panic you felt. Your once hectic but simple life had now turned into a damn episode of Jane the Virgin.

~~~~~~~~~

-That Night-

Though you’d tried to find ways to get out of the dinner you found yourself sitting beside Villie in a cab on your way to Island Gardens restaurant. You could feel Villie’s excitement rolling off of her, but you could tell she was also nervous. She knew you would not be shy about assessing him and letting her know what you thought of him.

You were notorious for being picky about the men she entertained. You always had been ever since the douche from college who had the audacity to ghost her after knocking her up. You refused to let another asshole slip through the ranks especially knowing how much of a catch your best friend was. Any man who intended to even step a pinky toe into her personal space had to pass the test. You didn’t give half a shit if it meant you were called too picky. All it meant was any man better rise to the fucking occasion.

You dropped your hand to Villie’s knee hoping to steady her leg that had not stopped shaking since you’d gotten in the car.

“It’s okay Villie. Calm down.”

She took a deep breath then slowly released it. “What if you don’t like him?”

“V, if he has passed your wards, then I am sure he’ll appease me.”

She snorted then dropped her head to your shoulder. “You’ll like him.”

She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself more than you and you couldn’t help but laugh. You hadn’t seen her like this in a long, long time. It was too cute. By the time the car rolled up to the front of the restaurant, she’d calmed down some, but your nerves were rising. It had taken an hour to find something that hid your belly. Then it took another hour to find something that not only hid your belly but didn’t make you look bloated. The dress you wore now was something you hadn’t worn in a long time, but it did the trick—mostly. You still felt as if it drew attention to your midsection and other parts of your body that were new thanks to baby 1 and baby 2.

“Reservation?”

Then hostess smiled widely showcasing her perfectly straightened teeth and corner dimples.

“We’re meeting someone here,” Villie managed to get out.

“Okay, sure thing. Name please?”

Villie leaned closer and spoke lowly. “Miles.”

The hostess looked at her then you and smiled softly as she tapped the letters into the keyboard.

“Got them. Thea will take you to your table. Have a good night.”

Villie smiled, looped her arm with yours again then walked off behind a gorgeous woman who was tall enough to be a model and so svelte you felt envious because you were so far from svelte now and had no hope of being that way again for many more months.

“Follow me, ladies.”

You pushed the thoughts out of your head and brought yourself back to the moment. When you heard Villie release a small gasp you knew she’d spotted Miles. Seconds later she’d let go of your arm and was in his. You watched as they kissed as if they hadn’t seen each other in months when you were sure it was merely weeks. You thanked the seater then waited for them to finish. However, when they should have finished, his hand slid down to cup her ass. Villie giggled then which triggered his sort of giggle. Part of you felt so happy for her but the other part cringed a little.

“Mm. Oh. Baby,” Villie began turning to you. “Officially meet my best friend in the entire world, Y/N. Bestie this is Miles.”

He had to have been 7 feet tall. Even with you in heels, he was still towering over you. You approached him and shook his outstretched hand, but he pulled you toward him and kissed both your cheeks like some rich cosmopolitan. You were so taken off guard that you didn’t realize the hand you had shaken seconds before was nudged between your bodies and pressing against your burgeoning belly.

Oh shit, you thought as you tried to act normal and not panic because you knew it would bring more unwanted attention. You put distance between you and smiled.

“It’s nice to officially meet you Miles.”

“You too. Valenza talks about you all the time. I feel like I know you personally already.”

You giggled and looked at Villie who was staring at this man like he hung the stars each and every night in the sky. You could not believe the whole switch in her. You’d never seen her like this with someone.

“Same,” you replied with a smile.

The three of you moved to the table and as you got situated you watched how Miles pulled out her seat, made sure she sat down first, then proceeded to make sure she was comfortable. Then he hurried over to catch your seat before you pulled it out for yourself. You thanked him as you sat then watched as he whispered something to Villie that made her lean to kiss his cheek. It was then you knew that by the end of the night, you’d vomit from all this sweetness.

Most guys that Villie had you meet treated the meeting as something casual or something that didn’t mean anything. They cracked weird pedo jokes, freely groped her, and showcased some questionable behaviors that anyone would think were weird. Some even went above and beyond with their efforts to impress you. Some told completely unrealistic stories and flat-out lies that were obvious lies but expected you to swallow them as facts. Rarely did you meet anyone who tried to impress you naturally.

Throughout appetizers, Miles treated Villie like a queen. He fed her food off his plate, made sure her wine glass was never empty, occasionally nudged her, which spoke of an inside joke that she understood. The thing that made you warm a little towards him was how he looked at her when she wasn’t looking at him. He looked at her the way your grandfather looked at your grandmother—full of awe and wonder.

As you moved on to main courses, every time Villie laughed his eyes lit up like Christmas morning. It was adorable. When he began asking you about yourself you gathered he was unlike other men she’d dated. As you told him about your job, hobbies, and stories about Villie that both of you experienced he genuinely looked entertained and interested.

However, it was when his questions about you got more detailed did you know that he was really serious about her. Any man who took the time to get to know his girl’s best friend understood simplistic reasoning and the simplistic reasoning was that this was a test, and the best friend is the end all be all. If she approved then not only would she not be a problem for him, but she would become his ally.

After dinner, which Miles paid for, the three of you made moves to go to another venue but you’d seen enough. You pulled Villie into a hug.

“He’s great. Be happy.”

Her smile was so bright that you had to cringe away from her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My only caution is maybe to stay away from deep penetrative positions because his height says you will die.”

Villie screeched loudly then laughed so loud that everyone that was nearby stared.

“Oh my god! Y/N!”

You laughed.

“My mama ain’t raise no bitch!”

You snorted, shook your head then nodded because you knew this caution fell on deaf ears.

“What’s so funny over here?”

“Nothing. I’m going to head out,” you replied.

“So soon? You sure you don’t want to hang? I heard of this cool exhibit tonight,” Miles began.

“No, no, it’s all good. I’m actually a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh. Okay. It was really good to meet you officially and I’m glad you’re doing better and feeling better.”

“Yeah. Thank you so much for understanding again. I swear I will never rearend you again.”

The two of you chuckled.

“Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

“Um—uh--.”

“I’m not trying to be weird or anything I swear.”

“Not trying to set up some best friend threesome?”

Miles snorted. “God no. Valenza is—more than enough,” he said staring at her.

From the look they exchanged you knew just what they would be doing the rest of the night.

“And—I don’t think threesomes are recommended in your—condition.”

Your eyes widened as Miles motioned to your stomach. He could tell?

“You can—wait—you—what do you know?”

Miles looked to Villie then you then back to Villie. “Uh—that you’re—pregnant. I’m not judging it’s cool. I mean you can barely tell but I hugged you and then you weren’t drinking or anything so--.”

You looked at Villie who also looked ready to panic.

It’s no big deal. I promise. Congratulations to you. What I meant was that this weekend is the Miami Grand Prix, and I can get you guys in for the VIP experience.”

You felt like you’d heard that from somewhere but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out where or what it was. Maybe it was because it had taken him moments to guess you were pregnant then 2 hours tops to confirm it. The blank look on your face must have been the dead giveaway for him because he chuckled a little.

“Are you a fan?”

“Fan? Oh—yeah totally. That sounds cool,” you said hoping to steer the conversation away from you being pregnant.

“Cool. So tomorrow starts the weekend. You and Valenza can come together, meet up there?”

“Sure.”

Just then your Lyft pulled up and you hugged Villie once more then waved to Miles before you got in. While the car pulled off you waved to them both then leaned back once they were out of sight.

“Oh my god!”

You dropped your head into your hands and proceeded to panic the entire ride home.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

You took another sip from your café cup which held a large pomegranate tea. You were already missing caffeine and everything it brought to your life. Not only were you up not long after the sun came up but you were also dressed and already on the move.

“Are you as tired as I am?”

You took a sip from your cup then sighed.

“I am, but I think we’re tired for different reasons—me tossing and turning and growing two humans, you tossing and turning getting your back, cervix ovaries and soul blown out like a circus acrobat.”

Villie snorted then cackled. The driver glanced into the rearview mirror for a moment then looked back to the road.

“Oh my god. Look don’t judge me. I’m just trying to keep up with you,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha-ha!”

Another sip of tea filled you and you groaned wishing it was a large macchiato with an extra shot of espresso.

“Also, hello he sent you a chauffeured car?”

Villie smiled widely then twirled your hair.

“My baby knows how to take care of me,” Villie added.

“My baby? Damn, that was quick. I take it y’all got labels now?”

“We labeled up! That’s my man, he my boo.”

You smiled then nudged her. “I’m happy for you Villie. He seems like a good guy, and I love the way he treats you.”

“Thank you. I’m happy,” she said.

You smiled and looked back at the road. The car zipped by a billboard with the same words Miles said last night, “Miami Grand Prix”. Again something nagged at your brain, something like recognition but it wasn’t quite recognition. It felt like something was blocking the part of your brain responsible for your memory of what it meant.

Ten or so minutes later the car pulled up then stopped.

“We’ve arrived, ma’am.”

After thanking the driver, you and Villie got out and then marveled at the sea of people bustling around. As you joined them and walked toward an entrance you took notice of several people dressed wearing Ferrari, Mercedes, McLaren, and Red Bull items. You knew those brands.

“Villie, what exactly is the Miami Grand Prix? I swear it sounds familiar, but I can’t remember why or how.”

The look on Villie’s face was one of confusion. “I don’t know. I thought you knew.”

“Did you Google?”

“Girl my hands have been kinda busy for the last 12 hours.”

You cringed and shook your head. It was then you saw Miles standing just ahead.

“Hey! You guys made it.”

He hugged Villie then kissed her while babying her as if he hadn’t seen her less than 12 hours ago. You silently prayed this was not what you were in store for all day.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes!”

You had no idea where she’d found this burst of energy when she was half asleep moments ago in the car. The three of you walked on and with every step you took more and more things pointed to what this really was. When a woman passed by wearing a shirt with Lewis’ face you stopped in your tracks.

“Everything okay?”

“Um—this is Miami Grand Prix, racing—F1, right?”

“Yeah.”

Villie’s eyes widened then as it hit her as well. Miles looked at her then back to you and his confusion was evident.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh--.”

You tried to come up with a reason to leave, or something to say to cover what was really wrong.

“No, no. Nothing is wrong.”

“Okay. Come on, the VIP experience includes paddock access with Mercedes,” he said as he walked on.

Holy shit, you thought. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Seeing no way out that wouldn’t lead to you having to confess you were carrying the babies of the man whose paddock you were on your way to, you proceeded to follow Miles. Every so often Villie looked back at you asking you with her eyes if you were all right. You’d spoken nonverbally long enough to easily pass your panicked message, “Help”.

Just as you were about to pull out your phone and fake a work emergency Miles stopped. “Welcome to the Mercedes paddock. Now Lewis isn’t here right now he’s already getting into his car but after I can get you and introduction if you’re down.”

You and Villie again exchanged quick looks before Miles continued to show you around and introduce you around. After almost twenty minutes you found yourself sitting in front of a TV with the race about to start. That was when Villie shimmied up to you.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out,” you whispered back.

“I can come up with an excuse for us to leave.”

“Wouldn’t that be weird? I said I was a fan. Would a fan really get up and leave a VIP experience or a once in a lifetime experience?”

“Hell yeah they would if the VIP experience is with their secret babies’ daddy,” Villie aggressively whispered back.

You chewed your bottom lip even more intently. Then the start of events sound rang out and everyone brought their attention to the largest television in the room. Within seconds, the race began, then cars sped off. You watched in somewhat awe as the controlled chaos of a start turned into the cars forming a neat traffic line. This was your first in-person race. You’d seen a few on TV and watched a lot of recap highlights but this was your first in-person one and the atmosphere was intense. You couldn’t look away from the screen or move a muscle because it was that interesting.

Before you knew it, 20 laps had gone by, and with each lap, the lead changed and when the lead changed so did the line-up. On the 6th lap, Lewis made a swift cut-off and overtook Red Bull for the number 1 spot. Then in the 19th lap, the first collision happened that barely missed Lewis. That had you on your feet so quickly that you nearly lost your balance.

Now you were standing with your hands on your stomach because as soon as the excitement picked up so did the activity in your belly. It was as if they knew their father was once again racing toward greatness. Just when everyone in the Mercedes room was beginning to relax, Red Bull attempted another overtake. The fender of the Red Bull car clipped the bumper of Lewis’ car which sent his car slanting sideways and skidding. Everyone in the room gasped, some even cursed at the brazenness of the Red Bull driver.

However, with the loss of control of his back wheels, Lewis’ car otherwise remained in complete control. He didn’t swerve wildly or burn out, he kept his lead and even managed to block any further attempts to steal his lead. Thinking of the sheer skill that took had your jaw dropped and both your hands cradling your babies—his babies.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Miles’ voice boomed around the room when Lewis not only straightened out but inched further into a lead.

“Wow,” you marveled as a wave of intense attraction washed over you.

You wanted to do nothing more than to throw yourself on him and lick his neck no matter how sweaty it was and that was just the beginning of all you wanted to do to him. The raw force of that wave bowled you off of your feet and back into your seat. Fuck, you thought. This was not good. You thought you’d moved past this and had gotten it out of your system. You thought that one night was more than enough for you, that you’d lived out every wanton desire and urge. Feeling the heat spread through you now told you that was more than likely not the case.

Two hours later as Lewis screeded to a stop after securing P1 the entire Mercedes room was filled with celebration. The man you’d spent the last two hours talking with patted you on the back then went in for a high five. “I think you might be his good luck charm.”

“Ha! I think now. He just happens to be the GOAT,” you countered.

He chuckled. “I have to have him meet you. I think you two would hit it off. I know everyone around here would love to see him settled.”

Your eyes bugged but as you were about to speak, someone else did.

“That’s Toto for you. He and Suzie are steadily trying to marry him off,” a dark-skinned man the exact replica of Lewis said. "I don't mind, at least maybe I will get some grandchildren soon," he finished.

“Hahaha, Anthony my man,” Toto said with a chuckle.

The two men shook hands as you watched on with wide eyes. You’d seen pictures of Lewis’ father plenty of times. When they stood side by side the resemblance was really uncanny. The only difference was their skin tone, otherwise, Lewis was the spitting image of him.

“What a good race today,” Anthony said.

“I agree. I was just telling Y/N that she might be Lewis’s good luck charm. Miami hasn’t trusted him this well in a while,” Toto added.

Anthony Hamilton looked at you and smiled so warmly you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Y/N. Are you--.”

“No, no. I am no one. My best friend happens to be dating his best friend so here I am. Sort of like a 3rd wheel,” you blabbered.

“We all start from somewhere,” Toto slid in making Anthony snort.

“Well I can tell from your eyes that you’re a kind person. My son could use as many kind people around him as he can get. This business is fickle and cold.”

You caught the chill in his voice and from the look on Toto’s face both men were in a nonverbal agreement.

“Fickle and cold, huh. That’s good. At least you know where you stand with people. I’d take that over fake kindness and hidden agendas. Let a snake be a snake in the open. If I see the snakes in front of me I know my moves ahead of time. I’m sure Lew—your son is the same way. Prepare for war in secret and in the open but kill em’ in silence with kindness and skill which gives proven results.”

The two men glanced at each other then back to you with expressions you weren’t sure how to place.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s just you sounded like Lewis there. He says prepare in the open but move in silence,” Anthony informed.

You shrugged, “Eh, mine is better.

Again both men laughed.

“You’re right Toto, I think they would hit it off.”

“See. They complement each other.”

This was too freaky for you, so you quickly changed the subject. “Uh, it was a good race. So much so I’m wiped.”

You stretched your arms as you fake yawned. You watched Anthony’s eyes dip to your midsection but before he could speak you pulled your long cardigan together. “Congratulations to you Mr. Hamilton and team Mercedes. I’m going to go on and get out of here.”

Slipping past the two men who attempted to protest your departure, you shimmied up to Villie and slyly told her you were leaving. She didn’t try to stop you at all. She knew the risk that this was. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Lewis to know that you were pregnant, you just didn’t want right now to be when he found out. You knew what it felt like to be blindsided by this news and right here and now would definitely blindside him. Plus, you weren’t 100% ready to see him again after your night together, especially with you still being attracted to him. That was a recipe for disaster—it all was.

So you slipped away with no one being the wiser. The only pair of eyes that followed you as you left was Anthony Hamilton’s and his brow said that he was more than curious as to why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Shoutout to @notwhouthink for giving this idea and allowing me the opportunity to write this.Thank You So Much💗💝 and also @eugueen for reminding again that DG is based on G -Dragon thanks a lot❤️✨️.

NOTE: I have very little idea about the Kpop industry and G Dragon, and these are purely my headcanons,based on my limited knowledge and interpretation. If you'd like to add something or disagree on something, I am open to conversation and love to learn more. LONG POST😴

GENERAL

1.Let's start with his trainee era. Being the genius he is, he must have mastered and polished his skills to the T very early on. There were a lot of fan girls, admirers, and competition. He bagged his debut let's say he graduated from high school around 19 and spent 1 year in training so yeah debuted around 20.

2. Did he want to be a KPOP Idol probably not and was forced but he respects the occupation and the amount of effort that goes into it.

3. His debut was a huge success and people this is where his drastic personality change comes into play. From a cocky little shit to this calm and stoic gentleman. I think the agency crafted this image or Charles had a role to show the world this unattainable never bending to others, the brooding quite genius which ladies will love and men will envy.

4.Now to the type of songs, since he is inspired by G- Dragon he is versatile and very adaptable which is to say that I don’t think there is any genre that DG might not have explored. Hip-Hop, Rapping, R&B, Rock, Electropop you name it and he would have left no unexplored territory.

5. Coming to romantic music, I think this is where he might struggle a bit. But also where he takes inspiration from his fans. He might not outwardly show it but he is genuinely grateful to them and his romantic songs aren’t going to be typical cheesy ones but more inclined towards devotion and authenticity.

6.Man can dance. Very smooth and knows what to do to make the crowd go crazy. That peak of his abs you got he knew what he was doing but sorry that’s only what you will get. He isn’t going to go overboard or do something very wild nah uh.

7.Speaking of Aegyo or throwing it back. Sorry FAM but I can never ever see Diego doing this mostly because it also goes against this well-crafted unattainable idol image. His mystery and allure are his biggest assets and this will go against it I guess.

8.Coming to fans again. He likes them but he is also afraid of them. The first-gen legend isn’t scared of them in that way but the stalker girl did some degree of damage to him also I think Charles used to keep him in a chokehold in his teenage so maybe he gets a bit paranoid. That love and adoration is cute but please do it from a distance.

9.I think he is world famous, also because Eugene did ask if he expected to expand his career on an international level so from that it’s highly likely that he is recognized worldwide but maybe he doesn’t make English music as such.

10.During interviews or press conferences, he is very professional. Any question that seems personal is brushed off or cleverly moved in a different direction but yeah anything about his work he is completely honest because the public deserves that sincerity. In the fan meet up, he is going to be very sweet and nice but you can see that professional guard is always up, and don’t ever cross that.

11. Overall is a very successful, rich, and beloved idol of the country. Gives the love him or hate him but you can’t ignore him vibes which is also the case for him in the Lookism fandom. Based on everything he has worn so far his fashion sense is impeccable and mostly leans more on the star boy, classy and suave type.

ROMANCE

1.Sorry, but he isn’t dating his fan. Nope, it is not worth the risk considering how crazy and obsessed they can be. He has enough of these people in his life to deal with.

2. The most likely setting for DG dating anyone is you work in his agency and have a very professional relation, not buddies. Work setting like you may be his manager, fashion designer not an idol lol.

3. Not dating other models, actresses, or idols. The risk factor is huge, scandals and fan outrage and he is also not sure whether it is genuine, you get it. And from that Aru Arc I can conjure that he is used to people throwing themselves shamelessly at him so someone with modesty and decency will be a huge W. Feel like he high-key detests those unwarranted nudes or sexual favors and is never going to indulge in that act. Mostly he is too engrossed in himself to give a damn.

4.If you are dating him in his DG era understand that he trusts you a lot. No, he isn’t going to tell you about his past and Gapryong thing but his trust is there and slowly and steadily he will peel the layers but it’s a lot of work and patience.

5.Very important is your safety. He feels happy about the support but when it comes to your well-being and safety he is willing to go above and beyond. But also your relationship won’t be public.

6. But you won’t ever have to doubt his love and loyalty. I feel like he is the type who first won’t give a damn about romance in his DG era but if that true person comes along who is genuine and sees him for who he is, he will fall in love HARD and highly likely love that person forever. Again, this will take a huge time and effort. It's not just testing the water but also how guarded he is.

7.While you might feel jealous here and there and not confront about it , he is very observant and will definitely pick up on that. Will reassure you and is super patient with you, but if it gets too much, it might cause him an ick. See, he loves you that’s why you guys are dating, right? But yeah, he understands where you are coming from, but don’t go overboard and tell him if something is bothering you.

8.He will like someone who is equally as ambitious, hardworking, and devoted to their craft. He low-key finds it sexy and it will also help you both to understand your work time. But also someone genuinely nice but firm, it helps him to relax and just be himself. Not James, not DG, not a legend just to quietly exist and bask in each other’s presence.

9.In conclusion, Lover Boy DG isn’t as sweet and soft like his hair color, lol. Gift Giving, Teasing, and playfulness are his love language, has a hard time opening up, but you guys get there eventually.

[starpains]

Personal anti-corporate rant ahead.

Do any of you work for a corporation? Were any of you ever subjected to personality tests/assessment tools?

Genuinely curious.

I have a highly analytical mind which coupled with high IQ always makes my bosses have like insane expectations of me at work.

[And I swear to you this is not a brag post and you will see why in a second.]

So they have all these expectations because in theory based on all these fucking tests I’m a genius (like Mensa level).

NONE of these test take into account brain chemistry, fucked up neurology, psychiatric issues or anything like that.

So, my boss essentially sees my oooo test results ooo and thinks omg you are the future of my team please from now on take care of everything and I am like: Big Lady are you aware of what ADD is, are you aware that I legit cannot function without meds, are you aware that when I say “I have a bird’s brain” and you snort and say “please don’t joke” it’s actually super stressful because, while nobody believes it, I actually have ZERO memory. Okay maybe not zero, but I remember about 20% of stuff that happens around me. It’s not a joke, my severe memory issues are apparently a facet of my particular kind of ADD. They do not understand at work, no matter what I say. I take notes religiously, but then I forget where I saved them, they don’t understand why I can’t find them. They quickly forget because when I do find them they are awed by their meticulousness. The meticulousness is a defence mechanism which is something they, again, don’t understand.

Chaotic e-mails stress me out. They don’t get it, they think I read their minds but I don’t. I just have intuition and acumen enough to correctly assume what they mean. Still doesn’t help my jaw muscle inflammation from too much stress from happening. Apparently my jaw is the victim of my feelings of inadequacy because I grind my teeth in my sleep and no one can do anything about it except give me more pills to take.

I am not made for the corporate world, and yet what the fuck am I supposed to do when my main skills include writing gay romance and MS Excel.

This whole post is a result of a talk with my boss’ boss who has e x p e c t a t i o n s for this year and I’m like, dudette, I have never in my life felt like I met any expectations. And yours are way above the normal level because you saw some fucking test which told you something about me which I could have my psychiatrist deny immediately. But then, who the fuck tells their boss to talk to their psychiatrist.

I hate this world. I hate capitalism. I hate that I need to fit into some fucking opinionated framework so that my worth can be measured against others despite all of us being individual people just trying to make a living, and not actually working toward the idealistic common goal of our companies’ glory despite what the millionaire CEOs might believe.

I just like Excel. Please lemme work with Excel. Please don’t make me the project lead of several huge initiatives this year because I’ll get yet another ulcer. I don’t want another ulcer. I don’t want stones in my organs either. I already had to have one organ removed because of that. Please. I am so fucking stressed.

I do not want this.

[crisis-starter]

Hi!

This isn’t the complete thing.

But I feel bad for leaving you guys hanging for so long. Sorry, I am a strange soul with a questionable attention span. Thankfully, I think I’ll only split this into 2 parts.

Here ya go. Almost 3,000 words of text I guess.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Memory of Inquiry - 1

Loop couldn’t see Siffrin clearly from where they were. But they could feel the hesitation.

Knowing that at this point, Siffrin doesn’t bother trying to talk to Loop since the King fight is pretty routine, Loop decided to try something. They didn’t know what would happen if they did this. Would they reach their own Isabeau? Or the fighter?

They took a moment to work up the courage. They formulated the fighter in their head, and took the plunge. They spoke, “Hello. Isabeau, correct?” Loop felt the sparks of craft tingling their brain, so they cut in, “Don’t reply. I just want you to listen.”

The craft fizzled out, and Loop sighed in relief. They wanted to hide this from their stardust for a while, and having Isabeau reply would ruin it. Loop continued, “You’ve landed yourself in a time loop, hm? Well, how about you meet me at the Favor Tree the next time you’re in Dormont? Then we could talk about what we know. Since, well, I don’t want you to waste your precious energy on a simple call.”

Loop dropped the call, and waited for the King fight to finish. It was… irritating, to know that the fight against the King could’ve ended much sooner if they had only thought to teach Mirabelle about the damned shield skill. But they could never confess this. Ever. They already chose a role. They didn’t want to drop a twist so soon.

This time it was a victory. They were on the roof. Kudos to the fighter, it didn’t feel like Siffrin suspected anything. It was time to talk to the Head Housemaiden and loop back to Dormont. That’s when Loop felt a twinge of fear. It’s fair, it was muted, somewhat, because Siffrin had already been on the roof a few times. This fear however. This fear was different.

There was pain. Pain that got sharper and sharper. What… what was this… what was he…

Oh.

Oh no.

And Siffrin looped. Back to Dormont supposedly, because Isabeau was nearby, shaken. He was looking at his hands.

Immediately after witnessing a suicide. What a way to meet. They looked at Isabeau. Siffrin was going to perform the friend quests again. This could mean more time for chatting about Isabeau’s perspective. Loop stood up from their seat on the Favor Tree and called, “Oh Fighter!~”

Isabeau turned his gaze to the Favor Tree. He looked around for any other sign of life before pointing to himself. Loop beckoned him closer before sitting down on their beloved root. Isabeau sat across from Loop, confused. Maybe even a little suspicious.

Loop squinted their eyes in a smile, beginning to tease, “Oh please. Fighter, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to assume you’re the Researcher in disguise!” Isabeau was smart. He could probably see through Loop’s mask in practically no time at all. No amount of acting can hide this level of intellect from them. Isabeau looked away a little, seemingly thinking.

My oh my, was Loop finding it odd. Isabeau was usually very boisterous. So this silence was… uncharacteristic!

Loop could guess why. And they would be right.

After a minute, Isabeau stated, “I have… numerous questions.” Loop put a hand over their non existent mouth, “As expected. Fire away, Fighter!” The name made Isabeau stop. He paused.

“Before we begin… I… would not like to be called by an epithet if we’re going to see and speak to each other again.” Isabeau explained. Loop cocked their head to the side, “Very well, darling Apollo.” That caused Isabeau to get confused again, “Apo- Alright, at least it isn’t a title… I think…” Haha, Isabeau’s confusion was cute.

Stop it, Loop.

They aren’t yours, silly!

Isabeau fake coughed before asking, “What do I… hm… Do you have a name?” Loop tapped their cheek with one finger and looked off to the side, acting like they were thinking before answering, “You can call me Loop.” Isabeau muttered the name under his breath before nodding. So stern! Loop was joking before, but was the Universe playing a trick on them? Was the Researcher actually spying on them with the Fighter being in on it?

Isabeau readjusted the way he was sitting. That’s fair. The root was probably more Siffrin size. So he was probably a bit uncomfortable. He looked at Loop, “So… what are you? Because-“ Loop quickly interrupted, “A star!~” Isabeau’s inquisitive expression turned into a frustrated one, “No you’re not.” Loop made it a sport of finding the quickest way to irritate someone. Isa’s intellect caught up to him again! The star crossed their legs, “Then what am I?” Isabeau had to think for a moment, “I- You are… I… I may need more evidence.” Loop giggled.

“Okay, so you finally confirmed a theory by calling this a time loop. It's a time loop triggered by either freezing, dying, talking to the head housemaiden, or a moment of extreme distress. But… does it revolve around everyone, or just…” Isabeau inquired, causing Loop to clap, “Oh, Apollo, what a logical mind you have! Why don’t you test it out?” Isabeau was hesitant, “Are you asking me to… kill myself?” The star nodded, “If you’re going to come back, why not try?”

Isabeau looked unnerved. It took him a moment, but he agreed. Loop sighed, “Apollo, dearest, it’s scary. But aren’t all experiments unexpected? Only once. Give me the results, and then we will work from there.”

Isabeau looked at Loop, slightly wary. He didn’t really know what to use. How to… die. He asked, anxious, “But what do I use?” Loop thought for a moment, “The earliest way to die is getting crushed by the rock in the death corridor. The most painless is the tears, which are on basically every floor. Or, you could die in battle. Die like a hero, if you want a virtuous demise.” Isabeau was silent for a moment. The fighter readjusted to sitting a bit closer to himself. Loop continued, “It’ll hurt, but there’s some level of dignity in ‘falling on your blade’. There are sadnesses on every floor, but I doubt Stardust would ever permit you to die that way.” Isabeau added, “Or at all.” Loop nodded, “….Yes. Now you see why this might be tricky.”

Isabeau stood up from his root, saying with a small smile, “I think Sif’s gonna come back in a bit. I should get back to my spot. However, thank you for the idea, Loop. See you soon.” Loop giggled, “A genuine thanks! Gross!” The star’s expression softened, “I greatly appreciated our time together, Apollo. I’ll see you soon. Feel free to call when you’re stuck.” Isabeau then began to leave.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Another snack room.

The air was tense.

Siffrin was seemingly in thought, maybe trying to process something. Mirabelle was anxious, probably about the Head Housemaiden. Bonnie was busy just eating their snack.

Isabeau was truly indecisive on what he was going to do. How he was going to die. And, now that he was here, he had close to no choice. So, trying to keep this from Odile, Isabeau did the infamous hand sign that he taught himself and formulated Siffrin’s image in his head.

Once he felt the craft work, he looked at Siffrin, who seemed visibly distracted by their own thoughts. Isabeau was finding it a bit nerve wracking to speak to Siffrin, but well, he kinda needed the rogue to cooperate at least for a minute. Isabeau relaxed before starting to speak quietly, “Sif? Can I talk to you in… the next room?”

Siffrin was startled before looking straight at Isabeau, incredulously. Siffrin stood up, declaring, “Can I speak with Isa, privately, if possible?” Isabeau was pleased to see that, while Odile was a bit suspicious, she permitted it. Mirabelle handed the fighter a ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look, and Bonnie was curious but didn’t pry.

As he walked into the room with the staircase, Isabeau heard a familiar voice in his head.

‘Oh Apollo~ Please, do me a favor. Don’t mention that I’m working with you. Or else.’

Siffrin stopped and looked at Isabeau, asking, “What’s wrong? Where did you learn that?” Isabeau looked at Siffrin. He didn’t have to give a complete lie for those questions. But he still felt a bit guilty about hiding Loop’s involvement.

Isabeau did the hand signal before saying, “This? I picked it up from you. Though, I haven’t really been using it much.” It’s true that he hadn’t used that kind of craft in the house a lot, but it is extremely useful when talking to Mirabelle in the case that neither of them are sure who Siffrin is going to chat to and when. He undid the craft sign and waited for Siffrin’s reply, even if it was just a change in expression.

Siffrin almost seemed… somewhat endeared by that. But that was beside the point. Isabeau needed to ask and deliver this as softly as possible. Or maybe he should give it straight? Siffrin met Isabeau’s eyes, “Isa, why did you want to talk with me privately? What can’t be said to the entire group but can be said to me alone? Are you… worried about something?”

Isabeau rubbed his left arm slowly, “Sif… I… Do you think… we can lose to the King on purpose, this time?” Siffrin looked at the fighter wide-eyed. They paused for a bit to take in the question, “You… you know about the…” The fighter watched as Siffrin’s worry turned into anxiety.

Isabeau fought with himself, choosing this to be the moment where he touches- no, holds Siffrin. He grabbed Siffrin’s shoulders firmly, getting a flinch as well as their attention, “Please, Sif? Breathe with me?” This was not going nicely. Not at all.

The duo took a moment of silence as they both worked together to get rid of the stress on their shoulders. Isabeau softened his grip, moving one hand onto Siffrin’s head.

More moments of peace and breathing. Isabeau looked down at Siffrin and stated, “I want to use these next few loops to… experiment with things you may not have tried before. If that’s alright.” That explanation seemed to confuse Siffrin a little, “‘Experiment’? How will losing to the King be an experiment?”

Isabeau answered, truthfully, “I want to know what happens between when we die, and when we wake up.” Siffrin looked at Isabeau, concerned. They sighed, “It hurts me worse, seeing you get hurt.” The fighter was a tad ashamed to hear that. He could feel the guilt wash over his face. Then an extra comment from Siffrin grabbed his attention. Siffrin spoke softly, perhaps hoping to keep the thought to themself, “You know about the loops… Bonnie knows about the loops… Mira too…. Is Odile going to…? Wait, when did you become aware of them?”

The Fighter really did not want to answer that. Siffrin’s reaction and expression from that kiss were engraved into his mind, and pushing him away felt like the worst move he could’ve done there. But, if he wanted to be honest, he had to rip the bandaid off. So he, unable to meet Siffrin’s eyes, said, “Since you kissed me, Sif.”

Siffrin looked shaken. They looked right at Isabeau, and started to apologize profusely. Oh, he should’ve thought about this before saying that. Isabeau grabbed both of Siffrin’s hands and held them in his own, silencing the rogue for a moment. He squeezed them a bit, maybe trying to drag the traveler away from whatever thought process they were zipping through.

He… found this to feel vaguely familiar. Odd.

“I’ve known since that point. Not before… at all. If I talk about anything that happened before that moment, it’s probably because Mira told me.” Isabeau elaborated, “I don’t know why we’re ‘waking up’ at different times. But I think solving the conundrum that is the loops is higher on the priority list. Is there something you haven’t tried yet?” Isabeau let go of Siffrin’s hands, still slightly hesitant to touch him for too long.

Siffrin, slightly saddened, thought for a moment, “Talk to the King? I don’t have much to ask the Head Housemaiden.” Isabeau was hesitant to permit that, considering the King is a terrorist or maybe something even worse. He nodded in acknowledgment, “Alright… I’ll admit that I am not the most fond of that idea, but it might help.” A voice buzzed in his head:

‘You and me both, Apollo.’

Isabeau paused for a second before agreeing , “So, yeah. Let’s talk to the King.” Siffrin smiled softly, “Thank you, for helping me, despite all the mistakes I made…” Isabeau smiled back, “I’m glad to be of assistance. Wanna go back?” Siffrin nodded, “Time to… lose to the King. It’ll hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Isa, please don’t call me that.”

“Just kidding.”

They came back, and Siffrin stated, “Let's go. We have a King to defeat.” Maybe Siffrin was putting up a front for Odile. Siffrin knows that Bonnie and Mirabelle are aware. But Odile is an uncertainty. She’s smart, but maybe…

He didn’t really need to worry so much for that one, since all he had to do was ask to repeat a conversation from a previous loop.

As the group began to approach the hair covered path to the King, Isabeau noticed Siffrin having a hushed conversation with Mirabelle, no doubt asking her to do something. Or not do something, he guessed.

Bracing yourself for something agonizing… it’s harder than the heroes in stories make it out to be. Yes, the King is a gargantuan beast that can absolutely cause damage unheard of. But really. If he knew he was going to experience agony but not how much, it made him feel… uncertain.

Everyone is afraid of pain and agony at least to a small extent. But it’s fine. It’s for the experiment. It won’t take many loops. Then they can all go back to more direct approaches to stopping the loops.

Loop was another enigma. What were they? Who were they? How did they know Isabeau? What was with the brief look of… dismay? Grief? Something in their eyes bothered him a bit. Maybe Loop was playing up their whole personality to mess with him. It’s a possibility. He just hoped that it wasn’t just for fun…

Isabeau felt the King watch everyone as the group approached. Is it possible to see through his hair or his fists? Probably not. Is it because he heard them approach? That seemed more plausible, despite the lack of echo.

He got into a fighting stance, looking at Siffrin. The silence was deafening, yet soft. Maybe Isabeau wanted some comfort in death, however lacking it may be. He was still, knowingly, going to die.

So the brief silence was welcoming to an extent. He felt someone look at him. Isabeau looked to his right to see Siffrin’s face.

Siffrin was worried. Definitely. They looked at Isabeau with an expression that asked ‘Are you sure’. Isabeau smiled and nodded. It was a nervous smile, because who wouldn’t be nervous at the advent of their demise, so it didn’t quite help alleviate the concern on Siffrin’s face.

The rogue took a deep breath in and out, before saying, “Let’s get this over with.” Mirabelle didn’t grace the King with any words. Isabeau gathered his bearings. Odile prepared herself, stating, “Get ready, everyone.”

The King stopped everyone with a stern “Wait.” There was a pause. Maybe that’s why Siffrin hadn’t entered a stance yet.

“You. Traveler.” The King bellowed. Odile raised a brow and looked at Siffrin with a look of confusion. Siffrin glanced back at Odile, before turning their attention to the King.

“Bright one.” The King paused, “Do you remember?” Siffrin looked down, brows furrowed. Isabeau wondered if that was what Siffrin wanted to figure out. The rogue shook their head and refocused. The King wailed. Utterances of how they should remember things. That they, Siffrin and the King, have to remember.

After the King stopped his pleading, his gaze turned to the team. He steeled himself, bellowing, “….We shall fight. AND WE SHALL SEE WHICH SIDE THE UNIVERSE FAVORS!!!”

Battle time. But the King has things to say. Siffrin seemingly decided to not pay attention. Mirabelle is paying attention. Isabeau decided to listen as well.

The King wrung his hands together, hair veiling his face, “….Oh…. Oh…. Despite what you may think….. I am…. A merciful King.I will give you some time to come to terms with your end…. A most beautiful end…. An eternal end….” Isabeau sighed, “You really are taking us for cowards, aren’t you?” Mirabelle looked a tad surprised that Isabeau spoke directly to the King, but followed up, “We won’t hesitate until you’re good as gone!” Odile repeated the warning from previously, and the battle had truly begun.

The King changed up his first attack. Siffrin passed his turn to Odile so they could start off with a strong paper attack. Mirabelle followed up with Artsy Silent Burst, a paper attack of her own. And then the King spoke, “Ooh, ooooooh…… It is time, saviors.”

The King snapped his fingers. And everyone’s bodies were mostly frozen. But it was enough to look back at Bonnie, who was shaken. As Odile yelled for them to run, they quickly picked up their composure. Bonnie handed the King a hateful, yet teary glare before booking it.

Siffrin shared a few weakened words with the King, before the King swept his hand across the battlefield, probably damn near crushing everyone into a bloody pulp.

They were done for. The agony Isabeau felt at that moment was unlike anything he had ever known. His vision blurred before he collapsed and slowly bled to death.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

I’m back.

School is hell and being sick is even worse.

[felikatze]

[Crusch] “If I was going to be born without any girlish charm, it would have been better to be born a boy. No doubt my father thinks of me that way.” [Felix] “That can’t be…!” [Crusch] “No, it’s fine. It doesn’t wound my heart. I think it’s exactly right as well. Surely you are not unaware of how the gossips speak of me?”

HI. HELLO.

“It’s mysterious. While on one hand I am rebuked for being a woman who wields a sword, on the other I am strictly told to master things as a man would, in order to succeed the duke. The people around me; do they want me to be a man or a woman?”

[...]

“I was speaking grandly to you about how a knight should be, but there is only one path that I am able to choose to be. Succeeding the duke, and becoming the next duke. That path has no use for sword skill or being a woman.”

nod nod. people expect a man to become duke and refuse to take a woman seriously, so crusch must be as much like a man as possible, and yet, she will still be decried for not being womanly enough. Interesting intersection where her sword skill also has a masculine connotation, yet is still deemed irrelevant for her path to becoming the duchess. it doesn't matter what she wants or who she is - at the end of the day, she is a woman, and that's enough to ridicule her.

either she is womanly, and thus unworthy of being duchess, or she is the perfect duke, and thus unworthy of being a woman. the eternal dilemma of a sexist society. it's hard to put a pin on what sort of presentation crusch actually wants, as it is merely a tool for her proper aim of reaching her own limits.

[Crusch] “……Do you understand what you’re saying?” [Felix] “I do! …..No, I don’t really know what I’ll need to do, but I understand! I’ll be a girl for Crusch-sama!” Breathlessly, Felix cried out without giving Crusch a chance to raise an objection. “I… I’ll take care of being a girl, so I’ll give my boyhood to you! Please; I know it might not be much, but please accept it!” “You…… ah, haha.”

however: what the hell is happening here.

[Crusch] “If it becomes unpleasant for you, return it to me at any time. I will return what you gave me as well, without fail.” [Felix] “That will never happen. So please, let me always serve at your side.” [Crusch] “I see.”

they really just. swapped genders. i need to like rotate this in my mind.

i think i'll only have proper thoughts once i get to reading Ex1 and see more of them in action, but.

Thinks. I know that "failing at your agab" is a common trans experience, even if it isn't really mine. But it is at the very least revealing that what Felix feels when 'giving his boyhood to Crusch' is relief. If he is a girl then he is no longer a failure of a boy.

And yet of course within the world of Lugunica, there's not. trans people and transitioning. So Crusch calls Felix her girl, and to Felix Crusch is a man, but to everybody else they're just dressing silly. God.

Interesting to think about also that Felix only feels comfortable with this setup if Crusch is there to be his counterpart. Once Again i yearn to see Ferris Pov post arc3 because after her amnesia, Crusch isn't often seen as very masculine at all. Maybe, to Ferris, it'd be shameful to throw away being a man altogether, but if he's just giving it to someone else to make her dream come true, then that's fine.

Like. I would love to just hit Crusch with the transmasc beam, of course. But it really doesn't feel as clear cut to me as that? It's ambiguous to me again, whether she does want to be a man on some level, or whether being a man, or having been born a man, would just solve her problems. Which is again complicated by the society she lives in not being one that will ever allow her to be a man.

the gender of it all....

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XX

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: You go on a mission for Gojo.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.9k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: there’s been too much gojo in pomegranate ink recently but the next few chapters after this one should be the exchange event which means minimal gojo !!

Although you were technically his coworker and equal now, the admiration you held for Kento Nanami had never quite faded. He had even given you his recommendation, so he obviously did not feel like there was a massive gap in your statuses — or, indeed, any gap at all — but that did not change the fact that when you joined Gojo in his office and saw that Nanami was standing there, you immediately straightened your back.

“Nanami, sir, I didn’t realize you’d be here!” you said before turning to Gojo. “And what was that crazy ominous text about, huh?”

“I’m the teacher here, so why am I the one you disrespect so much?” Gojo muttered. You gave him a look, because if you had to list all of the reasons why Gojo didn’t deserve any respect, then you’d be talking for a very long time.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N. I hope you’ve been doing well,” Nanami said, as polite as ever despite the typical squabble between you and Gojo. “I expect I’m here for much the same reason as you. Although, I’m not quite sure how keen I am on Gojo asking a child to do his dirty work.”

“She’s a Grade 1 sorcerer, the same as you, and you’re the one who recommended her, so why would I treat her as any lesser?” Gojo said. Nanami gave you a sympathetic frown.

“I recommended her because she deserves to be paid more. That’s not a reason for her to be getting jerked around by you and your inane demands,” he said. “She’s still only a second year, so please remember that the next time you ask her about something so serious.”

“What’s going on?” you said. “It’s alright, Nanami, sir. I mean, whatever Gojo’s about to say is definitely going to be something stupid, but I don’t mind helping him out. He’s done so much for me that it’s only fair.”

“Still, you should try to stay out of harm’s way as best as you can,” Nanami said.

“I can use my Reverse Cursed Technique now, so there’s definitely no issue,” you said. “Anyways, Gojo, get on with it. I’ll show you the meme Yuta made for me earlier if you’re quick enough.”

“He’s onto making memes now?” Gojo said in surprise. “That’s big news.”

“I think Toge got him into it,” you said. Gojo thought about this before nodding. It made sense; Toge had been a master with photoshop since birth or something, probably, and he was Yuta’s best friend. It stood to reason that his habits would eventually rub off.

“You’ll definitely have to show me later. I asked you to come here for a reason, though, so we should go over that first. Do you remember what I was telling you earlier, about that special grade curse that performed a Domain Expansion in front of Yuji and I?” he said.

“Yes. It was definitely a worrying thing, especially because Domain Expansions necessitate such a high level of skill. Even sorcerers that can perform them are so rare, which makes it a big problem that there are curses which now can,” you said.

“Exactly. There was recently an incident at a nearby high school that I believe those curses might be involved in, so I’m sending Yuji and Nanami to investigate. I’d go myself, but I have to go on a trip, so I can’t,” Gojo said.

“I don’t recall agreeing to do this,” Nanami interjected. Gojo ignored him; of course, Nanami definitely would go. Even though he was a rule-follower, he didn’t have a great love for the higher ups, and despite his comically constant irritation with Gojo, he also had a lot of faith in the man, which meant he’d begrudgingly oblige his requests, no matter what.

“Why’s that involve me?” you said.

“Originally, I thought about having you take the mission instead of Nanami, since you were a Grade 1 sorcerer who already knew about Yuji’s existence, which would mean one less person would have to find out, but I realized that there was a flaw in that plan: because you’re still a student, the higher ups would definitely be suspicious about that kind of assignment. Even a tiny bit of added scrutiny would be enough for them to pick up on Yuji, and I don’t need to explain to you why that would be disastrous,” he said.

“That’s why you went with Nanami,” you realized. “They don’t really care about him and what he does. Uh, no offense, sir, it’s just that you give off such a stiff vibe that they think you’re firmly on their side, so you’re totally above suspicion when compared to me and Gojo.”

“I understand,” he said. It was something about Nanami which you appreciated, the fact that he didn’t really get upset very easily. He was a relaxed man who was very unflappable, at least as long as Gojo was uninvolved.

“He’s also trustworthy enough to not reveal any details of the mission,” Gojo added. “These are all compliments, Nanami, so you should accept them!”

“Get to the point,” Nanami said. “I see what you want from me, but if you can’t send her on that mission, then why have you called her?”

“Y/N, while Nanami and Yuji are busy investigating that scene, I want you on a different case. You see, a few days ago, a restaurant randomly burst into flames. Although that could be a coincidence, something tells me that there’s more to it. It might even be that same curse from earlier. I want you to see if there’s some kind of greater plot going on here that the curses are working together to achieve, or if it’s just a coincidence that this kind of thing has been happening on such a mass scale recently,” he said.

“Very few things are coincidences,” you said. “Although I do think this one might be. I suppose there is a chance it’s not, though, so sure. I can do that.”

“Hold on a second. You said that that curse could perform a Domain Expansion. What if it pulls that out? Does she have any counter to that?” Nanami said. “If she doesn’t, then it’s totally irresponsible of you to send her. Even more irresponsible than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Um,” Gojo said. “Y/N? Do you have a counter for that?”

“Wow, Gojo,” you said. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that. Thank you for the concern, Nanami, sir, but as the case may be, I actually do have something I can use if things come to it, so I’ll be alright.”

“If you say so,” Nanami said.

“I knew you’d have a way around it! Or else I wouldn’t have asked you to take the mission in the first place!” Gojo said.

“Oh yeah? What’s my counter, then, huh?” you said. Gojo was oddly quiet for a second.

“I don’t know?” he said finally, voice quiet like a mouse’s instead of boisterous as usual. “I just had faith that you’d figure something or another out. You’re a talented sorcerer, so I had no doubts you’d be alright. Besides, like you said, sorcerers with Domain Expansions are a rarity, so it’s not like I could just find and send someone who can use it to investigate. Even if I could, I wouldn’t trust anyone else the way I trust you, and anyways combat should be your last resort. Avoid it if possible.”

It was very difficult to be angry at Gojo. He looked like a sad, wet cat that had just been sprayed and scolded, pouting slightly, his shoulders slumped. You clicked your tongue before leaning over and hugging him tightly.

“I was only joking. I know you wouldn’t put me in harm’s way if you could help it. I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer now; how could I claim that title if just a Domain Expansion was enough to take me out? You were right to ask me. I’ll take care of things, don’t you worry, and I’ll be back in time to take part in the exchange event, too,” you said.

“For the record, I wasn’t joking,” Nanami said. “But there’s no point in further argument. You’re right about one thing, Gojo, and that’s that there aren’t that many sorcerers around that we can trust. Like it or not, we’ll have to make use of Y/N’s talents.”

“I wouldn’t have asked her if it wasn’t like that,” Gojo said. “That’s the world we’ve been given, though, so we’ll make the best of it. Y/N, I’ll take you out for dinner and shopping once you’re back as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said. “But you know I’d never say no to such an offer! You better have that credit card at the ready. I’m taking you up on it for sure.”

“Good,” Gojo said. “I expected no less.”

You were wearing a pair of sunglasses Gojo had lent you as you walked down the street, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. You didn’t want to be at all recognizable — not by the curses, who would probably not remember your face even if they saw it, but by anyone related to jujutsu society who might be out and about. If one of your cousins or someone like that saw you, then you’d be in a world of trouble. After all, they’d definitely ask you why you weren’t at the school, and what would you even say to that? You couldn’t exactly tell them that you were on a secret mission for Gojo, so it would be an awkward conversation overall. You had faith in your disguise, though, so there was definitely no issue —

“Hey, Y/N! I wasn’t expecting to see you out here!” a friendly voice said.

You whipped around, trying to discern who it was that had recognized you. The typical culprits were absent — any of your classmates, the third years, your family members, or any of the higher ups. Finally, your eyes lit upon him, beaming and obviously about to say something again, just as loudly as he had the first time.

“Shut up,” you hissed, wrapping your arm around his neck to yank his head down and slapping your hand over his mouth. “I’m supposed to be in disguise right now.”

“Really?” Takuma Ino said, voice muffled by your palm. “You look exactly the same but with sunglasses, though. As far as disguises go, I don’t think it’s that effective.”

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you said, deciding you’d have to reevaluate your disguise at a later moment. Pushing your sunglasses up to rest on the crown of your head, you let go of Ino, who rubbed the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt collar.

“I was planning on going to see a movie at the theater a few blocks down! Do you want to come?” he said. You thought about it for a second. It would be fun, after all — Ino was the kind of person that you couldn’t help liking. He had this unfailing optimism about him that made him a great mission partner, and he also was one of those people that had a moral code they actually followed. Overall, you were definitely really fond of Ino, but you knew you couldn’t take the time off even if you wanted to. Gojo was counting on you.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could. I’m actually busy right now, though,” you said. Ino shrugged.

“No worries,” he said. “I’ll see you around, then! Let’s try to go on a mission together at some point. It’s way better doing stuff with you than it is with most of the other Grade 1 sorcerers. Last time I went, they had me go with Naoya Zenin.”

You winced at the mention of the name alone. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was fine, I guess. He’s just kind of—” Ino leaned in to whisper in your ear “—a douchebag.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with a snort. “Luckily, I haven’t seen him since he was suspended after that mission where he supervised me. Douchebag is the best way to describe him, so don’t think I’ll tell on you for thinking like that.”

“Thanks,” Ino said, clearly relieved. “Anyways, I should go! The movie’s starting soon, and I like watching all the trailers that come before it, so I can’t be late. See you around, Y/N!”

“See you,” you said, waving as he turned the corner. It was a little disappointing. The downside of being a Grade 1 sorcerer: you had even less time to just enjoy your time as a student. Instead of getting to train with your friends and watch movies, you were completing a dangerous mission, with unregistered special grade curses as your opponents. While Ino watched his movie and your classmates prepared with one another for the exchange event, you were conducting a potentially fatal investigation.

At least you got paid way more than the rest of them — bar Yuta, of course, who was rolling in the cash of his special-grade salary. But he was also an entire continent away, so you didn’t envy him too much.

The restaurant that Gojo was talking about was closed off with construction barriers and yellow tape. Fiddling with the pouch of needles you carried with you at all times, you stepped over the tape and around the barriers, closing your eyes and sharpening your cursed signature detection.

The incident had happened a few days ago, so they were incredibly faint, but the residuals were definitely there. Gojo had been right in sending you; the whispering remnants of cursed energy would’ve escaped almost anyone else’s notice. It was only because of your advanced signature perception that you had caught them, and even then, you would’ve missed them if you weren’t looking for them in the first place.

“One — two — three — four,” you counted, crouching before the only seat that wasn’t scorched. For some reason, this residual felt familiar to you, though you couldn’t quite place where you remembered it from. That only made you feel more uneasy; was it a curse you had faced before? Or was it a possibility that someone you knew was working as a curse user alongside the special grade curses?

It couldn’t be anyone too familiar, though. You would’ve known who they were for sure if you had met them more than a few times. Whoever’s residual this was, they were a person you had only encountered once or twice. That didn’t narrow it down any, of course, and indeed it made it more difficult for you to pin down who it could’ve belonged to. How were you supposed to recognize someone you barely knew?

Pulling out your phone, you typed out your findings in a new note. Four residuals at restaurant. Three belonging to curses. One belonging to a curse user. Curse user’s residual is familiar but unidentifiable.

You’d email the entire attachment to Gojo once you were finished with the mission so that he had a frame of reference and some background for when you gave him the official report in person. This way, you’d also be sure to not forget anything, since you were writing it all down as you discovered it.

Leaving the strongest source of the residuals behind, you went over to one of the charred pieces of wood that must’ve once been a chair. When you poked it with your finger, it crumbled away into ash. Your lips tugged downwards into a frown, and you knelt, squinting at it. This was the important part; curses could appear anywhere, but whether they were involved in the disaster was what you were supposed to be investigating.

All residuals told a story. What did these ones have to say? What had happened at this restaurant? Was it something mundane, or was something more sinister at work?

A man set ablaze by something cursed. Flames bursting up at random. People burning. Fire licking throughout the restaurant, stopping at the feet of the three curses and their benefactor and then suddenly extinguishing. The foursome leaving the restaurant with nary their clothes singed.

Gojo was right: it had not been a coincidence. This restaurant had burnt on purpose by what you could only assume was the curse he had met earlier, the fiery one with the head like a volcano. Furthermore, you could sense no other residuals besides the ones left by the group, which meant that the curse had done it for no reason other than because it could.

Naturally, there was no sense in trying to assign meaning to the actions of curses. They were who they were; it was in the character of a curse to destroy, so there wasn’t any morality to it. They weren’t evil out of conscious choice — that was what was intrinsic for them, so that was how they acted. Still, this felt unnecessarily cruel, a display of senseless violence just for violence’s sake.

Fire seems to have been set with malicious intent. No evidence of a struggle. No evidence of a need for self-defense. No evidence of outside intervention via sorcery.

Leaving the restaurant behind, you leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what you should do next. Any residuals that the curses might’ve left as they made their escape would be washed away by now, simply due to the massive traffic in the area, so you couldn’t track them that way. But what other clues did you have about their hiding spots? How else could you observe them? Your findings weren’t anything special, especially without much to substantiate them. They could be put down to the typical behavior of curses, even though you had this sense that something else was at play.

“Honestly,” you said, puffing out your cheeks and letting your sunglasses fall back on the bridge of your nose. “This blows. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You know,” a wheezy voice said from beside you, “I never thought someone as mortal as you would dare stick their nose where it doesn’t belong, but I guess humans really are stupid."

It was like that snake curse of Elakshi’s all over again. You hadn’t even noticed the curse approaching, but here it was, in this deserted alleyway with you, right next to you. It was a grotesque mixture of person and horror, too close to humanity to be dismissed in turn, too close to monstrosity to be given any real sympathy.

As Itadori and Gojo had said, his head resembled a volcano, with one single, huge eye glaring out in front of him. His back was hunched, like he was an elderly man, and he wore a yellow-spotted cape draped over his shoulders. He mirrored your position, making no move to attack you, obviously delighting in the fact that you recognized him.

“You’re the curse that Gojo fought,” you said. The curse spat, his saliva splattering against the concrete and melting it, steam arising from the spots where it had dropped.

“Satoru Gojo,” he snapped. “Yeah, I fought that weakling.”

“Didn’t he beat you? You shouldn’t call him weak. If anyone’s weak, it’s you,” you criticized. This was, in hindsight, not the smartest thing you could’ve done, but you found it a little humorous that this curse really believed Gojo was the weak one between them two.

“What?” the curse said, flames bursting from the openings which must’ve functioned as his ears. You winced, taking a step back from the massive heat suddenly emanating from him. “You think I’m weak? You are nothing compared to Satoru Gojo and I. You could never defeat me, and yet you dare call me weak?”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you said, deciding to get to the point before he began to attack. “You must’ve, or else you wouldn’t have come. I know your hideout isn’t nearby, because I would’ve sensed it, which means that, for some reason, you believed that a sorcerer would come to the scene of your crime. Why? What tipped you off?”

The curse ignored you. “If you think I’m so weak, then fight me yourself! Come on, girl, why don’t you?”

“I’m not in the mood,” you said, eyeing him warily, taking another step back. Gojo had recommended you avoid combat, and you were inclined to agree with him. This did not seem like an ideal matchup for you; this curse, whoever he was, seemed to be the type that was focused on brute strength and sheer power. Furthermore, there was no way you could take him by surprise, and even if you got lucky and managed to land a hit or two, there wasn’t a guarantee that they’d be immediately fatal.

Your best bet would be to escape now, before he could attack you. But where would you go? The alleyway opened up into bustling streets on either side, which meant that you’d be putting civilians at risk if you fled and the curse decided to chase you. The question of where he had come from also remained. Did he have backup? Even now, were there more curses on their way to attack you? Or were the majority of their forces located in that high school where Itadori and Nanami were operating?

“That high school,” you continued in a forced show of bravado. “You’re involved in that, aren’t you? You and the other unregistered special grades. Have you all formed some kind of group?”

“Why should I answer your questions?” the curse shouted, the top of his head emitting wisps of smoke, threatening at an eruption. “You’re a human, so I owe you nothing! I know you’re running because you have no hope of fighting me, but don’t think I’ll let that happen. I’ll kill you before you can take another step!”

“Who are you?” you pressed, ignoring his threats. “Curse, tell me your name. If it makes you feel better, mine is Y/N L/N.”

The curse froze in his tracks, fire abruptly cooling, the air almost chilly in the absence of his furnace-like heat. Then, to your surprise, he took a step backwards, though he still trembled with rage, his single eye narrowed at you. There was a war in that iris, like he could not come to terms with what he had to do.

“Y/N…L/N?” he repeated. You hadn’t been expecting that kind of reaction, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

“Yes,” you said. “And you are? Who do you work for? I know you’re operating alongside at least one curse user. Who are they? I know I recognize their residuals, but I can’t place where from. Who is it? Tell me, now, before I — I call Gojo!”

“Satoru Gojo is abroad,” the curse said. “So don’t think that that kind of threat will work on me. But if you really are Y/N L/N…I’ve heard about you, in fact.”

“From who?” you said, still trying to figure out how he knew Gojo wasn’t in the country. “Who told you about me? Why does it matter who I am? Didn’t you just want to kill me?”

It wasn’t like you wanted him to kill you, but the total flip in his attitude alongside the reluctance with which it had occurred made you mistrustful. Was this a way for him to catch you off guard? If that was the case, then it wasn’t working. You still didn’t believe in him one bit, and you also couldn’t figure out what kind of angle he was playing it. It was totally unbelievable for him to have heard of you — unless he somehow knew about that.

“I’ve been told that you cannot die if we want Sukuna on our side,” the curse said, though his hands twitched, like he wanted to reach out and burn you with them regardless. “If we want him to fight with us, then we cannot kill you.”

“So that’s your goal,” you said. “Or at least one of them: you want to reawaken Sukuna fully. I guess that that’s not too much of a surprise, though I don’t understand what my involvement in the scenario is.”

The curse’s lip curled in disgust. “I don’t, either. You’re just a bag of bones, held together with a minuscule amount of cursed energy. What vested interest does someone like Sukuna have in a weakling like you? Why does it matter that you live? I’d ignore the warning, but last time I did…well. We can’t risk it. Not yet, anyways. Get out of my sight, irritating pest, before I change my mind and decide that killing you and shutting your insufferable mouth is worth risking Sukuna’s aid in our plan!”

“That’s fine by me,” you said. “I’ve found out more than enough. I hope to never see you again, Mount Fuji!”

“Mount Fuji?” the curse screeched after you. You could see the air shimmering around him, a warning of an imminent explosion as you sprinted away. “Be grateful you escaped this time! It won’t be the case if we ever meet again, Y/N L/N!”

With trembling fingers, you finished typing your report on the bus, glancing out the window periodically in case the curse had decided to chase you all of this way. Once it had been formatted and updated with all of your findings, you downloaded it as a PDF and emailed it to Gojo. This was a weight off your shoulders; at least now, even if that curse did come for you, you had managed to get the information to Gojo.

It had been more productive of a mission than you had originally anticipated. Although some of your conclusions were little more than conjecture, only guesses based on offhand comments made by the curse and the more circumstantial evidence, you felt confident about most of it being correct — and you told Gojo as much when you met him next.

“You really think there’s someone leaking our information?” Gojo said. You sighed, swirling a spoonful of sugar into the tea Gojo had offered you. Nanami and Itadori had just returned from their mission, and you were sure that whatever they had discovered would reflect what you had.

“The curse knew that I’d be there, which I suppose you could put down to a lucky guess, but he also knew that you were abroad. There’s no way he could’ve just happened upon such a random explanation; the most likely solution is that someone’s giving them our information. It would also account for why those residuals felt so familiar,” you said.

“Someone in jujutsu society, who you’ve only met once or twice, is working with the curses,” Gojo said, massaging his temples.

“I’d like to say it’s Naoya,” you offered. “Mostly because I hate him and believe that most of the world’s problems can be put upon him. But, unfortunately, I’d have recognized his signature, and anyways he wouldn’t benefit from jujutsu society collapsing, so we can rule him out.”

“I wouldn’t have really suspected him in the first place,” Gojo said. “If I had to guess, it’s someone associated with one of the schools.”

“Another student?” you said. Gojo nodded.

“Or a faculty member, possibly. I doubt that they would be the curse user whose residuals you recognized, but I do think that that’s where that group is getting their information from. I’ll ask Utahime to look into it — I’ve known her since I was young, so I can be reasonably assured that she’s not the one who’s leaking our secrets,” he said.

“Then whose residuals could they be?” you said. Gojo shook his head.

“I don’t know. I hope that, by catching the spy, we can figure that part out,” he said.

“There’s another thing I don’t understand. If the curses are working together to resurrect Sukuna, then why would a sorcerer be working with them? What use would any of the students have with a world where Sukuna reigns once more?” you said.

“Use your imagination, Y/N,” Gojo said. “Think about it. There’s a lot of reasons that people would want to ally themselves with the curses, especially because of how powerful they are. Even if they don’t agree with the final outcome, they might be trying to use the curses’ powers to their own ends.”

“Do they really think that they can deal with curses like that and win?” you said derisively. “It never ends well when sorcerers get involved with curses, especially inexperienced sorcerers, which is what they would be if they’re a student.”

“If they’re inexperienced, then they wouldn’t have the foresight to realize that. Or maybe there’s something they want badly enough that they’ll take the risk,” Gojo said. “There’s a lot of reasons. I can’t be certain, but anyways, I think it’s the most likely explanation. Like I said, we’ll have Utahime help us. She may not excel in strength, but she’s always been the observant type. If anyone can get to the root of things, it’s her.”

“That’s good,” you said. “Yeah, you’re right. There’s not much more we can do. It’s just all so much, and so sudden, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Gojo said. “Thank you for going on that mission. You definitely managed to make the most of it. I’m just glad that you escaped the curse without having to fight. I don’t know how that kind of a confrontation would’ve gone.”

“Probably not well,” you admitted. “He’s not the kind of opponent I’m best suited to face off against.”

“How’d you manage it? You were obviously around him long enough that you could have an entire conversation with him, so how were you able to escape fighting? He was so ill-tempered when we met,” Gojo said.

“Maybe that’s just your personality,” you suggested weakly. You had avoided including that particular detail in your report, mostly because you were still struggling to come to terms with it and what it meant.

“Do you really think so? If that’s the case, then he definitely would’ve fought you, because according to your report, you were just as annoying as I would’ve been in the same situation,” he said.

“No,” you said. “That’s not why. It’s because of Sukuna.”

“Sukuna?” Gojo repeated incredulously. “How’d he end up there?”

“He wasn’t there. Not physically, at least. It’s the same thing from when I went to help Megumi, when Sukuna refused to genuinely, properly fight me. For some reason, my death is something that he wants to avoid, to the point that even that curse believed that killing me would automatically disqualify Sukuna from their list of allies,” you said, and you were surprised to feel your throat swelling, choking with inexplicable tears. “I don’t understand it, Gojo. What does he want from me?”

You buried your face in your hands. You knew it was a little ungrateful — after all, you had the King of Curses supposedly watching over you, his name alone ensuring you did not die, but why did it not feel like a blessing? Why was there no benevolence to it? Why did it frighten you so much?

Sukuna did not care about you. He wasn’t protecting you, necessarily. He was just keeping you around for some greater purpose, one that only he could fathom. That was what you feared. What would Sukuna’s whims cost you? What was it that he was saving you for? What would he do to you once you had fulfilled his wish? Because you knew he hated you. He hated your ancestor, and therefore he hated you, and although there was something blocking him from it, he certainly wished for your death. So what was it that he could possibly want from you above all else? What could he possibly want so much that he would even delay the death he so longed to see for it?

Gojo’s hand was soft atop your head. He did not pat you, nor did he stroke your hair. He just let his hand rest there — it was as much comfort as he knew how to give, after all. This was Gojo at his core: a man who did not really understand how to love someone else. Maybe another person might’ve resented him for it, but it only made you feel fiercely more for him, made you wish you could go back in time to when he had been a child and tell him that one day, he would meet you, someone who’d always love him, no matter what, and that he only had to hold on until such a day could come.

“He wants something only you can give,” Gojo said. “I don’t know what that could be. Sukuna’s never been the kind of person that can be easily understood. It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but that’s how it is.”

“I don’t know, either,” you said. Gojo ruffled your hair before retracting his hand.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know immediately. But think about it, alright?” he said. “And in the meantime, you might as well enjoy the benefits a little. You can’t escape it, so take advantage of the fact that he’s decided, for some reason or another, that you are important to his plans!”

“Yes,” you said. “You’re right. There’s always a bright side, isn’t there?”

“There you go. Cheer up! Let’s move on to more fun topics. The exchange event is in a couple of days. Aren’t you excited to see everyone again?” Gojo said.

“Not when one of them might be a traitor,” you confessed. Gojo shook his head.

“Don’t think like that. Certainly, you shouldn’t trust anyone with your deepest secrets — except for Yuta — but they are all your friends. You can still be happy to see them. Let Utahime and I deal with the problem of the traitor; you just enjoy yourself at the event, alright?” he said.

“Alright,” you agreed. “And although I agree that he’s definitely not the traitor, why is only Yuta deemed so trustworthy? Why didn’t you include Maki or Tullia on the list?”

“He’s in Africa, so it wouldn’t make any sense for him to be the spy,” Gojo said. “He’d be an awful source of information, since he pretty much…has none at the moment. We have to suspect basically everyone else, even though you’re right in thinking that it’s unlikely for either of those two to be spies.”

“I see,” you said. “I guess there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there? This is what it’ll be like until we can catch the spy.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Gojo said sympathetically. “Hey. Wanna go get ice cream with me?”

“You just got back from your trip, didn’t you? I don’t want to make you go out if you’re tired,” you said. Gojo had insisted on meeting with you the instant he had returned from the airport, and though he had done an admirable job at hiding it, you knew he was still exhausted. Still, he shook his head.

“Nah, I was going to go either way. It’ll just make me less lonely if you come along, too,” he said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You laughed softly. “You know, Gojo, sometimes I think you’re not that bad.”

“Hey, thanks! Anyways, I’m thinking of trying a new flavor, but I’m not sure if I’ll like it. Do you promise to finish it for me if I don’t?” he said.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You have to pay for it, though,” you said.

“Pinky swear?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

[aviscouscurse]

Awkward First Meetings - Trilline

Start | Prev

Esk has one hand on the rope as he reaches down to you. 

“Here, toss up the artifact, it’ll be easier for you to climb with both hands free,” he says with that kind smile of his. He’s always been a considerate leader. 

You struggle to keep your grasp on the rope as you throw the artifact up to him. He catches it deftly.  “Thank you,” he says, handing it off to Cherring. “And… I’m sorry about this.” 

“About wh-” you start. 

You don’t finish, because Esk has already cut the rope and you’re falling backwards. 

His expression is no longer kind, an ugly sneer you’ve seen on so many people’s faces before. 

He turns away before he’s out of sight, not even having the guts to watch you splatter on the floor of the pit trap. 

Well, that’s for the best, you suppose. Because you aren’t falling nearly as fast as you should be. 

No one ever expects you to have a harpy feather in your boot. 

They say you never learn, but if that was true you’d be dead, wouldn’t  you? 

As your feet touch the ground, you look around again. Nothing has changed since you were last down here, it was only a couple of minutes ago. 

The rubble from what used to be the floor where the pit trap crumbled is strewn about unnaturally. You aren’t sure exactly how long you have until the ceiling reforms and traps you down here. 

You guess there’s always a chance another party could come through and trigger the trap again, opening up the pit and allowing for your escape. But you’d still need to be able to scale the walls, which are designed to be unscalable without a rope. 

So you’re screwed. 

You don’t even have any food in your inventory. You gave your rations to Prussel to hold onto so you’d have more slots free for items. 

Now that you think about it, that was their idea, wasn’t it? Holding onto your stuff. 

Probably so they could keep it once you were out of the way. 

How long had your party been planning this? 

Well. No point in standing around and moping about it. The clock is ticking. 

Maybe you can stack some of these ceiling chunks up and climb them? 

Chances are the stack will be unstable and you’ll fall or get crushed, but it’s better than waiting to starve to death. 

You strain to pick up a ceiling bit that’s half your size, but manage to get it up in the air. You look around for another rock to stack it on top of. 

And almost drop it on your feet when you hear something that sounds like a human voice. 

You set the rock down safely and turn to look for the source of the voice. 

Peeking out from around the side of a rock is a hooded figure, sitting on the ground. 

“Hello?” you call out. You hadn’t understood what the figure said before. 

It speaks again, but you still don’t understand. 

“Can you switch to common, please? I don’t think I have that one in my skills,” you request. 

The figure stands up and moves out of the shadow. 

You shudder in revulsion as light hits its face. 

It’s a slime wearing human clothing. 

It must have dissolved the original owner and taken its shape. 

“Ugh, gross, I hate slimes,” you say, backing away. 

You open your inventory and rummage around for a suitable scroll. 

The slime moves closer.

Well, what is this, if not an emergency? 

Spark storm will have to do. 

You activate the scroll and send the sparks out in a flurry towards the monster. 

The slime stops in its tracks. The sparks eat little holes in its clothes and burrow into its goopy flesh. 

A sweet but charred smell fills the air, like sugar melting until it burns. 

The slime does not seem to be affected, otherwise. 

Even its clothes stay pretty much intact, which should be impossible, since you just used a high level fire scroll. 

Fuck your life.

It says something again. Now that you know it’s a slime, you know it doesn’t have any sort of translator. It must be mimicking human speech as part of a trap. 

Wait a minute… 

Mimicking… 

Oh you are in deep shit now. 

Aren’t mimics usually in northern dungeons? This is so unfair. 

But, far or not, you’re going to need to step it up. 

“Right, here we go,” you say, and select your strongest scroll from your inventory. You can worry about how much it will cost to replace later if you live. 

Blue white lighting flashes down onto the slime-mimic thing. You can see electricity coursing through its translucent ‘skin’. 

The boom hurts your ears, but that’s a small price to pay for defeating- 

The slime takes another step towards you. Its hands are up as if in supplication. 

It is not dead. 

It barely even looks hurt. 

Maybe a little smaller than it was before? Some of its slime probably burned off, but it couldn’t have been much. 

Well, that’s it. You’re toast. 

“Well. A high level mimic isn’t the most embarrassing way to go,’ you try to console yourself. You back away further from it, not wanting to 

“Mimic?” it echos. 

You don’t bother answering it, you’re trying to think of a way to get out of here before it can get a hold of you. Maybe its balance is that despite its high defense and hp, it has a slow movement speed? 

“What… mimic?” it asks you. And you understand it this time, because it’s speaking in Kulvish, which you do have skill in. 

You’ve never come across a monster that could speak any human language, unless it was part of a quest. 

You haven’t gotten any new quest markers. 

“You speak Kulvish?” you ask, just to make sure you haven’t gotten it twisted. 

The slime-mimic stares at you unblinking for a while before saying, “...yes.” 

Ah. 

Well. 

You may have fucked up. 

“Shit, are you an adventurer, then? Why didn’t you say something? Oh, wait you did… Did you not take common as one of your languages? That’s an odd choice. Sorry for attacking you, I thought you were a monster. Speaking of, why do you look like that? Are you cursed? Is the curse making it so you can’t speak common? Does your curse buff your defense at the cost of turning you into a slime?” you say, putting out ideas and questions as they come to you. 

The… person… doesn’t respond until you stop talking. 

“Yes,” it says hesitantly. You aren’t sure which question it’s answering. You’ll just assume it’s all of them. 

“Woah, I’ve never seen a curse like that before. Pretty brutal,” you say. 

“I do not understand,” the person says. 

You frown. “Is there something wrong with your translator? You might need to change your language settings in the menu,” you say. 

You wait for his deity to do that. 

After a while, you ask again. “Is that better?” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Huh. Maybe there’s some issue on my end?” you’re sure your deity will try to fix whatever issue there is. 

It’s awkward waiting around when you can see some of the smaller bits of ceiling starting to rise up to reform, but what can you do? 

“Okay, can you understand me better now?” you ask after you figure it’s been enough time. 

The person looks surprised. “Yes, I can,” he murmurs. 

“Sweet! Now, I’m super sorry to ask this of you since I did just try to kill you, but um. Do you have any teleportation abilities or know any ways out of here?” you ask, talking as quickly as you can now that you don’t have to worry about comprehension. 

“I came through there,” he says, pointing to a crack in the wall. It’s wide enough to make you worry for the structural integrity of the wall, but not wide enough for a non-slime person to fit through. Damn. 

“And that’s a no on the teleportation?” you ask again. 

He shakes his head. 

“Any chance you know the route up to the level above us so you can retrigger this trap?” you ask hopefully. 

He shakes his head again. 

You slump. “Oh.” 

“I can… try to retie your rope? So you can climb back up,” he offers. 

You snap your attention back to him. “You can scale this wall?” 

He nods. “I believe so. “Slime can be… sticky,” he says, holding up a slimy hand and wiggling his fingers. You try to repress the involuntary shudder. It would be rude. It’s not his fault he got cursed. 

“If you think you can make it without getting hurt, then please. I have absolutely no other way out of here that would be fast enough at this point,” you urge. 

The person nods and walks over to where the long end of the rope fell. 

Instead of holding it as he climbs, he threads it through his arm so he has both hands free. 

You wonder if that hurts or not. 

“I am… a little dry,” he observes as he climbs. 

That would probably be your fault. Oops. 

Still, he manages to make it to the top of the pit after a while. He’s pretty quick, which detracts from your original theory about the curse sapping his speed. 

Once he’s over the edge, he removes the rope from his arm and reties it to the original anchor point. 

He then climbs down the wall a bit. He lets go of the wall and puts his full weight on the rope. You gasp in surprise. You’ve never seen someone test a knot like that. 

“It should hold,” he calls down. 

You don’t need to be told twice. Some of the larger chunks of ceiling have reformed, so you need to get going. 

The person waits for you outside the trap. 

Once you’ve made it close to the top, he offers you a hand. 

Your heart freezes for a moment. 

But no, this person is not Esk. 

Setting aside your reservations about touching something so slimy, you accept his hand and he helps you up. 

His hand doesn’t feel sticky or slimy at all. Instead, it’s warm and smooth like polished amber. 

You wonder if he’s able to control the properties of his slime. 

That’s probably rude though. 

“Thank you so, so much,” you enthuse once your feet are back on solid ground. 

“It is nothing,” he tries to brush you off. 

“No it’s not, you saved my life! Even after I was so rude to you and tried to kill you!” 

He shakes his head again. “I scared you. You owe me nothing.” 

You frown, your ears drooping. 

“Aw. At least let me lead you back out of here? I know where all the traps are, since I was in charge of disarming them on the way in,” you say. 

He is silent as he seems to mull it over. 

“I will accept your offer. Thank you,” he finally agree. 

“Yes! Okay, follow me, and make sure to stay behind me. We don’t want you triggering any floor traps,” you cheer. 

You’re going to live to see another day. Things are looking up. 

You try to chat with your new friend as you walk. He didn’t seem to want your apologies so you’ll just have to find a different way to thank him. In the mean time you tell him about how you ended up in the pit to begin with, and about what monsters you fought on the way in. 

You’re pretty sure none of them will have respawned so soon, so it should be fine 

You hope. 

Cherring had offered to hold your axe so you could climb better. 

Those fucking bastards. 

Nope! You’re not thinking about that right now, you’re having a nice chat with your new friend… 

“Say, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet,” you ask, turning around to face him. 

Except. He’s not there. 

“Um. Mr. Slime man? Where did you go?” you call out. 

You backtrack. Maybe he took a wrong turn and got lost? 

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. 

It seems like he fainted a while back. 

You guess even slimes with high defense can’t take a hit of lightning with zero consequences. 

You’ll just have to carry him out, then. 

Well. Since it’s only a faint and not a death, he should respawn outside the dungeon. You’ll just have to meet him there.

Next

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

This was a lot shorter than expected. Sorry for the delay. I would love to know what you think of this and how it advances the story. After this, there is one final part to come for this story, though the story itself is still unnamed... whoops. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Six: Forgive All Injuries

Even in that other world, it is darkest before dawn.

They were cruising, close to the water and slow. Now that she wasn’t looking for the mountain, and wasn’t sure where they were geographically, Paula wanted to be close—so that she could find any clues as to the land that might be above the water.

“Really they should be only hiring people old enough to have experienced Big Tide before,” muttered Martha’s dad from behind her. Paula had been trying to tune him out for the last quarter of an hour. “Not young things like you. You can help next time—when there’s more life experience to avoid this happening.”

“They didn’t hire me,” said Paula as calmly as she could muster through the anxiety of the situation. Getting angry herself would help nobody. “The elders asked for volunteers, and then worked with what they got. Not everyone was selected for every job; I know there were things I wasn’t even aware of going on, because my job was transport. I’m sorry I got us into this mess, and I surely didn’t intend to. But the elders considered my skills good enough for this job, at least given how many people we got offering to help in a way that could be coordinated.”

“Clearly they aren’t.”

“Look, I don’t want to be mean,” she said tiredly, “but if you’re going to just keep being all negative about it, could you please stop?”

“How about we sing something?” broke in Martha’s mother. “A hymn.” She started off with a rousing and questionably pitched version of ‘Lord keep us safe this night’. By the time they got to the fourth verse, into which everyone had joined in except Paula and the sleeping baby, the mood was much happier.

Then the smooth glint of the water below was broken by a vast shape, a gaping maw full of extremely sharp teeth, and enormous black eyes fixed on their hoverboard. Paula yelled inarticulately and gunned it for the skies as the beast sank into the water again, spending petrol with reckless abandon as she hung on to the edge of the board with one hand and guided with the other. Hopefully nobody had fallen off. They shouldn’t have, because they’d all strapped in, and there were handholds, but their slant currently as they reached for the skies was much steeper than usual.

Why hadn’t she thought? Why hadn’t she remembered the deep sea monsters might come? Paula squinted at the control panel and tried to work out if there was any way she could rise faster; she rotated the board slightly, so they weren’t going against the wind quite so much.

Makkian monsters were drawn by light and song, that was known—but she’d forgotten.

Twenty metres below, it breached the surface again. The great double jaw opened, revealing two mouths full of teeth. Its great body was slender for its size, and the tremendous speed it had got up to allowed it to fly, fins close to its body, straight upwards towards them. Paula wrenched their course forwards instead of up, and prayed wildly.

The sea monster slowed as gravity began to take hold. It rolled backwards, lower jaw reaching, and the hoverboard jolted violently as its teeth caught onto the bottom. Paula grabbed for stabilising, and wondered if it would be enough.

But the Makkian monster dropped, belly up, into the water again ahead of her, and Paula set them on an upward trajectory again. It was only once they were a long, long way into the air that she felt safe to cut the power to economical levels again. Behind her, someone was weeping.

Thank you, God. There were tears on her own cheeks, too, but the sky was beginning to grey; ever so faintly, it was true, but soon they would see enough to perhaps land.

Ahead, the faraway glitter of water was replaced by something else, and Paula glanced at the fuel gauge with concern. It was showing red, and the projected distance was dropping with astonishing speed, much faster than—

Oh.

The Makkian monster had struck the bottom, and probably torn through the fuel tank.

Hoping the ‘something else’ up ahead was a mountain good enough to land on, Paula accelerated. Time was now of the essence, since the leakage appeared to be fairly rapid. If they couldn’t find somewhere to land before the fuel ran out, they would have to land on the water, which given that there was a Makkian monster in the area, was almost certain death. Please, God. Please please please. Behind her, everyone else was giving thanks for their survival, not realising they weren’t out of the woods yet. She didn’t want to alarm them, to break the illusion of safety.

The darkness lightened slowly into dreary grey, with none of the glory of dawn yet. The stars were fading, but beauty had not replaced them yet. Up ahead the dim shape did not appear to be land, but the tops of trees; noting it in her mind in case of true emergency, and checking the fuel gauge again, Paula continued on.

“Paula?” said Martha’s dad, in a somewhat subdued tone.

She hummed in response, eyes scanning the lifting darkness.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Thanks for getting us out of the monster’s clutch. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

She wanted to say, It wasn’t that hard, but a part of her knew it had taken a good deal of skill to judge her course in the only trajectory that had saved them. Somewhere in the analytical back of her mind, she had been running scenarios based on what she knew about Makkian monsters, if she had done this, or that, or the other. Her honest conclusion was that her precise flight path had been within a very narrow band of possibilities that did not involve one or more of their party being eaten.

“I’m just glad we’re safe,” said Paula, at last, lying through her teeth. The fuel gauge flashed more insistently. Below them, the water was a limitless grey.

This story, for which there are seven parts, is dedicated to everyone affected by Hurricane Helene. It was not written because of that, but a water-based natural disaster is part of the plot. It does not focus on it, but is a story of hope. The text of section one is under the cut. I hope to post all sections before the end of the Inklings Challenge. Despite this being my third year, this is the first I've actually posted anything other than snippets, so I hope I'm doing this right. I haven't yet written more than this, but I do have an outline for the other six parts, so hopefully that will work. @inklings-challenge

One: Admonish the Sinner

First of all it must be understood that every world is connected, as every village is. Some are just further away.

This is not a story of Earth; this is a story of a world nobody bothered to name, in a village nobody called anything other than the village. But that does not make it any less beloved—by people or by God. Sometime, a long time before this story is set, someone from Earth came to this nameless world and gave them the greatest gift of all, truth: but that is another tale entirely.

The night sky of this world is strikingly different from ours. Most prominently, two moons watch the world below, and every forty-seven years or so, flooding hits the island. They call it Big Tide, for it is the pull of the two moons combined that does this. It is regular enough, and has enough warning signs, that everyone should be perfectly ready for it.

As is common in humans (and these are humans like us, though the world is different), not everyone believes the evidence laid out in the world.

This is a story of Big Tide, specifically the one of the year three thousand, two hundred and twenty by their reckoning. This is a story of Paula McArthur.

%%%%%%%

The wattles were flowering, and it was Paula’s favourite time of year. There were several different wattles, but this was the deep gold ones she loved the best, the ones she gathered by the armful and adorned her home with. Now she only held a single sprig and enjoyed it to the full. It was too close to Big Tide to unnecessarily damage the wattle trees; they could be badly damaged by the rushing waters, and might need everything they had to survive. But one twig wasn’t going to hurt it.

The sky was a clear pale blue shot with fine clouds, a mass of them shining near the horizon with the sun gentle on them. Paula raised her face to the sunlight and closed her eyes, smiling. It was spring, and she never felt more alive than in springtime. 

She had been working all morning to prepare for Big Tide, largely transport. Her hands were tired of the precise positions needed to be held in order to hover exactly enough to transfer items in mid-air between hoverboards rather than landing to do it, which would waste time. Tide waited on no man, but Paula was skilled enough to know when she could be sloppy about hoverboarding, and enjoyed hoverboarding in a more slapdash manner than most people she knew. She had graduated earlier than most of her classmates from a controller to haptics. Tomorrow, though, she might use the controller again to make sure she was fresh enough to hover efficiently overnight during Big Tide itself. 

Presently she took out her lunch, and ate it while walking. In the distance a kookaburra laughed; Paula came to an abrupt halt as a green-blue iridescent flash clued her into the presence of a river dragon nearby. It turned and looked at her, bright blue eyes wise and calm. After a moment of silence and mutual respect, the dragon moved properly into her view and arched its sinuous back, raising its crest. Paula lifted her chin and brushed back the dark fringe to look more intimidating. The only sign the dragon gave of seeing any change was to raise its scales in a largely vain attempt to inflate its size. Abruptly it put down its scales and ran in a blaze of colour, uttering a high keening cry that faded as it retreated.

Paula turned to see who had disturbed her, smiling as she recognised the intruder. “What brings you here, Martha?”

Her friend grinned in response, lighting up her tanned sombre face. “You, actually. I came in search of you.”

Paula half gestured to herself, merrily. “Why trouble yourself?”

Martha grew serious at once. “I care about you. Aren't I allowed to?”

“Certainly, as I do.” 

Martha smiled a little incredulously. “Anyway, surely it's time to go back now?”

Paula raised a single eyebrow, then tilted her head back and assessed the position of the sun. “I guess. Why did you come to find me, Mar?”

“Oh, you know, I hardly see you now.” Her manner was evasive, which baffled Paula. “You're always out walking.”

“It's spring.” Paula waved the sprig of wattle at her. “The best time of the year. What's your favourite season?”

“Winter,” said Martha definitively. “Cold and empty and bleak.”

“Why do you like it that way?” she asked in surprise. Last time they'd talked about the seasons, she thought Martha had waxed poetic about the dying fire of autumn. 

“It's silent,” was Martha's quiet response. “Nobody bothers you.”

Paula paused to assess the time, decided they had to go back and led the way; Martha trailed her. “I thought you liked people.”

There was a short silence. “People don't tend to like me.”

“That's nonsense,” she responded immediately. Martha smiled, sad and sarcastic. 

“I don't tend to like me.”

Her calmness bothered Paula, and she sped up slightly. “Well, I do. You're fun, conversational and well read.”

“Which is why you disappear alone for hours.” She caught up and shot Paula a sidelong look, as if to say, I know your secrets. Except there were no secrets to know. 

“I like spring. It feels so alive and fresh, like all the past year's mistakes are washed away and there's new growth instead.”

“Very poetic.” Instead of amusement, Martha's tone was sour. She dodged past Paula and trotted quickstep the whole way back.

%%%%%%%

“I don't know what I did wrong,” finished Paula, twisting her hands nervously. “She got mad and I don't know why.”

Her mother glanced hurriedly across to check the next load wasn't ready, then turned to Paula again. “When people aren't happy it can be a temptation to take it out on others, especially those who are.”

“She said she was worried, and then she just changed and didn't want to talk to me.”

“Rebecca!” The shout made her mother focus on her own work; Paula moved her hoverboard closer to her father so he could load it up. This one was three bags of flour, heavy on the back and requiring stabilisation, which Paula remained still for while her father adjusted the controls. When it was done, he gave her a thumbs up and she gestured with her gloves, rising away from the site and on the journey to higher ground. It wasn't as easy to handle the unbalanced board; she would have done a lot more, and easier, with a transport hoverboard rather than the jury-rigged family board, but it was more economical and the decree had been that fuel, not time, was of the essence, since they'd planned well in advance. Indeed, today being the day before Big Tide, they had expected to have no more transport to do apart from the people, but someone had been digging too enthusiastically in their garden and cracked an underground storage container, so all of that had to be moved. 

She was most of the way there, wind in her face, when a fast personal hoverboard raced up beside her, village elder crouched to stave off the wind. He matched her speed, then unwound and said, “I'll take over from here. Take my board and go back—we need you to persuade people to go.”

“What?” She was already moving, assessing how to swap boards without any risk of either of them tumbling into the trees below while stepping across. “Why?”

He grimaced. “Turns out there are people who haven't prepared and don't want elders coming to help. Your dad suggested you could try and help instead.”

She started to shuck the gloves, then changed her mind and pressed buttons, keying them to the elder's hoverboard instead. As ownership switched, both boards lurched violently, and Paula barely held her position. The elder was wearing magnetic boots and so didn't run the risk of falling. Once she had stabilised it, she said, “So where do I start?”

“Ask your dad when you get back.” His expression was calm and focused as he adjusted the settings to accommodate for his weight. “For now, just get going. Time is of the essence. Big Tide waits for no man.”

[januaryisnotanartist]

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

I saw that requests are open! I can't play the game so I'm not sure how destructive Crowley's surprise entrances are (if I'm wrong then skip me or correct me somehow), but how about some headcannons (or whatever you prefer) where the crush or s/o gets injured when pushing the boys out of the way or protecting them from debris or whatever Crowley leaves behind? For Vil, Rook, Riddle and Leona, please!

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona is annoyed because he didn’t need you to protect him, but you had done so anyway. He doesn’t plan on showing you gratitude for something he didn’t ask for, but you can tell he feels some type of way about you getting injured on his behalf. He tells you to think twice before stepping into something you can’t handle but you don’t pay that much mind, happy to have his attention all on you for awhile as he felt he needed to keep an extra watchful eye on you so you “didn’t do anything else foolish”.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle certainly hadn’t seen that coming and while he wants to ream out Crowley, he’s much more worried about your well-being. He’s a little flustered that you protected him out of the blue like that, wondering if you thought him so weak he couldn’t defend himself. He tried to turn it into a learning moment but it was only to cover the guilt he felt, wanting you to see his own skills as well as develop your own so he wouldn’t have to worry too much about you.

Rook Hunt:

Rook actually managed to save you from the brunt of the damage, seeing that you were trying to protect him and attempting to return the favor in the moment. He apologized for his skills not being at the level they needed to be to protect you properly, hoping you’ll forgive him and give him one more chance to keep you safe. You don’t like the implication that you’ll be in danger like that again anytime soon but attending a school like NRC meant expecting the unexpected.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is grateful but he certainly wished you had at least saved both of you rather than just him. He’s irritated that Crowley’s dramatics had led to your injury but he has some scolding for you as well, mentioning that with magic that could’ve been easily avoided. Still, he’ll help tend to your wounds and assure you’re well taken-care of. He might even teasingly call you his hero, glad to know he could turn to you if he was ever a damsel in distress (which would never happen, but it’s the thought that counts).

[eyeofhurakana]

Title: “Unlike Fiction” Chapter: 2/? Pairing: Sampo x Reader, Gepard x Reader Reader: Gender Neutral / Illegal Underworlder living in Overworld Relationship Level: Sampo - Ex-Beau / Gepard - Current Beau   Trust: Sampo - Low / Gepard - Moderate Summary: After finding out that Gepard never informed his parents about you, the craziest thing occurs. Your ex has arrived to whisk you away… 

[Chapter 1] 

Despite how things ended between you, Sampo Koski still manages to remain ever so striking in his appearance. His cobalt hair sways attractively in the light wind while his piercing emerald gaze fixates on you. Even that cunning mouth of his is sporting its usual breezy smile. 

You expect him to gloat or be smug. Maybe even cast a childish ‘I told you so’ in the form of a sneer. 

So here you are, braced for the worst and yet… 

None of these things happen.

A chuckle escapes him for seemingly no reason at all as he watches you. It’s light and pleasant. Maybe even a hint of gratitude…

He’s… just happy to see you. 

“You absolute madman,” you finally say with an unexpected laugh as you wipe your tear-stained face with your sleeves.

“Actually, I prefer to advertise myself as rather calculating, decisive, and immensely good at problem-solving. Always gotta stay one step ahead of the competition,” Sampo says with a soft playfulness as he lists off each quality off his fingers, “Oh, and let’s not forget my impeccable conversation skills.”

He steps closer with a gentle smile, becoming more illuminated by the soft orange glow of the heater. He stops short of you to place his hand over his chest before giving a light bow in greeting.   

“Though I’m sure you’re well aware of all of those things. I mean, it hasn’t been that long, has it?”  he asks with mock fretfulness in his tone, “Surely, you haven’t forgotten all about me already?” 

“Hardly,” you reply.  

A small smile finds its way back onto your face, and Sampo looks even more pleased to have helped you retrieve it. Luckily, he has the sense not to badger you about what happened. A sense of relief finally washes over you.

You’re not even sure if you could confide in him such a thing. Or anyone for that matter. It's just too mortifying.

Regardless, now isn’t exactly a good time. 

The entirety of Belobog’s mobile security force is en route to the Landau mansion now. You can see Silvermane Guards charging up the streets from all directions to reach the estate. There was no doubt that this was taken to be a city-wide emergency despite it being but a single wealthy family’s home. Yet in doing so, they were leaving their original posts completely unguarded. 

All hands on deck would be required in ensuring the total safety of the Landau family. 

It leaves an oddly bitter taste in your mouth. This has to be another desperate Wildfire mission. Your face pinches as you wonder about the impending casualties. 

The building trembles with more shockwaves created by yet another bomb. It’s coming from the southwest this time. 

“Don’t worry. The bombs are only for theatrics,” Sampo informs you reassuringly, “It’s just a diversion to get a few warehouses on the northeast side freed up for uh… ‘borrowing’ a few items.”   

He cracks an amused grin down at your perplexed face. 

“You were making that face again~,” he singsongs with a breathy laugh, answering the other unspoken question in your head. 

He knows you too well. One look and he reads you like the front cover of a tabloid magazine. Now if only that went both ways… 

A wintry wind bypasses every bit of taffeta in your overpriced outfit. Despite standing right beside the heater, the thin material gives little to no insulation. A shiver slides through you, causing you to hug yourself to rub the chill away.  

Instinctively, you see Sampo start to raise his hand only to quickly force it back down. Then he looks like there’s more he wants to say to you, but he restrains himself at the last second with an awkward chuckle. 

“Ready to go?” he inquires instead, awaiting your command. 

You wonder what it is he originally wanted to say, but you know that he’ll never tell. Not even if you were to offer him a substantial amount of shields. 

Unwilling to start another tiff over such an old feud, you give him a decisive nod. Without wasting any time, Sampo tugs on a device he had latched behind his back. Your mouth falls agape in shock the moment you recognize it in the heater’s light. 

“Ah ha! So you did swipe my line launcher! You little-! You said you couldn't find it!”   

“Okay, first off, I did look for it and I didn't find it... at that point in time. Secondly, need I remind you that I am a perfectly honest businessman?” he huffs melodramatically just before waving your device with a teasing smirk, “I would never steal. That being said…”

“That being said?” you parrot back, awaiting what possible answer he could have to prove that he didn’t pilfer your things post-breakup. 

“That being said,” he repeated, obviously trying to wring out a witty answer in the small amount of time he bought himself, “Clearly… I simply appropriated it. See? No wrongdoing at all. Albeit, it'll be for an extended and undefined period of time, but hey, that's how things go, am I right?”

Sampo turns to point the rope gun toward a neighboring building before casting a wink in your direction. Then, his back becomes taut as his expression becomes more focused. He looks like an entirely different person, but it only lasts a few seconds before he shoots the line.

It lands perfectly against a building adjacent to your location and with enough height to fully egress the Landau estate. 

He turns to you, waggling his brow in a ‘You see that?’ fashion. He’s obviously seeking praise for getting it on the first try. That or remind you of what you’re missing. 

“Yes, yes. Nice shot,” you say with a small laugh.

Sampo puffs his chest proudly while clicking a small lever on the device that cuts the rope. 

“I thought you might like that.” 

“Even if I do, that doesn’t mean you get to call dibs though,” you insist while folding your arms in front of you.   

“Aww, but why not? Finders keepers, right?” he replies with a sly grin, “Besiiiides, I’m obviously the better marksman with this thing. I think that you and I can both agree that this little trinket belongs with me.”    

“Excuse me?” 

He bursts into laughter and you can see that he duped you just for that very reaction. But it’s also very apparent that he has no intention of giving the line gun back either. 

Sampo kneels to the ground to tie the rope end securely to the railing. You watch in silence for a moment before another question creeps into your head. 

“Well then… I take it that you’re hoping to get a good price on it?” you inquire a bit sadly.

His hands slow in tying the rope. 

That’s not a question you should ask. You both know that. The question you posed isn’t just about the line gun.

You tense as Sampo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he refocuses on the strength of the knots and ensures that the line is as taut as possible. You wince a little, certain you had breached an area of conversation that you should not have. 

It shouldn’t matter what he does with that gadget. But you can’t help but feel like if he's just willing to sell it off to the highest bidder that maybe this was a small glimpse into how he viewed your past relationship with him. Something to keep around and entertain him until it outlived its usefulness… 

A sigh escapes him as he suddenly stands up. 

“You know… I realize that it’s me and all,” he says slowly while turning to close in on you.

You instinctively back up until you feel the railing hit your lower back. Sampo brazenly leans in, reaching around you to grab the rail that’s behind you. He has you successfully boxed in between his arms with nowhere to go. You can't get over how close he is as you suddenly start to feel very warm. However, his expression seems a little tired.  

“And I get that you have this perception of me that I think every little thing is a commodity. Because yes, it can be,” he adds in a low tone of voice while drumming his gloved fingers against the metal bar with his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, “But I think you and I both know… that *some things* just aren’t for sale.” 

You struggle to keep your head. He made sure to say that last part with a hint of sensuality. You're sure of it. That or alcohol is the devil for making you think so.

"I feel like you're just saying that to be nice.” 

"Mm, I don't think you're very interested in me being nice right now... I think... that you actually..."

Sampo then chuckles, catching himself as he bites his lower lip. He wants nothing more than to lean in just a little further to see just how far you'll go. But unfortunately for him, you are still very drunk. He reluctantly pushes on the railing to extricate himself from an entanglement that he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to say no to if you gave up so much as an inch. 

He opens his mouth to say something else but stills when Gepard’s voice can be heard getting closer. 

“Ooh hoo hoo. It seems the newly appointed Guard Captain is looking for you. If I’m not mistaken, that’s your name he’s shouting,” Sampo says, trying to keep things light despite the seed of jealousy burning in his chest, “That is your name, right?”  

“...” 

He sighs as his jokes fall flat. Part of him wishes he didn't come onto you so hard as he's sure that didn't help. Even so, he's not about to abandon you.

“Hey, hey! Turn that frown upside down and for a limited-time sale of 5 shields, I’ll take you home without saying another word,” he pitches with that famously irresistible smile, "Look, I know you're feeling a bit cautious, but I think you can tell that I mean it this time. Well?"  

“...2 shields.” 

“4 shields.” 

“No shields.”

“What? No. You can't just-”

“No shields and one hug. Final offer.” 

“A hug? Hang on. Are we talking about a sideways friend hug or a real hug?”

“Full frontal hug. These two arms wrapped tightly around you. Five seconds, tops.” 

“Heh heh. Are you sure that I’m not the one getting the better bargain here?” Sampo replies while enjoying the small victory in plucking you from the darkness once again.

Gepard's shouting of your name is getting louder which means he’s nearby. The rustling of chainmail and clanking of heavy armor grows ever closer. They must be looking to secure the manor and you're probably the only one left that's unaccounted for.  

“Aww. Well, looks like our time is up! Let's skedaddle! But first-” Sampo then pulls you tightly against him, lifting you slightly with one arm as he uses the other to brace against the railing, “I’d like to collect the payment promised to me. Can't have you skipping out on your bill, after all.” 

He grins smugly. Getting one more chance to have you in his arms is the icing on top of this whole fiasco. While keeping a firm grip on your waist, he discretely reaches back to hook the slider onto the rope. 

And then… 

Like the loon that he is, Sampo freefalls backward with a boisterous laugh, gleefully taking you with him.  

AN: I love this dum-dum way too much. I hope this chapter was satisfactory. I'm gonna add more Geppie next chapter. Making Sampo silently burn with jealousy while he grins as if nothing is wrong might slowly become my new hobby.

Anywho, if you made it this far, thank you for reading. May you be visited by Sampo in your future pulls. <3

[yanyanderes]

on season 4 of tmnt 2012 and am being reminded of raph being one of my first childhood crushes so here you go. this is no masterpiece, not proofread, and i’m sleepy but it’s ok because yandere turtles.

this is embarrassing.

(y/n) had been learning ninjitsu with the help of the turtle brothers and splinter for several months now. although their turtle boyfriend insisted that he had enough skill to keep them safe, they insisted that they wanted some sort of protection for when he couldn’t be there.

in fact, if anything, their training brought them closer together. it was no secret that raph enjoyed the thrill of a good spar, and although (y/n) was fine with cheering him on from the sidelines, it was fun to experience the thrill head on. besides, now that they themselves were training, it made it easier for (y/n) to understand and appreciate the dedication raph put into making himself stronger.

they were getting strong. of course, raph was much stronger, he had been training for years, and would occasionally sneak in some playful banter such as “is that all you’ve got?” or “awe, come on, don’t go easy on me!” while (y/n) themselves were running out of breath. but still, they were definitely getting stronger.

so it was humiliating that they found themselves in this situation, snuck up on in the middle of the night, arms and legs bound by some purple dragon grunt and held ransom.

“yeah, yeah, keep struggling. you’re not getting out of here ‘till those freaks give us what we want!”

the tight rope digs into (y/n)’s skin, leaving nasty red marks in their wrists. had there not been tape over their mouth, the words spilling out of their mouth would be a mixture of swears, curses, and “when my boyfriend gets here, there won’t be any of you left to clean up.”

speaking of boyfriend, the sound of yelling, metal clashing, and unconscious bodies falling rings throughout the building. yells of rage and screams of terror blend together as footsteps fast approach, and the fear on the purple dragon’s face becomes more noticeable. by the time raph bursts through the door, the purple dragon has a knife against (y/n)’s neck.

“not another step! if you want them back in one piece, you better-“

his threats were cut off by his own screams. blood runs down his hand, a ninja star having lodged into him. the gruesome sight makes him drop his knife and step back to clutch his bleeding hand, giving raph the opportunity to rush up and give him a firm kick to the head, knocking him back several feet.

“raph! thank god, you’re here!”

(y/n) looks up at raph in relief, but their smile falls from their face rather quickly when the turtle remains uncharacteristically quiet.

“raph?”

if the turtle can hear them, he doesn’t make it known. instead, he runs forward and collides his fist with the purple dragon’s face. again, and again, and again.

“raph! it’s alright, i’m safe now! please, just untie me so we can leave!”

again, their words fall on deaf ears, and they finally take action when they hear the cracking of bones. they manage to wriggle their way over to the purple dragon’s dropped knife and cut themselves free, though it was definitely a struggle. they drop the blade and stand up, sprinting over to the turtle in red.

“raph! it’s ok, i’m okay!”

raph snaps his head over to look at them, and the expression on his face makes (y/n) flinch. he was mad, and not just usual hot-head raph mad, this was unbridled rage. pure white eyes, teeth bared like a wild animal, one fist balled around the collar of the whimpering purple dragon-

gulping, (y/n) places a hand on raph’s shoulder, feeling how tense his muscles were. of course they were expecting him to be angry, but this was a whole new level.

“please, let’s just leave.”

raph has to take a few deep breathes, but eventually, he grunts and tosses the criminal to the ground. he gets in the purple dragon’s face, making the man back away in fear.

“if you ever do much as look at them again, i’ll smack the back of your head is hard, your eyes’ll pop out!”

the man seems to understand the threat as he nods and curls up into a ball. satisfied with his reaction, raph let’s put one last huff before grabbing (y/n) and wrapping an arm around them.

“don’t worry, i’ve got ya.”

it feels so strange to see him so gentle with them right after nearly beating a man half to death. the situation feels more troubling when they walk out and see the other grunts raph had taken out to reach them. they had knocked people out before, but the scenery now was so much more brutal. (y/n) looks down, no longer wanting to see the carnage around them.

raph didn’t let them leave the lair for a long time after that.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Feeling horney...... I have no rules, I know it'll be amazing! If you want of course... No pressure! ❤

Espionage wasn’t the hero’s favourite tactic in their whole repertoire. In fact, they were incredibly bad at acting.

Which is why this whole operation was doomed from the very beginning — the hero swore they would screw up. They were supposed to go undercover on the painful extravaganza the villain called “party.” And taking account of the villain’s and hero’s complicated past, this was a disaster.

“Great Gatsby my ass,” the hero mumbled as they made their way up the expensive flight of stairs. The villain definitely knew how to impress their guests. Downstairs, wealthy drinks and rich entertainment were displayed, enough of it to make the hero dizzy.

Every celebrity ever was cheating on their spouses there and the hero knew that if they’d been interested in gossip, this place would’ve been a goldmine.

But the hero was here for important information. Not for rumours.

The actual house was a nightmare. Getting lost was easy, but thankfully, the hero wasn’t here the first time.

Once they were in front of the villain’s office, they picked the lock. As soon as the lock gave them the satisfying click, and they finally got to enter the room, their heart jumped a bit. They were in. This could work. The mission wasn’t cursed. Despite their poor skills as a spy and hiding in crowds, they could do this.

They closed the door quietly but it wouldn’t have mattered — with the playing song’s bass banging through the whole house, no one would’ve heard it anyway.

But before they could reach the desk, their instincts started screaming. They weren’t alone. Their whole body turned cold as their suspicions got confirmed.

“Ah, my favourite ex visits me again.” The hero swallowed and took a deep breath before they turned around and saw — as expected — the villain, dressed only in expensive clothes. As always.

“Don’t call me that,” the hero said, their brain already alarmed.

“But it’s true.” The villain looked unholily delicate. “You’re my favourite ex.”

The villain was in front of them before the hero could even reply with words. However, their body replied with a blush and wavering thoughts.

“And now my favourite ex is stealing from me, hm?” The villain closed in on them, forcing the hero to take a step back and then another and another until they bumped against the desk. “Not very heroic.”

“Those plans are governmental property,” the hero reminded them but their voice was weaker than they intended it to be. “You’re a thief and a liar. You’ve always been one.”

“Hm,” the villain answered. Their eyes dropped to the hero’s lips and it almost made the hero angry how their own heart dropped just as quickly. It provoked old feelings they had sworn to bury. To burn. “You’re both as well, then.”

The hero almost wanted to laugh but the villain was too close. If they had moved, they would’ve touched inevitably.

“Oh, please. I’m not on your low level.”

“You stole my heart and you’re lying about your own feelings. A thief and a liar,” the villain said and they had the audacity to grin as the hero’s ears burnt. The villain leaned over and suddenly, their nose touched the hero’s cheek. “Admit it, this relationship isn’t over.”

“It is over.” The villain let their finger run along the hero’s wrist, just like they knew the hero liked it. The hero made the mistake of putting their other hand onto the villain’s chest. They didn’t push them away, though. Slowly, the villain’s hand wandered to the hero’s lower back.

“It’s been three months. Have you moved on yet? Because I have not. I think about you constantly. I wake up, thinking you’re next to me. I dream about you,” the villain whispered, their breath hot against the hero’s skin. “And I see you on the news. You’re not happy. You look miserable. You know I can fulfil every wish you’ve ever had. I can please you like no one else. You miss me. And I miss you.”

“No…” the hero answered with a trembling voice. They didn’t want to think about the villain shirtless but they couldn’t banish those images that were burnt into their brain. They hated how right the villain always was.

“I will leave if you tell me to,” the villain mumbled. Their index finger played with the hero’s hair. “I will leave you forever if you want. But if you don’t want me to leave, if you want me, I’ll show you how much I’ve truly missed you.”

The villain waited. But the hero didn’t want them to wait. It was true. All of it. Terribly true. The hero wanted their former lover back.

The hero’s hand slithered up the villain’s chest until they grabbed their enemy’s shoulder. They seized them closer.

“Fine. Make it good,” they said. The villain pulled back and grinned. This was all the villain needed to let their lips connect and their tongues touch. They were hungry, they were desperate. And the hero realised that they were too.

The heat between them was almost unbearable as the villain’s mouth slid down the hero’s neck. Much too soon however, the villain pulled away.

“Get on the table,” they commanded and without thinking about it, the hero sat down. “Spread your legs.”

The hero obeyed as the villain’s hands on their thighs divorced them. The villain positioned themselves between the hero’s legs.

“One last confession, my silly hero.” The villain dropped to their knees and looked up as if they were the obedient one. “I don’t even have those plans. I just wanted to see you, so I started a sweet rumour.”

The hero didn’t care — with the villain’s shoulders between their thighs and the villain’s mouth exactly where they needed them, the hero was something they never had been in their career: selfish.

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!

enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

��Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[oraclekleo]

Kim Taehyung (BTS) Kinky* Reading

Hello and welcome!

I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.

Disclaimer:

I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.

If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Kinky

Questions:

Position

Libido

Turn On

Kink

Dirtiest Secret*

Full Name: Kim Taehyung

Stage Name: V

Group: BTS

Kim Taehyung

V / Taehyung (BTS)

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Kinky*

Position - King of Cups

Taehyung takes a dominant role in a relationship. He’s no hard dom but he’s the one setting rules. He absolutely hates drama queens and possibly too loud talking as well. He's a highly moral person and will be very strict to his lover. One hint of cheating and he’s showing them the door.

Libido - 4 of Swords

It looks like Taehyung is taking a break from passion now. His libido is in a state of hibernation and nobody knows when it wakes up again.

Turn On - VIII Strength

Taehyung is likely to feel attracted to strong, mature and independent people. As mentioned before, he suffers no drama and he will look for someone who’s good at dialogue and compromise rather than a mean and vindictive shrew. He needs a person who can deal with all his sides, including the hidden and more wild ones. His ideal match is likely a skilled lion tamer, metaphorically speaking.

Kink - III The Empress

Taehyung’s weakness is a woman of grace who is an insatiable acrobatic lover in bed and a perfect and efficient housewife outside of it. His demands are high in this matter. He wants to be pampered on all levels, his senses going through ecstasy. His skin is very sensitive to touch and his lover should keep that in mind and tease him with feathers, lace, ice cubes. Alternatively he will enjoy massages and kissing all over his body. When the mood is right, Taehyung will go crazy for a little whipping with a crop.

Dirtiest Secret* - Knight of Wands

The biggest secret is that this well mannered and dignified young man turns into a fiery beast in the right hands, of course. While his inner beast is snoozing and chained up at the moment, when the right person comes into his life, the inner animal will arise and burst into flames of passion. Taehyung can be one superior lover with many skills. With the right lover he loses control over himself and gives in to his instincts. Expect bruises, bites and sore muscles after a night with a V-erewolf.

Thank you for reading!

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