hantheheart · 6 months ago
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uhhh another one cause im brainrotting
Isekai Imagine: Arthur Pendragon (King Of Chaos; 4 Knights Of Apocalypse era)
this one goes out to all the bitches who got salty about the absolute whiplash slap of a character change in our boy
(its me, im bitches)
👏Second 👏verse, 👏same 👏as the 👏first!👏
You wake up in a big fancy ornate room and find that you've somehow body swapped with some wildly beautiful woman, though you only see her visage in reflections and yourself when looking at yourself.
As you're attempting to take in your surroundings, you hear a banging at the massive ornate door leading into the room.
"Princess you must escape, hurry! He'll be here any moment!" The person on the other side calls and, in your panic, you snatch up one of the ornate swords from the wall.
Their scream is cut short as the door is flung open.
The two men at the door are familiar enough that you feel the blood drain from your face.
Chaos Knight Ironside holds someone- presumably the person who'd been trying to warn you- by their throat as some indescribable horror magic warps them.
Your breath is stolen from your very lungs as a man with wild orange hair and purple eyes enters your room.
The King of Chaos himself smiles at you and bows at you. "Greetings, Princess. I apologize for the commotion." He acts as if he was telling you about the traffic on the way here, but the blood on his cape and shoes have you raising your sword.
("if it were me" moment but)
panicking from the impossible situation, you cant help becoming a bit delirious
"Now, Princess-"
"NO, you stay- haha- stay right the fuck there!" You point the sword directly at the King who holds up one hand, looking surprised.
"Excuse you, how dare you speak to-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP IRONSIDE, YOU CRUSTY ASS BITCH!" The man physically flinches, eyes wide with anger but Arthur motions for him to back down.
"Now Princess, let's-"
"QUIT CALLING ME THAT, I don't know what the fuck is happening or why the fuck I'm- *wheeze*- who the hell I am! But you- hahhh- do not come any ffffUCKING CLOSER!"
His gaze hardens and he frowns. "You need to calm down, I don't wish to harm you-"
"Oh but the blatant MURDER of assumedly everyone in this CASTLE is fuckin' FINE, IZZATIT?!"
You laugh, breathless and dizzy with fear and confusion, stumbling back from the door. Your body is shaking, but whether its from the adrenaline or panic is hard to say.
You back right out to a balcony and stop with your back against the railing.
Arthur tenses as you start to climb back onto the railing.
"This is some- fuck- this is just some crazy fuckin dream! And I- haha- I am not FUCKIN with this anymore."
And you fall
A giant hand made of stone rips from the side of the wall to catch you and as you lay there, dazed and lightheaded, Arthur appears over the railing with a relieved sigh.
When you wake up again, you're in a different ornate bedroom but there are no windows or even a door
As you get up, a door appears from the wall and someone enters the room.
"Oh hell no, what the fuck is this"
"You speak quite crassly for a princess."
Arthur motherfuckin Pendragon has the gall to bring his bitchass in the room and give you this gentle amused look
"i... no. I have not been awake long enough to fuck with this." And back under the covers
"Not even curious as to where you are?"
"just woke up dude. im not even a person for another hour"
the door shuts but you have the very distinct feeling of not being alone in the room
You roll over and stare at the man who's pulled a chair from thin air or some shit and is simply waiting
"You really gonna do this? Just sit here?"
"I'm curious about what you said before. Whatever made you think that was a dream, let alone how it seems you knew my Knight by name."
You sit up and you can't help but glare even as he laughs.
"You's a whole bitch."
"You are quite the interesting person." He leans forward, crossing one leg over the other as he smiles at you.
"Yeah, I wonder why."
"Do you know why I came to your kingdom?"
"Not a clue."
He holds out his hand to you. "I've been on the search for a bride to stabilize my rule. Though, after that little stunt you pulled, I didn't think you would be safe in that place."
"You mean you kidnapped me."
"You fell from a balcony on the fifth floor. Was only right I make sure you receive medical care from trusted aides."
"And this plays into your search for someone dumb enough to marry your tyrant ass?"
"Tyrant is rather cruel." You can see his jaw clench and his hand tense. If this is a dream, this is satisfying as fuck. If it's not.
Fuck it. When are you gonna get the chance to tell off one of your favorite characters for being an asshole?
"What the fuck else am I suppose to call the jackass who thinks kidnapping people and who knows how much fuckin murder you've done? And I'm sure you've done a million other fucked up things by this point"
Oh he looks about one wrong move from yeeting you into the afterlife and for a second -just a second- you consider toeing that line
just one more
he throws his head back and bursts into laughter
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy getting to know you, dear."
And he gets up, that chair vanishing
"Wha-excuse me?! the fuck does that- don't walk away from me!" But he goes, out the way he came and the door vanishes behind him, leaving alone in the room once more
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pencilofawesomeness · 10 months ago
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“I made her feel powerless, I knocked her down and— and she still makes me feel scared.” —Satoru, So Find One And Seize It, Chapter 5
So a consequence of rereading Chapters 4 and 5 of SFOASI from The Odyssey series by the utterly incredible HotCocoaaa ( @biscaanii ) and then listening to Hawk in the Night by Maddie Buckley soon afterward is getting immediate brainrot for the most depressingly brutal piece I could start 2024 with. It worked too well for the Gojo Clan, especially Cocoa's rendition of Satoru and his grandmother, Akemi. She's a terrible woman and she fascinates me.
Go read this series guys it's so great—
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revasserium · 9 months ago
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Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince
opla requests are: open
lips on every cross
opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not
summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.
a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".
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01. when love arrives
(“Hey Princess —“)
The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.
The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.
“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.
Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.
“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”
Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.
“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”
Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.
He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.
Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.
Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.
(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)
Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.
Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.
He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.
And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.
02. a study of light and dark
The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.
“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“
Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.
“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.
“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.
“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”
Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”
Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.
When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.
You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.
As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.
“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.
The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.
(“Talk to me, Princess.”)
When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.
03. etymology
Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.
It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.
From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.
Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.
He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.
The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.
He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.
04. tip of the iceberg
It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.
Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.
You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.
Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.
“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”
“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.
Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.
You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.
“A drink for an answer,” he says.
You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.
“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.
You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.
“No lying.”
You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”
He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”
This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.
“Got a question in there somewhere?”
Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”
You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”
Zoro hums, “Your turn.”
You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”
Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”
You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”
Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”
You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.
Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.
“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.
The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.
And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.
“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”
05. the secret history
It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.
The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.
“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.
Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”
Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.
You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.
Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.
It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.
��Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”
“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.
And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.
Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.
“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.
You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.
If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.
Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.
“Did you know?”
“What?”
Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”
Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.
“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”
06. eternal day
Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.
“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.
“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.
And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.
07. endless night
By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.
08. torn asunder
Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —
Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.
A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.
A flash of pale pink catches his eye.
Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.
He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.
His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.
And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.
It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.
“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.
Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.
Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.
“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”
At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”
Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.
09. the tower and the throne
The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.
“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”
The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.
“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”
The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.
Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.
The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.
Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.
You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.
For the first time, you wince openly at her words.
10. waiting for the rain
The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.
You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.
There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.
“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”
You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.
“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.
“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”
You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.
“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.
“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”
You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.
“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”
At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.
“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”
You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.
Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.
“Insolence!”
“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”
And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.
You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.
“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”
Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.
It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.
11. to reap and to sow
You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.
“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”
Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”
Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.
“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”
You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.
“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.
“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.
His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”
It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —
Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.
“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.
You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.
“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.
“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.
But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.
“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.
“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”
You bite your lips, “I think you did.”
Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.
“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”
12. lost stars
It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.
You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.
You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —
“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.
Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.
“Did he hurt you?”
Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.
“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”
Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”
Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.
“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.
Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”
“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”
“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.
“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.
There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.
“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”
You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.
“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”
Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.
“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”
Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.
“Oh?”
“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”
And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.
“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”
It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.
“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.
“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.
“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.
“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”
You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.
Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.
You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.
“Thank you,” you say.
“For what?”
“For coming after me.”
Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.
“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”
But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”
“Hn.”
Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.
“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”
“Hm?”
“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”
You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.
“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”
“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”
Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.
“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.
And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.
But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.
It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.
“Z-Zoro…”
“Yes Princess?”
You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.
“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”
“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.
“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”
Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.
Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.
“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”
2K notes · View notes
illyrian-dreamer · 8 months ago
Text
And Then There Were None – Part 2
Azriel/fem!reader
Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.
Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.
Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.
<<&lt;Part 1
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Word count: 5.2k
Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes
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You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them. 
A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home. 
Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom. 
The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails. 
But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too. 
You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.
You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped. 
Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search. 
Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.
You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…
With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within. 
You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses. 
The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen. 
Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called. 
Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found. 
The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.
If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the  wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches. 
Perfect. 
You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen. 
Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?
Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.
The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began. 
As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind. 
Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales. 
The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.
Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape. 
And then you looked down.
It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips. 
You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall. 
With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.
On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks. 
To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night. 
Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape. 
It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold. 
“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind. 
Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel. 
You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence. 
They were am incredibly handsome couple. 
Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped. 
“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.
You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame. 
“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently. 
The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too. 
“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…
“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.
You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…
“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male. 
He knew. He would have told her.
Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it. 
“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”
You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it. 
Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.
You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”
Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”
“Me?”
She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”
“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.
She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”
A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone? 
“How many days was I-?"
“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft. 
“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.
You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.
“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"
“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric. 
Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.” 
You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair. 
“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”
Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.
Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?
Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”
Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”
You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed. 
As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”
Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be. 
You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”
His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight. 
Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”
Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised. 
Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you. 
Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening. 
“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted. 
Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”
You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room. 
You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned. 
“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”
You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power. 
But you had never heard of Velaris. 
“This place is a secret?”
Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”
“Why?”
Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply. 
“And you trust me with such information?”
Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”
You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you. 
Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy. 
“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”
Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”
You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”
Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”
You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.
“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask. 
“A bath then,” you nodded.
Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”
You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.
“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.
Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her. 
You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced. 
That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within. 
You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater. 
A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant. 
You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?
It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.
A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.
Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here. 
You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely. 
———— 
You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within. 
There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.
With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”
“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.
Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours. 
“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"
Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”
You nodded. “Are they?”
“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.” 
Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door. 
“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her. 
With a deep breath, you followed in silence.
————
“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in. 
Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.
That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly. 
They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were. 
“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger. 
“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added. 
Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”
You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality. 
But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”
You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish. 
“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”
You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?
The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.
But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”
“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.
“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say. 
Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.
Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.
“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened. 
Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines. 
“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly. 
You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.
“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”
Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder. 
How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair. 
Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes. 
“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”
You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”
Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief. 
No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed. 
“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered. 
You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.
You blinked a few more times.
"What did you say?"
Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."
But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.
And then it hit you.
It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.
A broken noise escaped you.
“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.
Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.
Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”
“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”
“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.
Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”
Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.
“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.
Immediately her hand lifted.
“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.
Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.
“My family, my siblings? Dead?”
She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod. 
A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face. 
You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.
“Impossible,” you scoffed.
“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.
“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”
“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort. 
“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back. 
Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home. 
Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”
“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was. 
“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”
Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true. 
But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.
“I will not stay here and listen to this.”
You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side. 
Azriel.
His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.
If only you had your knife.
“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.
Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”
Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.” 
You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time. 
“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.
“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”
The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend. 
Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own. 
“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”
Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions. 
Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.
“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over. 
Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.
The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."
You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.
Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.
The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it. 
"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."
Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die. 
“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile. 
And then you made sick. 
Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes. 
"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."
But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.
That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."
The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.
Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.
Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.
And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.
The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.
Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.
Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down. 
You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin. 
In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment. 
“Just rest now. You are safe.”
And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.
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A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!
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vetteltea · 1 year ago
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congrats on 500 !!!! you deserve it sooo much 🫰🫰
i know you aren’t really a lando girlie….but since you’re so talented,,,can i request strawberry tea w lando & the napping together prompt ? thank you !!!! 🫶 (and congrats again !! 💞🤧)
☕︎ strawberry tea
LN4 and 'napping together'
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He’s home. 
Every triple header you can’t attend gets a little troublesome; the apartment feels lifeless, the walls lackluster of laughter bouncing around. The puzzle the two of you had yet to complete lay dormant on the dining room table; a stark reminder that every meal without your boyfriend was eaten curled up on the modular sofa you’d also been sleeping on, the only comfort being a fluffy blanket, the smell of him already fading. 
The door had clicked, the text messages having faded since he had stepped off the plane, obviously more focused on returning back to you than responding to your questions. You didn’t care, not when you reached the entry foyer and saw him; tired, sore but smiling. His suitcase and travel bag faded into nothingness as a choked sob left your lips, running down the hall in sock feet and leaping at your boyfriend, two strong arms holding you against him, hiding his own head in your neck. 
“I’m home.” He’d whispered between shivers, overwhelmed from feeling your body pressed against his for the first time in over three weeks. Between whispers, in regards to how much they’ve missed one another, he’s pressing kisses against your face, your hands finding and threading through his curls, pleading he wouldn’t disappear without you again, at least not for a week.
Lando is so gentle, he can feel you shivering, probably from the lack of sleep and the realization he’s returned. It takes a few moments, unraveling yourself from one another, letting him link your fingers together, guiding you down the hall and back into the lounge. His heart melts when he sees the blankets cocooned into a makeshift bed like you had done oh-so-often for movie nights. 
“Have you been sleeping out here?” He coaxes, shifting from where you had been standing next to him, clamoring into the modular setup, immediately wiggling out of his shoes and hoodie, leaving him shirtless and oh-so-cozy. Lando didn’t miss the blush that tinted your cheeks, both from his toned chest and heavy question. 
“The bed felt…so empty without you.” The whisper left your lips. You hadn’t slept the first night, reaching out constantly to feel his warmth and shattering each time it hit that he wasn’t there. He’d never admit, but Lando had the exact same problem, having to physically exhaust himself into sleep. It would never come out, he’d never want his sweet girl to worry. Instead, he wordlessly raises his two arms, a signal for you to come and join him in the makeshift bed; he really doesn't have the energy to haul the cushions and blankets back to his actual bedroom.
It takes you less than a moment to react, bundling straight into his arms, both of you soft with giggles and gentle kisses. It’s like fitting a piece back together, your head immediately rests against his sternum, arms encircling you and holding you tighter. He’s warm. Oh, so warm and so comfortable that you can’t help but feel your eyes droop, getting heavier with the sleep debt you had gained. Delirium begins to overtake you both, adamant on napping rather than talking, it happened after years together.
“Do you want dinner?” You’d asked, voice teetering on the edge of sleep, only drawn closer when Lando’s hand reaches out, cupping your cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. 
“We’ll order later. Right now I just want you.” He presses a final kiss to your temple, lying back into the blankets and dragging you with him. It’s less than a few minutes before sleep overtakes you both, eyes heavy with only one thought running through you both, that you’re home. 
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part of the vetteltea 500 celebration!
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sundew199 · 1 month ago
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Sensitive
a/n: we love freakynoa in this house. Based on this thought
Tags: roronoa zero x f!reader, nipple play (zoro), smut, teasing, orgasm denial, edging
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Zoro will never admit it outloud but getting nipple piercing while he was borderline blackout drunk was he best thing he could've done. the gentle brush of your hand as your reach up to hold the side of his face as you kiss him, has his skin bristling and holding back a whine.
He overdid it with the sake tonight, that's one thing he's sure of seeing as he's extra sensitive to the slightest touch from you. But he can't let you know or else it'd end in him loosing his mind as you tease the fuck out of him. Zoro didn't mind your teasing, enjoyed it throughly most instances, but he just wants to be inside you.
Perched on his lap, you bit back a small squeal when he lifts your hips just enough to pull down his pants, dick popping free with a dribble of precut making him glisten.
"Sit." Asking so out of breath and pulling down your shorts as well, eager and not wanting to waste anymore time, not when the heat of your cunt could be felt through the fabric.
"Not taking it slow tonight?" Asking back with a smirk, moving the tip between your slit and wetting it, watching his eyes roll back and his chest heave with one deep breath.
"No, sit." Growling back with a smidge of irritation, holding you by your plush ass cheeks and resisting the urge to slam you down, rather wanting to watch your cunt stretch and take him in, swallow the inches until pressed so deeply inside of you.
Obliging, your chin dips down when the head of his cock pushes past the tight ring of muscle, legitamently stretching you to fit the remaining inside. One thing about Zoro was that he was wide and big, everywhere and dwarfing you so perfectly.
Finally all the way inside, you rock your hips forward, pushing your chest out to show off the sharp hard nipples protruding off your chest, enticing Zoro. But his were the same, the gold barbells through the skin, looking so tight through his nipple you all but flicked it.
“Fuck-“
"Sensitive." Laughing through a moan, letting your head fall back as the rocking of your hips increased, nudging the head of his cock along that spongy spot deep inside you. Zoro growled under his breath, taking a fistful of your ass and scooting you forward as he leaned back into the bed.
"Stop fucking with me just ride me god dammit." Moving his hands to the underside of your ass and lifting you up and down because he was so impatient. The tight contract and release of your walls around his dick were sending his already dazed drunken self into delirium. You were so wet and tight, it was impossible to not feel the way he felt when you rode him, and god did he love it when you rode the fuck out of his cock.
"I am, you're just in a hurry." Placing a hand over his, caressing the topside of his palm, leaning forward to slot your lips in his. You were a bit inebriated as well, not as much as the man below you, but enough to initiate the sloppiest kiss of the night.
Saliva mixed messily over your lips, the tip of Zoro's tongue tracing over yours lazily, licking into your mouth like a thirsty dog. His breathing was still so heavy, like you were slamming your hips up and down at an ungodly pace. Oh this was perfect, he was so out of it already and you'd only just started.
"Fuck you feel so good, wanna fall asleep with you like this." Holding the back of your neck tenderly now, looking at you like were a goddess that he had the privilege of fucking. He kissed you again, slowly and moved his hand off of your hips to give you the freedom of doing what you wanted.
"Of course you would," Speaking into his lips, slowly moving your hand across his chest and palming over his left nipple. He jolted under you, softly whining and reaching for your lips again, only to notice you moving away. "You just love fucking this pussy huh?"
Tweaking the nipple once the words left your mouth, Zoro's face turning from relaxed to contorted, holding the undoubtable moans in to not give you any sort of satisfaction. He nodded in confirmation to your question, letting out a puff of breath and snapping his hips upward as a sort of revenge for messing with his overly sensitive nipples.
It was just to easy to not mess with them, pinch and tweak them between your fingers, watch him writhe under your touch like you would under his. The motion of your hips slowed to a stop, squeezing your walls around him purposely while you gathered saliva to drop down on one of the pert buds between your fingers. Zoro groaned low, seeing the string disconnect and hissing when it landed perfectly center. Your thumb pressed down, moving in one slow circle and meeting his eyes, flashing him the mischief oh so present in your irises.
"You know what happens when you do that."
You hummed in acknowledgment, keeping your thumb in motion, imagining just what he was talking about. It usually ends with him cumming too fast and annoyance soon after at blowing his load before fucking you like you deserved. But he wasn't going to this time, because you weren't going to let him till you had your fun.
"Just wait till I tell you too, that way you can last a bit longer." Slurring out in a tone of deceit, knowing Zoro would be inclined to the exact opposite. Though he was drunk on sake and pussy and given his current state, he didn't have room to protest.
As expected, he groaned in irritation, throwing his head back and palming your ass with a slap. The sting was delicious, the way his fingers sunk into your flesh and kneeded it desperately. It was always a night to remember when it came to fucking Zoro, every single time.
Resuming the moderate rise and sink of your hips on his throbbing cock, you kept your hands occupied on his nipples, messing with the barbells going through them and keeping them nice and hard. He was a mess, moaning and whining with need, rutting his hips to fuck you deeper while also staving off his orgasm.
You pushed him back all the way into the pillows, using one hand to hold your self steady and the other to wet two of your fingers, wetting the buds.
"Fuck baby, I can't." Pleading softly, opening his eye and watching your head dip, your back arch and his dick nearly slipping out. Your tongue flicked over one, humming humorously at the gritting of his teeth in response.
"Mm but you can, just a little longer." enclosing your lips around it and sucking hard enough to pull a surprised groan.
Zoro decided to let you focus on that, bending his knees to sink into you deeper and just fuck the shit out of you. He regretted it when you accidentally bit down, slapping your ass and growling. Even though he'd taken some control back, he was still waiting for you to tell him to cum, because deep down he loved and respected to you to not disobey you, especially when you asked so nicely.
Ensuring both were getting adamant attention, Zoro suddenly stopped fucking up into you, taking in a shaky breath and stifling a whine. He nearly came and that was all the more obvious with how still and quiet he was.
Slowly you began to bounce your hips, Zoro's nails digging into your flesh to get you to stop, his eye pleading at you and question just what the hell you were trying to do.
"I'm going to cum, don't-"
"But I want you too, can you cum for me?"
His eye narrowed, resuming his hold on your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and unleashing the brutal rhythm you were so akin too. Your head fell onto his shoulder, moaning his name rather loudly, that fat dick of his reminding you just who was below you.
"Not so bold now huh?"
"Zoro-" Keening so quietly, fluttering your eyes against his neck and harshly gripping the back of his thick hair. He shuttered on a moan. slamming you down harshly and releasing a growling groan. He pulled you off, held your chin in his hand and looked at you with an unspoken question.
Nimble fingers tweaked and pulled at his nipples, hips from below snapping harsh and fast, breaths mingling in the air filled with sex and lust.
"That's it baby, don't stop."
He sounded so sweet when he spoke under his breath, made your pussy flutter around his cock, squeezing around him tightly and cumming finally. Zoro always came after you did, your orgasm always serving as that last push for him shoot ropes of cum deep into your pussy, keep you filled like he wanted.
Long minutes after he emptied inside of you passed, his dick softening inside you while you lay on top of him. The smell of sweat mixed into the air, and both of you were so tired to moved off of one another.
"Glad these serve a purpose than just being pretty." Mumbling into his chest, admiring the shiny gold barbell pierced through his nipple.
"Go to sleep." Grumbling back, throwing an arm around you and turning on his side and taking you with him.
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letters-unsending · 2 months ago
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No. 52
////
"We have to get up," Hero slurs, their words tinged with delirium.
From beside them, laid flat out of their back and heaving vaporous breaths into the night, Villain laughs. The cold shapes the sound into thin whirls.
"You're fine here," Villain sighs, "they'll find you. They'll heal you." Snow trickles down the back of their neck and wets their torn suit. It feels as though they're melting into the ground, flesh pooling off of bone.
"No, we're getting out of here." Hero grunts, hands scraping along the ice for purchase. His arms and chest tremble with the effort. Pausing, he twists his head. Snow burns his cheek as he glances toward Villain, whose profile blurs, formless in the wintry dark.
“I was aware of the consequences, Hero,” Villain coughs, “it's fine.”
“It's not.” Hero insists, forcing their weight onto their wrists, lifting themself to their hands and knees. Pain sloshes down between their eyes as they rise and they blink at the ground through fiery tears. “The Organization won’t believe me. I can't defend you, even after everything you've done for me."
Nausea stays Hero’s tongue. Between their palms, the ground spins, a churn of snow, ash, and bloody grit.
“Stay down,” Villain fingers twitch, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Hero pushes off their hand and reaches over to squeeze Villain’s shoulder. They pull, trying to pry Villain from the ice, but their back screams, muscles lactic and overstrung, drained by the overuse of their power. Their hand slips off Villain’s shoulder and Hero catches themself, palms beside Villain’s ears.
Villain stares up at Hero. The far-off blaze glints in their eye and rounds the side of their nose and jaw.
“It’ll be okay,” Villain breathes.
Hero squeezes his eyes shut. The wind scrapes along his fingers and sings a chill up his arms. “I'll free you,” he swears, slumping down, “I'll find a way.”
Villain shudders as Hero’s weight drapes over them. Their frostbitten nose fits beneath Villain’s chin and their hair itches along their jaw. The warmth passed between their chests is so sudden that Villain’s skin aches, shocked by the transition in temperature.
“You can't stay like this,” Villain whispers, stock-still.
“We've got time,” Hero murmurs into Villain’s neck. The city alarm blares far away, quiet, an almost pleasant encore to the shrill breeze.
Villain’s throat and ribs constrict as Hero breathes against him. The comfort is jarring in the wake of adrenaline, searing like hot water spilled over cold-swollen knuckles. Villain’s eyes sting as they stare into the gray sky.
A few snowflakes drift down, twirling alongside flecks of ash. One melts along Villain’s temple.
“What happens once you free me?”
“Anything,” Hero replies, “anything you want.”
In lieu of a reply, Villain lifts their arm from their side, reanimating the nerves in their numb fingers. A screaming pain connects from elbow to shoulder, but they pull. Their hand lands on top of Hero’s back.
Hero trembles beneath their palm.
“I want to believe you,” Villain croaks, fingers digging into Hero’s skin, “I really do.”
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georgiapeach30513 · 5 months ago
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Out of the Sea, Part 1
Summary: He needed your help, and you couldn't let him drown. Now that he's back he doesn't need your help, just you. Your body. Your everything. Both of you spent the years desiring and obsessing over the other. Now that you've reconnected you want to teach him the ways of the ocean, and he wants to teach you the ways of him. Will this be a matchmade in heaven or in sin?
Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader
Rating: mild
Warnings:  language, brief depictions of drowning, naïve reader, dirty thoughts, naked reader, mentions of claiming, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 3.6K
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
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“Boy!” The young boy flinches back away from the edge of the boat, staring back at a sun worn old man. Boat life had aged him far older than the years would suggest. “Don’t step close to the edge. Don’t you know what’s down there?”
Taking a step closer to the edge again, he peers down into the blackened water. He couldn’t fathom what could be in the depths of the ocean, much less this odd little place the man called Emerald Cove. “Aye! I said don’t step close to the edge. Do you swim?”
“No, sir.”
“Stupid boy. Your father is a right old git for sending you out here. If you fell in that water, you’d be gone. There is no saving you. Many a man has sunk straight down to the bottom, but it wasn’t because they couldn’t swim. You know what it was?” The young lad shakes his head no, and an odd feeling to peer back into the water comes over him. “I see it on your face, you hear it don’t you?”
“Hear what?” He asks sheepishly. His skin crawls, and he takes one timid step to the edge. Hearing isn’t exactly how he would describe it. It is more of a longing. Something is calling him towards the water.
“You’ve got that look to you. That itch. Usually they don’t claim one so young. There’s mermaids in these parts. They’re not beautiful creatures. They’re demons. Luring men to their watery grave. All those men that have drowned in that very water. It’s because they were chasing tail they weren’t meant to have. They like it here because the water is too deep. It hides them,” he isn’t sure what chasing tell is, but he knows that something is needing him to look in the water.
The old man was crazy and had seen far too many movies. That much the boy knew. There is no such thing as mermaids. It is just a ploy to get him to step away from the edge. He knows he should, but still something is edging him closer. It isn’t a sound. It isn’t an itch. It’s a need to see. “Go on, and look. I’ll be right here to keep you from falling overboard,” the man cackles and it sounds like he swallowed more than alcohol, but the entire bottle. Letting each shard of glass create scars that make his voice so scratchy and raw.
“Go on,” he urges yet again, and the boy takes a careful step closer. Every inch he gets closer, it feels better. Like part of him is being complete as he peers over the edge of the boat. He’d got on this rickety ship and pretended it was a pirate ship and he was held captive. But now all he wants is the water. The ship led him to where he needs to be, and it’s job is done. The water is all that matters now, well, more what is in the water.
Now his imagination takes him to a place of being made to walk the plank. Gazing into the water in the distance and realizing where it got its name from. Such brilliant shades of blue and turquoise mixing and making it appear like emeralds, but the where the boat resides is a blue so dark it gave the impression of being black. Letting his eyes focus on the darkness just below him, and he stares. Stares too hard that his eyes play tricks on him.
Staring too long, and at nothing. The old man was crazy. There is nothing but fish down there, maybe some sharks or dolphins. But mermaids didn’t exist. It was an old seaman’s tale to keep their men from jumping off the ship in a fit of delirium. Living at sea could make the best fisherman crazy.
Others were too scared to venture out here, and the captain knows this is the best place to fish because it hadn’t been pillaged by other fishermen already. He sees a glint of something not quite right. The light must have reflected off a fish’s scale oddly, but he leans over the boat. Gazing even harder. The fish had to be massive, and a color he hadn’t seen. Reflecting different shades of green and purple.
“Aye!” A rough hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s pulled back roughly. “Do you realize what you were about to do, boy?”
“Grandpa, I was just looking in the water,” the boy argues. He was almost there. Almost to his destiny. He knows the water holds secrets, just not what.
“No, Ari. You were just leaning so far over the boat that you were about to fall in. Go help your uncle, and stay away from the edge. No matter what, don’t go near the edge, you understand?” Ari looks up at his grandpa with a mix of confusion and a frown on his face. He didn’t want to help his uncle. He wants to stay right here and try to get a glimpse of the fish.
“And for fucks sake, tell your mom I said you need to learn to swim before you come back on my fucking boat!”
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A young Ari takes a look around the deck, thankfully seeing no one around. It has bothered him all day. This itch never stopped, and it was sinking down into his skin, caressing over his bones, and he had to look. There is no other explanation, he needs to know what lies beyond the darkness. He saw something.
Maybe it was an exact reflection of the sun in the right place, but he doesn’t care. He has to look. Taking a deep breath, he glances around again before his bright blue eyes find the still water. It’s blue black color is eerily still. Leaning over the boat as much as possible. A part of him feels goofy that if it was a fish it would have swam away already. Hours later it still wouldn’t be there.
But the need to see and know is too strong to ignore. He walked around feeling like something was missing. A part of his soul is hiding below the deep dark surface, and he needs it. Needs to grasp it in his hand because it belongs to him. Looking into the darkness more than the sun. A darkness that should swallow him whole.
Cold.
Too cold for swimming. And he couldn’t swim.
Suffocating.
Ari sits up in his bed in a cold sweat. Chest heaving with every labored breath he takes as his meaty hands run through his hair. Gulping air instead of the icy cold water he had inhaled all those years ago, but that dream always woke him up. And he could never remember anything past the suffocation and chill of the water.
Some would say it was an obsession, and it was. How else do you explain a small boy that couldn’t swim washed up on the shore of Emerald Cover, and no recollection of how he got there? The only evidence that someone had brought him to shore was an odd pearl necklace that he kept hidden that day. Now he never removes it.
He reaches his arms above his head as he gives a big stretch. Yawning while scooting himself to the edge of the bed. Wearing only that pearl necklace that lays in between the valley pecs. His constant reminder that he forgot something. Someone. Or it was all in his head. But someone had to have saved him.
“Ahh!” His cousin, Frank, screams before slamming the door. “I just saw your dick.”
“You jealous that your dick pales in comparison to mine?”
“Are you jealous that I woke up with a girl gagging on mine?” Ari rolls his as he reaches for a pair of pants. There was nobody in the bed with Frank, unless she snuck in before they set sail. Hiding until now. “You know, if you want to enjoy sea life you gotta get started early. Can you swim now, baby boy?”
“You know I’m bigger than you now, little bit?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Ari slings the door open. Towering over Frank who smirks up at his younger, but larger cousin, “Well you did almost drown. You even got a little trinket to show for it,” he gives the necklace a little tap before his face falls immediately. “You know I’m just kidding.”
“You know that this isn’t a joke to me. Our grandpa is carrying on about mermaids, and I fall into the water, can’t swim, and manage to be washed up on the cove shore, can you make that make sense? Especially since I had this.”
“You really need to get out and smell the salt water. They don’t exist. Grandpa was an alcoholic loon.”
“He was babbling on about a fucking call, and hearing them. How many sailors have drowned in the cove?” Frank shrugs his shoulders, turning around to head up the stairs. “Frankie, I’m not crazy.”
“Then what or who did you see?”
“I don’t remember,” it’s the same answer he always has. Never can remember the moment from being in the water to being on the shoreline. “But she was real.”
“She?” His cousin looks over his shoulder at him. “You went from you don’t know to a she? Your mom is right, you’re a hopeless romantic, but you spent your entire life chasing after a woman you aren’t even sure is there. What color was her fin? How does one fuck a mermaid? And maybe if you got laid you wouldn’t be dreaming of a ghost,” Ari has fucked many times. Sex isn’t his issue. It’s the fact that those women were never his savior.
“When are we getting to the cove?” Ari asks, irritated that no one ever took him seriously. He only had a vague memory of that day. Cold darkness, and then warm scratchy sand, and…there was a woman, no, a girl. He’s sure of it.
“We’ll be there before lunch. Please, don’t lean into the water this time. You’re too big, and you will definitely sink to the bottom unless your titties can be used as a flotation device. Or maybe a pink mermaid will save you.”
“She wasn’t pink,” he blurts out without thinking. Gasping before he closes his eyes, and he gets a clear flash of a girl around his age grabbing hold of his arm, while pleading to someone that she couldn’t let him die.
“Daddy, please!”
“Stupid human, they deserve to die if they can’t leave us alone.”
“But he’s just a boy. What if I wasn’t released from the net?” Her violet eyes shine up at her father before he grabs Ari’s arm.
“Hey,” Frank snaps his fingers in his cousin’s face. “What happened?”
“She wasn’t pink, and I’m not crazy. I need to get to the cove immediately.”
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You sit on the beach, staring out at the rising sun. A practice you have done every day for too many years. Sitting and waiting. Wasting your life away, so your father said. Most of your kind had migrated away, but you stayed. Dried yourself out every morning so you could sit and wait. Talking to rocks and the coconuts. Becoming worse than a hermit crab.
“Ugh,” you sigh, collapsing back onto the sand as you squint into the sky. You hoped that he would return, and now you feel you’re just wasting away on an island all alone. You don’t know how much longer you can possibly wait.
You wonder if he even grew up, or even if he likes the water. Does he think about you like you think about him every single day? Waiting in this stupid ass uncomfortable sand when you should have your fin, and enjoying the fucking water. Standing up, you stare at the horizon as you start to take slow calculated steps towards the water.
Today is the day. If he didn’t return, you couldn’t live in solitude like this anymore. You’d migrate to where your kind is. The moment the sun set you would be gone, and you’d wonder forever if that boy would ever return. Living in solitude isn’t the way you wanted to spend your life.
You’d become crazy thinking that this is all you were going to have. You wanted a life, and love, and seeing how he wasn’t coming back, you’d settle for just friendship, and maybe passion.
Looking out into the distance, you tilt your head as a mirage comes into view. You had finally cracked, and had begun to see things. Standing there for far too long before you yelp, and run off into the tree line, keeping your eyes trained on the ship, and the man.
He is beautiful. They didn’t make men like him, even in the ocean. Tall, thick, muscles so hard that his shirt seized, looking like it would pop off at any moment. Hair that you desire nothing more than to run your fingers through it. And your belly heats up, and these stupid things called legs start to clench together in an unfamiliar way.
He is too far away to know if that was your boy. But if that boy grew up to be this man…you didn’t know what you were going to do.
Ari sees a figure standing on the beach, and starts moving around quicker, “Frank, hurry your skinny little ass up!”
His cousin scowls, looking around his shoulders at his ass, “It’s not skinny. I have a nice ass, thank you very much.”
“Just hurry up, I see her,” Frank doesn’t want to give into his cousin’s incessant obsession with the girl he believes saved him twenty years ago. “Frank!” Ari screams again as her body runs into the tree line. “Fuck,” he grunts before diving into the water.
“I hope you can swim now,” Frank sighs before doing the job himself. “Chasing women from the water. Fucking nerd. I shouldn’t have even brought him with me.”
You look in horror as he jumps into water, and start to bolt out of the trees. If that was your boy then he couldn’t swim, and you wouldn’t allow him to die this time either. Stopping when you see him swimming perfectly before retreating back into hiding. Humans can learn to swim, and maybe your boy did. Maybe this isn’t your boy at all but this one in the water is making you feel even more.
Biting on your lip as he emerges from the ocean, he throws off his shirt, and you sigh. It looked perfectly fine clinging to his damp skin, but looks even better laying on the sand. His golden skin glistens with the salty water, and he shades his eyes, looking in your direction. And you zero in on his chest, it is your boy. Your necklace hands low on that glorious chest.
“I won’t hurt you,” he calls out into the trees, exactly where you are, and you shudder. His voice is deep. He’s no longer a boy. He might not hurt you, but the banging of your heart through your chest will. “My name is Ari,” that is a lovely name. You never got it before. You whisper it to see how it tastes on your tongue. It’s perfection.
“I was a young boy, and nearly drowned here, and…I’ve been trying to get back ever since,” it really is him. You aren’t crazy, and he did come back. Still carried your token that claimed him as yours. He thought about you just as much as you thought about him. “Please, you don’t have to be scared.”
Inhale. Slowly exhale.
Ari gazes at you as you slowly emerge. His cheeks become more rosy as you step out of the shadows. His eyes betray him, and he doesn’t want to look at your body, but it is on full display. Your tits pert and peeking through your hair, while your legs frame your core, and he feels the urge to drool. Struggling to not look to hard, but fearing to look away.
“Holy shit,” Ari remembers that he isn’t exactly alone when his cousin speaks, and you scurry off into the woods. Cursing under his breath when he turns to glare at Frank. “That was no mermaid. Why is there a naked woman on the beach?”
Ari doesn’t respond, only grabs his shirt from the ground, and starts to jog towards where you went. Moving aside branches, and getting smacked in the face by a few until he sees you cowering on the ground, but your eyes shine brightly up at him.
Squatting down, he holds out a hand to you. “I don’t want to hurt you? Can you speak?” In lieu of answering, you nod your head. “So you understand me?”
“Yes,” you choke out, covering your mouth quickly with your hand. You hadn’t heard the real sound of your voice in years.
“Do you know who I am?” You nod enthusiastically, and with a smile. “You grew up.”
“You, too,” your giggles make him smile. Genuinely smile. And then you get onto your knees, and your tits sway with every move you make. He strains, begging his body to remain calm as he watches you crawl on all fours. Getting right in front of him before standing to your feet, and your hand presses against his chest, over your necklace before your eyes roll up to meet his own, and his body trembles.
“Are you okay?” You ask, scared that he overexerted himself in the water. Grabbing his hand to place on your chest. “See, breathe like me.”
“I’m sorry,” his eyes fall to where his hand rests, but instead he is looking at the way your tits rise and fall with every breath. “It’s a shock to see a woman naked on the beach.”
“Naked?” You run that word over your tongue a moment before tilting your head to smile at him. “Are you naked?”
“Would you like me to be?” Damn, he knows he shouldn’t have said that considering you seem confused about the concept. “Your…well, tits are right there.”
“Tits?” You understand some things, and others not at all. “Show me my tits.”
“Fuck,” he groans, looking back at your chest. “You have no clothes.”
“Because I have none. Do I need them?” not to do the things he wants to do to you, you don’t. He can’t say that to you. There’s an odd innocence about you that makes him want to protect you. Frank wouldn’t be an issue, but he doesn’t want you corrupted by the world. The only corruption would come from him. “Ari?”
“Where did you come from?” His hand moves to your wrists as his fingers rub over the odd violet patches on your skin. Giggling again makes your tits wiggle too close to his face, and when he gives you a specific look, a hunger that food couldn’t fulfill rumbles in the pit of your being, and you feel so — empty. “Are you okay?”
“I feel tingly,” you whisper, and those blue eyes cast down your body, and your body clenches. “I don’t understand.”
“Does it hurt?” You shake your head no, because it doesn’t hurt, you just feel without. “Where…?” Grabbing his hand you pull it between your thighs, and your body hitches. A deep moan releases from his throat, and you mewl. Waiting on his sight to meet your own. “Do you have a name?”
“Adria,” good. He can’t be so close and personal to you if you didn’t have a name. He’s weak staring at you. Your body is on fire, and he feels you throbbing on his hand, but it all feels so wrong, but only because you didn’t understand. And still didn’t care that he is feeling you in such a private and vulnerable place. “Ari?”
“We should get you dressed,” he removes his hand from your body, and holds up his shirt he discarded earlier. “Here,” it’s a struggle to speak when he thinks of covering you up, but he slips his shirt over your head. The wet fabric clings to your body, and leaves little to the imagination. “Do you live here?”
“I do now. My family migrated away years ago. I’ve waited for you. You’ve waited on me, too,” you don’t form it as a question, just press your hand up against his rippling chest. “It was worth it.”
“Is this where you want to stay?”
“Are you staying?” You innocently ask. He smiles, shaking his head no. “Then no. I’ve waited many years for you, Ari,” it may take time, but soon you will claim him with more than just a piece of jewelry. He would be yours, you could feel it throughout your body, into your bones, and into the legs that still didn’t feel right. He needs to be yours in every sense of the word. You want to encapsulate his life. He belongs to you.
”How do I make you mine, Ari?”
“I’m sure we can come — up with some ideas. I guess you need to meet my adopted cousin, Frank. Come on,” he doesn’t know how Frank is going to react. “Can you swim?”
“I shouldn’t go into the ocean. You see…”
“I know. I think I’ve always known what you are.”
“I suppose it’s time for you to claim me,” Ari clears his throat, looking up at the sky. “In whatever way you deem best,” Ari stares after you as you walk away. What was once an innocent boy’s life being saved is now a horny man given an open door to claim you. Dangerous games. Even more dangerous is the fact that he and Frank have been left to their own devices for a few weeks just to get here.
This is either going to be the time of your life. Or the time of theirs.
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songsofadelaide · 4 months ago
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The Loneliest Time
cw/tw: Company heir Gojo Satoru x novelist (f) reader, no curses au, there is only one apartment, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too + the surname Koganei [小金井] which means tiny gold town), mentions of (ex-boyfriend) Ryomen Sukuna x reader, meet ugly, drunken flirting, fluff and smut but no actual sex, falling in love, slice of life, drama, mentions of businesses, crime syndicates and racketeering, codependence and independence— both Gojo and the reader run away from personal baggage and eventually overcome them. ✧ Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. wc: 17.3k
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Scraping off the remnants of your earnings from your first book to get yourself that 1LDK in the heart of the city wasn't on your plans, but you were desperate to escape from your hometown… But no matter how alluring the city was, its dangers still existed.
There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk. He insists you are the one trespassing in his cosy little home.
In which the elderly landlady mistakenly offers one (1) vacant unit to you— a down-on-her-luck writer looking for a fresh start— and the infamous, runaway, reluctant heir of the Japanese household name, Six Eyes Enterprises, and all the chaos, falling into love and finding yourselves that ensues thereafter.
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— You.
The realisation that the world was messy and imperfect came to you the moment you found out your boyfriend of nearly a decade was an underground kingpin in your shared hometown. His notoriety reached you in the form of a nameless, pretty young woman informing you of your dethronement, stupid as it may have sounded. 
It was clear to you by now that the Sukuna you spoke of wasn't the same one you fell in love with before. Sukuna, who was once kind and sweet, now became abrasive and neglectful and he made up for his change of nature by lavishing you with so many presents that weren't exactly to your taste, but you thanked him nonetheless. 
Everyone urged you to be patient with the man, to wait— He's making a name for himself, making sure he provides you with a future worth looking forward to— Marriage has always been a bigger deal for women rather than men, but you could live without it, though sometimes you daydream a little. What's it like to wear a pretty ring? To have someone come home to you?
And what about you? Weren't you trying to make something out of yourself as well? 
He wasn't there on the day your first book was published and released, but in his place came an ostentatious bouquet of red roses and a simple note of congratulations. Still, the publishing house gushed at the sweet gesture of a busy boyfriend who kept his girlfriend in mind and managed to make time for her by sending her flowers. 
It was Yuuji who brought you to the hospital when you came down with a bad case of food poisoning, your family flocking to your side not long after he contacted them. Sukuna was caught up in some business transaction, but apples and oranges and every other sweet fruit that could fit in a basket were sent to your hospital room later that evening. 
You disliked how much Yuuji looked like his brother in his youth. In your drug-induced delirium, you screamed at the boy to leave you alone because that's all his brother has ever done for the last few years. 
In a perfect world, you most probably would have settled down with him— Sukuna, your long-term boyfriend. Yuuji adored you, too, and he'd have no qualm calling you his older sister for real if you ever did end up with his older brother.
Sukuna was there the day you were discharged. His suit and tie were a gorgeous coal-black and didn't look like something a regular salaryman would don to work. His car was new, too something you haven't seen on him before. He apologised for barely being there for you when you needed him most, chalking it up to the demands of his work. He was surprisingly talkative, too, chattering about how he kept your shared apartment clean and how he'd devote this day to you, to make up for all his shortcomings ever since he took on that job, whatever it was. 
How he managed to sweet-talk his way to your bed? You'll never know for sure. He was all smiles as your elderly neighbours cooed over you like mother hens would their newborn chicks after they heard of your last trip to the hospital. When he kissed you goodbye for the day, the older women gushed at him as well. 
"He'll be a good husband to you, just look at how he cares for you now!"
And you… could only smile at them. No warmth or truth, just pure disdain for him— and for yourself as well, for putting up with it. For tolerating it.
You were certain the love you shared in your youth was genuine, but what about now? Was he tired? Unlikely. Sukuna still came to you for solace and warmth— to feel your softness in his arms, but only on his terms. He always made sure that his gestures were grand and seen by everyone in your shared circle. 
Then it dawned on you— You must have been his front, a good woman to match his image of a law-abiding family man. He loved his grandfather and little brother and he probably loved you, too, but not so much to even consider asking you to marry him. It was clear to you by now that marriage wasn't in his cards, and was he breaking up with you out of pity? You didn't need any of it, though.
The pretty thing expected a struggle, perhaps a bit of hair-pulling, too, but you responded with a sigh and a shrug. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."
Ten years ago, your classmate Sukuna, star of the track and field club and the demon of the third Sugisawa Municipal High School, confessed to you while you were sharing your textbook with him in class. And despite his brashness and popularity, he was a surprisingly kind boyfriend to you. 
But now, all he was is a stranger.  
Despite your family's dissuading, as well as Yuuji beseeching you not to leave Sendai (poor kid's just caught between you and his older brother's breakup), you packed everything you could take from this town and just left. You could have your latest manuscript sent to you or burned to ashes, but at this point, it didn't really matter anymore. There was little your family and local publisher could do now that you've moved to Shibuya, in the heart of the city, your hand throbbing in excitement as the elderly landlady handed you the key to your own place after handling your documents for the apartment— a cosy little 1LDK that cost a bit more than you originally budgeted for, but for your peace of mind? 
Priceless. 
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— And the other side of the coin.
There were things Satoru Gojo could easily talk his way through: an officer barring his way down the road, a nightclub bouncer blocking his entry, his personal bodyguard Suguru Geto stopping him from making even more unwise decisions, and even his own mother beseeching him to grow up.  
As a child, he was given nearly everything he asked for like a typical spoiled brat— wild and wily and absolutely cunning, too, for he wasn't above using the facade of a precocious, charming boy to get what he wants. He was once his family's delight, but all he was now is a menace.  
He always seemed to grow older and more charming but never really wiser.  
"What use is all that studying English and arithmetic when we all know for a fact that you can't make any sound decisions?" Suguru, his secretary, all-around attendant, bodyguard and confidant, once scolded him in their youth. "You will have to start making wise ones one of these days."
And his bodyguard was right about that. Satoru was smart— book-smart— but not exactly the wisest. His inability to look beyond his current situations and necessities and his precarious lifestyle were liabilities not just to him, but to the company he was set to inherit. As the sole heir to the Six Eyes Enterprises, he showed up to board meetings when it required his presence and was frequently given a pass for all of his supposedly innocent immaturity. However, the shareholders and board of directors have seen enough.  
"I refuse to put my faith in this… boy," said Yoshinobu Gakuganji, one of the company's biggest movers. "If he refuses to step up to the plate, then I will have to take my business elsewhere."  
This was something Satoru Gojo thought he could easily talk his way through, but he didn't since he couldn't. Surprisingly enough, his parents were on the board's side with this one. Suguru didn't have to speak at all— the look of disdain on his face was clear as day. Still, the latter would never give voice to his disappointment since that was above his pay grade. 
Satoru could get behind the directors talking shit about him, but for them to police his every move, his circle of friends, the way he managed himself and his personal affairs, and then there's that potential arranged marriage with that mad woman, too… What was her name again? Ma… Makima? Whatever. He was partly glad the company didn't have such blind faith in him, because the child in him, whose every whim and demand was granted, would certainly doom the entire enterprise if he so wanted.  
And he wanted nothing more than to crush the damn thing to smithereens.  
On Suguru's day off, Satoru solemnly vowed to remain home that very day, but he left so soundlessly that they would've mistaken it for a kidnapping. Satoru was worth millions, if not trillions, and the kidnappers would have taken everything the manchild could easily access by himself. 
Suguru hadn't an inkling of what his charge planned to do. How could he, after all, when Satoru swore to stay in his sweatpants and out of trouble?  
On the day he vanished from his family home, he left all of his credit and debit cards linked to the company and simply disabled his phone's GPS. He took his personal, unlinked credit card, the one he used to buy his sweets and vices with, and paid an elderly landlady a hefty deposit for a tiny, inconspicuous 1LDK in the heart of the city.
Shibuya, the heart of Tokyo. Satoru paid no mind to the moving boxes lined neatly across the living room, bright eyes ever focused on the trees hiding the visible cityscape. The windows were open, too, a cool afternoon breeze blowing into the space. 
He may miss Suguru, but probably not all of his incessant chidings. 
Oh. There was no sharp interjection after realising he just zoned out. 
Perfect.
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— Collide.
The excitement of the move and the exhaustion of handling everything that followed afterwards made you incredibly restless overnight, but you still felt quite rested despite all of that. You were awoken by the gentle sunlight that filtered through the flimsy curtains provided by the elderly landlady. 
You reached for your phone on the makeshift bedside table made up of more boxes containing your belongings. You recall turning it off before going to bed so that you wouldn't jump at every notification you received. When you turned it back on, a wave of pings and pops greeted you, but you were more concerned about the sound of gentle clattering coming from your kitchen. 
Shit. Robbers this early? I thought this place was safe!
One of the many lavish yet useless things your ex-boyfriend bought for you was an unused set of golf clubs. The bag rested on the corner of your still half-empty bedroom and you found yourself slowly tiptoeing to grab one. 
Welp. You felt yourself swallow in anxiety. When you twisted the doorknob open and slowly crept out, you found one tall man standing before your newly-stocked refrigerator. His face was uncovered and he was in… sweatpants? He didn't give you robber vibes at all. 
There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk.
"E-Excuse me?! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!" 
The silver-haired stranger spat out the milk in surprise at your remark. "Excuse you! This is my apartment!"
You squeaked in surprise as he made his approach, but you raised the golf club higher as you were backed into a wall. He raised his arm and cornered you before wrenching the club from your hands.
"You—"
But you mustered your strength and adrenaline on your legs and jumped, the crown of your head hitting him squarely on his chin, just enough for him to black out for a moment, just enough for you to make a run for it. 
"Tengen-san!" You screamed as you made your way down to the apartment's management office, not at all caring for your state of undress. "Help! Th-There's a scary man in my unit!" 
It didn't take long for the three of you to be seated altogether in the office, warm cups of green tea served for you and the tall stranger in his— your apartment a few minutes ago. 
The elderly landlady Tengen had nothing but apologies for both of you. "I understand a real estate agent wouldn't have made such an embarrassing mishap, but I'm used to handling tenants and their documents… Perhaps my age has gotten the better of me."
She presented two copies of the lease to Unit 0041, and both of your seals in red signed off on the agreement. "My sincerest apologies. It seems I leased out the unit to both of you, but upon further inspection…"
Satoru held an ice pack to his reddened chin, the grimace on his face still evident even underneath those dark eyeglasses he now had on. 
"If I may, Gojo Satoru-san," the older woman started. "It appears Koganei Otome-san signed with me first. I can refer you to another place nearby if you would like it."
You were pleased to hear your name come out as the true owner and tenant of the unit, even though you were the first to run out of it in your encounter. The silver-haired man inspected the papers and found you edged him out of signing by just a few hours. You really did come first.
"…Sure, all right. Only because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he stated. "But you should know that she assaulted me—"
"E-Excuse you! I acted out of self-defence because you looked like you were about to attack me!" You argued right back at him. 
"If I wanted to attack you, I would have thrown the carton of milk at you." 
You couldn't tell for certain, but you felt him narrow his eyes at you. "We could have had a perfectly normal conversation without you backing me into a corner!"
And from across the table with the untouched tea, the elderly Tengen could only sigh amid the bickering. 
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Upon Satoru's approval, Tengen worked to find the young man a new home nearby, but he would have to remain with you in the meantime. The two of you returned to the minimal chaos brought about by your un-meet cute.  
"Do you even play golf? You don't look like you have the calves for it," the young man stated as he picked up the wood he dropped earlier. 
"No, I don't," you snippily replied. The needless argument somehow drained the energy out of you that you hadn't even the strength to swipe the club from him. "It was a present from my…"
"Ex-husband?" Satoru interjected. "What a strange gift to give his wife."
"No," you shook your head, admiring the shining piece of metal in your hands. "Just an ex-boyfriend."
"And… you moved here after your breakup? What, did he not want to marry you or something?" 
You pursed your lips. Oh, I don't need to get all emotional. He's just a stranger! "I don't have to explain anything to you." 
"I take it you're about to cry," he went on, his blue eyes meeting your glassy ones. "Please don't."
You bent down and buried your face into your knees, unwilling to show any more to the stranger you shared your space with. You were, however, willing to speak. Seeing as you weren't going to see him ever again…
"I'm a writer from Sendai," you started, voice muffled between your arms. "I'm a nobody here, but Sendai considers me a living treasure for encouraging youths to read through my writing. I might just be some shitty romance novelist here, but I paid for this pad with nearly everything I had."
Satoru sank into the couch where he slept last night, eyeing you in the corner of the living room. 
"I'm just trying to restart here, far away from all of the noise back home, with everyone telling me to settle down, even though I'm ready… But the proposal never came and he didn't even break up with me in person," you groaned. "I suppose I've earned your ridicule, so go ahead and laugh."
"A restart, huh?" He said absentmindedly. "Yeah, I hear you there."
You peeked at him through your messy hair. "And you? You look like you can afford better than this…"
"Ever heard of being inconspicuous?" He told you from across the room. "I know I can afford better, but I didn't wanna risk getting caught."
He swore he saw you flinch on the spot. "No, I'm not a criminal."
A sigh of relief. He almost laughed. This was a situation he could talk his way through. He ran a hand over his nape, thinking of the perfect approach. Girl's obviously been dumped, so let's appeal to her emotions a little.
"I apologise for scaring you earlier. That wasn't my intention," Satoru rose from the couch and bent down before you, his large hand now resting on your head, surprisingly gentle with you. "We signed a lease for this unit for the very same reason, so don't you think we should at least restart our first meeting in a more… amicable manner?"
You slowly raised your head to meet his gaze, a piercing bright blue that made you feel both safe and uneasy. "I guess…" 
"It's a pleasure to meet you, writer-san," he said with a grin. "I am Gojo Satoru, a… runaway of sorts."
Gojo… where did you hear that name before? Ah, well… not that it matters.
"My name is…" You gave him your name through parched lips. "You're free to stay here for as long as you need, but please replace the milk you drank earlier." 
"I'll do that and more, so cheer up," he chuckled. "Does chicken and beer sound good? Let's have some delivered." 
Delightful, you thought. I could use some food after all that's happened. "If you're paying, then by all means."
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You only realised now that drinking in the afternoon was fun. That playing hooky in the afternoon was fun. The living room hardly felt empty with all the jokes Satoru made and all the laughter you shared in between. Your coffee table was laden with the best fried chicken in town, cans of chilled Kirin Ichiban, and a delectable strawberry shortcake that all went down in the hatch smoothly and easily, but you were probably just hungry after all of that crying.  
"I am on my fourth beer now, Satoru. You hardly touched yours!"
"It's because I only opened this out of courtesy," he said, gently shaking his half-empty beer can in hand. "You're probably tipsy, now that you mentioned it."
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You drew away as he reached to pull your— he counted the empty silver cans on your side of the table— fifth can of beer from your hands.
"That's your fifth. Come on, you've obviously lost count," he stated, his slender fingers prying away the nearly empty can from your hands. "If you're tired…"
"I'm… I'm not," you murmured, breath hot from all the alcohol you consumed. The two of you sat closely on the floor, knees brushing against each other without a care about the sudden closeness you shared.
"Are you gonna cry again?" He asked, jokingly at first, but he couldn't help but brush his index finger on your cheek to cheer you up. You contentedly melted into his touch, his palm warm against your even warmer cheek. His thumb grazed over your closed eyelids, dragging away the burning hot tears that pooled in your eyes. 
"You have big hands," you said, holding his wrist in place as though he'd leave. 
"I think it's the other way around. Your face is small," he replied, tempering his grip on you. He had this monstrous tendency to break anything he comes into contact with and he didn't want to hurt you any more than you were now. 
"I should be proud of myself for this, for moving— moving forward," you felt yourself cry yet again. Ah, how embarrassing. But this man has seen nearly everything you could possibly show in a day— your state of undress, the indomitable spirit that brought you all the way from your little hometown to the heart of Tokyo, and all the hurt you carried with you even though you could have just left that behind.
"Why do I feel so sad and pitiful?" 
Satoru didn't speak, only listening to how your voice cracked under the weight of your pathetic self-pitying. He thought you were pretty at first, but why were you crying when you were having such a good time with him? He despised crying while having a good time. The women he usually took out on dates were always shining and fun to be around, no matter how shallow and hollow it may have been. Burying the sadness and self-loathing was easy in the noise his life brought him, but to sit here quietly with someone who wanted to deal with the issues in her life made him feel uneasy. And to think she was about to do all of it by herself.  
He didn't want to sit with someone so sad and miserable because now he felt like he was looking into a cracked mirror, a thousand replicas of his own sadness reflected right back at him. 
"I'm sorry. I know we're having such a good time, but the sadness is just there, sitting in the damn corner and I just want to kick it further." 
"Hear you there," he replied. You only noticed now how broad his shoulders really were with his entire torso facing you.
"What are you running away from?" You asked him, your grip on his wrist slightly tightening. 
"Noise," he chuckled. "So I'd appreciate it if you could be a bit quieter."
"Sorry, sorry. Of course," you whispered, nervously licking your lips before pursing them once more.  
Getting drunk with a stranger was against your good judgement. Hell, opening up to him was against your good judgement, too, but you didn't have to worry about that since he'll be moving away once the landlady finds him a new place. He will be a stranger again in no time. 
Oh, the goodbyes never stop, do they? The tears clung to your lashes, but you managed to wipe them away. "No more crying. For now."
Satoru smiled at you. "Sounds good. Now don't fall asleep here."
"Ah, but I'm st— Oh!" You shrieked in surprise at how easily he lifted you from the floor and slung you over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. "Haha! S-Satoru, please! I—"
Part of you was half-expecting him to throw you on your unmade bed and leave you to sleep, but he laid you down with all the gentleness of a mother cradling her child to sleep. His hand was warm on your back, over the cotton of your clothes, and larger than you initially thought.
"Sleep well, my sweet princess. Rest your weary little heart. I will be outsi—" 
You gently tugged at the sleeve of his sweater before he could completely draw away from you. "Satoru…"
His name left your lips so warmly and tenderly that it made him want to hear it again. It was his name. Satoru. Not ouji-san, not Gojo-san, not baby, not brat. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.
"If you can prove to me that you're not as drunk as I think you are…" Satoru had his knee on your bed now, his wide torso looming over you as you sank into your blankets and comforters.
"Did you know that the emperor is the utmost spearhead of the Imperial Family of Japan? Under the Japanese Constitution, Emperor Naruhito is considered a symbol of the Japanese state and the unity of all its people—" 
Satoru laughed— low, hearty and surprisingly sweet. You weren't even able to continue your monologue when he leaned down and kissed you quiet. This was against your good judgement, but the day has been incredibly long and you feel like you've known him for years now. 
There was no leaving the room now that you coiled your arms around his neck. You drew him in every second he pulled away, but you had nothing to worry about. He smiled between your kisses, contentedly drinking in every sound that left your lips until he's had his fill. 
He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, after all.
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The morning sun was warm, tickling your eyes open even though you didn't want to wake up yet. Your covers were heavy on top of you, but you moved to reach for the person lying next to you. 
It was Satoru, the morning sun beating over his bare back. He was still soundly asleep, pale lashes fanned out even though his eyes were closed. You gently reached for him, taking a lock of his hair in your fingers. Silver. The strands curled around your finger easily. "Pretty…" 
What time is it? You barely checked your phone after your encounter yesterday and it's completely dead now. On the floor were clothes from yesterday and a few used condoms which Satoru carefully wrapped in tissues. You didn't dare count anymore. 
Strong arms coiled around your waist as you attempted to slowly creep out of bed. Satoru drew you back closer to him, your back softly colliding against his chest. He nuzzled your neck, effectively tickling you breathless. "Come on now… You can't just call a man 'pretty' and expect him not to do anything."
"Sorry, sorry! H-Hey!" You laughed. "Satoru! S-Stop! HAHAHA!" 
He'd usually be in a hurry to leave after trysts and flings, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of your bed and the feel of your laughter reverberating in his own chest. 
Funny how you were threatening him with a golf club at this same time yesterday.
"Ah, no, please! Let me go for a bit. I-I'm going to the supermarket to buy some stuff," you wheezed at him while gently squirming away from his hold. 
"What, seriously? I wanna go, too!" He stated, rising just as you did. 
"Then let's get a move on!" 
You were used to going to the supermarket on your own, so it was a bit strange having someone following you around. Satoru made himself helpful by carrying the shopping basket for you and reaching for items you couldn't.
"What would you like for lunch?" You asked, not at all turning to him but knowing he was just right behind you. You picked up a bottle of mirin and checked its price. "How about some fish and miso soup?"
"Sounds good!" Satoru replied. You could tell his eyes vanished into his smile even through his dark sunglasses. Every once in a while, he would take your hand in his and beam at you with so much affection that it elicited whispers from the other women in the area. 
Well, he is super good-looking, you thought to yourself. Even in casual wear, the silver-haired man commanded the attention of the room even by just standing impeccably still.
You ran a quick inventory of all the items in your basket before eventually turning to its carrier, satisfied with its contents. "Oh, are you not getting anything for yourself? Like sweets? You should grab some while we're here."
"Ah, well, I wouldn't want to impose…" Satoru said, a little taken aback by your consideration. If it were someone else, they'd just order whatever they wanted without even thinking of me.  
"You know, the cake was the only thing you touched last night," it was your turn to smile at him. "Oh, let's grab some gummy candy or something!"
It was you who took him by the hand this time, leisurely pulling him to the sweets and snacks aisle. "How about some cola gummies? Or fruit gummies?"
On a normal date, Satoru would let the women order whatever they wanted, no holds barred, and many would take the opportunity to try out things they haven't. He was used to that sense of entitlement from other people, but consideration was a rather new concept for him. 
"Fruit gummies would be nice." 
"Let's try these yogurt gummies, too," you stated, happily dumping a few more packs of the said sweets into your shopping basket. When you lined up at the cashier to have your items rung, you were so busy making sure you didn't forget anything that you didn't notice him taking out his wallet from the tiny cross-body bag on his chest. He was already at the supermarket entrance with your groceries in hand.
"Ah, wait! I haven't paid—" You exclaimed, hastily pulling out your own wallet from your purse.
"Your husband paid for your groceries with his card, okyaku-san," the kind cashier stated. 
"H-He's—" You squeaked at their remark, only for Satoru to beckon you to come over, the same Cheshire Cat smile on his face. 
"Let's go home! I'm starving!"
Neither of you paid mind to the shadow that followed your trail because of your preoccupation with planning your meals for the day.
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In your old apartment in Sendai, there was a small money box that contained funds for grocery shopping. Sukuna often refilled that box without even looking if you've spent the money beforehand. 
It's been two years since you stopped opening the box because you've only been buying food for yourself. It still sat there along with his other belongings.
You probably didn't notice the twinkle in your eyes while unpacking your groceries from earlier, but you bought food for two people today. 
Well, Satoru paid for it— and without even telling you. "You know I can wire you the money—" 
"Nope, not happening," he interjected, closing the refrigerator door behind him after helping you restock it. "Please, you're letting me stay over at no cost. The least I could do is buy us some food."
"O-Oh," came your response. You didn't really have a rebuttal for that. 
"Mm, all good," Satoru stated with a long-drawn stretch of his arms. "Would it be all right if I take a shower first?" 
"Ah, sure. I'll go after you, then," you replied, running another inventory in your head as you started preparing your brunch. "Let's see, the mackerel, the salt, a bit of mirin… Oh, and the miso and dashi…"
"Orrr… We can conserve water by showering together," he said, placing his hands on the kitchen counter and trapping you between his arms. He leaned down and brushed a warm yet faint kiss on your nape, prompting you to turn back and face him. 
"S-Satoru!" You sputtered, a hand on his chest as you tried to avoid his bright gaze. "P-Please take your bath!" 
"All right, all right," he slowly backed off, but not before brushing another kiss on your burning hot cheek this time. "If you can wait for me, we can prepare lunch together. More hands make work easier, yeah?"
"I-I suppose so…" 
"Great. Then wait for me and I'll wait for you." 
You decided to check your phone and emails while you were waiting for Satoru to finish his shower. Among the many missed calls you received was from Tatara san, your editor from Sendai. What could they want? 
And so you rang them. "Ah, hello, Tatara-san! Yes, it's me…"
"Koganei-san! I'm so glad you got in touch with me. How have you been?"
"I've been well, thank you for your concern." 
"That's good to hear. Listen, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore because I don't know when I'll get in touch with you again, but it seems the publishing house isn't ready to let you go just yet."
Oh? "Oh. I-Is that so?"
"We're reaching out to some associates in Shibuya who can pick up my work and become your editor. Of course, I would prefer being the one to work with you instead, but I suppose a local editor who can meet with you more often is still the better option."
"I see. Thank you for letting me know about this, Tatara-san. I appreciate it."
"You're a treasure of Sendai, Koganei-san. Many young people have taken an interest in both reading and writing thanks to your influence. Please do keep it up."
"Of course. Thank you for taking care of me and my work as well." 
"Ah, here we are. An associate publishing house will get in touch with you soon, so please make sure you're reachable."
"Yes, certainly." 
Your phone was hot on your cheek despite the short conversation, but you could tell that it was just your elation. It feels good to be wanted.  
You scrolled through the rest of your messages and social media before eventually tossing your phone on your still-unmade bed. "Okay, let's tidy up a bit."
Among the clothes on your bed was Satoru's sweater from last night. It was from a popular high fashion brand and that further strengthened your theory that he must be some kind of trust fund baby. You were halfway through folding the thing when you decided to slip it on, hands trembling as you did so. 
"As I thought, his torso is insanely long," you absentmindedly remarked. Your hands didn't even make it completely through the sleeves yet.
"Well, if you want one in your size, I can—"
"Eep! S-Satoru! I— Th-This isn't what—" You jumped in your spot, startled by his entry to your room. He was clad in nothing but his bath towel, silver hair still dripping with warm water as he stood by the doorframe. 
That insanely long torso was ripped, not that you really noticed it in the dark last night. 
"You look good in that brand," Satoru said as he made his approach. He took your shaking arm in his and smoothed out the sleeve until your hand made it through. He brought your wrist to his lips. 
Ding-dong. "Good afternoon! Delivery!"
The two of you exchanged glances before you managed to tell him, "I didn't order anything, though…"
"Neither did I," he stated. "Wait here. Let me check that."
"H-Hey, at least put a shirt on!"
You were contemplating getting another golf club from your bag as Satoru opened the door. We didn't have anything delivered… Could this be a scam or something? The crashing noise from the living room confirmed your suspicions, so you grabbed the nearest one you could get. "Satoru!" 
The door was wide open, and to your shock, a tall brunette held the half-naked silver-haired man in a headlock. 
"Waka!" The dark-haired stranger exclaimed. "You little shit! What the hell have you been doing?!"
"L-Let him go! Let him go!" You grabbed the man in the suit by his arm and tried to shrug away his grip on your roommate. He eventually relented, Satoru falling on his back as he was unceremoniously dropped.
"Satoru! Are you okay?!" You got to your knees in near tears as you shook him by his bare shoulders. "Satoru!"
"I'm all right, Otome," he said with a sigh. "Took you long enough, Suguru."  
The tall brunette in a neat ponytail grimaced before eventually removing his blazer and dropping it on Satoru. "What? Did you think I wouldn't try everything to find you and your irresponsible ass? Did you think I wouldn't have this city staked out after you ran out on me so many times now?"
"Eugh, it reeks of cigarette smoke," the silver-haired man threw the coat back at Suguru, who then turned his dark gaze to you. 
"Who are you?"
"I-I… Uh…" You raised your hands in defence. "I-I'm just—"
"Ugh, whatever," he slipped on his dark coat as easily as he took it off moments ago. "Surely you're just interested in this guy's money like every other girl he's taken out and paid attention to." 
Your brows furrowed in annoyance at his remark. "Wh—"
"Suguru, I don't appreciate you speaking to her that way," Satoru interjected, finally standing up from the floor. "She's important to me." 
The brunette snorted. "Important? Since when did strangers you picked up become important to you?"
"On the contrary, it was her who took me in."
An unknown ringtone sounded through the living room. It was Suguru's phone. "I have to take this. Please put some damn clothes on." 
You hurriedly removed the oversized sweater you still had on and handed it to Satoru. "H-Here, put this on for the meantime."
"Yes, I found him," you heard the brunette remark from the hallway. "I'll send you the address. Please bring one of his suits… I don't really care which one, just bring it over." 
He had a frown on his face as he took his sweater from your hands. "I'm sorry. I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think they'd catch up to me so soon."
"Nanami and Haibara are on their way, so finish your business here," Suguru stated as he entered the unit once more.
"Still, I hope this doesn't colour your opinion of me and our… friendship," the silver-haired man took both your hands in his. "I am Gojo Satoru, heir and future president of the Six Eyes Enterprises."
What? "Eh?" 
"Waka, stop making grand introductions to strangers!" The brunette exclaimed once more. 
"Wait, you're that Gojo Satoru? The only child of the famous supermodel Endou Arisu? Who retired from her life on the runway after marrying into a rich family to raise her son? That Satoru?" You furrowed your brows once more. Why are you telling me this?
Satoru nodded at you. "Sums it up."
"Okay, cool. I don't get why you're telling me this, but if this information falls into the wrong hands, who knows what could happen to you?" 
"What?" He blinked his blue eyes at you as though he was confused. I think he really is.  
"What?" You shot back at him. "You didn't tell me you had an actual job. Let me get lunch done in a jiffy."
"Well, sure. If—" 
"And your, uh…" You trailed off, cautiously looking over at the glaring brunette. "What is he, exactly?" 
"Suguru is my bodyguard, secretary, all-around babysitter… Basically, the guy who keeps me out of trouble." 
"Then he can stay for lunch, too." 
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Satoru's pale blue suit was in stark contrast to Suguru's dark set. It was crisp and well-pressed, topped off with a little splash of Versace Eros and paired up with shined mahogany brown dress shoes.
The blue-eyed man sat across you from your dinner table, happily digging into the grilled mackerel you painstakingly cooked under Suguru's watchful glare.
"What's your deal? You even welcomed me for lunch," he started, arms crossed over his broad chest. "If it's a ransom or reward you want—"
"I want nothing from Satoru," you stated plainly, not even looking at him as you placed a piece of steamed broccoli over Satoru's rice. "He's the first… friend I've made here in the city." 
Friend was a strange thing to say, for you weren't entirely sure what you two even were. I mean we did sleep together, but… "And he's obviously unhappy about something in his life if he's running away all the time."
From his left breast pocket, Satoru's phone rang. He checked who was calling before eventually picking it up and excusing himself from the table. 
"What do you do for a living?" The brunette asked all of a sudden. 
"I'm a writer," you replied. "A romance novelist, to be more specific." 
"Well, writer-san, you see that man over there?" He pointed to his charge still happily chattering on his phone. "That man is my job. I pick him up from whatever disaster he gets himself into and make sure it doesn't follow him around."
"Okay?"
"So name your price," he told you. "I know you're no different from them. As soon as they know who he is, everything just clicks and changes."
"You know, what I'd want is for you to stop being an ass," you shot back at him. "I don't care if he's the next Emperor of Japan or what. I want nothing from you, and I definitely don't want anything from Satoru."
Suguru raised an eyebrow at you. "What?"
"So he bought me dinner. He bought groceries, too. But I could have done that without him, too. He did all of that out of goodwill because he was staying with me in the meantime."
"So you're telling me that you want absolutely nothing in return for sheltering him? You've got to be fucking joking with me."
"What I'd like is for you to eat the damn food," you stated before stabbing a piece of the fish with your chopsticks, splitting it in half. "And take your damn assumptions elsewhere." 
Satoru caught you placing the unevenly sliced fish on top of Suguru's still-untouched rice. "Ah, glad to see the two of you getting along."
You could only grin in response to his remark, stuffing your mouth with rice so you didn't have to reply to him. 
"Tengen-san called. She said she found me a place I could move into," he started, taking his seat across from you again. "I said I didn't need it anymore."
You nearly choked at his statement, coughing up a bit of the rice and fish you just ate. "What?!"
"I'm going home, after all."
"Oh, I see…" came your flat response. Alone again, then? I suppose that's fine.
"But I'm personally asking my family if I can move out—"
"No. Absolutely not," Suguru interrupted. "Waka, may I just remind you of your oblig—"
"All right, all right, I won't move out, then. Geez," Satoru replied, reaching for the fish his guardian hardly touched, but only for his hand to be swatted away. "Ow!"
"If it's a little escape you want, then we can arrange that," the brunette stated, finally taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands. "Your new friend here would be happy to accommodate you, right?" 
Oh. "I-If Satoru needs a place to crash, then he can definitely stay as much as he wants." 
Satoru caught the twinkle in your eye. Adorable.  
"Good. Stay in one place so you're easy to look for, waka," Suguru started. "We'll cover your expenses—"
"I said I didn't need help with that," you interjected. 
"Apologies, but we can't just dump waka's insatiable appetite on an outsider. If you truly consider him a friend, you'll let us handle at least that." 
"Mm, he's right about that, Otome," Satoru smiled at you. "I insist."
"Only if you're staying, then," you said with a small sigh of defeat. 
Before he could leave and close the door behind him, Satoru hurriedly pulled you in for a hug. "I'd probably stay forever if I could, so don't get tired of me yet."
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"Do you always do that?" Asked the man in the black suit as he opened the car door for his charge. "Hug your flings goodbye."
"If she's just a fling, then I'm definitely not seeing her again," Satoru chuckled as he sat comfortably in the backseat of the grey sedan Suguru brought with him. "But I…" 
He brought a thoughtful hand to his chin as he concluded, "I think I like her." 
"That'll be the day," the brunette buckled himself up in the driver's seat. 
"So what's the situation? Is it something so urgent that you had to put Nanamin and Haibara-kun to work in tracking me down?"
"The president wants you to look into this," Suguru handed his charge an unlocked tablet with a number of spreadsheets open. "There have been some anomalous numbers in certain cities."
"Natori, Hitachi, Iwaki… they're all coastal cities," Satoru stated as his hand glided through the tablet screen. "And the old farts certainly had something to say about this?"
"They know nothing about it yet. Which is why the president thought it'd be prudent to let you handle it."
"What, like some kind of redemption arc?" The silver-haired man chuckled as he locked the tablet screen. "If this will keep them off my case, then I suppose I can look into it. Let's get Yaga-san and Ijichi onboard." 
"Will do, boss," Suguru chuckled as well, finally driving off. 
"Ah, Shoko! It's me," Satoru spoke into his phone with his easily recognisable cheer. "Do me a favour, would you please?"
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For a writer, it's always the lack of inspiration that kills momentum. It's either you're writing endlessly or not writing at all, and the in-between is the most painful part, for there's a world you want to bring to life, but you don't have the right words for it.
So instead of agonising over your lack of inspiration, you decided to spend most of the day unpacking the rest of your things and cleaning the apartment. It was oddly cathartic placing everything in its rightful spot— framed photos of you and your family, a potted plant from one of your co-writers in Sendai, an incense burner from Tatara-san, and your laptop on your desk just overlooking the hidden skyline. Every once in a while, you would scribble a few words into your blank manuscript before starting another task, your frustration serving as fuel to get things done. 
In the midst of your afternoon writing blitz, which was mostly just a lot of sighing and crumpling, and your third coffee, your doorbell rang.
"I'm back!" 
And you could hardly hold yourself up when Satoru happily crashed into your arms. Slung on his shoulder was a duffel bag full of his personal belongings and articles. 
"O-Oh! Welcome home!" You raised your arms to embrace him back. "I, um, made some space for your things in the bedroom, so…" 
"Thank you," he managed a small smile. "And thanks for earlier."
"I'll take that as thanks for lunch and the other thing," you said with a chuckle before eventually releasing him. 
"I suppose I owe you an apology as well for roping you into my business," he replied, fishing out something from the pocket of his pale blue pantsuit. It was a baby pink velvet jewellery box, and inside it was a simple silver string of diamonds he carefully strapped on your dominant wrist. 
"Oh…" Came the faintest reaction from your lips. The bracelet was absolutely gorgeous, the kind worn by beautiful celebrities on Lookbook and Stargram. "Wait, a-are you sure about this? Giving me something so…"
"I had a friend choose this for me. I'm sorry if it doesn't suit your sensibilities."
"N-No! I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful!" You raised your hands in defence. "It's… very pretty." 
Very pretty was the best you could think of, with the writer's block still thrumming in your head. You knew it was a gesture of thanks rather than affection, but it was still unnecessary. 
"I'll be in your care, for now, wifey," Satoru said with a laugh. "Likewise, don't hesitate to ask me for anything." 
"You know I'll never ask for anything," you shook your head at him. "Though I'd appreciate it if you can tell me beforehand that you're coming over. Or not."
"Why don't we exchange contact details, then?" 
"Sure, okay," you nodded this time. "For dinner, I'm thinking of something light, like egg rolls and more steamed vegetables. You okay with that?" 
"I will have whatever it is you want to cook," he told you with such a tender smile before leaning down to brush a kiss on your temple. "So knock yourself out."
You enjoyed Satoru's company more than you let on. You'd expect rich men like him to have short attention spans, but he was surprisingly attentive. He tried to help with the housework, too, to the best of his abilities, but all he could do was shadow you as you prepared your dinner, handing you whatever it was you needed. 
Speaking out your mind to him and expecting him to do so in kind was all natural between you two. It might have been the sadness, but you appreciated his presence nonetheless. 
You sat across each other once more today, Satoru in more comfortable clothes again after playing the businessman today. 
"How was work today?" You asked as you helped yourself to a serving of steamed vegetables, placing a piece of broccoli on the man's rice before he could forget.
"It was all right. Suguru and I will be looking into some discrepancies reported to the president before the rest of the board can sink their teeth into it. We have to work on a tight deadline, though, and I want to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible before we're accused of manipulating sales."
He was a bit startled by your perplexed expression. "What?"
"Did no one notice you gone for the last few days?"
He shook his head. "Suguru knows the drill when I, quote on quote, go missing all of a sudden."
"So did you rent an apartment with full knowledge that you might be found anyway?"
"I always hope I'm never found again," he said with a small laugh. "But for some reason, I'm glad you stumbled upon me." 
You lowered your eyes to avoid his gaze, obviously embarrassed by his bold declaration. He followed up with a question for you. "And you? How was your day?"
"Oh, same same. Answered some emails, wrote and rewrote some stuff, spoke to my new editor, talked about some deadlines… Things really do go fast here in the city, huh?" 
"Hear you there," he nodded, stuffing his face with the egg rolls he helped prepare earlier. 
"Eat your vegetables, Satoru." 
"Yes, boss," he chuckled, helping himself to some steamed marble potatoes this time. "You only added salt to these, right?"
"Mm, yeah. No added flavours, just all-natural goodness."
"It's actually been a while since I had a home-cooked meal. It's always either dine-in or take-out for me, but…"
He spoke about the posh restaurants he's been to, his circle of friends which is composed mostly of the people tasked with looking after him, and his part-time stint as a baseball coach for a local high school where he has to use an alias to conceal his identity. You adored his candid anecdotes and stupid jokes in between his tales and even found yourself slightly kicking him underneath the table because of your own uncontrollable laughter.
"Satoru, I have a confession to make," you started, sitting up ever so slightly. "There's a void you're currently filling."
"Oh?" Came Satoru's curious reply, no hint of hurt, but only intrigue. It didn't take long for him to start wiggling his eyebrows at you. "I'm happy to fill whatever void that is, and any other holes that need filling, too." 
You buried your burning face in your hands at his statement. "S-Satoru! Oh my gosh!" 
He eased you out of the kitchen when you attempted to wash the dishes, insisting he can do things by himself, too. By the time you were done with your shower that evening, he was bringing out the blankets he brought with him from his house earlier. 
"What are you doing?" You asked as you ran a towel through your hair. 
"I'm bunking here in the living room."
"But you can sleep with me in the bedroom, though."
"Really? I thought last night was a… One-time thing." 
"I think I need another warm body in bed, but only if you're up for it," you told him, leaving your door ajar. It didn't even take him a minute to change his mind. You raised the covers to let him in and he contentedly sank right next to you, long arms coiling around you and drawing you close. Warm. "There's still some more I want to confess to you." 
"Hmm?" He murmured, his voice thrumming in his throat. Warm.  
"I meant every word I said earlier… when I called you my friend. I'm glad you consider me such…" 
"Can I make a confession, too?" 
You nodded. 
"Thank you for treating me with so much… decency, I suppose. Suguru must have spoken of the women, right? I dislike the playboy image I've been painted with over the years. I don't always have sex with them and I don't have sex with all of them. Some are rather happy to get a pricey thing or two from me, then they'll just leave me alone like I'm some kind of means to an end."
"Oh…"
You felt him hold you closer, as though you'd vanish into thin air all of a sudden. 
"Disgusting, I know."
"I don't think you're disgusting, Satoru," you raised your hands to cup his face. Warm. "Some women will really put themselves out there if they want to, and I don't judge them for that, either. I'm a woman, too. Just so happens that I don't really like depending on men when I want something." 
Satoru fell quiet, but he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with anything at all. He felt completely at ease. Safe. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.
"I will never ask you for anything," you whispered, just enough for him to hear. He finally smiled again. "I just want you around. Always, if possible." 
"And have me, you will."
You contemplated leaving the conversation there. Another incredibly long day has passed and you were once more in the arms of a man who adored you. Let's forget about the fact that I've only known him for a few days… But something bothered you, and it bothered you so much that you couldn't just sleep things off.  
"What about sex with me? Was it… pleasant for you?" 
Silver lashes fluttered open again, his lips curling to a small smile. "Absolutely pleasant."
"Would you like to… do it again?"
"Only if you want to, sweet thing," he cupped your cheek this time, pressing his lips to your brow.
"I'm probably just like everyone else who wants something from you, but you've filled the gaps in my life so… so easily. But you're so warm and shaped so differently and I…" Your voice cracked once more at the weight of your guilt. After all, what you wanted from Satoru at that moment was worth more than—
"Like what I said earlier, I'd be happy to fill that void for you until you're bent and shaped to my size," Satoru slowly sat up, prompting you to follow suit. He held you by the wrist and led your movements without breaking eye contact with you. 
I guess nothing can stop me from falling further and further into this, you thought as he hoisted you onto his lap, his strong hands sinking into your skin almost needily. His affection for you was certainly intoxicating.
"Let me love you, all right?" He murmured against your cheek, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. Warm. Maddening. "Until I'm the one you're looking for. Until you're completely mine." 
You could get behind that train of thought, but he made it hard to think with his lips on yours, coaxing them open to let him in. Oh, his hands were hot. Or was it you? Satoru's hands snaked under your shirt, gently pawing at the flesh he gained access to.
"Hng… Ah… Y-Yes, p-please—" You whimpered against him, jolting upward as you felt his fingers dip into the fiery moistness between your legs. "Ooh…"
Your voice cracked in utter shamelessness this time, but it sounded ever honey-sweet to him. 
"Satoru…"
He licked his lips, curling to another wicked grin. "Yes, say my name. Say it like it's the only thing you know."
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— It was love.
Sukuna had no idea why his little brother was so mad at him. It only dawned on him when he came home to your empty apartment after spending most of his week in Hitachi.
Yuuji became the light of his world ever since their parents died when they were younger— too young for his little brother to even recall them, but they honoured their memory by sticking together through thick and thin. After being passed on from relative to relative, the pair of brothers was eventually raised by their paternal grandfather with all the love and care an ailing old man would give to his grandsons. They didn't have much, but they had each other.
And for Sukuna, that was enough.  
Though he barely had the time to be a kid since he had to be an older brother to Yuuji foremost, he held no grudges and made the younger boy swear to him— tell me anything, everything that's bothering you. Big brother will always have time for you.  
Yuuji grew up into a good and honest kid and was insanely proud of his big brother's resourcefulness. With nothing to live on but their grandfather's pension, the older brother had to step up and make sure they'll never go hungry. 
Sukuna relied on his own resourcefulness to get himself through high school without starving. It was a slow boil of eating half a breakfast and trying to survive the rest of the day with snacks handed to him by his friends. He took odd jobs like doing deliveries and waiting tables— heck, he even modelled for a magazine once when the rough and rugged rockstar look was all the rage— all so he could put food on the table for his little brother. 
He managed all of that in high school and even ended up the star athlete of the track and field club. He enjoyed the prestige that came with his smarts and skills and his popularity grew to the point where he was never lacking in friends.
No wonder Yuuji was insanely proud. 
When Sukuna was 17, five-year-old Yuuji was nearly killed in an accident involving a certain trucking and transport company. While the truck managed to swerve and avoid running him over, the whiplash and stray debris injured him to the point where he needed a lifesaving operation. 
And Sukuna would sell his soul to the devil if it meant saving his little brother's life. 
When the trucking business owner Jogo heard of the big brother's desperation, he agreed to pay for Yuuji's medical expenses in full in exchange for Sukuna's full cooperation. 
"You'll be working for me now, street rat," said the old man, who dressed like your regular driver but smelled of expensive cigars. "I'll let you finish high school, but forget about college. Learning from me will cost ya, kid, so you better put yer back into this." 
Sickening, Sukuna thought. But there was no way out of it now.  
After striking that deal with the shady businessman, he found one of his classmates speaking to his grandfather outside their home. 
"…sei and everyone else are worried about Itadori-kun, so… Oh, hello."  
"…?"
"I'm, ah…" The girl, still in her uniform, gave the boy a short bow before handing him a paper bag full of handouts from class. You gave him your name in hopes he might remember. "I'm your seatmate, Itadori-kun. We heard about your little brother from our sensei. We're all hoping he recovers soon."
"Thank you…"  
"Anyway, I just stopped by to drop the handouts sensei collated for you. I hope your little brother gets well soon. A lot of people are waiting for you to return to school. Goodbye!"
By the time you were out of view, the old man whacked his grandson by the arm with his day-old newspaper. "Why didn't you ask her to come in?"
"Ow! Ji-san!"
"I'm sure Jin never would've wanted you to grow up so soon, but you're practically an adult now. You even negotiated Yuuji's medical bills on your own," Wasuke stated. "But you have to live for yourself, too, child."
Live for yourself, huh? Easier said than done. "I'm living the best I can, ji-san."
"Relationships are the most important thing in the world, Sukuna. Yuuji will love you and be eternally grateful for what you've done for him, that's already a given," the old man sighed. "All the money in the world can win you prestige and popularity, but you'll see who's real and who's not in your life when you have nothing to give. People will vanish, but there are those who want you around for who you are, not for what you can give. That is priceless."  
Now that he's mentioned it, none of his friends got in touch or checked up on him after they heard about the accident earlier in the week. 
"You can stay at home and rest for now. I'll look after Yuuji," Wasuke walked past the boy, a handbag with a few clothes in hand. Sukuna held his grandfather by the arm. 
"I can't ask you to do that, ji-san."  
"I don't recall answering to you, Sukuna. Go get some rest and get ready for school tomorrow."
Rest eluded him, though. Sukuna could hardly think of anything else but his little brother— nii-chan, I'll be okay, I promise! 
He dropped the paper bag carelessly, accidentally spilling its contents on his floor. Among the worksheets was the plastic packaging of something…
It was a tortoise melonpan.
There was a lilac note stuck to it, too.
I know you're taking care of your family, Itadori-kun, but don't forget to take care of yourself too. Do your best! ⭐️  
Ah, his head hurt just thinking about things, but when he realised he was running on adrenaline the whole day, he tore through the packaging and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth without a care.
That was his first meal of the day. 
Fuck, he thought, chewing through the bread in tears. I'm so tired of being dirt-poor.
Sukuna showed up to school a few days later, feet still hot off his new "job" with the old man Jogo. He had a driving licence now even though he was still months from turning 18. Jogo must have pulled some strings to obtain that counterfeit. 
He was tired.  
He fell asleep in classes and slept through the lunch break, his stomach as empty as his head at the moment. When his friends came over to see him, they weren't at all sympathetic to his situation and even called him a wet blanket for all the gloom he brought to school. 
Another tortoise melonpan was on his desk when he woke up a few minutes before the end of lunchtime, another lilac note attached to it. You weren't in your seat, but he found the same sticky notepad on your desk. 
Have something to eat. Do your best! ⭐️ 
Good gods, I am trying, he thought to himself as he groaned inwardly and literally. How many more hours 'til this day ends?
"Itadori-kun, sensei is calling you," you nudged your seatmate awake and extended your English studies book to him. "I can share my textbook with you if you left yours at home…"
"Otome-san, I like you. Go out with me."
"Wh-What?" You squeaked, a mix of confusion and embarrassment painting your face. Why was he confessing to you?!
"Pretty sure you heard that," he grinned, or at least he managed to. "I don't have much, but I'll be good to you. I swear I'll be…"
He swerved and fell off his seat unconscious, startling you and the rest of the class. His hunger has reached breaking point and this was it.
"I-Itadori-kun?! Sukuna!"
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"Sukuna…" 
It was faint as a whisper, but Satoru heard it escape your lips unsanctioned. Even as you slept soundly beside him, the subconscious you wept for a time that has passed, for a person— only god knows— who was once part of your waking world and everything in between. 
Satoru brushed a cold knuckle to wipe away the burning hot tear that ran down your cheek. "Must be a pretty deep void, huh?" 
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— Daylight.  
The morning sun was warm on your back, the rays like wings you had no idea how to fold. You curled inward, gathering your blankets into your arms in hopes they might embrace you back. 
And then you felt it— as quick as a butterfly beating its wings yet as soft as a little breeze— the warmest yet faintest kiss on your knotted forehead. 
"Good morning. Go ahead and sleep in," Satoru's familiar voice murmured directly in your ear. He gently pulled the remaining covers from his side of the bed and placed them over your bent figure. When you came to, he was already half-dressed for the day, in another one of his impeccably pressed suits. 
"Where're you goin'?…" 
"Duty calls," he replied with a chuckle. "Suguru said we're making a trip to the coast since there's been a breakthrough in our investigation." 
"The coast, huh?" 
"We'll probably be out late, but don't worry," he sat down on the edge of your bed, slender fingers reaching over to cup your face. "I'll be home, I promise."
You sank into his touch and sighed as though you were defeated. Satoru brushed another kiss on your temple, with no hint of hesitation as he continued his show of affection. You grasped his wrist as he slowly pulled away. 
"Can I come with you?" 
There was an odd twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he caught your question. "You… want to come with me?"
"Only if I can," you managed to smile at him. "Though I doubt Geto-san would let me. Where exactly on the coast are you heading?" 
"Natori."
"Oh, it's so close to my hometown," you replied, slowly sitting up from your position. 
"Yeah, that's where the whistleblower's based," said Satoru. "I can make arrangements if you want to come with me, but I'm assuming you actually wanna catch a train to Sendai." 
"If at all possible," you reiterated. "Hmm… I don't think I'm homesick at all, but why do I have this feeling that the coast is calling me?" 
"Better answer it, then," he smiled at you. "And don't worry about Suguru. Just call in all the favours you want."
"I don't want Geto-san to dislike me more than he already does…"
Satoru would grant your every wish if he could since he was hardwired to do so, but taking advantage of that surprisingly pure heart of his would make you no different from the women who asked him for pretty and expensive things. 
"Trust me when I say he's already warmed up to the idea of you, Otome." 
But the scowl on the tall brunette's face when he saw you all dressed up next to Satoru was hardly an image of warming up to you. 
"This ain't a field trip. What are you even planning to do in Sendai?" 
"I-I know, I know. I promise you I'll stay out of the way of your business," you raised your hands in defence. "Sendai is my hometown. I think I'll pay a visit to my family and publisher while I'm there. You won't hear a peep from me."
Suguru narrowed his dark gaze at you before eventually letting out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh. Fine. It's not like Satoru here will agree to leave you now that you're here and all."
"Th-Thank you, Geto-san! I promise I'll steer clear of your business," you happily bowed before the man in the dark suit, only for him to smirk at you. 
"Whatever, kid. Now come on, we're losing daylight. The drive's hours long and Nanami has been waiting for us since yesterday."
"Oh, you're driving? But we can take the Shinkansen if you're pressed for time. We'd get there in two hours tops," you raised a peace sign at Suguru, only for him to glare at you even more. "Whoops! There goes steering clear from your business!" 
"No, on second thought, our supposed grand arrival might scare away the whistleblower," the brunette stated, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Nanami brought his car anyway, so the train's actually a good option."
"From here, we can ride the subway in Omotesando to get to Tokyo Station. Once we're moving, you'll both get off at the Joban Line to get to Natori, then I'll—" you started, only to be cut off by Suguru's ringing mobile phone. 
"It's Nanami," he said, checking the caller ID. "Hello, Nanami?… Yeah, we're on our way. We might take the train since— He what?!"
The sudden angry rise in his voice made you jump. 
"All right, I got it. Just… Hold onto that guy, no matter what. We'll handle things when we get there."
"What's the matter?" Satoru asked. The brunette turned in his direction as he slipped his phone back into his pant pocket. 
"The whistleblower nearly made a run for it. Apparently, he wants to bring us to one of his conspirators, the one earning the most from their racketeering, their boss's pet or something," Suguru stated, the edge in his voice gone, with only traces of exhaustion left. "Change of plans, kid. We're going to Sendai with you. That's where their base of operations is."
"I see. You know, Geto-san, if there's anything I can do to assist you, I—"
"We're gonna have to part ways the moment we get there," the brunette stated, cutting you off again. "We're dealing with a possible crime syndicate here. We can't guarantee your safety if you stay with us."
You pursed your lips and solemnly nodded at the truth he spoke. "Yes, of course. We'll part ways in Aoba, then. If I finish my business early, I suppose I'll see you both back here in Tokyo."
"A sound idea," said Satoru as he took your hand. "Well, Suguru? We're losing daylight, aren't we? Let's get walking."
It took every ounce of Suguru's patience not to react to everything Satoru did as you all made your way to Sendai, such as ordering every kind of ekiben the train had, having two beers halfway through the trip and constantly getting up to go to the toilet. 
"Driving would have taken longer, but at least that man's just strapped in on his seat," the brunette sighed once more as his charge headed to the toilet for the third time. 
"Is he always like that?" You asked the man seated across you. "Babyish."
"With me… and everyone else tasked to look after him? Always," Suguru replied, taking a sip of his canned black coffee. "But you'd mistake him for another man when he's with his flings." 
"Yeah, Satoru's mentioned that."
"Come to think of it, you're the only one I've seen twice," he went on. "Satoru's usually in a hurry to leave his flings like he's gonna get caught at a crime scene. How he is now kind of scares me." 
"Why does it scare you?"
"Because Satoru doesn't care about a thing in the world. He doesn't care about the company or his inheritance. His family can never disown him because he's their only son, so he capitalises on that and does whatever he wants. And the women he gets involved with… They don't really care as much, either. They all know they can never fit in his world, so they'll settle for a night or a pretty trinket. Him suddenly caring for someone is new to me."
"I'm pretty sure Satoru cares for you, Geto-san," you managed a smile as you held your canned milk coffee. The two of you sat in silence before you eventually spoke up again. "I don't really care if I don't fit in his world, either. All I know is I want him in mine."
"His world won't be ready for someone like you," Suguru chuckled. "You are something else entirely."
"Hey, what did I miss?" Satoru suddenly popped up from behind you, prompting Suguru to narrow his gaze at his charge once more. 
"Sit your ass back down here, you no-good prince!" 
The thought of coming home only after moving out a few days ago was funny. When you messaged your mother that you would be coming home to see her and everyone else at home, you'd expect an angry reply from her or possibly a joke about being homesick.
But when she replied telling you not to go to the old apartment you shared with your ex-boyfriend because some strange men had it staked out, you figured that something was up.  
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It was your editor Tatara-san who came to the station to welcome you back to your hometown. The publishing house was happy to see you doing well even though it had only been a few days since you last came to say your farewells. 
"If you don't mind me asking, Otome-san, who were those two men you were with earlier? They don't look like tourists," your editor asked as they served you some tea. 
"Friends I made in the city. They have some business to attend to here."
"I see. You don't suppose they're involved in that scandal with the local Six Eyes office, do you?" 
Your curiosity was piqued now because the pair was certainly there to address something. What it was, you really didn't know. You couldn't ignore that awful, gnawing feeling you felt in your chest now. "What scandal?" 
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The tall blonde in a sleek beige suit handed his young master a tablet containing even more spreadsheets and numbers ranging from millions. Satoru did away with his long coat now, blue eyes running over the screen as he scrolled through pages, graphs and charts of data. 
"So… These thugs take our products, force the regional head to alter the price market, then have those shipped overseas for even crazier prices, huh?" 
"That about sums it up, waka," Nanami stated, tossing the other man's coat in the back of his grey sedan. 
The trio of suits and the finely-dressed whistleblower were in an unmarked location near the Port of Sendai, an inconspicuous lot the whistleblower led them to in a frantic hope that he'll be redeemed for the crimes he partook in. 
"Tell Ijichi I won't be accepting his resignation. He did nothing wrong," Satoru stated. 
"All right," the blonde nodded his ascent. He and Suguru remained unfazed as their young master uncharacteristically grabbed the blue-haired whistleblower by his collar.
"What did you say your name was again?" The silver-haired man started, his grip on the other man's collar slowly evolving into a chokehold. 
"M… Mahito…" Came the whistleblower's strained reply. 
"And how long has this been going on, Mahito? How long have you been threatening my man to do your bidding?" 
"Ghh… I-If you want to k-know who's running the show, I can lead you to him!" 
Mahito paled by the moment, and he gripped Satoru's rigid arm in a bid to free himself from the other man's hold, only for him to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground. 
Suguru lit another cigarette as he continued observing their surroundings. 
"You know, Mahito, there's a reason why we aren't getting the police involved here, though we're technically dealing with a theft now. Your little outfit here has stolen goods worth around 500 million Yen from our company for the last two years. Now that we've caught wind of it, you came to us looking for a way to save yourself, right? As though everything's as simple as washing your hands from the crime. You can look for your salvation all you want, but one thing is for certain," Satoru stated with a wicked grin. "I am your god now, and right now, you're going to do exactly as I say."
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— Leave as though fire burns under your feet.
The panic that set off in your heart gave no space for common sense to prevail. You ran to your old apartment as fast as your feet could take you, only for you to crash into an equally distressed Yuuji, the boy in tears as he scrambled back on his feet. 
"Otome-nee! It's nii-chan! He's—!"
"Yuuji-kun, c-calm down!" You held the boy by his shaking shoulders, anchoring him to you. "Can you tell me from the start what happened?"
Yuuji nodded, though not at all calmed down by the presence of an adult he knew could help him."…Someone from my class called my brother a thief. They said nii-chan's been involved with some shady business for a long time now…"
What?
"Our house, my tuition, the money we buy food with… they said it's all stolen money! Of course, I didn't believe them because I know how hard nii-chan has been working! He even told me he planned on proposing to you soon!"
"Where is Sukuna now?" 
"I… I don't know! He hasn't been answering my calls! I was so angry with him for not doing anything about you leaving town, but now there's all this… stuff about him being a thief! I…" 
"Don't cry, Yuuji-kun. Let's… Let's go to our place together, all right? Only your brother can answer those questions for you, but I…"
No. All the pieces fit so strangely. I don't want to believe it, but…
When you and Yuuji arrived at your old apartment, you weren't completely surprised to find Satoru and Suguru already there, along with a number of men in suits you didn't anticipate at all. Their presence now confirms your suspicions, though you didn't want to believe it at first. 
"Otome?! What are you doing here? Suguru said you—" Satoru tried to block your path to the apartment, only for you to hold his arm down. The lack of verve didn't go unnoticed by him.
"I know the man who lives there. The man you're looking for," you looked up at him with shining eyes once more. "He's… He's my…"
The words you wanted to say remained unspoken, but Satoru understood enough. "Otome, that man is party to a crime— a theft worth millions. We'd appreciate it if you can coax him out here. We really don't want the cops to get involved."
You nodded at him, taking a deep breath before eventually banging on the locked door. "Sukuna, it's me! Yuuji-kun is here, too! If… If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, you should at least apologise to your brother!"
Suguru disposed of his cigarette with a flick of his finger. "Damn. What a small world we live in, huh? You don't suppose she's an accomplice here as well, do you?"
"I don't think so, Suguru," the silver-haired man shook his head. "Otome left Sendai after some chick told her to get lost because she was that asshole's main woman now. Turns out that woman was just bluffing. When she was refused the second time around, that's when word got out about his job. He never even found out about Otome leaving until now."
Their heads whipped up when they heard the doorknob click open, only for you to be hastily pulled into the unit with the door quickly bolted shut behind you. From inside your shared apartment, you could hear Satoru's aggravated shouts as he banged on the door even louder than you did moments ago. "Otome!" 
"Sato—" You tried to run back, only for you to be held back. You swiped your hands away from Sukuna's hold, not at all surprised by his lack of strength. "I didn't want it to be true at all, but when I heard from Tatara-san that you were… I… Didn't you even think of Yuuji-kun?"
The sheer exhaustion he felt manifested itself on his face as you looked up at him. "Sukuna…"
"The job was a downward spiral. I knew that from the start," he stated. "When I first started out, that old man Jogo called me a street rat who had to work for everything he spent on when Yuuji got into that accident. And in everything I did, I made sure I did right. He said I had potential. He put me in charge of everything here, and that became my ball and chain."
You didn't pull away when he reached for your hand again. 
"I know that telling you now that all I did was for you and Yuuji… doesn't really matter now because everything has gone to shit. And now Yuuji's being ostracised at school because word got out that I'm a racketeer… I can't even face him! I just wanted to…" 
You were unexpectedly pulled with him as he broke down in tears on the floor. 
"I just wanted to give you the world…"
"Sukuna… I never expected you to give me the world. All I wanted was for you to be in mine… But ever since that… job of yours, you…" And your tears, hot and unbidden, came falling down as well. "You were rarely there. For me. For Yuuji-kun. When Wasuke-san passed away, you had to leave as soon as the ceremony for him was over. And where were you when Yuuji-kun was about to enter high school? It was just us two back then and you promised to show up for him, but you…"
The rest of your muddled thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his sobs. 
"Sukuna, I didn't need someone to give me everything, I just wanted someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to me."
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File: RikuganKigyo_Sendai_Market_Case_File.docx The issue surrounding the anomalous market numbers in the coastal cities of Natori, Hitachi and Iwaki has been resolved by the following members: Gojo Satoru, partner and family shareholder  Geto Suguru and company Nanami Kento Haibara Yu The enterprise did not want any police involvement with the issue surrounding the three coastal cities since it meant having to open the case to the media as well. The stockholders suspected of assisting in this market manipulation turned out to be innocent as well. The discrepancies were all the work of a smart underground syndicate. 
"Writing a report, I see," you placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea on the dining room table where Satoru had set up his makeshift office. He raised his arms, stretched his legs and let out an unsightly yawn before eventually coiling his arms around your waist and nuzzling your chest. You threaded your fingers through his hair as he took a short break from his document. "You know, I'm surprised Geto-san allowed you back here with me." 
"Yeah, he didn't like the string of coincidences and had your background checked without your consent. But you cooperated with our internal investigation and even turned over all the gifts your ex-boyfriend gave you for consolidation." 
"If only I knew sooner, though…" You sighed.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. You've done plenty. Just the fact that you managed to take the fight out of the man was a feat in itself," Satoru stated as he eventually let you go. "I'm glad we managed to keep the damage to a minimum. The shareholders don't know about all of this, but we're gonna have to come clean with it eventually."
"But I thought you didn't want the media all over this issue," you replied, taking a seat across from him. 
"That's why we're presenting the thing as a whole, no loopholes for them to poke their fingers into, all the crannies plugged. Basically, we're going to tell them all about the problem and how we resolved it without their intervention. It's probably a bad move, too, but if word of this ever got out to the media, the people would lose faith in the company. They'd say the Six Eyes allowed a local small-time outfit to heist away millions." 
You held your own cup of tea in your hands. "I see. You've really thought this out well, huh?"
"Suguru helped out a lot, too," he stated. You could hear him press the backspace key of his keyboard numerous times. "Apparently my old man's been wanting to retire for quite some time now. He figured that issue in the coastal cities would be a great springboard for me and my reputation. Now that it's been settled, he has no choice but to officially name me his heir." 
"So you'll be president soon, then?"
"Pretty much," he nodded. "I told him to call off that stupid arranged marriage, though."
"Wh-What? W-Were you actually engaged to someone?!"
"I wouldn't call it an engagement," he thoughtfully looked up. "They just wanted my gallivanting to stop. Not that an engagement would have helped at all…"
"I see…"
"To be honest, now that my father has officially named me his heir and my parents and I are all right, part of me kind of regrets being such a brat to them. When people say Six Eyes, they consider it one of Japan's most timeless companies, and for it to withstand all of the tests of time was a treasure all in itself. That company will be mine to lead in the near future. Along with it are the hundreds of thousands of people working to ensure everything runs smoothly." 
You smiled at him from across the table. "I'm glad to know you realised that much."
"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised myself," he chuckled. "Sukuna, wasn't it? This is just a personal opinion of mine, but I think he's actually a good man who just got caught in a bad circle. It was pretty honourable of him to take all the blame. Not even once did he speak about the ringleader Jogo."
You gasped. "Ah! That's—!"
"The man he owes his brother's life to." 
During the internal investigation, Sukuna answered every question thrown at him by the investigators, all except for one. 
"Believe it or not, that man was my only salvation back then. I don't care about the money anymore. Lock me up if you must, but please… I just want my brother to live a quiet life." 
And when you pleaded his case in an attempt to earn him some lenience, the best Satoru could offer him was a chance to start anew in a foreign country— they'll have to start from scratch, though, in a new place with new identities. Sukuna had nothing but apologies for you when you last came face to face. 
"And for what it's worth now, all the days I spent with you were the happiest I've ever been. I'm sorry things had to be this way."
"Sukuna… Thank you. I'll… treasure those days in my heart as well. But, please… Don't ever disappoint Yuuji-kun again."
The consequences were not at all heavy like you originally thought them to be. The young president-to-be was lenient, but that would be the first and last time he'd ever grant clemency to anyone who dared hurt the company. The pair of brothers were nothing but thankful for the decision. Being shipped off to China didn't sound like a bad idea to them as long as they were together.  
"I don't have a brother, so I can't claim to know how he feels, but I do know this," Satoru reached for your hand from across the table. "I will never, ever lose myself trying to give you the world, Otome. I know well enough that you don't want it." 
"You're right. I don't," you squeezed him back. "All I'll ever want is you and your boundless energy and all of your love for me."
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— We've had the loneliest time.  
In the days that followed, Satoru spent most of his time ironing out what would be his first business presentation as the president's named heir of the enterprises. Thus, his presence was required in every major board meeting that lined his daily schedule. The responsibilities rattled him, but not enough to scare him back to his old ways of running off whenever things got too overwhelming for him. He fronted every meeting with a game face and a gaze that would unsettle even the most seasoned businessman in the conference room. 
However, there was no concealing his delight whenever he came home to you and your open arms. 
When Suguru invited you out for coffee one morning to discuss Satoru and his plans for the future, you didn't expect him to spring a surprise on you.
"Good morning, Geto-san," you greeted the figure in black. He stubbed out his cigarette the moment you made your presence known to him.  
"Hello, Otome-san," he handed you a menu. "Help yourself. My treat since I called you out here." 
A waitress came up to take your orders. He ordered an espresso for himself. "And you?"
"Oh, I think I'll have a café au lait," you replied as you thoughtfully scanned the menu. "And a kaya toast, if it's all right." 
"Of course." 
It didn't take long for your coffee and toast to arrive, the sweet aroma of your milk coffee and the kaya jam filling your nose. "So, um, what was it you wanted to discuss?"
You heard from Satoru once that Suguru was given the nickname Bloody Obsidian by his fellow bodyguards and subordinates. He didn't like it much though many said it suited his rather cutthroat nature. And when he spoke, he always made sure it was straight to the point. Today was no exception. "Satoru will be taking up his business studies again. He'll be heading to New York in a week in time for the start of the semester." 
"I see. Good for him, then," you remarked, halfway through a bite into your toast. 
"He's asked me to arrange for you to go with him. We can start with your passport and work on your visa afterwards. Then we'll—" 
"Aghk!" You coughed out your toast in complete surprise. "What?!" 
Suguru pushed your milk coffee in your direction, brows furrowed as he watched you take small sips of the beverage. "Did he not tell you about this at all? Or ask you at all about any of this?"
You dabbed a napkin over your lips as you shook your head at him. "No, not at all…"
The brunette sighed, leaning back on his seat. "Then he must have assumed that you'd willingly go with him."
"I-It's not that I wouldn't! It's just… things are moving at a pace I can't seem to keep up with yet," You raised your hands in defence. "Satoru will need all the room he can get to grow into his role as the future president of the Six Eyes." 
"I thought you wanted him in your life."
"I do. I'm so happy to have him around at home. I know it's probably strange hearing this from me now, but I don't think it would be right for me to be with Satoru. Not now, at least," you nodded before eventually lowering your eyes to your toast. "When he starts his studies again, I'm certain he'll meet people who will like him for the person he truly is. He'll make friends who will adore him for who he is and not because he's some rich kid."
Suguru watched as you helped yourself to your kaya toast, the flavours dancing in your mouth as you carefully thought of what to say next. 
"And I… think I still have a lot of growing up to do as well. Uprooting myself from home was awful enough for my family. They'd probably lose their minds if I go to the States. And there's that thing with Sukuna, too… Our relationship didn't really end on our terms, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet," you said with a small sigh and a smile. "I adore Satoru, I really do. I appreciate his sentiment, too, but I think I'd rather not let men dictate the course of my life now."
The brunette nodded at your statement, a small smile on his face as he drank deep into his shot of espresso. 
"What about you, Geto-san? Interested in meeting anyone? I have some writer friends at home who would love to date a guy like you," you beamed at the man in black, only to earn his signature glare once more.
"Oh, please! Do I look like I have the time to be dating when I've got my hands full with that manchild of yours?!" 
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Satoru recalled going to sleep with you last night on the very same bed he woke up in, but you were nowhere in sight the morning after. While most of your belongings remained in your apartment, the place was eerily empty. The only person he found outside your bedroom was Suguru, who helped himself to a freshly brewed cup of green tea. 
"Good morning, waka," the brunette stated as he blew over the steam rising from his cup.
"Where'd Otome go?" 
From inside his coat pocket, Suguru pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to his charge, Satoru quickly yet carefully ripping it open. In it contained a sheet of manuscript paper with your distinct handwriting. 
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Satoru,  
I'm not sure when this letter will reach you. I'm not sure if it will, but Geto-san said he'll ensure it does. I suppose only you can say that for certain.  
You know, I was about to earn a quick buck from selling that set of golf clubs in my room. Little did I know I'd end up threatening you with one on our very first meeting. Oh, god, seeing you drink milk straight from the carton annoyed the hell out of me even more than the fact that you were actually trespassing.  
For the record, I'm glad I actually let you buy me fried chicken and beer. You spent that entire night trying to cheer me up and you never talked over me even once when the sadness came rearing its ugly head. You just let me be sad, but not be sad at the same time. 
When you opened up to me about your own sadness, even though you had the world in the palm of your hand, it made me realise how everything isn't always as it seems. That behind all of that glamour in your world, you were still so human, so alone, and so hurt. 
At the end of the day, we were just two human beings trying to exist. 
I enjoyed every moment of 'just existing' with you. Just existing, orbiting around each other like the planets and the moons in the sky. For the short time we've lived under the same roof, you gave me all the love I never even dared to ask for, even though you were only filling the void. 
I hope you know I still want nothing from you but you. That hasn't changed. Sure, the food was better when you were around, but listening to your shitty jokes and laughing with you always made our meals even more inviting. 
We never meet the wrong people in our lives, and I know I met you for a reason. I can spend decades trying to figure out why you ended up in my apartment that fateful morning, but I wouldn't mind if I never come up with an answer. All I know is that you're a part of my life now, and I can only hope I'll remain part of yours. 
For now, I hope you'll allow me this time to outgrow the grief that forced me out of my life in Sendai in the first place. I think it would be awfully unfair to you if I go with you as I am now. 
I don't want to reach for you and think of a future long lost to me. I want to be able to reach for you and think of the road we'll walk on, hand in hand and side by side. I don't want you to fill this void anymore. I want you to exist as your own person in my life. And know this: I will want nothing more than for you to come home to me all the time. 
Until then, go prove them wrong. Prove to everybody who doubted you that you aren't some pushover. 
I adore you so, my president of the world. I apologise for not telling you earlier. 
If you find yourself looking for your home after all of this, you'll know where to find it. The light is always on for you.
PS: I went home to Sendai for the weekend. My mother's been worried sick about me ever since that incident with Sukuna and your men. I left you a copy of your key here. Please don't lose it! Also, here's my e-mail address. You can also get in touch with me here once you land…
Love forever…
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True enough, the envelope contained a certain weight just light enough for him to confirm that it was indeed a key to the unit. It fell into his palm, quiet and cold, just like how you left him this morning. Along with it was an adornment of the most recognisable Donald Duck holding half of a cartoon heart. They can only assume that half of the cartoon heart was held by Daisy Duck in your own pocket. 
"Awfully thoughtful of her, isn't it?" Suguru stated with an uncharacteristically warm smile on his face. "I'm certain she'll work just as hard as you, but I think your world will never be ready for someone like her."
"Of course. She's so amazing, after all!" Satoru exclaimed with an equally bright smile. "I guess I'll have to work hard, for her sake, too."
"That's what she would have wanted, waka. Better not disappoint her, then."
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— Epilogue.
~ two years later.
Tokyo Haneda Airport remained bustling with activity even as the years flew by. For Satoru, it almost seemed like nothing changed at all. Several flights from different parts of the world have descended on the Land of the Rising Sun, including his own, after finally concluding his long overdue studies in business administration in New York. He hasn't been home in months, being a slave to the grind in hopes of finally passing and successfully defending his thesis. 
Today marks his homecoming, or a break, at least, after having masterfully defended his thesis to his professors at the esteemed SC Johnson College of Business at Cornell University. (It was the only school that would credit his previous classes and allow him to continue his studies after a rather lengthy hiatus from school.) Graduation was just around the corner, as well as his official inheritance of the role of President of the Six Eyes Enterprises. Despite his inheritance having yet to be announced, he has been making some major business decisions on behalf of his parents, making him the de facto leader of the company for the last few months. 
"Oh, Tokyo. You and your relentless cold," he remarked as he stepped out of the passenger terminal, his arrival met by none other than his ever-dutiful all-arounder, Suguru Geto. The brunette gave his young master a quick bow before reaching for what little belongings he brought back home with him and loading them into his sedan's compartment.  
"Welcome home, waka. How was your flight?"
Satoru's homecoming in a navy-coloured suit almost felt like the arrival of a dark horse meant to cause discord in the company. At least now, he meant it in a good way. "Good! But I've only had coffee and cola for the last 15 hours, so I'll probably be annoying."
"Like you aren't already?" Suguru scoffed at him. "Where to?"
"Where else?" The young president chuckled, finally removing his silver-rimmed sunglasses. "Home, of course."
The car ride from the airport to home was short and uneventful, with Satoru browsing through different radio stations in hopes of hearing something good. What he chanced upon was something even better. 
"…back, everyone! We're in the second hour of Seishun Book Club. Talking with us this hour is the rising novelist and scriptwriter from Sendai who…"
"Oh!"
"…jo Otome-sensei!"
"Good morning, friends and listeners! It is such an honour to be live on air with you!"  
The sound of your voice on the radio was music to his ears. "It really is her!" 
"Ah, but the honour is all ours! You are one of Sendai's 'living treasures', after all. And you've brought your craft to the city and have given so many people something delightful to read." 
"I'm so happy a lot of people found my new novel an entertaining read. I had such a wonderful time working on it for the last two years. Of course, I must thank my kind editors Marin-san and Tatara-san from Sendai for keeping track of things. Without them, people probably wouldn't have been able to rea…"
"She sounds so relaxed. This probably isn't her first radio show."
"Yeah, she's been doing more radio shows after her second book got popular. She's been to a few TV appearances, too. Nanami and Haibara have been driving her around town for every interview she's been invited to."
"…nd people both young and old have been captivated by the story you delivered in 'Up The Winding Stairs', particularly the enduring love of the Crown Prince for his long-lost childhood friend, but there are also elements which parents of young children also…" 
"…suppose you could say some elements of the story were inspired by real-life events…"
"She's a living treasure, Suguru," Satoru stated, sitting there in content silence as he listened to the first part of the interview, which was mostly about your book and the working process, most of which was composed of endless nights of writing and typing and random video calls with each other. The second part was composed of producer and listener-sent questions pertaining to your personal life this time. 
"…rious about your marriage to the president of Nikkei 225-listed company Six E…"
"…toru will be graduating soon and I'm very proud of him and his achievements. We haven't seen each other in months since he's been busy preparing for his thesis defence, but he'll be returning home soon. I'm actually a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to seeing my husband fo…"
The said president could only contentedly smile to himself as he listened to his wife sing his praises.
"Well, don't you look awfully smug," Suguru chuckled. 
"That's my wife talking on the radio, Suguru! How on earth can I not be so smug and so proud?!" 
The two of you got married sometime in the last two years in a simple, uncomplicated beach wedding ceremony that only included your closest family and friends. Satoru's family may have had some qualms about your dubious origins, but they recognised how much of a positive influence you've become in his life. You made it clear to them that you could live without any aid or part of his family's fortune, eventually earning their respect, and later on, their adoration.  
But every once in a while, you'd allow your husband to spoil you with a pretty thing or two. It was his pleasure, after all. 
Perhaps his greatest pleasure and treasure was coming home to someone who wanted nothing at all from him but him. 
"Satoru! Welcome home!" 
…And the smile that lit your face whenever he walked into the door of your shared home. 
"How was your flight?"
"Pleasant, but awfully long," Satoru replied, carefully dropping his luggage to tenderly pull you into his arms. "I heard your interview on the radio on my way here! You were fantastic!" 
The world may have been messy and imperfect for you not too long ago, but that may have been because you had too many pieces in your hands. But now… Everything that you needed now was always only an arm's length away from you.
And with your husband now in your arms after months of being away, you were well and truly content, and everything in your world was absolutely perfect.
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Author's notes:
Hello, friends! 💛 I decided to publish one of my most favourite Gojo fics here.
This fic's namesake is one of my fave songs by Carly Rae Jepsen and it speaks of an unfinished love! (And here it pertains to Sukuna and Gojo but mostly yn's love for herself too.) If I went with my original plan for the fic, it would have definitely ended with yn going with Gojo to the US and thus forgetting her book!! So I said, well fuck it better stay at home for now. This must have been incredibly fast-paced too, but I'd like to think that stuff like this happens in real life! The premise of this one-shot is from a dream I had after a night of drinking with my sister sometime last year. 
This fic follows a true-to-life timeline, with yn, Gojo and Sukuna aged around 27 to 28. Also, forgive me for my awful attempt at writing a business fic— I only realised now that I can't do serious fics like this ever again because I have no idea how offices and companies work lol.
Something about the way the manga's going has disillusioned me, and I know a lot of us would prefer ignoring canon altogether. Others will argue that Gojo's death was necessary and all of that… Okay, cool, point made, but please let us ignore canon in peace, please! Gojo wasn't even dead yet when I wrote this but this serves as a perfect escape for me… I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much! 💛
💛 Here's the AO3 link, too. This was originally published on 10 January 2023.
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paingoes · 3 months ago
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Rubies
First Base
(Content: living weapon whumpee, past slavery, guns, dehumanization, broken bones, needles, conditioning, referenced child abuse, kinda ambivalent caretaking?)
“It’ll be okay,” Kitty whispered, “Levon pretends to be a hard-ass, but he’s actually really nice.”
Her voice was so low, Delta thought she must have been talking to herself. She ran her claw in circles over his palm. He’d woken up already clutching her hand; he would not have dared touch her otherwise. While his grip had since relaxed, hers had not.
He’d been lucid for such a short while before they had to go again. Kitty had felt so bad about it. There’d been so little time to explain. She explained the plan. He had already known the plan. She explained who she was. He already knew who she was. She explained he had been sick. He had known that simply from how bad he felt all over — his insides felt like they’d been cooked — but the delirium episode did came as a surprise. He had no memory of it, but when he had finally came to, he did not feel himself in a foreign environment. His surroundings had integrated themselves slowly into his awareness through a state of fever. 
The ship was small, without enough seats for everyone who had come. The captain — Iza, he had heard the others say her name — sat at the helm. She was flanked by two others at their own stations. Everyone else was on the floor. Sunny — Apollo? — tossed restlessly in between sleeping and waking. He had not wanted to go out, but he simply couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. His brother(?) Lun(?) laid his head down in their lap, propping up their jacket beneath his neck. The mechanic sat towards the back of the ship, the only person visibly unbothered by what was about to happen.
Levon, Levon, Levon. None of them could keep his name out of their mouth. Kitty had not needed to introduce him to Delta. She knew there was no need. Even in the heart of Empire, they printed his face on t-shirts. He had been the revolution’s darling when he was younger. Now that he was older, he was the revolution. He had lived his entire life in its service. There was no single person Empire hated more.
“It’ll be fine,” Kitty insisted.
The ship pulled into the dock. 
The boy in the chair next to Iza let out a low whistle, “Lotta guns.”
It was true. There was a ring of guards posted around the inert ship. All of them were armed. Iza stood up abruptly, throwing her helmet down onto the panel and slamming the ship’s doors open.
“It’s me!” She was furious. 
Apollo shot awake, fumbling to put his glasses back on. He started talking before he could even see properly, “That’s not- uh-“
One of the guards entered the ship, putting her hands up in what was meant to be a pacifying motion. Just checking. Her gaze traveled to Delta’s collar. Delta flinched once from Iza’s outburst, again as the guard approached. Her finger slipped flush against the inside of the collar, checking the fit, the stability, the power level. She gave it a light tug to see if it would give; it didn’t. Apparently satisfied, she stepped back. She hopped back out of the ship, offering one hand out to Iza to help her down. Iza ignored her completely.
“So sorry,” Apollo muttered. It took Delta a second to realize he was speaking to him. Kitty guided him to stand, letting him lean against her. It was hard to move with the broken ribs and he kept getting dizzy whenever he stood. She helped him out of the ship. The others poured out soon after. 
“Medbay,” A different guard said, “We only need him.”
“He can barely walk,” Kitty protested. 
“Only you two, then.”
Apollo frowned, but she waved him away.
“I’ve got it,” Kitty made a little circle with her fingers. O.K. They were escorted away before Apollo could respond.
=================
For the third time, they recast Delta’s arm. It wasn’t that Apollo had done a bad job; just that it could have been better. They put a new splint onto his nose. Kitty was ashamed she had not even realized it was broken. In her defense, it was a bit overshadowed by the myriad of injuries that otherwise marked his body.
“Three of your ribs are broken. Did you know they were broken?” The nurse asked. Her voice was muffled through the mask. Delta nodded mutely. 
Kitty hadn’t known. If Apollo had known, he hadn’t mentioned it. And that wasn’t like him. 
“Is anything else broken? That you know of?”
Delta shook his head. The nurses went back to their hushed chatter. Kitty’s tail flicked from left to right. Delta wasn’t talking. He’d given the bare minimum response back at house, when he was still coming out of the fever. The only reason she even knew he was lucid was because his eyes had cleared up and because he’d stopped talking total nonsense. He did not give any indication that he was okay. Just that he was present again. Kitty pulled her legs up onto the chair, chittering aimlessly to fill the silence. Delta didn’t mind so long as she did not ask him questions.
=================
The nurse lightly tapped Kitty on the elbow, gesturing for her to follow out into the hallway. She did so unquestioningly. The other nurses followed them out of the room. It took Delta about ten seconds to realize he was completely alone in the room. That…was unusual, right? He did not have enough time to feel true apprehension. The knock came first.
Levon was tall. He had known that. It was a good bit of trivia, a good running joke, but that had not translated cleanly into Delta’s physical understanding of him. It was not adequate preparation. He’d had to duck his head a bit to step through the doorway. The door shut silently behind him.
Delta got off the bed and down onto his knees in an instant. It wasn’t adequate, he realized. He bent forward to press his forehead to the cold tile floor. It was deeper than he could ever remember bowing and it put too much pressure on his still healing ribs. He would have gone lower if he could. It was in surrender, of course. But more than anything else, it was in apology. 
He stayed still and unbreathing. He felt the air swishing above him. Levon’s voice came much closer than he had expected.
“I appreciate the gesture, but you should probably keep the IV in.”
Delta slowly raised his head up, rolling back into a kneel. He took in his surroundings. The IV cannula had been yanked out of his arm from how quickly he’d gotten onto the ground. The post wobbled dangerously behind him. And Levon had bent down to Delta’s eye level. 
He did not look the same as he did on the T-shirts. His eyes were darker. His hair was not as wild. There was stubble all along his jawline and a pure roughness to his flesh that the photos could not convey. In none of the posters had he ever looked so worried.
“Sit up, please.”
To his absolute awe, Levon extended a hard to him. Delta hesitated, certain he was misinterpreting the gesture. He cautiously offered his unbroken wrist. Levon slid up to grasp his hand instead. He carefully pulled him up to his feet.
Delta pushed himself back onto the bed. Even with help, it was still a lot harder to get up than it was to get down. He sat on the edge of it, resisting the urge to curl up. He kept his hands folded in his lap — as best he could with the cast on.
Levon towered over him. Delta bowed his head, both in respect and for the sake of his own nerve. He could not bring himself to look in his eyes. The shame felt hot and weighted. It was the first time he had ever been around someone he knew would not enable what he had done in Empire’s name. Before, all his shame had been wholly internal. Facing that same disapproval from someone else — someone he was entirely at the mercy of — was terrifying. He knew he deserved it. It did nothing to quell the fear.
“As much as I wish we could have met under different circumstances, I have to put the safety of my people first. I would not have had you siloed off like this otherwise, nor would I have to go through with this line of questioning while you’re still injured. Unfortunately, your friends have put me in a situation where I have to do just that.” He sounded very tired, but his cadence was clear and steady in spite of this.
Delta could feel the gaze on him without needing to look up. He did not know what it was Levon was searching for, but by the end of it he seemed a bit more certain of something.
“Your friends promised you amnesty. They shouldn’t have. It was never within their power to do so. Even if it had been, you did not tell them what you were when the deal was arranged. It’s void.” He paused. 
Delta did not outwardly react. Levon’s voice was still conversational, not injecting any threat or anger into it. He glanced up to try and parse Levon’s expression. What he learned was that Levon had been staring straight at his face. He’d caught the glance Delta had intended to be discreet.
“Yes?” Levon asked. It was that which made Delta flinch. He hadn’t meant to challenge him, nor to draw more attention to himself. His voice was still hoarse from where the fever had pushed the blood up and his nerves were even worse. But Levon let the silence hang.
“A.” Delta’s voice caught, “Am I allowed to speak, sir?”
“Please.” Levon nodded. Delta gripped the fabric of the bedsheet tightly, absolutely desperate for any support it could provide. 
“I did not expect amnesty, sir. I came to surrender,” Delta whispered.
He had never believed in their promise of mercy. It was ignorant. He did not care to be forgiven. What he had wanted was to be out of Empire — both his mind and his body, unavailable for them to take advantage of or to harvest. That wish had already been granted. In return, he would accept any punishment Levon deigned to give him. 
Levon paused to consider this. After a while, he responded, “I would very much like to believe you. So much that I am willing to take you on the honor system. I want you to answer truthfully. Did you come of your own accord? Or were you sent here on assignment?” 
Delta realized all at once how he must appear. He was a traitor to the heartland. He had bitten every master he’d ever had. He had lied to them all about who he was and what he had meant to do. He was a snake. He was too sneaky. Why would Galatea have any reason to trust him? How could they have known it was not just another plot?
“I came to surrender, sir.” It was all he could say. “I came alone.“
“Do I have your word?” Levon asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And do I have your word that you do not intend to harm us? That I will not regret letting you inside?” 
“Yes, sir.” His eyes watered. 
Levon’s expression softened a bit. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket, extending it gingerly. Delta stared at it in confusion. He did not grasp its utility at first. He did not understand why Levon had noticed him crying and not immediately punished him for it. Still, he took it gratefully. He wiped away the dried blood and dabbed at the tears that threatened to rehydrate it. Levon was watching him closely.
“…How old are you?” Levon tilted his head to the side.
“Nineteen, sir.” Delta replied. It was only an educated guess. He knew he’d hit eighteen a while back because there had to be new legal paperwork filed. Some time had passed since then.
“And you’ve been active what? Five years, by our count?” Levon raised an eyebrow. 
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay.” He nodded, “I’ll have to sort out the particulars, but I will give you my assurance that you won’t be hurt. We can wait until you’re healed before we move forward. I think that would be in your best interest.”
Delta nodded. He played absently with the handkerchief Levon had given him, tracing his fingers along its embroidered edges. It was a lot to process. Too much, really. Levon said he wouldn’t be hurt, at least not yet. Levon wanted him to heal. It was too easy. Delta felt like he was getting away with something. It wasn’t right.
“Again, I’m sorry it had to play out like this,” Levon’s tone lightened considerably, “Appreciate your patience. I probably won’t bother you again until you’re feeling better. Do feel better.”
He left just as abruptly as he’d arrived. Delta was once again alone in the ward. The nurses soon filtered back in, picking up their work as if nothing had happened. If he had not kept the handkerchief, Delta would have thought the whole encounter was just a remnant of the fever.
==========
tags:
@catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@scoundrelwithboba@whatwhump@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire @micechomper
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luridon · 1 month ago
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Imago Dei
A story of zealotry and bugs.
Or: Could you love a worm?
♡characters: yandere!bug x  deity!reader
♡warnings: MINORS DNI, bugs, blood, cannibalism, murder, obsession, gore, animal death, eldritch themes where YOU are the incomprehensible horror, religious themes, body horror, suicidal thoughts in an I have no mouth and I must scream kinda way, no smut but this is probably worse than smut honestly,  MINORS DNI
♡notes: Buggy People. Bug themes. Fantasyish bug world. Arachnophobes and entomophobes beware. You guys know the adventure time episode with tiny people on a separate plane of reality/existence that's sort of the logic we're operating on. This is the inverse of the "would you love me if I was a worm" meme because the worm comes first here. Does this count as bestiality is that what this is?? Ehh this is xenofiction ish this is FINE everything's FINE we don't have to psychoanalyze this we're all FINE this is all in good fun wtf did I write this
♡w/c: 2k+ | ♡masterlist♡ |
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You chose him from the swarm.
You were a thing he could not comprehend, a being so vast his kind's vision was simply incapable of perceiving them in their entirety. You, in comparison, had an eye was so great you saw all his kin at once. You saw the lands beyond, their deep caverns and glass-castled cities, their seas-
And you saw him, an insignificant creature among many. A weak worm writhing among his brethren in the dirt. Your silver claws descended, and you plucked his prone form from the slums of his nest.
The elders had whispered of godkin and cruelty, of their favored being fed the still-squirming flesh of his kind. It was of little concern to him, a young thing starved and cold. He thought only of hunger. If not that, then of an end. . .but that end did not come.
For a moment and an eternity, you tended to him. You brought fresh fruit to his maw, the pulp dripping with sweet nectar. Though hesitant, his hunger won, and he ravenously tore into the meal. He was cradled in flesh soft and warm as he fed, and he could feel your lifeblood pulse beneath the plane of it. Slowly, he had his fill of the nectar, and he regained his strength.
Your great eye gazed upon him through it all. A low sound murmured all about him, and the maw that could have so easily devoured everyone he knew in a bite bared strange ivory fangs. He could do nothing but bare his own black fangs, to try and understand-
And that was his mistake. 
The world fell.
Once again, he was upon the meager dirt, only now his belly was full. He shifted about, but your warm hold was gone, so too was your gaze.
Your favor had ended as quickly as it came. You had vanished from the skies beyond, from the everything in his small, lowly world.
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No matter what he asked of the elders or his peers, none could say what had happened.
Why would godkin care for us?  they scoffed, if they even believed in gods to begin with. You imagined things in your delirium. Banish these strange dreams from you head, child. They will only plague you.
Plagued indeed. He was haunted by your strange act. Why had you done so? Why had you shown kindness to such an insignificant creature, a runt fit to only to be torn apart by the rest of his nest when he'd finally keel over and die?
He could not understand.
He wanted to understand.
He wanted to feel that warmth, that gaze that found him worthy, taste that nectar, sweet and cool, hear that soothing god-tongue, even if he could not discern a word. Nothing but a daydream, whispered the nest, but he knew-
You were real. The stories of godkin must have come from somewhere. He would seek you, and understand.
To do so required sacrifice.
To survive, one needed strength. For strength, one needed sustenance, and in the nest, there was no better fare than flesh still fresh and bleeding.
Those the godkin favored fed upon lower beings, so the stories went.
As he tore into the flesh of those he felled, he thought the tales true. The tenderness of their bodies filled him with strength, and he felt something stirring within him with every dripping mouthful.
There were whispers of the power to change. Even the weak could grow strong. Even worms could grow wings and horns and armor.
A vain hope, some would say, clicking their fangs with disdain, delighting in small, pitiful pleasures. We are all destined to die as we are. Is it not lovely, to die as we are?
You did not let him die. He must have been destined for more.
He grew larger, and braver. From the deceased he went to hunt weaklings, then the hale, than the strong. Their cries were heeded no more than their scorn. Their blood wet his maw, their flesh filled his stomach.
They must have believed in gods then. They must have believed in you, for they were within him, a part of him, and he believed in you. Gods like worship, no? Now a whole nest sought you as he did.
Still, you did not appear.
The offering must not have been grand enough. It was a gift so paltry, of course it was unworthy of your attention. What did you seek then? Is there anything you could desire? What would it take to win your favor once more?
He despaired in the ravaged nest, and full and a weary from the fight and the feast, he fell into a deep sleep.
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There are rumors of a beast.
One that devoured towns, one that ruined kingdoms led even by the great queens of earth and nectar. Walls of crystal and mazes deep could not save their people. Claw and venom, stinger and wing- none could halt the monster.
It would come and conquer, feasting upon the fallen. It was horrible sight, a beast with armor, and wing, and venom- a creature that seemed to take into itself all the powers of those it fed upon. It persisted through cycles and seasons beyond those of mortal beings. It was unkillable, unstoppable.
Only those who spoke of godkin would live. Only those who proclaimed a devotion for the same entity it worshipped were spared.
The rumors spread until they ceased to be mere tales, because the beast was met, or the scoffers perished.
To survive, a cult rose in the monster's wake. Feigned following though it be, the masses were desperate to avoid the beast's wrath. The number of devoted grew, and grew, and grew, and fearing more power to the beast, fearing their own consumption by its fangs or its frenzied swarm, the rulers of nests gathered and one dared to ask the beast what it sought.
A fool's errand, a lover's folly, the ramblings of a lunatick. Still, cooperation was sworn, and scholars all across the soils and skies toiled to bring its god to the land. But how terrible a god it must be- for a such a zealot to be its first follower.
A spell of summoning was found, and alongside it. . . a spell of change. To bring god-kin to their lowly realm would only spell doom for them all. A fragile vessel then, to hold their mind, their essence. Something to placate its gluttonous fiend without ending everything as it did.
The beast knew nothing of the schemes of the fearful rulers. Through much sacrifice, at last the power to bring the god-kin was ammassed.
And so it was.
What a terrible thing it was, a god, or whatever portion was snatched of one, forced into the form of one of scaled winged and thin-limbed. Something so vast could not be made so small so easily. Wings twisted with flesh and fat, eyes all about it. It thrashed in its new form, it wept and bled-
But that mattered little.
A godkin was brought low, and the beast was appeased. There was peace in the realm, and the people rejoiced.
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It hurts.
Everything hurts.
You wake in pain, with senses stolen and an inexplicable wrongness about you. You can move, but nothing moves right. You can see, but your sight is strange. You try to call for help-
There is nothing you can say. You cannot feel your tongue or teeth, or lips, or throat, or anything at all where your mouth should be. A nightmare, a bout of sleep paralysis, a terrible dream is all it is-
You hope that's all it is. You hope in vain.
The world trembles and so do you. You try to bring a hand to your face but find it wrong, find scales and segments over your skin and the color is wrong the texture is wrong everything is wrong-
Your joints feel too low, or too high, your body too light and too heavy. There are heavy masses at your back and like a reflex when they strike something, you lurched forward and they unfurl in a most uncomfortable, off-putting matter. New nerves, your limbs, what is happening to you-?
You feel claws spined and sharp take what should have been your hands. You hear things you could not comprehend yet do- chitters and shutterings, clicking sounds all about filtered through your head as whispers and meaning. The world is too dark yet you can't shut or open your eyes. You need to breathe but can't feel lungs, yet everything smelled. Too strong, too clear, of food, of flesh, of flowers, of soil-
Too much, it is too much-
Your new form grants you one small mercy.
You fall asleep.
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You do not know how long you've been here.
A strange, dark place. A burrow, a nest, one with a bed strewn with leaves and petals and silks for a bed. You move little. You do not want to, when every movement reminds you of what you are now.
You hate the dark of it, the cloying scent of decay and earth, the silence.
But you hate the figure beside you more.
It has a terrifying visage, one barely human the way the other few faces you've seen are, the way your own feels like beneath your horrible clawed, scaled hands. It's more buglike than anything, mandibles and chitin and eyes too big and dark. You are one of them now, likely. You have not dared to look.
The figure hums. It's a soft thing, almost a soothing croon, but you loathe it all the same. It's no human sound. There is no human here, not even you.
It sounds pleased with itself, as it speaks of the world outside, of pleasant weather and a garden. You cannot tell what sort of insect it is, but it's held in high regard by the others, it has its own land where none bother it, and so none bother you. It says those who tried to slay you have been executed, and their heads, clean and shining, are piked among the foliage and blooms.
That draws tears from you, and you hate the revolting beast beside you as bows its head to lap up the fluid from all the eyes.
How relieved you must be, it says. I'm glad I could protect you.
You hate it, the creature that brought you here and keeps you here. The one time you felt hope was when those intruders swarmed in, and tried to take your head.
An abomination, they had hissed, raising something sharp, An affront to nature.
You only prayed that they knew where your neck was, if you had one in this body.
Your soft flesh was barely pierced when they were flung from you. The figure now at your side had returned, and it took them all away, slaying some, maiming others. Then it had kneeled beside you, murmuring apologies and begging for forgiveness as it tended to you.
You think you started truly hating it then.
Your captor never tires of muttering about how glad it is to have you here, your flesh and your warmth, your mere presence. It likes to lay beside you, or press its face or claws to your wings to feel the veins and arteries beneath your skin. It drinks of your tears and blood and thanks you for the blessing, and you have much to give as you weep from the pain of your new form, of being here, from the eyes upon your head and the ones upon your wings.
It is a monster that kneels beside you and keeps you here, and you are a monster as well.
You are an abomination, to your kind and its own. You hope others of its kin feel the same, and that they'll seek to finish what their fellows started.
You can only hope one day, one of them will succeed.
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Tldr: A worm fell in love with something way beyond it so metamorphosed into an abomination of a beetle and dragged its god down to its plane even if that mean much murder and squishing a human into a horrible fleshy butterfly abomination thing. It is now happily malewifing while its god wants to die.
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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months ago
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omg thank you for the compliments howl 😭🙏 your rants are also amazing and really helpful for my brainstorming ❤️
killer conflating nightmare with chara is such a wonderful idea (not for killer though, poor him). nightmare is symbolically killer's literal nightmare. imagine working to finally defeat the demon controlling your life, only to have it happen again. it confirms his worldview learned from chara that his life can be nothing but cruel, and maybe he has to be cruel to other people too. kill or be killed.
i wonder how nightmare feels about being compared to chara. maybe he secretly feels a sick satisfaction from it, like isn't being killer's literal nightmare a compliment? killer mistakenly calls nightmare 'chara' one time, and nightmare takes full advantage of it. he belittles killer for the mistake of course, but whenever killer is at the brink of sleep or unconsciousness or delirium, nightmare appears to killer as chara, as 'his best friend'. maybe nightmare uses these moments to weasel information out of killer, about his past with chara, about what chara did to him, so nightmare can re-enact those acts and subsume the role of killer's owner.
~ crowshipping anon
snaps nightmares neck snaps his stupid little neck and tears him to shreds I hate him so much
but thats a perfect idea. nightmare taking advantage of this situation and prying information out of killer that he wouldve never told anyone willingly or knowingly in his entire life and renacting his most painful, humiliating, horrifying moments either done to him by others or that he did to others to both constantly remind him of what hes done and what others would “happily” do to him if he allows himself to be “weak” or “trust anyone” (but nightmare of course) and killer thinks he has no one to blame for this but himself because he told nightmare everything
imagine how much harder itd be for color to save and help him. because then killer definitely doesnt want to be known or understood at any costs and colors ability to do that registers as a life threatening threat to him. can see a lot of “you don’t know me, get out of my head” sentiments and color has to painstakingly explain that hes not in killers head, no one’s in killers head, and explain every conclusion he comes to about killer with a lot of details and logical reasoning and evidence (and probably also prove that he didn’t do or say anything to make killer tell him this information)
but nightmare learning more about how killer’s conditioning works from killer himself will definitely help him both take advantage of it for himself and make some alterations here and there as he sees fit
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hedonistpoet06 · 1 month ago
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What If The Storm Ends? - Part 2 Five Hargreeves x Female OC
'What if Five's time during that first apocalypse was slightly different, what if he wasn't alone for all those years?'
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Chapter synopsis: Still slightly stunned by the presence of another human being in the apocalypse, Octavia decides to mediate the tension by offering Five food back at her base. Despite both obtaining superhuman abilities, Five couldn't be more different from this bubbly stranger he happened to stumble across. Five finds himself in a complicated predicament as he naturally gravitates towards Octavia's warmth but he cannot forget his most important priority, getting back to his family. The two decide to strike up a deal beneficial for their survival, after all, strength is in numbers, right?
Authors Note: I don't know if this work is showing up on any of the tags i've listed it under. Is this a common problem for anyone else? I've never posted on tumblr before so I'm still trying to figure out the ropes ;w;. Let me know if this is appearing under any tags for you guys.
Nevertheless, enjoy this chapter!
Word Count: 7197
☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆
ii. 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫
After almost an hour of walking, Octavia had guided Five to where she had been staying for the past two years. The walk was pleasant but mostly silent. Octavia would try to ignite some form of small talk whilst Five kicked a rock along the ground to keep himself entertained.
In reality, Five was still processing the fact that he was no longer the last man on earth after the destruction of the apocalypse, a notion which he believed to be true for almost two entire years. Yet here Octavia was, another superhuman survivor. She wasn't just an apparition of his malnourished delirium, she was real and warm to the touch as Five had evidently felt earlier that day when he took her hand in his.
The pair had finally reached what Five had presumed was her dwelling. It was located amongst the outskirts of the city and consisted of the remains of a decent sized concrete building with the roof intact, it had to have been no larger than a small street front store.
"Welcome to my humble abode. It's not much but it does the job." Octavia pulled back a large sheet of metal which acted as her front door. Five followed her inside and was met with the insides of her shelter.
It wasn't gloriously spacious by any means but it was just big enough to fit a mattress, a few milk crates where she kept her belongings in and a small wooden desk, like those you'd find in a classroom.
"This is where you've been living this whole time?" Five noticed the scarcity of her settlement and although his own was far from luxurious, he felt somewhat uneasy at the bareness of her space.
Five couldn't find it in himself to judge however, especially if it had helped her survive against the past two bitter winters.
"Yeah. I think it used to be some storage shed for a high school. It survived the impact well enough... it gets kinda cold during the winter but it gets the job done." Octavia explained and Five agreed, it had most of its four walls and a roof which was rare considering the demolished state of the city.
"It's practical. I like it." Five complimented and Octavia smiled proudly before walking over to one of the plastic milk crates. She knelt in front of it and began to rummage for the tinned goodness she had promised Five.
"Why thank you." Five regretted inflating her pride any further but remembered that she was the one who offered him food so he bit his tongue.
"Here, catch." Octavia retrieved a small metal tin of baked beans from the crate before standing up again and tossing the can to Five.
Octavia was secretly impressed by his abnormally sharp reflexes as he retracted a gloved hand from one of his pockets and caught the can without fumbling.
"Thanks." He said curtly but the boy couldn't ignore the intense rumbling that erupted in his stomach as he saw the dusty label that read "Original Baked Beans In Rich Tomato".
Five hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning when he mistakenly decided to test the myth of Twinkies lasting forever, turns out it was just in fact a myth and they too have an expiry date like most edible things.
"I only have one fork and a mildly bent spoon so take your pick." Octavia walked over to where Five was standing in the middle of the room and gestured to the two utensils she had clasped in her hand.
"I'll take the spoon." Five said although he really could not find it in himself to care as his hunger started to overwhelm him.
Five watched as Octavia made herself comfy on her bed, which was really just two old mattresses put together with a pile of some tattered blankets on top. She pressed her back up against the concrete wall and began to open the metal tab on the can.
She then looked up at Five, who was staring back at her awkwardly with a can of beans in one hand and a disfigured spoon in the other.
"You can sit down, you know? I don't bite." Octavia chuckled and patted a spot on her makeshift bed.
"I'll take your word for it." Five decided that he would rather sit comfortably then make a spectacle of himself eating whilst standing up. He sunk down on the old mattress but ensured that he still kept some distance between him and Octavia, who was still a stranger to him.
"Bon appetit, Five." She said as Five opened his own can eagerly. His mouth salivated at the sight of the beans drenched in sauce and immediately began to shovel the food into his mouth.
Five was never a fan of baked beans, his mother often prepared it as a side dish at breakfast time but he always refused it. Now, Five was going on more than 24 hours without food and he did not care about his usual disdain towards the food.
He was forced to put that picky part of himself to bed a long time ago when survival became his top priority.
"Damn. Someone's hungry." Octavia stifled a smile that began to grow on her face as she watched the boy next to her chow down on the canned food in an almost feral way.
"And you're not?" Five replied, he then brought the sleeve of his jacket up to his lips and wiped the leftover residue away.
"Oh, I am. I just haven't lost my table manners two years into the apocalypse, that's all." Octavia let out a small giggle at her own remark. Five paused his eating to glance over at the girl next to him, he noticed the calm and poised manner in which she held her fork. Now Five just felt embarrassed.
He cursed himself for growing flustered so quickly, after all why should he find it in himself to care? It was the apocalypse and the table manners which his adoptive father incessantly drilled into him had completely left his mind.
"How are you so... perky?" Five asked, he was genuinely intrigued how someone who had survived as long as he had managed to be so giggly. It was borderline infuriating and slightly unexpected for Five.
He always was a cynical person, even before the apocalypse. Five knew he was smarter than his own siblings and often gloated about it. He had a natural inclination towards mathematics and physics thanks to the nature of his powers but his intellect only heightened his ego.
"What do you mean?" Octavia lowered her fork, taken aback by his question. She knew that her lively attitude did not correlate to their situation; however she found it completely futile to adopt a pessimistic mindset when everything else outside was crumbling.
"I mean you. You're so bubbly for someone in our predicament." Five explained and watched as Octavia's brows furrowed at his words. He felt his cheeks turn warm, he hated how he sounded like one of his siblings who would often imbue humour with their respective powers. "That pun wasn't intentional." He insisted and Octavia gave him an unconvincing look.
"Well, I guess I kind of always have been. Don't get me wrong, I certainly wasn't jumping for joy when the whole world ended but I guess I quickly realised that there was no good just wallowing in my own despair. I just had to keep going..." Octavia explained as she picked away at the remains of the cans label.
Five watched her nimble fingers scratch away the adhesive sticker and started to dwell on what she had said. Despite the morbid context, Five secretly admired how her bright attitude had remained continuous.
"Just had to keep going, huh?" He asked. The ambiguity of her words had reminded him too much of himself.
"Yeah, I always did kind of hold out hope that I'd see something or someone and that would reassure me that I wasn't completely alone out here." Octavia looked over to where Five was situated on the other end of the mattress.
"And yet when you did you thought it would be a good idea to trap me in your bubble?" Five teased.
"You had a gun! And besides, stranger danger still applies in the apocalypse." Octavia exclaimed and threw her hand towards the direct of Five's rifle which he had propped up against the wall.
"I mean, I'm technically still a stranger to you." He stated truthfully.
Although Five had only met Octavia that day he concluded that they gravitated towards each other so comfortably because of their mutual connection through their powers.
"As am I." Octavia retorted confidently and Five softly rolled his eyes, a smirk tugged on the corner of his lips as he continued to eat his beans less feverishly now.
"How old were you when your powers first manifested?" Five spoke up.
The surrealness of the day had begun to catch up on him and the boy had to remind himself that he was in the company of not only just another living person, but a person with superhuman abilities much like himself. Only Octavia wasn't like himself or his adoptive siblings or even the other mysterious children who he shared a birthday with, she was an entirely different entity. She existed outside of his world and time and Five found himself increasingly fascinated.
"I was four." She admitted.
"And how did it happen?" Five pried further.
"You're asking a lot of questions." Octavia smirked, giving the boy a taste of his own medicine.
"You're the first person I've seen in two whole years and you expect me to not ask questions?" Five declared and this caused Octavia to chuckle softly again.
"No, you're allowed to be curious. But does this mean I get to interrogate you next?" She abandoned her now empty can of beans to the floor. She then crossed her legs in an attempt to get comfortable and shifted to face Five.
"Depends on if I'm feeling nice enough." Five said vaguely, keeping the aloofness present in his voice. The truth was he didn't know what to tell her, his situation wasn't exactly the easiest to explain.
Five was positive that Octavia would recognize his affiliation with the academy if they both lived in the same city despite the years between them.
"Well if you must know, I made my first forcefield because I didn't want to take a bath." Octavia revealed.
"Pardon?" Five had choked on the last bite of food which he had mistakenly put in his mouth.
He was caught off guard by the unserious nature of Octavia's statement. He was not expecting that. Five watched out of the corner of his eye as Octavia tried to hold back a smile from forming at his simultaneous struggle of choking and chuckling. She thought the humorous sight before her was almost endearing.
"Let me elaborate, when I was younger I used to run circles around the living room hiding from my Mom because she would chase me to take my nightly bath. I wasn't a dirty or unhygienic child, believe me." She started and Five found himself grinning at her words.
"Sure." He quipped back, eyeing the state of her dirtied jacket. In all fairness, he was not exactly the pinnacle of hygiene at the moment.
"Watch it." Octavia said menacingly before she continued to speak, "I just didn't like bath time because I knew that bedtime would be straight after and I didn't want the day to be over yet. One night, my Mom was chasing me and I turned my head to look back at her. I could see the horror on her face as I ran straight towards the dining table. I should have split my head open on the corner of the table but I didn't. I braced for the impact but I never felt any pain. And when I was brave enough to finally open my eyes, I was surrounded by a soft purple sphere of light." Octavia's eyes softened as she narrated the memory, a mixture of both nostalgia and melancholy lacd her voice.
Five listened attentively to the recollection of her memory as he compared it to his own and that of his siblings.
"So it sounds like they first materialised as a natural consequence of self defence." Five assumed based on the information she had provided.
"I mean, I guess? That's a very fancy way to put it." Octavia tilted her head, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at him. She had never really thought about it in that regard. Her powers were always a part of her, like her cells and DNA, her power was hardwired into her very being and she knew it was what made her different.
"What did your parents do, when they found out that is?" Five asked.
"Panic probably. But after they got over the initial shock that they had a super human baby, they tried their hardest to keep everything discreet and give me a somewhat normal childhood. My mom was an elementary school teacher so she left her job to homeschool me during those years when I couldn't quite keep my power under control. They were always scared that I'd accidentally slip up and show my power off at school and then the government would hunt me down and do research on me like some kind of lab rat." Octavia explained and she felt a complicated smile grace her face as she remembered her youth.
Octavia knew that her powers had to be kept a secret, but she was never kept a secret herself. She knew that her parents loved her an immense amount and they proved that through their actions.
"Seems like they made quite the sacrifice to keep you safe." Five replied, his voice slightly solemn which surprised Octavia.
Five couldn't deny the familiar feeling of jealousy that washed over him at Octavia's description. It was the same bitterness he felt when he'd walk past a park and see children playing or when his siblings and himself would go on missions and reunite hostages with their families. He was resentful of the way the parents would weep and hold their child as if they were never going to feel them in their embrace ever again.
"They did. I'm eternally grateful for how much they gave up for my benefit. But don't get me wrong, they didn't deprive me of a normal childhood. I wasn't on house arrest my whole life because of what I could do, my parents were just cautious. Cautious of who came to the house, cautious of how my temperament affected my powers and such. But other than that I had a pretty normal childhood." Five tried to subdue the envy that coursed through his being as Octavia spoke.
"Is that so?" Five asked, curious by what she meant exactly. He knew that being home schooled wasn't a part of the typical American nuclear family checklist, Five wondered to himself if Octavia had also felt the same isolation which he had.
"Well, every summer when dad could take time off work we'd drive out of the city to my grandparents farm up north. We'd spend every summer there with my cousins and I could just let loose and be a kid." Octavia watched as Five nodded softly at her response, he was absorbing every detail that she gave him and tried to picture it in his mind.
Five tried his hardest to imagine what her childhood would have looked like in stark contrast to his own, the rural nature of the farm and the company of her family sounded almost heavenly to him.
Although Octavia felt slightly embarrassed at her mindless rambling at this point, she was also appreciative of how he let her speak so freely, how he listened so diligently. His snarky demeanour that she had gotten well acquainted with since they met only hours ago was gone and was replaced by something almost curious.
"Sounds like you had a good life before all this." Five forced himself to bury his jealousy deep within some dark cavern of his chest and tried to conjure a genuine response.
"I really did," She said, her voice mellow as she began to reminisce on the nostalgic details of her youth,"My cousins were all older than me and they knew about my powers. It was our big family secret. Although, there was only one strict rule enforced which was absolutely no force fields allowed on the farm." Octavia chuckled at her recollection of her grandmother's authoritative voice.
"I don't blame them, they're not exactly pleasant to be trapped in." Five huffed in amusement and Octavia shot him a playful glare before continuing.
"My family used to have this joke that I'm our great-something-grandma reincarnated from the Salem witch trials and I'm here to enact my revenge." Five chuckled as she tried her hardest to sound wicked.
"A witch reincarnated, huh?" Five had to admit he found the inside joke slightly comical.
"I wish. As cool as it would be to be related to a witch, I think I'm just the anomaly in the family." Octavia sighed and Five was painfully reminded again of how different their separate lives were before the apocalypse started.
"I wish I could relate to that sentiment." His voice was barely above a whisper but Octavia managed to hear it clearly.
"What part, being the witch or the anomaly in the family?" She asked and Five instantly regretted opening his mouth to respond.
"The latter." He silently prayed that his dry tone would encourage Octavia to not poke any further, unfortunately it had the opposite effect.
"You have a big family?" She questioned, eager to know what the boy meant.
"We aren't talking about me here." Five dismissed her quickly.
"You said you'd tell me about yourself once I opened up." Octavia recalled their agreement they had made only moments ago.
"If I was feeling nice enough." Five replied quickly, making a heavy vocal emphasis on the 'if' at the start of his sentence.
"And are you?" She queried.
"I'll decide once I finish eating, bubbles." Five smiled at himself for the genius nickname he endowed on her and grinned even harder when he saw her jaw clench in annoyance.
"Hey! Don't call me that!" The blonde girl exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well don't call me Cinco!" Octavia let out a melodramatic groan and rolled her head back against the wall in defeat. Five let out a small huff of irritation at her childish behaviour however his smirk was still plastered on his face and didn't seem to be going anywhere.
"You are vexing, you know that?" Her head was still resting against the wall however she tilted it slightly to look over at Five.
"I'm surprised you know what that word means." Five hurled back.
"Dickhead." Octavia mumbled but Five didn't take her profanity to heart, "You know when you're homeschooled it only takes about two to three hours maximum to complete the assigned work." She stated and Five tried not to scoff again at the irony of her words. He was no stranger to the concept of homeschooling.
"I'm aware." Five for once was being truthful. Although the academies teaching regions were mostly tailored towards their superpowers he also had to complete traditional academics.
"Well then you should know that with that abundance of spare time that I had the opportunity to indulge in literature, meaning I have developed an extensive lexicon." Octavia proclaimed and Five chuckled at her confidence.
"And you called me the nerd?" He mocked Octavia's earlier sentiment when he was attempting to explain his power in a sophisticated way.
Octavia's face flushed at Five's remark, however she quickly mumbled some curse word under her breath before changing the subject.
"What about you?" She asked, obviously deflecting Five's previous taunting.
"Hm?" He pressed his lips into a thin line, not exactly sure of what she meant by her question.
"How old were you when you found out you had powers?" Octavia elaborated and Five shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner.
"Not entirely sure, our powers have been ingrained into me and my siblings' lives since before I could even remember-" Five began to speak but he was quickly interrupted by Octavia's exclamation.
"Ah hah! So you do have siblings!" Five let out an irritated sigh and rubbed his eyes.
"Shit." How had he let that slip so easily? Especially after all his effort trying to shift their earlier conversation away from his past.
"I knew I could make you crack." Octavia laughed and Five was absolutely furious with himself. His hands tensed around the empty can of beans in an attempt to conceal his annoyance at both himself and at her.
He wasn't directly annoyed at Octavia exactly. He was enraged rather by the fact that she had so subtly maneuvered the conversation to make him open up which he so desperately tried not to do.
"Damn it! Fine! I have a family, six other siblings if you're dying for specifics." Five said, the defeat evident in his voice.
"Wow, that's a whole village. And you all have powers too?" Octavia asked, attempting to put some of the pieces of information together herself.
"The majority of us do, I guess you could say it runs in the family." He answered.
"What are they?" Octavia knew her chances at prying any more information out of the boy was slim but she still wished to try.
"That's all you're getting." Five had pulled the plug in this conversation.
"Five, please!" Octavia insisted and Five noticed how she shuffled her body to face him. In doing so, she had effectively moved a few inches closer to Five, something which he was now incredibly aware of.
"No." Eventually, after half an hour of annoying Five she finally gave up.
Their empty cans of beans were long forgotten on the floor. The rigid yet fresh tension that surrounded the pair since they first met had started to melt away as they talked. It was a bizarre predicament that neither of them expected to happen when the day started. Both Octavia and Five had woken that morning believing that they were each most likely the last person on earth, only now to find themselves amongst each other's company.
Octavia was still bewildered by the fact that she had met this boy only a few hours prior and here she was in her own base, sharing a meal with him and letting him sit on her bed and talk to her.
Of course she didn't want to believe the terrifying prospect that she really was alone, but the possibility of someone else being out there felt inconceivable.
The pair talked about a myriad of things, mostly apocalypse related but some not.
Five told her the story of how he was forced to eat cockroaches for a week during the winter because he was so short on food. Octavia gagged at his vivid narration of the memory but she had to admit that she had also done her fair share of disgusting acts in the name of survival. Octavia relaxed as Five spoke, resting her head against her hand as she laid across against the worn mattress. Five was still stiff and alert however, sitting upright on the mattress with his back up against the wall, but his arms were loosely crossed over his chest which Octavia had interpreted as being his attempt at relaxing.
Their conversations were still filled with some witty remarks but their topics of discussion flowed very naturally. Octavia didn't expect it to be so alleviating to talk to another person after two years of solitude, it was like a boulder-sized weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
A small girlish part of Octavia had forgotten about the current obliterated state of the world outside. For a slight fraction of a moment, she had discarded the reality of the apocalypse. She imagined what this conversation between us would have been like if the two of them didn't meet this way. Octavia couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they had met at school, maybe they two of them would be be academic rivals turned unlikely friends, and she would invite Five over to her place to work on a project, only that the pair would find themselves on Octavia's bedroom floor, talking rather intimately, much like how they are now.
However, Octavia was brought back to their unfortunate reality by Five asking what time it was. She quickly stood up and walked over to the sheet of metal that substituted a front door.
"Oh shit. I lost track of time, it's completely dark out." She cursed as she was met with the lack of light outside.
"Damn it. You're right." Five stood up and walked over to where she stood, examining the dark landscape from over her shoulder. He let out a small sigh at the sight.
Five should have known better than to lose track of time and Octavia felt incredibly guilty for forgetting the desolate wasteland outside.
"You can't just teleport back home?" She asked and although it was a valid question, Five's abilities didn't exactly work like that.
"I told you I don't teleport! Besides, my powers are more effective when jumping smaller distances." It was true, the reliability of Five's spatial jumps began to dwindle when he tried to cross farther distances.
Then there was an awkward silence between the two of them and Octavia's mind began to race as she tried to find an appropriate way to articulate her solution.
"Five." She spoke up.
"Yes?" He looked at the girl who was only a few feet in front of him. He admired the way some of her hair had become loose from their braids as they spoke, it made her look like a little kid who was ready to succumb to the comfort of sleep.
"Do you wanna maybe spend the night? I don't want you walking back to your base in the dark. I have enough bedding and I can set it up if you'd like?" She proposed her idea and Five felt his brain effectively shut off in that very moment.
Did she mean what he thought she meant?
"Uh..." Five had been rendered speechless for the first time in the whole six or so hours that Octavia has known him.
"We're not sharing a bed you weirdo! I've got a spare mattress you can take and even a blanket. " Octavia exclaimed and rubbed her temple in dismay.
"I wasn't insinuating that!" Five's face reddened for what was probably the tenth time that day.
"Get your mind out of the gutter." She replied with a small smirk as she walked past him, bumping his shoulder,"Or do you want to risk getting killed by god knows what while walking home in the dark?"
Five's stomach tightened as he felt her shoulder brush his with enough pressure to be forceful but also playful.
"Oh shut up," Five muttered, his tone unfortunately betrayed him and revealed his slight embarrassment and frustration. He grumbled for another moment before he spoke again. "Fine. I'll stay the night."
"See, you didn't have to make it weird." Octavia called out teasingly as she began to look for the spare bedding that she kept in one the milk crates. Five huffed again, and even though Octavia wasn't looking at him she could feel the agitation emanating from his body. She then dragged the secondary mattress she used to elevate her bed across the floor and to the opposite side of the room.
"There you go, now you won't get cooties." She said jokingly as she looked back at Five. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his face was softly illuminated by the oil lamp she kept on the nearby milk crate.
Octavia felt her snarky remark fall back into her throat as she admired his sharp yet ethereal features for the millionth time that day. She just had to remind herself that this was probably just a combination of her isolation and the start of her pubescent hormones. He was just a boy. A boy who was sleeping in her home, only a few meters away. But he was also the only boy Octavia had seen in two entire years.
"Thanks." He said softly, "For this and dinner." Five gestured to the cans that were abandoned on the floor.
"No worries," She said and began to unlace her shoes in preparation for bed, "Goodnight Five. Thanks for not murdering me." She smiled and Five did as well.
"Anytime Octavia... 'night..." Five began to strip his shoes and jacket off and tried to make himself comfortable in the makeshift bed Octavia had provided for him.
It took Octavia a little longer than usual to fall asleep that night.
She was suddenly hyper aware of the boy's presence who was sleeping only a few feet away from herself. Perhaps it was just the fact that she wasn't used to coexisting with another living, breathing person in two whole years. Or maybe she had truly become accustomed to the silence after all her time in solitude.
She found that her ears were extra sensitive to the sound of his tossing and turning against the bedding, he was obviously struggling to sleep as well.
Octavia woke that morning to the sound of Five's feet pattering against the concrete floor of her base, as if he was pacing around softly.
"Good morning, sunshine." Octavia said sarcastically as she sat up. She reached her arms up in an attempt to stretch out yesterday's stiffness from her back.
"Morning," He responded, his voice slightly softer than normal, his voice still laced with the residue of sleep.
"How'd you sleep?" She asked as she got out of bed. She noticed Five was already dressed in his jacket and his boots were fully laced. Octavia began to question if he was just extremely eager to get out of there and away from herself.
"Fine, until you started snoring." Five teased. Octavia didn't actually snore at all that night, the sound of her breathing made it hard for Five to drift to sleep but he simply wanted to provoke her.
"I do not snore!" She exclaimed, sounded very offended and Five mentally celebrated his little victory.
"Oh really? And who has told you otherwise?" Five enjoyed how riled up Octavia was getting over this, it was extremely amusing to him.
"Who's to say that you don't snore?" Octavia began to gather some clothing that was folded in a nearby crate.
"Well, did I?" Five asked as he watched her turn her back to him.
"Take a guess." She called out and Five rolled his eyes at the aloofness of her words, "Now can you do me a favour and step out while I change. Or are you going to get weird about that too?" Five groaned at her successful shift in their banter.
"How are you so good at pissing me off?" Five asked, more so to himself than to her directly.
"You're very easy to piss off." She answered him anyway, "Besides, I grew up as the youngest of my cousins, my word is my best weapon." Five could somewhat relate to her explanation even though he would never verbally agree with her.
"Very amusing." He said dryly and stepped out to give Octavia some privacy to change into whatever spare pair of clothes she had the fortune of having.
When Octavia gave him the all clear to come back into the concrete shack, Five was surprised to see her packing a backpack.
"Are you gonna help me scavenge for breakfast or are you just gonna huff and puff in here all day?" She asked as she shoved a water bottle into the bag.
"Alright, fine. Let's get breakfast," He said firmly, his tone slightly reluctant as he tried to brush off her previous teasing.
— -- —
The pair had returned to Octavia's after a successful food run and Five immediately got to work taking out the cans of food and setting them on the dusty floor. He eyed each of them silently before he began to mutter about how much protein was approximately in each can and how the two of them could stretch them out to last them as long as possible.
"Rationing there, are we?" Octavia questioned as she removed her backpack, leaving it by the door.
"We have to, smartass," He said matter-of-factly, "Rationing is how we get the most out of the food we have, to make it last longer. Christ, how have you survived this long?" Octavia grimaced unpleasantly at the comment, feeling as if it was completely unnecessary.
"I know that, Five. I'm just pointing out the fact that I did only ask you to stay the night yesterday and now you're speaking as if you intend to stay for longer than I anticipated." She crossed her arms and looked down to where Five was situated on the floor.
Five's heart dropped at the gravity of her words. He couldn't believe that he had taken it upon himself and assumed that this wasn't just a temporary thing. It wasn't everyday that you meet a fellow survivor in the apocalypse, Five only thought it was a smart decision to stay together.
"That's not what I meant-" Five shot up quickly and started to defend himself.
"Hey, it's fine. I was gonna bring it up earlier anyway but you were in such a foul mood before breakfast." Five quickly forgot about his previous embarrassment and quickly became defensive at Octavia's accusation.
"I was not in a foul mood." He stated.
"Yeah and the sky is purple." Octavia taunted, crossing her arms.
"Oh shut up." He grumbled.
"What I was trying to say is that... what if we don't part ways, what if you don't go back to your base and I don't stay at mine. I mean strength in numbers right? We've gone these past two years alone and thinking that we were the only people left on the planet... it feels counterproductive to split up, no?" Octavia tried to formulate her words in a cohesive manner and Five was stunned that she too had the same idea as him.
Five didn't respond. He was consumed by his own thoughts which for the first time in his life, felt illogical.
"I mean if I really do annoy you so much that you would prefer to choose a life of isolation then be my guest. But I want you to know that I'm thinking about survival for both of us." Octavia insisted.
"No, no, it's not that-" He started but was quickly cut off.
"Then what is it?" Octavia asked. She didn't know whether to feel offended at the boy's hesitancy or dismiss it as his lone wolf ideology he had adopted after two years of solitude.
Five couldn't exactly label this unwelcome feeling that gnawed at his bones, and his lack of knowing only contributed to his irritation. His answer was so obviously yes, he didn't want to leave her, not when he had spent this long being alone. And yet he couldn't find the right words to say.
"If you don't want to, that's fine, after all its double the worry, double the supplies and double the effort, but I thought for both of our sakes and sanity, survival in numbers is always safer, you know like you see in those apocalypse movies." Octavia continued, substituting Five's silence with her rambling.
"That is a horrible and inaccurate comparison to make." He rubbed his temple at her passing mention of those cheesy apocalypse movies which were over sensationalised and not at all a reliable source of information.
"You know what I mean." She shrugged, obviously defeated.
"Fine, let's stay together." Five agreed, although he didn't actually need much convincing unlike what Octavia thought.
It's not that Five didn't want to stay with her, he was taken aback by how badly he did want to stay with her. But Five couldn't ignore what he had been working so tirelessly at ever since the apocalypse started, finding a way to get back to his family.
Five was scared that involving Octavia in this hypothetical equation would only further complicate things. However, the benefits of her company seemed to outweigh the minor hiccup which was that Five technically belonged to the past.
"Really?" Octavia was almost startled at how quickly the boy had agreed to her proposition.
"But we're not staying here." Five added as he looked at the small structure of the building Octavia had called home.
"Thanks." She said bluntly, offended at his choice of words.
"No offence. My place is a lot more developed, there's more space and resources. I think we'll both be a lot more comfortable there." Five justified.
"If you say so." Octavia saw no reason to argue.Her place wasn't exactly the pinnacle of comfort and she could only assume how the lack of space would be inconvenient and uncomfortable.
"So I guess we're going to have to lay some ground rules." Octavia declared and Five raised a brow, curiosity forming in response to her statement.
"Ground rules, what are we? Roommates?" Five was only teasing at first however the reality of the situation had just occurred to him, they would indeed be sharing the same space and living alongside each other.
"Well, kind of. It's just like you said earlier, we only ever had to think for ourselves until now. We have to learn to coexist with another person and keep enough supplies going to last between the two of us." Five watched and smirked as she spoke with her hands.
"Right, what were you thinking?" He stepped forward and brought himself closer to Octavia.
"Well, the first thing that comes to mind is food. Obviously we need to make it last. Do you want to scavenge for our own food or scavenge together and share what we have." She counted on her index finger before looking back up at Five.
"Share." He said swiftly, not thinking twice about it.
"That's surprisingly generous of you." Octavia was caught off guard by his response.
"I don't need any potential arguments to start because of a lack of food." There was the traditional survival logic that seemed to justify all of Five's decisions.
"Fair point." Octavia clicked her tongue, agreeing with him.
"So food will be a team effort. And as far as living at yours, do you have enough bedding? Or are you expecting me to carry my mattress across the city?" The question was a genuine concern but Five chuckled softly at the image he conjured in his mind of forcing the girl to drag her mattress across the miles of debris and rubble.
"I have more than enough at mine. You'll be fine." Five confirmed and he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Anything else you want to lay on the table?" Octavia asked.
"Yes actually. I'm curious about how we're going to coexist with each other." Five had been thinking an awful lot about their pleasant conversation from last night.
Although their conversation was mostly free from bickering and teasing, Five found that he could speak to Octavia in a way that he couldn't with anyone else, not even his siblings. He had strangely enjoyed talking to her for such an elongated period of time and seemingly forgot about the world outside.
"What do you mean?" Octavia wanted to know more about what Five had meant. She was worried for a moment that the boy believed her stranger danger paranoia might get the best of her when he least expected it.
"As appreciative as I am of human company during the end of the world, I still require some degree of privacy." Five thought about the old library which he now inhabited and the equations that were painted across the remaining walls.
Just because he knew he wasn't alone anymore didn't mean he was ready to give up. He needed to get back to his family.
"Come again?" She asked and Five had to think carefully about how he was going to phrase his next few words.
"To put it bluntly. I'm working on something to do with my powers. An equation of some sort." So far, so true.
"Why?" And there was the very response he had anticipated.
"I believe that not only do I have the ability to jump between tangible spaces... I can also jump through time." Now that was a blatant lie. Five knew for a fact that he could jump through time, it was the very reason he got stuck here in the first place.
Five had tried to tell himself that it wasn't a complete lie, he was simply obscuring the truth. After all, if Octavia was going to live with him she was bound to have questions about what he was doing and why. He was simply just feeding her a watered down version of the truth to keep her from asking anymore questions.
"It's a hypothesis. If I get the numbers right, I believe I could time travel back to before the apocalypse even started. Maybe change one small link in the fabric of time to prevent it from ever happening at all." This was probably the most truthful thing he had said yet.
"Are you fucking serious?" Octavia's jaw dropped slightly. She couldn't believe the words that had left his mouth.
Even though Octavia was no stranger to superhuman abilities the very concept of time travel seemed incredibly far fetched and next to impossible. Yet here this boy was, standing in front of her and insisting that it was possible. She didn't know the technicalities of how it all worked but the very prospect of being able to go back in time before any of this had happened lit a warmth within Octavia which she hadn't felt for a very long time.
"I haven't stopped trying since the moment the apocalypse started." Five said, averting his gaze from Octavia, who was very much still gawking in disbelief.
"So, what does this have to do with us? If you don't mind me asking." She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke and looked at the boy in front of her.
"All I ask is that I require my privacy whilst I'm working on my equations." Five stated. The hard part for him was over.
"Sure, I've been alone for this long. I'm sure I'll fill in the time doing something." Octavia complied, not wishing to disrespect the boy's boundaries.
"You'll be pleased to know I've settled down in the remains of an old library. And surprisingly, plenty of books are still intact." Five remembered the piles of books which he had collected in his own dwelling and smiled when he saw Octavia's face light up instantly.
"I'm sold." She blurted.
"It doesn't mean I don't want you to talk to me. All I ask is that you understand my request, it's been a long time since either of us have had to live with anyone else." Five continued, he didn't want Octavia to think that her presence was going to be an inconvenience for him. There were just some things that were safer for her to not know.
"Well, how about this? During the day we can do our separate things but every night after dinner we have our designated 'us time'. Time when we can interact and socialise and not think about apocalypse or survival shit, like what we're going to eat tomorrow or if we're going to freeze to death. We can talk about anything or not even talk at all. We just need to keep our socialisation up without stepping on each other's toes. And also to help us from going completely insane of course." Octavia had come up with her second great proposition of the day.
Five didn't find it in himself to argue with her, he didn't want to. Her very idea sounded somewhat actually pleasant to him.
"I can work with that." Five said softly.
"Sounds like quite the beneficial agreement." Octavia concluded and he nodded his head in agreement.
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all images above were sourced from pinterest!
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screamingcrows · 2 months ago
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Pyrogenic Sprouts II
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Notes: I also banged this out in what can only be described as a fit of delirium. Let this be my first venture into writing Wuthering Waves, unedited and made without a single thought in my mind except Mortefi spinning like a rotisserie chicken. Part one is somewhere on my blog. Keep this out of AI. ~1.5k Link to I Tags: Mortefi x reader, first meeting, fluff, reader is not Rover, strangers to lovers Minors, blank and ageless blogs DNI
It had been a moment of spontaneity when his morning walk had diverged from his usual route through Jinzhou, barely awake after working through most of the night to catch up on various projects. The sentinel wasn't finished, not by a long shot, which once more prompted the question of why he found himself standing at your stall, checking the watch on his wrist and faintly wondering how long it would be reasonable to wait before leaving. 
His mind was quickly lost to thoughts of tests that would need to be done, who he could delegate it to, components that had to be ordered; he was all out of 6mm screws and getting his hands on more scarletthorn would be beneficial, the combination of toughness and slight flexibility preferred for maintaining structural integrity and absorbing residual frequencies to ensure no harm came to the wielder. 
"Come to finish the job have you?"
Mortefi was startled out of his thoughts by the weight of a body colliding with his. There wasn't enough time to stop the click of his tongue, hand moving to put the glittering metal -when had he even picked it up- back into his pocket. Morning dew dripped from the velvety petals and onto your hands, sunlight reflecting with only half the intensity in the droplets as it did in your eyes. Arms filled with your harvest and not another person in sight. It wasn't exactly a surprise that you had gone out alone despite all logic.
That didn't help the uneasy feeling that bloomed beneath his ribs. 
"Despite your best efforts to paint me as a villain, I don't exactly consider myself a pyromaniac. Being on a morning walk is hardly a crime," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling none of the chilly breeze that made the hairs on your arms stand on end, "and if that were the case, I can currently see someone else who would be in just as much trouble."
He felt a small wave of uncertainty at the way his comment was met with nothing but a roll of your eyes, had he been hoping for a laugh? 
"Then I'm curious to know why you were waiting for me," it was wholly non-accusatory, and Mortefi found his mind reeling as it searched for hidden meaning.
Despite himself, a hand ran through his unruly hair while he hesitated to provide an explanation. Truthfully, doubt was currently coursing through his blood, licking along the veins like the fire he'd spent years tempering, the fire for which there was no proper use except destruction. This would have been easier had you followed the customs Huanglong, speaking with overt politeness and layers of false praise, he knew exactly how to deal with that. 
With a sigh, he came to the conclusion that a small embellishment on a truth he was loathe to admit would be best, "You're correct in assuming I was waiting for you, I wanted to-"
"I already said no yesterday," the dismissive tone as you carefully arranged both delicate and durable blossoms alongside each other had him biting back a scoff. The faint trail of blood that ran from your palm to disappear under your sleeve had him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Let me finish damn it," you truly were adamant in testing his patience with your carefree movements, "I need a bouquet of flowers. Consider me picking this spot an apology for charring your wares, even if it did save you from your own carelessness."
People's lives were their own concern, and each have a responsibility to weigh their options and act according to their own convictions. Mortefi could provide instructions, optimal paths, tools that could aid the pursuit of a goal, he couldn't force anyone to utilize it. Knowledge that was both freeing and infuriating. 
"Oh. Well, that's another matter entirely then. Occasion, colors, budget, and if you have any specific requests for a flower that you don't see here," you shrugged your shoulders, "then you should've made the request yesterday."
He felt his eyes widen at the number of considerations, glancing around the still empty streets and briefly wondering what you would do with the little stand if a storm ensued. 
"You put no thought into this did you?" You were smiling now, like a rose stripped of thorns as you caught on, "let's start with occasion. If it's for a lover, we wouldn't want to put a flower symbolizing dishonesty in there now would we?"
How you had managed to get your hands on wintry bells was something best left unconsidered, he did however appreciate the crisp scent of them, almost a little prickly if not for the enveloping softness of the belle poppies that nestled like drops of blood in the snow. For all the 'subtle' artistry of making it resemble him, perhaps he hadn't been as subtle in his excuses as he thought - this was clearly made with him in mind, and the work you put in to gather them fresh each morning, the price had almost made him laugh in disbelief. 
Breakfast was consumed in silence, pondering if he should leave the flowers at home where they would stand and wither without truly being enjoyed, or if he should accept the contamination of his laboratory to not let it go to waste. 
Mortefi never overestimated his own abilities, if he found a barrier then he worked his way through. That was all there was to it. The languid notes filling the room were a stark contrast to his own growing unrest, fitting the small components together in the intricate casing a Sisyphean task with the way his leg had been bouncing under the desk for the past thirty minutes. 
Just a little longer, surely, and then he could put this all behind him. Need to be useful fed and satisfied so it could crawl back into the pits of his being. It would be so much easier if you had simply taken the offer, made him some insane request with greed in your eyes, he could have accepted, made something to fulfill it in the worst way possible - a sentinel with an obnoxious alarm that doesn't turn off unless some ridiculous parameter was met? 
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You loathed to admit that the visits from Mortefi had quickly become a treasured part of your daily routine, more often than not finding him already waiting for your return. The occasion was never more than a string of grumbled sounds, noncommittal in a way that had you grinning as you picked out foliage to substantiate the bouquet. Extra income was nice as well, being on a relatively tight budget after spending most of your savings on moving. 
But it was for the better. The people here were nicer, even if you hadn't really had the time to socialize much. Getting through was your specialty, having always been, lovingly of course, likened to a persistent weed. You would find your footing in Jinzhou as well.
Handing over the carefully bound arrangement of various crimson flowers, you'd even found some vines that grew black thorns, positioning them far from anywhere a sane person would hold, you couldn't help but smile at the grumpy looking researcher. 
"I'll see you tomorrow Mortefi, good luck on your research!"
The huff that left him sounded dry as ever, he'd been less talkative today, dark circles under his eyes suggesting someone might be overworking themselves. Over just the past few weeks, you'd grown accustomed to hearing him mumble to himself about projects, occasionally finding the courage to simply start asking, even if the thought of weapons made you stomach churn. It had been vague and technical at first; 'what exactly is tacetite?', 'how do you use reverberations?', but it had quickly become clear that he was prone to being sidetracked provided the right prompts.
Today had been one such day, with him having ended up talking for half an hour straight after you'd asked how he even came up with all those ideas and innovations. It felt oddly intimate, voice firm and eyes focused before finally pulling out a notepad to visualize the thought process, leaning so close that you had no choice but to laugh and shove him away to have room to work.
You saw him shift, looking almost uneasy with the flowers cradled gently in his arms, crimson eyes focused on something in the distance as he spoke, "I enjoy afternoon teas most days. There hasn't been time lately, but I plan to remedy that tomorrow. I was wondering if you would join me, considering these morning talks have grown rather lengthy, perhaps it would be better to more properly dedicate time to it."
Part 3
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swooningdelirium · 3 months ago
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reddie? in 2024? embarrassing tbh but here’s a fluffy little sickfic i wrote last year
He awoke to a shiver that ravaged him from the inside out and rendered every last hair on his body standing on end. With sweat matting his hair to his temples, Eddie rolled over to check the digital clock on his bedside. His eyes burned, but he willed them to focus. When he could finally make out the numbers, he saw that is was just past 4AM. Eddie shuddered. Even through the veil of delirium that blurred the room around him, he could feel a cumbersome panic rise in his chest. As he placed a sweaty palm to his forehead, the placebo pills and waiting rooms of his childhood burst forth at nauseating speed. His stomach lurched. He shook his mother’s nagging voice from the recesses of his mind and assured himself that whatever was wrong wasn’t fatal. He was fine. It was all okay.
Richie still lay beside him, snoring softly. His body radiated a heat too alluring for a chilled Eddie to ignore. Eddie snuggled up closer to him, assuming the big spoon position for once, and whimpered:
“Richie, I don’t feel good.” He winced at how childish he sounded, but couldn’t help it.
Richie rolled over with a grumble, instinctively pulling Eddie in closer and burying his face into the pit of his shoulder. “Hm?”
“Rich…” Eddie trailed off, a lump beginning to form in his throat. “Something’s wrong.”
Richie jolted upright and switched on the bedside lamp, taking in Eddie’s pale, sweaty form for the first time. “…Oh. Yeah. You don’t look so good, baby,” Richie’s brows furrowed, his voice still thick with sleep. When he saw the anxiety flash across his love’s weary face, he quickly added, “You’re alright, though. I promise. I’m right here.”
He placed Eddie’s arm over his own shoulders and gently helped him sit up against the headboard. He leaned forward and planted a prolonged kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He was, in fact, burning up. Shit. This would send him spiraling. He pulled Eddie’s head to his chest as hatred for his estranged mother-in-law flooded every fiber of his being. It broke him enough having to see Eds like this without thinking of all he had endured when they were kids. As if they weren’t already going through enough.
“It’s okay. Everybody gets sick,” Richie whispered into the top of Eddie’s head. “You definitely do have a fever, though. We’ll have to check on that. What else are you feeling right now, my love? What hurts?”
Before Eddie could answer, he erupted into a coughing fit that sent him barrelling toward the bathroom with Richie in tow. Just as he entered, Richie found him hunched over the toilet, retching. Tears streamed down his face. He knelt beside his partner and rubbed his back in soft, circular motions.
“I know, Eds,” he murmured. “I know. You’re okay.” Eddie gasped for air with each fleeting moment his stomach settled before inevitably starting again. Whether he was short of breath from pain or panic, Richie couldn’t tell.
When the vomiting subsided and Eddie nodded upon being asked if he was done, Richie led him back to bed and placed the lightest throw blanket on top of him. “Okay. I’m gonna go get you some medicine and some water. Anything else?” Eddie shook his head weakly. “Alright, my love. We’ll take your temperature when I come back too, okay?” He reached out to hold Eddie’s face and stroked his cheekbone with his thumb. God, he was warm. “I’ll be right back.”
Eddie opted to close his eyes for just a minute. A prolonged blink, really. It must have been longer, though. He only opened them again when the creak of floorboards indicated that Richie was back with supplies from their comically well-stocked medicine cabinet. He placed the thermometer and miscellaneous medications on the nightstand, immediately heading back toward the kitchen. Eddie heard faintly running water for a moment before the tap turned off and Richie returned with a washcloth and small bowl of water. He placed these items next to the others and reached for the thermometer.
“Okay. Let’s check that temperature now,” he said in that tone that always put Eddie at ease. The only voice that could bring him down from the panic. He leaned over his Eddie and placed the thermometer under his tongue, holding his hand while they waited for a reading.
At the tone, Richie removed the thermometer, which read 102.8. Eddie wouldn’t take that well. Inhaling sharply, he showed Eddie the number and squeezed his hand. “That’s alright. It just means your body is fighting extra hard, okay?” He felt Eddie’s already rapid breathing quicken, but he paused for a deep breath.
“Can you maybe take it again?” Eddie rasped, barely audible. His throat was still so raw from upheaving the contents of his stomach. “I just want to make sure.”
“Okay,” he murmured, kissing away a stray tear on Eddie’s cheek. “We’ll do it one more time.”
Once again, he placed the thermometer under Eddie’s tongue and waited for the tone. When he heard it, he removed it to see that it now read 103 on the dot. He gently pressed the power button and placed it back in the sleeve without showing Eddie.
“Yeah, honey. It was right the first time.”
“That’s a really high fever,” Eddie whimpered miserably.
“Oh, Eds. I know it’s scary.” Richie placed one hand on Eddie’s shoulder while he used the other to open the bottle of liquid cold and flu medicine. “You’re okay. It’s just a bug. Try not to let the number scare you too much. We’re gonna take that fever down, okay?” Richie extended the bottle cap full of medicine to Eddie’s mouth. “Drink this, baby.” Eddie obliged as Richie submerged the cloth into the bowl, wrung it out, and placed it on his forehead. He shivered against the sudden cold, but didn’t resist. “I know you’re already cold, but we have to bring this temperature down. It’ll make you better. I promise.”
Eddie nodded. He looked small. Smaller than Richie had seen him in as long as he could remember. He forced out the memory of a tiny, terrified Eddie in that dingy Neilbolt basement with his arm contorted at a sickening angle. He needed to be here, now. Eds needed him in the present.
Richie checked the clock. It was nearing 5 A.M. “I’ll call us both out of work a little later.”
“Do you think I’ll need antibiotics? Or maybe some infusions? What if this is serious? I think we should go-” Eddie winced. The thought of the hospital threw his stomach into another bout of nausea.
“How about this,” Richie began, “I’ll check your temperature again in an hour or so. If it isn’t any better, I’ll take you to the doctor. For now, though, I think it’s alright if we stay here. Just you and me. How does that sound?”
Eddie nodded weakly and reached his arms toward Richie.
“Yeah?” Richie whispered, climbing back into bed. “Do you just want to be held?” Eddie nodded again, a whimper escaping his throat. “Okay, why don’t you drink a bit more water for me and then you can try going back to sleep.”
Eddie obediently took some small, cautious sips before returning the glass to its place by the bed.
“Good job, baby. Now try and get some rest.” Eddie drifted off before he was even finished closing his eyes, but his husband remained awake, holding him close as he shivered through the sunrise.
It was only when he felt Richie’s lips on his forehead again that his eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” Eddie smiled though his head was pounding and his body ached.
“Hi,” Richie pulled his love back into his arms. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Mmm-hm.”
“Good. Do you think you could eat anything right now? Crackers maybe?”
Eddie stifled a gag. “Definitely not,” he confessed.
“I didn’t think so. That’s alright. We’ll try and get something on your stomach in a little bit. How about we just take your temperature for right now?” Richie swallowed as he asked the question, praying the fever had gone down. What if it had gotten higher? Eddie would freak. His poor Eddie.
Eddie seemed to be reading his mind as he took in a shuddering breath. “I guess we should check it again.”
Richie planted a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek before taking the thermometer back out of the sleeve. “Okay, baby. You ready?”
Eddie parted his lips and raised his tongue. Richie winced as he watched the number on the screen climb past 101, then 102. He sighed in relief, however, once it stopped at 102.4 and the tone sounded.
“See?” Rich felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders. “You’re getting better already.”
Eddie heaved a sigh. “That’s still high,” he mumbled.
“It is,” Richie admitted, “but I’m going to take care of you. We’re going to get you better.”
Eddie rested his head on his husband’s chest, allowing Richie’s steady heartbeat to ease his own. “Okay,” he conceded. “Do you want to just go back to sleep for a little while?”
Rich chuckled as he wet the cloth again and gently dabbed his love’s forehead and cheeks. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He placed the washcloth back onto Eddie’s brow and held him tightly, wishing the roles were reversed. As terrified of germs as his Eddie was- as much as he had been through- it all fell by the wayside if Richie was sick. And though Eddie would make him see a doctor for so much as a head cold, he remained collected. All that mattered in the moment was that his love got better.
That’s what Richie would do for him now.
As Eddie turned to his side and his breathing evened, Richie covered the both of them with an extra blanket and held the cloth in place on his forehead so the boy he loved would sleep soundly.
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meraki-yao · 9 months ago
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The first chapter of my Paris scene song fic is finally done!!! Did I speed-run the 1300 words within one evening? Absolutely!!!
Baby's first smut (that isn't even that graphic) so please be kind tysm ily 🥹
But seriously I am proud of this one even if I wrote it in fits of depression and delirium
Happy Valentine's Day!!!
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