#this is like.. WAY more than i write usually so i AM suffering

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 6!

Sorry for the little wait, I couldn't find a moment to write lately o<-< good thing I had this half written already! Anyway, have some more Nico&Leo dynamics and some more pining - and also, I promise things are gonna move forward soon!! (but I needed more setup before our two boys finally start properly acting on their crush lmao)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~~~

Percy didn't come to the beach the next day, the day after that, and for the whole following week.

Nico wasn't sulking about it, he was not. Maybe panicking a little inside, questioning every single word they had said to each other and trying to find in them some hidden reason that would push Percy to never go back there and leave the country just to make sure he wouldn't see Nico again. 

But he wasn't sulking.

“Take that pouty look off your face, goth boy, you're gonna scare the customers away”.

“I’m not pouting”.

“You kind of are though”, Leo said. “Which is fair, I guess, you miss your surfer boy”.

Nico felt a blush coming up to his face at the same time of the familiar find annoyance he associated with no one but Leo.

“He's not my-”, he started, then stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm not pouting”, he just said again. “It's not like he lives on the beach, right, he must have a life outside of surfing”.

Maybe he was trying to convince himself more than Leo, but that didn't matter.

The way his eyes moved around scanning the beach was automatic, as was the sigh that escaped him. Maybe he was being silly, and a little pathetic - he knew that, but still couldn’t help the way his heart kept falling again and again, nor the way the empty chair before him (Percy’s chair) seemed to lay in wait just like Nico was.

He definitely needed to find some way to distract himself.

“Sure, which is why I told you to ask for his number”, Leo replied. “And if you had listened to my genius advice, maybe you could be texting him right now, instead of sulking and hoping he shows up”.

“Why are you even here, Leo?”, he said, ignoring Leo’s last words and trying instead to change the subject. “Jason’s not coming today, you know that”.

“Am I not allowed to visit a friend? My dear friend who’s pining and suffering and definitely needs my support?”, Leo said, accompanying his dramatic words with an overdramatic hand on his heart. 

Nico just rolled his eyes at him.

“I definitely don't”, he said, even though the truth was that he actually enjoyed the company. Leo’s presence was the only thing saving him from a long and lonely work day. “And non-shift days for Jason are usually when you have your dates”, he added.

“I knoow”, Leo said, a pout forming on his lips. “But Thalia came back yesterday, so today is their brother-and-sister date”.

“Ah, that’s right, Jason did mention that”.

“Can’t interfere with siblings time”.

“So you had nothing better to do today and came here”.

“I came here to save you from your loneliness, goth boy”, Leo said. “Also, I do enjoy your company”.

Nico smiled, and offered him ice cream as a silent thanks. 

“It reminds me of when it was the other way around and you helped me when I was pining for Jason”.

Nico made a face at the memory, then laughed. “Oh my god, you were terrible- absolutely pathetic”, he said. “Thank god you’re together now”.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna say when you and your surfer boy will finally get together”.

Nico’s smile faltered, his heart jumping and then growing heavy at the words - like it couldn’t decide if he felt more pleased at the idea of it ever happening or more glum at the prospect of Percy never going back there.

Few long moments of silence followed, and Nico’s mind went back to the thoughts tormenting him.

And there was also something else, something that Nico was trying not to focus too much about. 

Leo looked at Nico in silence for a while, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand. Nico could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Are you worried about him?”

Nico looked away. He felt stupid thinking about it even more than he did when panicking and making everything probably bigger than it was. 

Logically speaking, it was unlikely that Percy would stop coming to the beach just because Nico was there - there wasn't really anything between them, after all and, from what Nico knew about him, the ocean and surfing were way too important for Percy to give up. 

But it had been a week, and Percy usually came at least two or three times a week, even just for an hour (Nico spent way too much time thinking about him and looking for him to not notice this) - yet, there the beach was, full of people but with no Percy in sight. Nico felt his heart fall again as he scanned the shore around him, looking for familiar black hair and beautiful eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if something had happened, if Percy was doing alright.

“You know he might just be busy”.

“I know”.

“So I think there's no reason for you to worry about him”.

Nico sighed. “I hate it when you make sense”, he said. “Jason is definitely rubbing off of you”.

“That's what love does to a man!”

Nico felt that now familiar pang of not-quite-jealousy as he looked at the smile growing on his friend's face. His eyes scanned the beach again as the thought of I want that too crossed his mind, side by side with the image of two sea-green eyes and a soft smile.

~~~

Nico didn’t expect anything to happen. He spent the whole day waiting and waiting in the hope of Percy showing up, his heart feeling heavier and heavier with every passing hour. 

The truth was that, simply put, he missed Percy - which was stupid and ridiculous, but Nico had been dying to talk to him again, to feel his eyes on himself again, to be on the receiving end of his smile, to get to know something more about him.

He’ll come back at some point, he told himself. Maybe. 

The sun was coming down, the sky colored a pretty shade of yellow and orange and red. The day had felt infinite, time dragging on and simply refusing to pass by, but Nico’s shift was finally almost over. He looked at his phone to check the time, wishing the next fifteen minutes would simply come to an end faster.

He cursed all the gods of all the pantheons ever existed when he saw someone sitting before him. God, how he hated when customers did that.

He forced his usual work smile on his lips and looked up. Then did a double take - the girl sitting in front of him looked strangely familiar, even though he was pretty sure he didn’t actually know her.

All the while taking her order (just a cold water bottle - who even came to a beach kiosk at that hour to ask for nothing but a water bottle?) Nico kept thinking and wondering; maybe she just came there often? But there was something about her that kept pulling at Nico’s memory.

It hit him at once when she was handing him the money to pay.

Ah, it was her. The girl who usually came to the beach with Percy. Nico felt his heart starting to beat faster at the realization.

Would it be weird to ask her about Percy?

Yes it would!, his mind yelled at him. 

But at the same time, every cell in his body was telling him that it didn’t matter, that this was too much of a lucky chance to just let it pass by.

Lost in his thoughts like that, he was definitely taking way more time than necessary to get her change.  

He was worried, he missed Percy so much it was frankly absurd. And he thought his friends would probably back him up in this

“Here”, he said, as he finally handed her her change.

She thanked him and went to turn around. “Uhm!”, Nico started before he could really think about it and stop himself. “Excuse me-”

She turned to look at him again. Was Nico imagining the weird look in her eyes? Yes, she was probably simply annoyed at being called back. “Yes?”

“Ah- sorry”, Nico said, feeling so incredibly stupid. Maybe he should just back out. But then he thought of the long day he had had and of the hole he had felt the whole time. He pushed the words out.

“Uhm, you’re a friend of Percy, right?”

“Yes”, the girl said, nodding. This time Nico was almost certain that there was a weird look in her eyes that he couldn’t exactly interpret - but she looked more curious than anything else, so he counted it as a sign he could go on.

“I just- I just noticed he hasn’t been coming here lately…?”, he said, trying and failing to will his heart to calm down a little. “... is he alright?”

“Oh yeah, he’s been talking about you!”, she replied. “He’s alright, he’s just out of town. He went to New York to visit his mum”.

“Ah, that’s good”. 

The relief was soon pushed aside when the words the girl had said finally hit him.

He’s been talking about you.

What?

He only vaguely registered the girl saying goodbye and waving at him before leaving.

Nico waved back, feeling numb. He hoped his expression wasn’t as dumbstruck as he felt.

He’s been talking about you.

Percy had been talking about him? Nico’s heart was playing athletics in his chest, the butterflies taking residence in his stomach were throwing the most chaotic party ever.

He’s been talking about you.

He put his face in his hands, hiding behind his palms the foolish happy smile that was growing on his lips.

Suddenly, the day didn’t feel as bad as before.

[northern-passage]

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Lesson 4: "Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[vexwerewolf]

why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys

I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.

If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:

I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:

If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?

It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?

The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.

A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.

So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?

Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.

Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.

Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.

If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.

Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.

[raginglesbian2006]

Hi I'm new but I was wondering if you could do hc Alastor x wife!reader who is like Mortichia Addams. Like the long black dress(es) and red lips.

Honestly I see Alastor as an asexual version of Gomez Addams.

Hi! Thank you for sending in the request!! I've been wanting to write something similar to what you suggested lol

Darling, I always wear black

Alastor x wife!reader

Oh, how you had intrigued him the moment the two of you met.

Alastor was on his daily stroll, enjoying how the miserable souls of hell suffered around him as he glanced at the newly opened stores and boutiques.

One of which caught his eye. The decor was very grim but had a certain charm to it. Entering the store, Alastor found himself surrounded by flowers, roses mostly. His ears picked up the sound of a "snip snap" echoing throughout the quiet place.

That is when he saw you, dressed up in a long black gown that stuck to your body, enhancing your curves. You hummed a sweet tune as you cut off the heads of roses and decorated the lonely stems in a vase.

"I do believe that is a rather...unconventional way of arranging flowers." Your eyes shifted to find a rather tall demon- his red attire standing out in contrast to your dark little store.

"I suppose not..." you mused, "but it is just my way of doing things."

Alastor moved closer to you, his clawed hand taking yours gently- watching the lace around your long sleeve droop as he lifted your hand to his lips- kissing your knuckles as a sign of courtesy.

"My name is Alastor, my dear. It's a pleasure to meet you, I say, quite a pleasure!"

Since then, he started visiting your shop quite frequently, often staying back to have a chat after the busy day was over. You enjoyed his presence- he was quite unlike the men you usually had vying for your attention, be it in hell or when you were alive.

Slowly but surely, he had become completely besotted with you. He had always thought he'd fall for someone who wore bright colors and was as lively as he was but your demure and gothic charm had irreversibly enraptured him. Safe to say, his charm had had the same effect on you as well.

"It appears to me that I find myself quite delighted by your presence," you said to him as you sipped your tea, "Some could even say I am..smited? smote?"

"Smitten, I believe, my dear," his eyes half-lidded and smile wider than ever, "And I feel the same way."

It didn't take long for him to present you with a ring.

"Sure it's a tad bit sooner than expected, but why wait, my dear?"

And thus, the two of you became husband and wife. You didn't have a ceremony per se since neither of you enjoyed a large gathering. Both of you just exchanged rings and enjoyed each other's company that day.

After 7 long years of Alastor's absence, you found yourself in front of the Hazbin Hotel in search of answers. You knew a silly project like this would intrigue your husband, so it didn't hurt to look for him there. Besides, his return was made clear to you from the banter he had with Vox over the radio.

The door to the hotel opened to reveal the princess of hell, her eyes wide.

"Greet-" the door slammed shut and then opened again in a split second, "tings." The door shut again.

Your eyebrows scrunched delicately and you let out a puff of air from your red-painted lips in a show of frustration.

The door opened once more. "May I speak now?" you asked, raising one eyebrow as you looked down at the princess.

She stuttered a response which prompted you to introduce yourself to her and the reason for your visit.

"I must say, your idea intrigued me a little, so I decided to pop in for a visit." Hearing you say that, the princess or Charlie as you had gathered from hearing her sales pitch over the news, excitedly bounced on her feet as she led you into the hotel.

While she was introducing you to everyone there, your eyes found Husk, slumped over the bar.

"Greetings, Husker. I would say I'm surprised to see you here but I'm really not," you bluntly stated.

Husk gave out a grunt in reply. Charlie noticed your interaction, "Ooooh you two know each other?"

You let out a laugh, just the one, "We are acquainted, yes. You could say I know the owner of his soul....quite well."

Speaking of, the famed radio demon heard the commotion in the lobby of the hotel and decided to make his presence known by teleporting himself to his destination.

"Charlie, dear, why is there such a buzz-" he paused as his eyes met yours, "Cher..." he trailed off.

"Alastor," your voice was stern, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance...after 7 years, that is."

His smile twitched slightly at your glare. He walked up closer to you and lifted your hand, kissing it, "I missed you, mon cher."

Your eyes softened. His charm had a way of destabilizing your stance. You were supposed to be mad at him, damn it.

Charlie looked puzzled as she asked, "Alastor, do you know our visitor?"

Alastor chuckled as he drew you closer to him by the waist, "Of course I do, she is my wife!"

Everyone, except Husk, was dumbstruck by this new information.

It took a while for Alastor to be in your good graces again, but you couldn't help but give in to his advances. He was your husband after all. One that you loved oh so much.

You had decided to stay with him at the hotel, helping Charlie occasionally with her efforts to make the hotel seem...appealing. Good thing you knew a thing or two about interior designing, however dark or grim your preferences may be.

Niffty had immediately bounced up into your arms the moment she caught wind of your arrival.

"Oh darling, how are you, my sweet?" you asked her as she snuggled up close to you. "I must say, I missed you a whole lot more than my idiotic husband."

Vaggie sidled up close to her girlfriend, "Am I seeing what you're seeing?" Alastor had his head on your shoulder, eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair. Charlie's eyes watered, "I know! Aren't the two of them just the sweetest!"

Everyone at the hotel was shocked to see how affectionate the big bad radio demon could be and how much he simped for you. If anyone was looking for Alastor, it's safe to say that he would be found right beside you, one hand on your waist , kissing up your arm affectionately- all the while you reprimanded him for being too touchy albeit, not stopping his onslaught of kisses.

Angel Dust had once asked you, "So uhh... what's a hot gal like you doin' with Mr. tall dark and creepy here?"

Your reply was simple, "He makes me laugh."

The two of you often spent time having tea or rather coffee as per Alastor's preferences, playing the piano together and just relishing in each other's presence.

He had once foolishly suggested a revamp of your wardrobe, trying to squeeze in a few different colors. He was met by your terrifying glare.

"Darling, I always wear black."

You liked to slow dance with him, which he obliged with no hesitance.

You weren't much into swing, preferring a more classy waltz or baroque music but you enjoyed watching him lose himself to the music.

No matter how weird Al was, you loved him all the same.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to reply to this! I got a bit carried away with this request but I do hope it is to your liking!

[colourstreakgryffin]

Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owns you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

[tossawary]

This is a very niche fic idea that I have no solid intention of actually writing, but... "Naruto" has more than a few self-insert fics and some of them are transmigrations into canon characters. Some of them are about OCs who do not want to be a ninja and are desperately trying to get out of it. There's usually some deliciously frustrating tragedy and horror about the brutal and inescapable military system of Konoha.

So, I thought that it would be kind of interesting to do an OC-insert into Sasuke, probably ultimately more comedic than angsty, as the OC tries to fail out of having to become a ninja, but then has to struggle against the fact that a civilian Sasuke would probably be expected to start a new Uchiha clan ASAP. (They probably have to concede to at least becoming a genin for the benefits of legal adulthood of some kind at 12 years old, even if it means being a part of the damn military.)

But even if the OC would personally love to be a parent someday, they cannot condone participating in what's essentially a breeding program for a new generation of Sharingan-wielding super-soldiers. Children who are probably going to be chewed up and spat out by Konoha someday too.

I think it would be neat to have a character treat the Sharingan like a genetic disorder that they don't want a child to suffer. I think it would have been interesting if canon Sasuke had also wrestled with the idea of letting the Sharingan die out. Fuck it, he'll adopt if he wants to be a dad someday. I also think it would be funny to have an OC-insert whose goal is to get a secret vasectomy (body autonomy!) without the leadership of Konoha finding out.

Sasuke, as soon as Sakura becomes a medical nin: "I need you to do me a huge secret favor and NOT be weird about it."

Sakura, also still currently a teenager: "You're asking me to CASTRATE YOU, AT HOME, IN SECRET, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT BE WEIRD ABOUT THIS?!"

(And there's the whole fucking issue of the "Naruto" universe having cloning, so, no, a vasectomy isn't a solid guarantee of getting out of this. But it might buy Sasuke a few years to figure out how to avoid the mad science route too if anyone tries to force marriage on him at any point.)

Even throwing aside the issue of children, even in an AU where the OC-Insert is cool with having bio children, I think it would be really funny to have a Transmigrator Sasuke announcing outright in the first Team 7 meeting that his dream is to retire super early and become a shinobi tradwife to a super strong ninja.

Kakashi: "...What?"

Sasuke, possibly talking out of his ass to troll his team and because he's already spitefully exhausted: "I said what I said. I'm the only Uchiha left to pass on my clan's techniques, so my dream is to be a stay-at-home ninja, supported by a super strong spouse who can protect my family."

I think this would break Naruto and Sakura's brains. ("Marry Hokage Naruto" is not the worst plan that a transmigrator could come up with, probably.) I think that this would be a super funny start to a Team 7 OT3 in which Naruto and Sakura become rivals for the position of Sasuke's shinobi sugar daddy/mommy. (Naruto doesn't consciously realize that he's competing for Sasuke's hand in marriage at first, but he gets it after a few years or so.)

Kakashi is... So Tired. Obito, are you seeing this shit??? What the fuck.

I know some OC-insert / SI-insert into Sasuke fics exist, I just think the funniest plot direction for a transmigrator in this situation would be to completely bail on both the "take revenge on Itachi" and "rebuild the Uchiha clan" dreams in the least macho ways available.

Also, what WOULD Itachi think of Sasuke abruptly deciding to give up on revenge and to become a house husband instead?

[cuubism]

I've written something very silly. Dating apps, texting fic, crack, smut. desire messing with dream. onlyfans creator hob. trans dream. Enjoy.

--

U up?

The notification from an unfamiliar app stared up at Dream from his locked phone screen. He frowned, perplexed. Nobody texted him. Certainly not with such vernacular.

Dream opened the notification. It pulled up the messaging page of a dating app, one he himself had certainly not installed—

Desire. He grit his teeth. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearby to receive his ire.

Dream looked again at U up? on the message interface. He clicked on the profile of the man who’d sent it, a “Kyle” who would not have looked out of place shotgunning a beer at a rager. Of course, Desire had not only gone to great lengths to establish him on this insipid app, but had also spent time matching him with the exact opposite of his type, presumably to cause him never-ending grief and annoyance. As usual.

Dream should probably have just deleted the app. Instead he responded, For?

What he received in response, a few minutes later, was a poorly-lit photograph of Kyle’s penis. Dream pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger with a sigh. He should have known.

I have seen better, he replied, and closed out of the app.

He had been back at his writing for ten minutes or so when his phone buzzed again. He checked the notification.

Brad: you could be MY good boy, kitty cat 😽

Dream gagged, but opened the man’s profile out of perilous, morbid curiosity.

Brad, 28, Hedge Fund Manager, “Looking for something casual on the DL”, likes golf and cryptocurrency— oh, dear. Somehow, Dream doubted this Brad truly wanted Dream to become a part of his life. Nor did Dream want to be his ‘kitty cat’.

He was going to have words with Desire.

You strike me as a man who brings choking into the bedroom without knowing what a safe word is, he wrote. Am I accurate?

I can choke you if you want, baby 😜, wrote Brad. Which may as well have been a yes.

Dream did not think that Brad was the person he wanted that from. Not to mention that his utter lack of kink safety knowledge would probably land Dream in hospital, and there were more interesting ways for that to happen than mediocre sex in a finance associate’s penthouse.

I would prefer to keep my brain cells, he wrote, and closed the app.

Over the next few days, Dream fielded many strange, annoying, and obscene messages from people on this app. He certainly had not “swiped right” on anybody himself, so he could only assumed Desire had done so on his behalf and had now left him to suffer the consequences of “matching.” By all rights, he should have just deleted the app off his phone. But Dream rarely communicated with anyone, certainly not strangers, and there was something a little bit entertaining about seeing what kind of drivel was being thrown his way. Was this how people attempted to court over the internet? Or perhaps Desire had merely “matched” him with the dregs of humanity.

By the end of the week, Dream had received seven “dick pics”, four offers to share one or more of his body parts in exchange for cash, and a request to become a seventy-five year-old man’s “sugar baby.” He was uncertain precisely what that entailed, but he was fairly certain he would not like it.

He had also received a text from Desire that read, enjoying yourself? ;) to which he did not respond.

His meager entertainment expended, Dream was on the verge of finally deleting the app when he received a different message:

Hob: Do you think it’s possible to cheat death by force of will, or are you too busy craving its sweet release to consider it?

Dream frowned, perplexed by the specificity of the message. Finally it occurred to him to actually look at the profile Desire had made. He swiped over to said screen, and sighed in aggravation.

Desire had, at least, chosen flattering photos of him. He supposed if the goal was to have Dream sexually harassed over the internet, this would have been a requirement. The photos definitely suggested something other than “serious, committed relationship”, but they weren’t terrible, at least.

As for the text—well, Dream finally understood where some of the more unhinged messages he had received had come from. He read through the given prompts, and Desire’s answers to them:

Dating me is like: You found a stray cat and brought it home and fed it and you were going to take it to the animal shelter but now it won't leave. It’s pretty cute if a bit mangy but it won’t stop biting your hand and mewing pathetically. The sex is pretty good tho.

“Pretty good.” Desire had written all this and couldn’t even manage to make Dream sound like a satisfying hookup. Typical.

He read on:

I’ll fall for you if: You tell me I’m a good boy 😳

Things were falling into place in Dream’s mind now.

Hob’s strange message seemed to arise from the main part of Dream’s profile, where Desire had listed his “religion” as “worshipping l’appel du vide.” An interesting element for this “Hob” to focus on. Dream did not think it was typical for messages on these apps to open with a discussion of death.

He switched back over to the messaging page of the app, and replied: I consider death often. As to your query, it depends: are you thinking of death as an entity one could escape, or a force like gravity? Or perhaps a place one must go?

Hmm, Hob responded, good question. I think it’s like a state. But a state of nothingness. See, if I thought it was a *place*, might be willing to go, see something new and all. But what’s the point of nothingness?

Nothingness is its own satisfaction, wrote Dream. It seemed peaceful, to him. Quiet. The lack of need for satisfaction in the first place.

But you won’t be there, so you won’t get to experience it, said Hob.

Precisely.

Huh. The void really is calling to you. You don’t like experience, then?

Is that innuendo? Dream asked.

Could be. If it is, do I get to be part of the toxic codependent relationship that ends horribly for everyone?

Another reference to Desire’s profile choices. What Dream was apparently “looking for in a relationship.”

That depends on the quality of your experience, he wrote.

I’ve received good reviews, said Hob.

You’ve yet to call me “kitten,” so I suppose I must concur on that front, replied Dream.

You started that one, little stray cat, said Hob.

Technically Desire had started it, but Dream had to grudgingly admit that his profile did invite such comments.

Having a smashing time in your dm’s, then? Hob continued.

I have received several unsolicited pictures of genitalia, wrote Dream.

Oh yeah? said Hob. Anything good?

Random strangers’ genitals did not interest Dream. There was a reason he did not watch porn. Mediocre at best, Dream said.

There was a long pause, and Dream hastily added, Do not send me a picture of your dick as comparison.

My dick is already all over the internet, you don’t need to get it here 😛, said Hob.

Dream blinked several times at his phone screen, as if to clear away a fog before a message that might make more sense.

What, he wrote.

Before Hob could reply, it occurred to Dream that perhaps he should actually look at Hob’s own profile. He had gotten too caught up in the strange conversation to remember to do so.

He opened it and— froze.

Dream had already deduced that Desire had intentionally matched him with whoever they thought Dream would be least interested in. He could see why they had thought the same of Hob, primarily because he was very different from Dream. In the past, Dream had tended to have flings with people who were rather like him, in some respects. “Tortured artists,” Death would say.

This was not Hob. For one, unlike Dream’s pouty and morose profile photo, Hob was actually smiling in the first picture on his page. And what a smile.

He was handsome, too. At least, Dream thought so. Handsome in a homey, comfortable way, the type of handsome that suggested really good hugs, and coffee in the mornings, and someone to come home to. Dream scrolled through more photos, and caught the spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his easy nature. This best matched the way Hob spoke in his messages, he thought.

It was not so much that Hob was his usual type, and more that Desire had unintentionally uncovered a type Dream had not known he had. He swallowed hard. Scrolled back up to read the details of Hob’s bio, in search of answers to the strangeness of Hob’s response.

Ah. His profession was listed as “OnlyFans creator.” That would explain it. He supposed he could track down Hob’s profile on said app. Dream was historically not very interested in porn, however. But he was finding himself interested in Hob.

He moved back to the messaging page, and wrote, before Hob could question why Dream was confused about information that was clearly stated in his profile, Ah. I see. I’m afraid I don’t watch porn.

That a moral stance? Bcuz I get enough of that already, trust me.

Personal taste, said Dream.

Prefer to get it in person, eh? said Hob.

Yes.

You’d do numbers on OnlyFans just fyi, Hob wrote. If u ever wanted more cash. Or does Poetry & Malaise pay better than I thought?

Dream’s “career,” according to Desire.

He supposed Hob's comment was flattering, in a way. Is that your own bias, Hob? Or your considered opinion as a professional?

Both ;), said Hob.

If that is your situation, then why are you on this app, dare I ask? Most people I have encountered seem to just be interested in sex but I doubt you are suffering from a dearth of it.

What, porn stars can’t want to get married? :(

Dream could imagine his pout. It was surprisingly endearing.

THAT is why you are here?

Sure, be judgmental about it, mister “I want to get consumed.” Or was that about vore and I misread it as metaphorical?

Dream spluttered, though Hob was not physically present to see it. Indeed, Desire had written that Dream wanted “someone he could consume and be consumed by in turn,” which was surprisingly accurate considering its intention had been to mess with him.

It is not VORE, he wrote. Then followed it up with, I have frequently been accused of being intense, possessive, and overbearing.

Well then we have that in common, Hob replied. By the way, sex for work is not the same as sex with someone you really care about. Or would you feel emotionally fulfilled after fucking your colleagues?

I don’t have colleagues, said Dream.

Right, right. Poetry and malaise.

And have you achieved much emotionally fulfilling sex from this app?

No :(, said Hob.

You are too handsome for that to be the case, wrote Dream, and realized what he had said a moment after he’d hit send.

He panicked internally until Hob replied, And here I thought I was just annoying you 🥰.

I might be having a crisis over your photos myself, Hob added, but let’s not discuss it or I’ll embarrass myself.

We could discuss it in a different venue, Dream wrote, heart in his throat. I am interested also in hearing your plans to thwart death. Perhaps over drinks?

Thought you’d never ask :)

So they set a time.

--

Drinks turned quickly into tumbling into Hob’s flat turned quickly into Hob pushing Dream up against the door and kissing him senseless turned quickly into falling into Hob’s bed. Dream was feeling quite happy about his decision to go on a date with this weird, death-obsessed OnlyFans creator. He had been right about Hob giving good hugs, he had learned that when Hob had greeted him at the bar. He had also learned that Hob really knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob said, looking up at him, lips wet. He had his hands wrapped around Dream’s thighs and his face between Dream’s legs, and yes, Dream was feeling very satisfied with his decision, indeed. He might even have to send Desire a gift basket. “You taste so good.”

“Your mouth is ungodly,” said Dream, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan as Hob continued teasing him with that mouth, swiping his tongue through Dream’s folds and sucking on his clit.

“Converted you to a new religion? You’re done with the void, then?”

Dream twisted his hands in Hob’s hair, holding on tight, thighs trembling, heartbeat racing in his throat. “Perhaps.”

“Is Dream your real name, by the way?” Hob asked, pushing one finger into Dream, and then quickly two, as Dream moaned and clenched down on him. “I kind of thought it was fake.”

“No,” said Dream, though it came out as another moan. “It is real.”

“Fascinating.” And he went back to torturing Dream with his mouth, fucking him deep on his fingers, until Dream was squirming and writhing under him, trying to get away from Hob’s relentlessness even as he wanted to throw himself into its fire. He felt hot, feverish, taut all over, Hob’s hands were so good, and his mouth—

“Hob,” he whined, “please.”

Hob paused, looked up at him, lips and nose wet with Dream’s fluids. Then grinned cheekily. “Yes, kitten?”

And why did something that had sounded so revolting coming from anonymous strangers only make Dream laugh when Hob said it? He laughed, a horrible, choking laugh, and Hob laughed too, incredulously. Dream could not remember ever laughing during sex, it had always been a torrid and serious affair. But Hob was so charming and handsome and Dream wanted to kiss him.

“Come,” he commanded, drawing Hob up towards him by his hair, and Hob went, and Dream brought their lips together. Hob’s mouth was slick and tasted of Dream. It was heady.

Dream wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Hob ground his cock between Dream’s legs, between his folds and against his clit. He didn’t try to actually fuck Dream, though, which Dream figured was Hob’s professional good sense considering they hadn’t discussed birth control or anything in that vein in their haste. He imagined what might have happened if he had instead gone home with Brad of the un-negotiated choking kink, and laughed despite himself.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Hob, lifting his head to look at him. He really was so appealing, with his dark eyes, hair falling long over his forehead, his voice that was much more honey-warm than Dream could have imagined over text.

“I was thinking of the catastrophe that would have resulted had I slept with one of the questionable individuals I’ve encountered on that app, and my good fortune in finding you instead.”

Hob smiled, and kissed him, a proper first date type kiss, sweet and kind. Then he said, dragging his hand through Dream’s hair, tugging on it, “Don’t think about anyone else.” He kissed Dream’s jaw, then down his neck, nipping at his skin.

Dream dug his nails into Hob’s back, into his strong shoulders as Hob ground against him. He wished Hob was fucking him. His cock felt so good even just moving between Dream’s legs, and the weight of his body over Dream’s was so grounding. Next time, maybe.

He shivered as Hob moved faster over him, claimed his mouth with a hard kiss. “Come on me,” Dream urged, pulling Hob in tighter again with his leg wrapped around his waist. He reached between them and got his hand around Hob, and Hob groaned.

“Dream—”

Dream pulled him off in time with Hob’s own thrusts, and soon felt Hob’s hips stuttering, his grip tightening in Dream’s hair. He came over Dream’s hand and stomach, breathing hard against Dream’s throat. But he didn’t pause very long to recover himself, instead slipping three fingers back into Dream, making Dream arch against him with a shout.

“Hob!”

Hob worked him mercilessly until Dream was clenching around him with a gasp, body shaking as his orgasm ramped back up and hit him, fast and hard. Hob grinned against his throat as Dream panted, then gently pulled his fingers free and raised his head to look Dream in the eye as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean of Dream’s spend. Fucking. Hell. And this man couldn’t find someone to marry him?

Hob kissed him again, and again it was sweet, and firm, like his hugs. Dream kissed him back, petting Hob’s hair. Pleased with the position he’d found himself in. Pleased with Hob.

“Good?” Hob asked, stroking a hand up and down his side.

“Very,” Dream sighed.

“Good,” said Hob. “For me, too.”

He kissed Dream’s cheek, and then went and got a soft wet cloth to clean them both up, and even brought Dream a glass of water. Truly Dream’s good fortune was unparalleled on this day.

Hob slipped back into bed beside him, and Dream laid on his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him. Tucked an errant strand of Hob’s hair behind his ear. Ran his fingers over the stubble on Hob’s cheek. He really was quite handsome, especially mussed from sex, in the low bedroom light. Perhaps Dream was going to have to find his OnlyFans. Just so he could… take this home with him.

“You really are even prettier in person,” Hob murmured, studying him. “Although I don’t think the rest of your profile was really doing you justice.”

“That is because my sibling initially created it to annoy me,” Dream admitted. “However, I think I am the one who’s come out on top in the end.”

“That does explain some things,” Hob said with a chuckle. He took Dream’s hand and kissed his fingertips, met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t break your heart. If you stay.”

My BFF’s take on why you should date me, Desire’s profile fills had read: With luck you can be the next person to break his heart <3

Once again, it had not been entirely inaccurate. But perhaps it would be this time.

“I think I am inclined to,” he said quietly, and Hob smiled, that warm, endearing smile.

So Dream did stay that night, cuddled up in Hob’s arms. Feeling all warm inside, even when Hob had fallen asleep, and Dream was still awake, lying beside him. He often had a hard time sleeping, but he didn’t mind so much, right now. Hob was pleasant to cuddle up to, even if Dream couldn’t sleep. Hob was pleasant all around, in fact. Dream tended to fall fast and hard and he could already feel it hovering over him like a cresting wave. Fortunately, Hob didn’t seem inclined to be any more casual about him than Dream was feeling about him.

Dream thought he could get used to this.

With Hob’s arm still wrapped around his waist, Dream swiped his phone off the nightstand and opened his text thread with Desire, which still had enjoying yourself? ;) as the last message, as yet not responded to.

Having made Desire wait for several days already, Dream wrote, with a little smile, I think I am going to get married, and turned off his phone.

[mononijikayu]

“all that i am, when i’m around you” — gojo satoru.

Satoru blushes at the fact that he was so bold to do that. He groaned to himself, his hands on his head. He purses his lips. But it felt good. It felt good to make you flustered. It felt good to make you feel a deep sense of contentment, just being with you. Just being silly around you. These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: all that i am by mirdjo

NOTE: i was gone for a while and i still haven't written, sorry about that. i recently lost my dog and i really couldn't do anything. but today is the jjk chapter drop, so i decided to write something. this was comforting to write, because gojo satoru is a comfort. i'm doing a bit better now. we will be back on schedule soon enough!!! i hope you enjoy this little drable!!! i love you!!! <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

IT WAS TAKING TIME TO ADJUST TO BEING MARRIED. But being married to you wasn’t so bad, or at least that’s what Gojo Satoru thinks. He looks at you as you hum that tune from the radio — preparing breakfast for both of you and the kids.

He had just gotten home from a mission, but you were waiting for him to come home. That was new for him. That someone was up all night worrying about him. Usually, he and Suguru went on missions together. But there wasn’t anyone waiting for him to come back, to greet him happily like you did. 

Everything has been a whirlwind of changes and emotions. One that he hadn’t expected about this. Surprisingly, you both got along well as a married couple. You didn’t act romantically, of course. There’s…there’s none of that yet. But you both cared for each other a lot, acted like a married couple would. Satoru was surprised. It was like everything fit into place now. 

The dynamic between you had shifted in subtle yet significant ways, reshaping the very foundation of your relationship. These past few months had been a period of profound transformation for both of you, discovering what could be between you now.

He was sure that slowly but surely, it was still sinking in — you took his name, you were in his house, you wore his ring. You were more in his and your life now. You were more part of his life now than ever before. You weren’t his senpai anymore, and he wasn’t your kouhai either. You were now his wife and he was your husband.

For a while, Gojo Satoru found himself in an unfamiliar territory, uncertain of what to call you. It wasn't just a matter of addressing you by your name; it was about finding the right words to encapsulate the depth of your relationship. In the past, you were his senpai, the one he looked up to with admiration and respect. Then, you became his partner, someone he leaned on for support and guidance. But now, as husband and wife, the dynamics had shifted in ways he hadn't anticipated.

He hesitated to simply call you by your first name, as if it didn't quite capture the magnitude of your connection. You were still very much not in love. It was too hard to be casual with you. It wasn’t like it was a joke like he did when he was still your kouhai. It was real now. It was very much something that was a gap he had to think about for a long while. 

Calling you "wife" felt too formal, too distant for the woman who shared his hopes, dreams, and fears. It may have been an arranged marriage, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t an instigator. He was a willing participant, because he was fond of you. He wasn’t going to be calling you that.

Using "dear" sounded too old-fashioned, something his and your mother called your own fathers when they first married years and years ago. And "love" seemed too casual for the depth of emotion he felt for you. He wasn’t in love with you, yet. One day, maybe. But until then, he had to be able to give a name for you.

One day, Satoru approached you with a hesitant expression, his usual confidence tinged with uncertainty. "Hey, um... I've been thinking," he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You looked up from your book, sensing his unease. "What's on your mind, Satoru?"

He shifted nervously, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "It's about... what to call you, now… now that you aren’t my senpai," he admitted, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's just... I know this is really different. But it’s not easy to just call you by your name or just make up one. So I wanted to ask you about what you’re comfortable with."

You watched him with a soft smile, sensing his discomfort and wanting to ease his worries. "Satoru, you don’t really have to ask me. We’re married now," you reassured him, your voice gentle and reassuring.

But he couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty, the weight of tradition and habit still lingering in his mind. "I know, I know," he murmured, his gaze shifting to the ground. "But it's just... I want to make sure I'm doing this right. I want it to feel... natural."

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, your own affection for him swelling within your chest. "Satoru, there's no right or wrong way to do this," you said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "We're in this together, remember? It's okay to feel unsure sometimes. But just know that you can call me whatever feels comfortable to you."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Anything?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips. "Anything."

With a sigh of relief, Satoru felt the weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. "Okay then," he said, a newfound determination in his voice. "I think... I think I'll stick with trying to…trying to get used to your name. For now. If that's alright with you."

Your smile widened, a surge of warmth flooding your heart. "It's more than alright, Satoru." you replied, your voice filled with love and understanding. 

He liked the way you said his name.

But he can tell, slowly but surely.

You liked how he said yours too.

In that time, as Satoru endeavored to commit your name to memory as effortlessly as breathing, he found himself grappling with the concept of you being an intrinsic part of his home. The idea of you being his home. It was a notion that seemed foreign at first, given his long-standing familiarity with solitude and transience.

From a young age, Satoru had grown accustomed to living in isolation, even within the vast expanse of the Gojo clan manor. As the heir to the Gojo clan, he had resided in his own wing of the estate, separated from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But even within his private quarters, he never lingered in one room for long. 

The ever-present threat of assassination, a constant worry for his mother following the fate of his father, prompted her to frequently alter the layout and appearance of his living space. Rooms were rearranged, furnishings were swapped out, and on particularly paranoid days, Satoru found himself relocated to entirely different chambers. As a result, he never had the opportunity to truly imprint the features of any particular room in his memory.

Even during his time in the Jujutsu High dormitories, Satoru had maintained a sense of detachment from his surroundings. Though he had his own room, he seldom spent enough time there to form any meaningful connection to it.

With missions keeping him and Suguru occupied for days on end, and the few precious hours of rest often spent in Suguru's company, Satoru's dorm room remained as pristine and impersonal as the day he first set foot in it. Like the Gojo manor, it was a space devoid of personal significance, a transient waypoint in his journey through life.

It wasn't until he met Suguru and Shoko, and ultimately you, that Satoru began to understand the true meaning of belonging. Through your presence, he discovered a sense of stability and security that had eluded him for so long.

With you, he found a home—a place where he could be himself without fear or reservation, where memories were made and cherished, and where the bonds of love and friendship flourished. And as he reflected on the journey that had brought him to this moment, Satoru realized that he had finally found something worth remembering, something worth holding onto with all his heart.

Satoru often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on how different things were now. He loved how peaceful it had been just being around you. Even the little mundane details brought a sense of joy he hadn't anticipated.

Living together meant he saw you more than ever before, and since you weren’t going on missions nowadays, he found himself awakened to each and every day beside you, learning all these bright new facets of your personalities to light.

He noticed how you scrunch your nose when you were thinking too hard, a cute quirk that made him smile. Your bright eyes narrowed often when you focused on things, a look of intense concentration that made you look both serious and endearing.

You made a funny face when you realized something he had pointed out, a mix of surprise and amusement that was always delightful to witness. And then there was the way you smiled into your cup of coffee if it tasted good, a small but genuine expression of contentment that made his heart swell.

One morning, as he watched you prepare breakfast, he couldn’t help but just stare. You had a peculiar way of eating your breakfast. You put jam on your bread, humming quietly, and add your eggs, bacon, and the other side of the bread.  You looked so happy to eat it, grinning at how delicious it tastes for you.

The kids were already out for the day, and they would be here all day because they’re in school and there were still their after school activities. In truth, Satoru was too exhausted to get up from the bed, he did back to back missions after all. But you kept urging him to get up and eat breakfast with you. His stomach would hurt if he didn’t tell him. He can shower and sleep after.

He didn’t know if he was just too tired or if he was just out of his mind. But he felt warm inside. Just watching you eat happily. That you would make him this delicious meal. That you would push him to take care of himself. That you would take care of him. 

"You know, you have these little habits that are just... adorable." 

You turned to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "All of a sudden?”

“Why not? I think it’s true.”

“Oh really? How so?"

He leaned against his own chair, a playful grin on his face. "Y’know, I don’t think you know this but you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking too hard. Or how your eyes narrow when you’re focused. And that face you make when you realize something new—it’s priceless. Just know, you ate that sandwich and started nodding because you think it’s delicious.”

You looked at him flustered, eyes fluttering. "I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, Satoru. That’s….so detailed.”

"How could I not?" he replied, leaning forward toward you. "I see you everyday. It was meant to be me learning something new about you every day.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you turned back to the stove, stirring the eggs. "You’re making me self-conscious now."

"Don’t be." he said softly, smiling at you gently. "I love these little things about you. They make you... you. And I like that, y’know?”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "And what about you, Satoru? What little things do you have that I should be noticing?"

He chuckled at you, standing up and walking towards you. He pats your head, your face turning redder. "I’m not sure. Maybe you’ll have to pay more attention and find out."

"......I will." you promised, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes. You were too shy now. His grin grew wider. "I’ll make it my mission to do well for you."

He smiled, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I look forward to it."

“S-satoru, you can’t just do that!” 

He laughed. “Love you too!”

“T-that….. Satoru! You're a pain in the ass!"

"But I'm your pain in the ass!"

Satoru blushes at the fact that he was so bold to do that. He groaned to himself, his hands on his head. He purses his lips. But it felt good. It felt good to make you flustered. It felt good to make you feel a deep sense of contentment, just being with you. Just being silly around you.

These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you. 

In those moments, he realized that being married to you was more than he had ever expected. It was about finding joy in the mundane, discovering new facets of each other every day, and building a life together that was filled with love, laughter, and understanding. There were moments of tender domesticity that felt almost surreal—sharing morning coffee, debating over grocery lists, and falling into a routine that was uniquely yours.

As Satoru sat at the kitchen table, you poured him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Here you go, Satoru." you said, sliding the mug across the table towards him. "Time for you to join the coffee club."

He eyed the dark liquid with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I'm not sure about this," he admitted, reaching out to tentatively lift the mug to his lips.

"You won't know until you try, y’know?" you teased, nudging him gently. “Go on! One sip!”

As Satoru tentatively raised the cup to his lips, anticipation mingled with apprehension. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to meet his nose, promising a bold and robust flavor experience. But as the bitter liquid touched his tongue, his features contorted into a grimace of pure disbelief. It was as if he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, his taste buds recoiling in shock at the unexpected assault.

The sight of Satoru's reaction was too much for Megumi to handle. From his position on the sidelines, he burst into laughter, unable to contain his amusement at his friend's expense. His laughter echoed through the kitchen, a joyful symphony of mirth that filled the room with infectious energy.

Despite the discomfort of the bitter taste lingering on his palate, Satoru couldn't help but chuckle along with Megumi's infectious laughter. There was something undeniably humorous about the situation, and he found himself unable to suppress a smile even as he struggled to come to terms with the unfamiliar flavor of the coffee.

Tsumiki, the epitome of kindness and compassion, didn't hesitate for a moment as she witnessed Satoru's struggle with the bitter coffee. With a swift and determined motion, she sprang into action, her nurturing instincts kicking into high gear.

"Here, let me help, Satoru–san!" she exclaimed, her voice gentle but firm as she reached for the container of sugar and the carton of cream nestled in the fridge. With practiced efficiency, she poured a generous spoonful of sugar into the mug, followed by a liberal splash of cream, expertly balancing the flavors to create a more palatable concoction.

As she stirred the sugar and cream into the coffee, a look of focused concentration settled on her features. It was clear that she took her role as caretaker seriously, determined to ease Satoru's discomfort and ensure his enjoyment of the beverage.

With a final stir, Tsumiki presented the transformed coffee to Satoru with a warm smile, her eyes shining with genuine concern and compassion. "Here you go, Satoru–san," she said softly, offering him the mug. "I hope this makes it more to your liking."

Satoru accepted the mug with gratitude, his heart warmed by Tsumiki's kindness and thoughtfulness. As he took a cautious sip of the now sweetened and cream-enriched coffee, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the transformation. The bitter edge had been softened, replaced by a creamy sweetness that danced across his taste buds with newfound delight.

"Thank you, Tsumiki," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You're a lifesaver."

Tsumiki's smile widened at his words, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "It's my pleasure, Satoru–san," she replied, her gaze warm and earnest. "I'm always here to help."

He looks at you. “This is my only cup of coffee for the rest of my life.”

You chuckled at Satoru's expression, reaching out to pat his hand sympathetically. "Looks like coffee isn't for everyone," you said, trying to stifle your laughter.

Satoru nodded in agreement, his lips still puckered from the bitter taste. "I think I'll stick to hot cocoa." he said, setting the mug aside with a grimace. “This is awful!”

You laughed. “Well, I’ll make you good sweet ones, ‘toru.”

You took care of him in ways that went beyond what he had ever imagined. It was in the little things: the way you left notes for him to find, the meals you cooked together, the quiet support you offered without needing to be asked. It made him feel like a bashful boy all over again, experiencing a kind of affection and attention that was both exhilarating and humbling.

Being married, being husband and wife — this is not easy. His own mother was surprised that someone as young as him would consider it now. It was true that he had uncles that could marry you. Save you from the Zenin, the name was enough. But Satoru couldn’t admit to you then when you asked him that it was because you were you. You were all he had, now that Suguru had left him. And he couldn’t lose you too. He didn’t want to.

Satoru sat across from his mother, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage, Satoru." she said, her tone tinged with concern. "You have your whole life ahead of you. There's no need to rush into anything."

He bit his lip, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow. "I know, Mother." he replied, his voice strained with emotion. "But it's not that simple."

His mother raised an eyebrow, her expression questioning. "What do you mean?"

Satoru hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "I... I can't just leave her unprotected. Not when the Zenin is planning to marry her to Naoya….he’s gonna hurt her." he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "She needs someone to look after her, to keep her safe."

His mother's eyes softened with understanding as she reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Satoru, you don't have to bear that burden alone," she said gently. "You have uncles who would gladly take on that responsibility. Maybe even your cousins. You don't have to sacrifice your own happiness for hers."

But Satoru shook his head, determination shining in his cerulean eyes. "It has to be me, Mother," he insisted. "I can't let anyone else take that responsibility. I have to be the one to marry her, to care for her. No one….”

His mother sighed, realizing the depth of his conviction. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself too, Satoru," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "Marriage is a partnership, and you can't neglect your own well-being in the process."

Satoru nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I promise, Mother," he said, a steely determination in his voice. "I'll take care of her, and I'll take care of myself. We'll make it work together. I know we will."

And as he left his mother's side, the weight of her words still echoing in his mind, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of determination settle in his heart. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe and happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness in the process. Because for him, there was no greater priority than ensuring your well-being, no matter the cost.

Because he knew that you would take care of him.

And you would make sure he would be safe too.

You were just that kind of person to Gojo Satoru.

As Satoru sat on the couch, watching you move about the room, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What would the future look like for the two of you? The thought filled him with a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. There was so much more beyond the friendship that had been the bedrock of your relationship.

He imagined a future filled with shared dreams and challenges, laughter and tears, triumphs and setbacks. He saw you both growing together, learning from each other, and building a life that was rich and full. The thought of children crossed his mind—a family that was an extension of the love you shared.

Satoru smiled to himself, feeling a warmth spread through him. This was just the beginning, a new adventure that you were embarking on together. And whatever the future held, he knew that with you by his side, it would be extraordinary.

"Hey, you should start pouring your hot cocoa, Satoru," you told him, pointing the spatula towards the boiling pot. "It’ll get too soggy if you let it overboil!"

"Coming, coming," he mumbled, snapping back to reality as he stood up from the couch.

He moved to the stove, reaching for the pot of cocoa. As he poured the steaming liquid into his mug, he couldn’t help but smile at how natural this all felt. You, bustling around the kitchen, humming softly; him, doing his part to help with breakfast. It was a far cry from the life he once knew, filled with endless missions and solitary nights.

Satoru watched as you deftly flipped pancakes, your movements sure and practiced. "You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "I could get used to this. Waking up to you, having breakfast together. For the rest of my life. It’s... nice."

You glanced over at him, a twinkle in your eye. "Just nice?"

"Okay, more than nice," he admitted, leaning against the counter. "It’s... comforting. Makes me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong."

You paused, setting down the spatula and turning to face him fully. "You do belong here, Satoru. With me. With us."

He felt a lump in his throat, emotions welling up that he hadn’t expected. "I know. And it means more to me than I can say."

You smiled, stepping closer to him. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it. And I feel the same way."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m glad we have this. Us. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

"Neither would I," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "We’re a team, Satoru. And we’ll get through everything together."

He nodded, pulling you into a gentle hug. "Yeah, we will. And I promise to keep doing my best to be the husband you deserve."

You hugged him back, your arms wrapping around him tightly. "You already are, Satoru. More than you know."

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Satoru felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known was possible. This was his life now—filled with love, warmth, and the simple joys of being with you. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, he knew he could face them as long as you were by his side.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your lilac eyes. "You know," he began, his voice softer now, "I never thought I’d have this. A home, a family. I always figured I’d be alone, just me against the world."

You cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing against his skin. "You don’t have to be alone anymore, Satoru. We’re in this together."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know. And it scares me sometimes, how much I need this. Need you."

You smiled gently. "Needing someone isn’t a weakness. It’s what makes us human. It’s what makes us stronger."

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. "You’re right. And I’m grateful every day that I have you. That we have this life together."

You kissed his forehead, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. "Me too. We’re building something beautiful, Satoru. One day at a time."

He nodded, a sense of determination settling in his chest. "One day at a time," he echoed. "And I promise, I’ll be here for every single one."

You smiled, feeling the depth of his commitment and love. "And I’ll be here too, Satoru. Always."

As you both turned back to the breakfast preparations, the sense of shared purpose between you felt stronger than ever. The rhythmic clatter of utensils against pots and pans, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air—each moment seemed infused with a quiet but palpable sense of contentment.

In the simplicity of your daily routine, Satoru found himself feeling his heart beat just a little bit faster. There was a sense of profound happiness that he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that bubbled up from deep within his chest and spilled over into every fiber of his being. It was a feeling that defied rational explanation, transcending words and logic to manifest as a pure, unadulterated sense of joy.

It was never going to be easy to explain, Satoru realized, nor did he feel the need to try. Some things were simply beyond words, existing in a realm of emotion and intuition that defied rational analysis. But it was okay—it was more than okay, in fact. For Satoru, the unpredictable nature of life was a source of excitement rather than anxiety, a reminder that every twist and turn held the potential for new discoveries and adventures.

And through it all, you were there by his side, holding his hand through every challenge and triumph. As long as you were there, he knew that nothing would ever be truly insurmountable. With your unwavering support and boundless love, Satoru felt invincible, ready to face whatever the world threw his way.

As he watched you move gracefully about the kitchen, a sense of gratitude washed over him, filling his heart to the brim. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of home and the warmth of your presence, Satoru knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. And with you by his side, he was ready to embrace whatever the future held, secure in the knowledge that together, you could conquer anything that came your way.

Satoru took the pot of cocoa off the stove and poured it into two mugs, handing one to you. "To us. May we be happy together." he said, raising his mug.

"To us," you replied, clinking your mug against his. You smiled at the last bit. “May we be happy.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your home and the promise of your future together, you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey—one filled with love, laughter, and the simple, everyday joys of being with each other.

All that he is when he's around you.

That's all he wants to be in this life.

And you would say the same thing to him.

But he didn't have to hear you say it to him.

Your eyes tell him so much more than he needs.

epilogue

Gojo Satoru stood in his cluttered office at Jujutsu High, sighing softly. There was a baby carrier strapped to his chest with a gurgling Gojo Satoshi nestled inside. The little one wasn’t really feeling his dear beloved father’s stress. But Satoru couldn’t expect much of his little dawn. He liked laughing, being stressed free and his mama. As Satoru moved around the room, he couldn’t help but stand still. There was little place to move. 

His cerulean eyes scanned the room, which looked like a tornado had swept through. Papers, books, and miscellaneous items were scattered everywhere. This was his first year of teaching in Jujutsu High and immediately, everything was already a mess. He didn’t expect it to be this way this quickly. Satoru was good at keeping things clean most of the time. But these days, balancing fatherhood and balancing husbandry and jujutsu — he really didn’t have the time to clean. 

Satoru didn’t teach methodically, like Utahime. But he still needed a basis for what he was teaching. So he had scrolls upon scrolls he borrowed from Gojo manor and even Mikoto manor. Along with books that Yaga–sensei would be looking for by now. He wasn’t just teaching things from his gut–feeling. That would get more unnecessary yapping from the higher ups than he already was getting. Plus, you’d end up yelling at him for that. Kids were at stake after all.

He didn’t know why he decided to do this today, if he was being honest. It was really not the time. You weren’t in town right now, you went back to Kyoto for a few days at your mother’s request. Nobuhiko was going to have his first teaching class in Kyoto Jujutsu tech too. And there was the issue of a barrier somehow being down in Kyoto. You had to deal with that. Satoru didn’t want to see you off. But well, you really had no excuse now that you were off duty. 

"Megumi, Tsumiki, help me out here," he said, trying to sound authoritative but mostly just sounding tired. "Your mother is out of town, and I can't stay at home moping around."

“Gen–san’s not our mother.” Megumi rolled his eyes, picking up some of the books.

“Well she’s all you have, and I’m lonely without her. So stand your butt and help me clean this up.” Satoru touts, as he starts to roll up the scrolls. Satoshi giggled watching his father roll it up. Satoru grinned. “You like it, huh? Yeah, the sound is fun, isn’t it?”

Megumi sighs, crossing his arms to his chest. “We could be playing some video games right now. It’s a Sunday too.”

“Oh cheer up, Megumi! I’m buying us ice cream once we’re done, hm?”

Tsumiki, ever the peacemaker, smiled as she cleared up some paper into the box. "Cheer up, Megumi! This is fun.  You never know what we might find in Satoru–san’s office.”

“More trash?” He waves around a newspaper that was out of date and puts it in the box.

“Something interesting, like….like this!” Tsumiki pulls out a book on the types of cheesecake. 

“See, ‘miki has the right idea, ‘gumi~”

Megumi sighed, shaking his head. “This is hopeless.”

As they began sorting through the mess, Satoru slumped into his chair, cradling Satoshi gently. The baby giggled, tugging at Satoru's sunglasses with his tiny, curious fingers. Each time Satoru gently pried them away, Satoshi’s giggles only grew louder, echoing through the cluttered office.

"Hey, don't mess with the shades, kiddo. They're part of my charm," Satoru murmured, his usual bravado softened by the affectionate way he spoke to his son. He placed a playful kiss on Satoshi’s forehead, making the baby squeal in delight. “We don’t want to make mama panic about a new pair having to be bought, you know?”

Satoshi didn’t seem to understand, as he kept giggling. Satoru couldn’t help but grin at how mischievous his little dawn is. “My baby is such a mischievous little one, hm? I’ll have to get you your own pair, shouldn’t I? So you and papa can match the look and be cool together, hm? Ah, that would be so cute~”

Megumi sighed as he opened yet another drawer filled with random items. "What is all this junk?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief at the sheer volume of clutter.

Satoru waved a dismissive hand, barely glancing at the drawer’s contents. "Important stuff," he replied vaguely, focusing more on adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "Probably."

“You can’t just say probably!” Megumi retorted back.

“Oh, it’s going to be fine~”

Tsumiki, more patient and methodical in her approach, carefully sifted through a stack of papers. Suddenly, she paused, her eyes catching on something unexpected. "Hey, what's this?" she asked, pulling out a stack of neatly folded letters tied with a red ribbon.

Tsumiki untied the ribbon and picked up one of the letters. She unraveled it and began reading aloud. 

"'My dearest darling, love of my life, the apple of my eye. This mission sucks. I really hate being here. I really wish I could just make the higher ups eat shit.  But the sooner I finish, the faster I’ll come home. You take care, hm? Eat well. Make sure Megumi still isn’t upset about the white wolf costume. We’ll get him the black one next year. Make sure Tsumiki doesn’t forget to pick up her new ballet shoes.  I miss you more with each passing day. Your absence makes the world feel gray and lifeless. I count the days until I can hold you again. Love your one and only husband that loves you in this entire world, Satoru.'"

Megumi's face twisted in discomfort. "Seriously? You wrote that? I thought there were phones by this point.”

“Writing love letters is nice, you know!” Tsumiki says, smiling as she looks tenderly at the letters. “It just shows that Satoru–san loves Gen–san! You’re such a romantic, Satoru-san!”

Satoru flushed, his face red as he was adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "’miki’s right! And  those were private! And yes, I wrote that. So what? You've never seen a husband that loves his wife, huh?”

Tsumiki giggled, continuing to read. "'PS. Your smile is the light that guides me through the darkness. I can't wait to see it again and bask in its warmth. Forever yours, Satoru.'"

Megumi groaned. "I can't believe this. You're like a love-struck teenager.”

"Hey, I was pretty young then. And nothing wrong about it. It's called being romantic," Satoru defended himself, trying to sound dignified despite his red face. "’sides…..She liked it. And she wrote back, let me be clear! Her words are just as sappy.”

Megumi shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "I don't need to hear this."

Tsumiki, still amused, looked at another letter. "There are so many of these. How did you have time to write all of them?"

Satoru shrugged as he also took some of the letters in hand. "I have my ways. Plus, when you're away on missions, you have a lot of time to think about what's important. I liked being home, I like being with my wife and you guys. So, that’s what’s in here.”

Megumi didn’t want to admit it. But he was very glad that Satoru wrote about them. He sighed and instead muttered under his breath. "I thought you were supposed to be the strongest sorcerer, not the sappiest."

Satoru gave a dramatic sigh. "One can be both, Megumi. One can be both. With a wife like mine? You’d be multi-tasking it all.”

As they continued to sort through the mess, little Satoshi started fussing. Satoru bounced him gently, cooing softly. "It's okay, little guy. Daddy's just getting roasted by your big brother."

“It’s well deserved slander.”

“Don’t listen to your big brother, Satoshi. Love is always winning!”

Tsumiki smiled warmly. "It's sweet, Satoru–san. Really. It's nice to see this side of you."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Satoru replied with a smirk, taking the letter and waving it around. "This is only for my wife and you guys. Keep it zipped. I have a reputation to maintain."

Megumi rolled his eyes again, but there was a small, reluctant smile on his face. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, sappy pants.”

“Hey, that’s not a good insult!”

As the day went on, they managed to make a dent in the clutter, uncovering more hidden gems of Satoru's sentimental side along the way. Despite the teasing and the awkwardness, there was a sense of tenderness that filled the room.

Satoru looked around at his students—his family—and felt a warmth in his chest that rivaled any love letter he had ever written. Even with the chaos, the mess, and the relentless teasing, this was his life. And he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Alright, team," he said, standing up with Satoshi still strapped to his chest. He was giggling as he held his father’s finger. "Let's wrap this up. Who's up for some ice cream?"

Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Fine," Megumi said with a sigh. "But you're paying."

Satoru grinned. "Deal. And hey, thanks for helping out today. It means a lot."

As they left the office, Tsumiki couldn't resist one last tease. "You know, Satoru–san, you should write another letter. Something like, 'Today, I survived my kids reading my love letters. Love, the strongest—and sappiest—sorcerer.'"

Satoru laughed, ruffling her hair. "Maybe I will, Tsumiki. Maybe I will."

[chrisevansonly]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

[houseki-no-suffering]

Hey! I found a post of yours (specifically a phos analysis) from a looong while ago. Just curious to hear what your thoughts on the last chapters and the conclusion of the story are!

I recently finished the manga after putting it off for 4 years, and it was an incredible but such a bittersweet read. Maybe it's just me being a sucker for happy endings, but man, it really did not get happier </3

And you probably already know this, but did you know that Ichikawa released the last chapter the same day a comet flew by that looked exactly like the comet from the last chapter? Really cool stuff but I am emotionally destroyed haha

I suppose it was the only kind of happy ending HnK could have, and I don't think I mind it as much as other things that have happened in the last few chapters. It reads more HnK than anything that has happened in the past 1-2 years of serialization.

I appreciate the bittersweet notes (always have) and Ichikawa's words that this is how she wanted the story to end, it doesn't happen to every mangaka. Also, the comet bit is such a nice touch.

As for Phos (I suppose this is the post you meant?), I do believe that they got a happy ending.

If you think about it, instead of becoming a lunarian and being prayed away like the others, Phos' journey gave them the power and knowledge to rise above them. Thanks to their flaws (being brittle, having special inclusions, maybe being the most human of all the gems) they became human, the most flawed of creatures, and basically reverted to the purity of a child, a god, sin-less (even if this is a Buddhist story, so idk if I can actually speak of sin) and therefore free of everything that made humanity always dissatisfied, dangerous and unhappy. The others renounced existence, Phos found a way to reach paradise.

Humanity doesn't come out of this looking like a nice bunch of people to hang out with, and neither do the lunarians (gems included at this point). And yet, there's so much compassion in everything Phos does: a kind child, up until the very end.

I always speculated (and was not alone in this) that Phos' job would become to pray the lunarians/everyone away, find Cinnabar the job to kill them, become a Bodhisattva... in this, I believe, the story remained true to itself. What I believe no one saw coming was how shallow(?) it all seemed in the end.

Everyone came back, making Phos' sacrifices and suffering basically meaningless, everyone started getting along and solving centuries-old problems in seconds. Then, Ichikawa introduced so many new changes abruptly... It felt rushed, lazy and overly simple, when most of us loved HnK for its complexity and depth.

Maybe it was because Ichikawa wanted (or needed to) end the series with ch 108. Usually, when mangaka put a limit to the chapters they want to write, it really damages the story and I wasn't a fan of this even in this situation.

Aside from these issues, I appreciate how Ichikawa seemed to care about the character of Phos.

Maybe this all happened so that Phos could be happy, maybe this was the only possible way for Phos to be happy? It would be a little bit like in Devilman, where the world basically ends only so that Satan can understand love. Idk, little old Phos didn't seem that desperate a case, they just wanted truth, yes, this did cause some... issues, but other than that they're a sweetheart.

This is the leitmotif of the series, after all: Phos is a kind, selfless gem who cultivates a deep sense of self-hatred.

They internalize a pressure and a need to feel useful (coming from gem society) and turn them into a necessity for change (unlike in gem society). Initially, they want to find a job. Then, they want to help Cinnabar find a job, then they want to help Ventricosus, then then want to become a fighter, then they want to help sensei, then the gems, then the lunarians...

Contrary to most of the other gems, Phos loves and loves openly and unconditionally. They start off as a self-less creature who believes that their life isn't worth anything. Therefore, they put it on the line time and time again and, eventually, lose it time and time again as they change form.

It's their journey towards truth and happiness: they change and lose pieces of themselves, forget things, renounce gem-ness in favor of humanity and then humanity for god-hood.

Phos changes until they find the form that makes them happy. Their purest, happiest form. They change so much that they come back to square one almost: they become pure Phosphophyllite, with no inclusions at all. Still fragile, still small, but selfless and cheerful. Carefree.

In a sense, HnK ends with Phos becoming Phos.

[thetempleofhades]

victors and fools

i just finished the whole lyney and lynette court case and oh my god..... i had to write something out for it because i'm full of ideas and no way to get them out other than my silly little brain rots.

it's surprising that a crime could take place in such a place as The Opera Epiclese, but you're not surprised that Furina is taking her chance to try and prove herself superior to the powerful outlander, especially after her first attempt was foiled by none other than the accused.

But even then, you don't interfere. You see no reason to, after all Furina would never stoop as low as falsely accusing someone to get her way, neither you nor Neuvillette would allow her to go that far.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he's one of the other reasons you're not interfering. He takes his job of Chief Justice seriously, as he should, for the sake of Fontaine and the justice it upholds. So, the outcome will be the truth.

You don't really care about any of that, you want to see the Traveler in action as an attorney. It should be funny enough to see them bring Furina down a peg.

As much as you adored her, she could be arrogant at times. Sly and demanding, you usually didn't mind but her near desperation to prove herself above the traveller and paimon was becoming annoying.

You sat in a seat that had been guided to, where everyone could only look up and see you, watching it all pass on with amusement or a contemplating look.

as the trial came to its conclusion and Furina's accusation was proved wrong, she looked over at you as you got up. Your starry eyes glanced over at her, unreadable.

That was new. You always allowed yourself to be an open book around those of your acolytes that you spent your times with. Usually a smile graced your face as you looked at her but a frown marred your lips as you turned and left, not stopping even as she ran out after you, shouting after you.

"Y-your Grace!" She called out for you, easily catching up to your slowed pace as she looked up at you, a nervous guilt in her eyes. "I-If I had only known-"

"You accused him and instigated a second duel with the traveler." You mused, looking down at her, the look on your face indicating that you were thinking. "....To prove that you were above them, above the other Archons?"

She frantically tried to figure out if you were truly upset at her. There was no rain or thunder or anything indicating that Teyvat had responded to you upset feelings. She relaxed only a bit. "I am above them! All of them! They were defeated so easily, I won't be. B... But, I will no longer regard them as a threat..."

You looked down at her for a moment as if looking right into her soul before you sighed, the same ever-suffering sigh you always let out when she caused chaos and dragged it right to you. "Haah, what will I do with you?" You rubbed your face gently. "You can be so irritatingly arrogant sometimes. Don't tell me you did this just because you're jealous of the attention and praise i gave them?"

Furina turned her face away from him, leading you to raise an eyebrow down at her form. "...Okay, I won't tell you anything, Your Grace."

"You're insufferable." You sighed as you started to walk forward again, not saying a word as she hurried to catch up to you once more, clinging to your arm. "....That dessert shop you like is still open, do you still want to get dessert? 'One must always have dessert after entertainment'." You imitated her voice in the last part, still looking forward.

She smiled brightly up at you, still clinging to you. "Mmm! Your Grace knows me so well, I'm honored! Let's get dessert!" She seemed happy by it so you let it be.

Just another day for the Hydro Archon and the Creator of Teyvat.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hey! could you please write something about Aemond hearing his name in a conversation, he stays at the door sure he will hear something bad but instead he hears the lady talk about her sex dreams about him

Thank you so much💙

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1400

Aemond strides down the corridor of the Red Keep, in the direction of the training yard. It is mid-morning and his schedule runs like clockwork - he has a sparring session with Ser Criston Cole in 15 minutes and fully intends to arrive early, he always does.

Raucous laughter echoes down the hallway. He catches the source of it through a crack in the solar door, which has been left ajar. Helaena’s ladies in waiting are all reclining on the couches inside, though there is no sign of the Princess which they are in service of.

He scowls. He doesn’t understand why they aren’t shut away when not in Helaena’s presence. They are always laughing, it gives him a migraine. What could possibly be so funny?

The giggles subside when one of them speaks in hushed tones. 

“I had a dream last night…about Prince Aemond.”

His ears prick up at this, his curiosity piqued, and he hovers to the left of the doorframe, so he can listen in undetected. He is certain that what is to follow will be some gruesome retelling of the One-Eyed Prince being the source of night terrors, it would not be the first time he has overheard unkind words about himself.

“Oh? Do share.” One of them pipes up.

“I-I can’t.” She stammers. “It is improper.”

Aemond’s eye widens at this. He leans forward, peering through the gap to see which of them it is. She is pretty. Beautiful, actually. He has never bothered to take the time to properly look at any of them before, usually doing his best to avoid them at all costs, but there is no denying that she is fairer than any woman he has ever looked upon. He hopes more than anything that the rest of this wretched gaggle can convince her to divulge further details.

More giggles erupt, before a voice chimes in.

“Oh, go on, your secret’s safe with us!”

“Well…we were coupling…and it felt good…I have heard that lying with a man is painful and uncomfortable, but I was enjoying it, and after…he pleasured me with his mouth…”

This is a chorus of gasps, followed by more laughing.

Aemond feels his heart hammering inside of his chest. It seems so loud he is certain the ladies in the solar will notice and catch him in the act of eavesdropping. His skin flushes hot from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He is in utter disbelief at what he has just heard.

“Were you not repulsed by it? He is disfigured after all.”

“No.” She rebuffs. “Actually, I find Prince Aemond rather dashing…”

Aemond pushes off of the wall and hurries away. He has heard enough. He does not know how to handle the words he was just privy to. They were not meant for his ears and yet he cannot undo hearing them. What is he supposed to do with the way they have set his pulse racing? He never asked for this, had never even noticed her before today, and yet he cannot help replaying the words in his mind.

We were coupling.

It felt good.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.

For the first time in his life he is late to the training yard. Ser Criston greets him with a reproachful look, before Aemond suffers through what is undoubtedly the worst sparring session he has participated in since he first took up a wooden sword as a child.

We were coupling.

His sword is knocked from his hand.

It felt good. 

His shield splinters under a blow from a morningstar.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

He is knocked to the ground.

I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.

The point of Criston’s sword is at his throat.

“Is everything alright, My Prince?” Criston asks with genuine concern, offering out a hand and helping Aemond back to his feet.

Aemond’s eye is wide, his breathing laboured, and not from the exertion of training.

“I-I think I am unwell, Cole. Please excuse me.”

He stalks back inside, seeking solace in the library. Pulling a copy of Unnatural History from the shelf, his favourite book to lose himself in, he settles into an armchair and begins to read.

“The bloodmages of Valyria used wyvern stock to create dragons…we were coupling…The bloodmages of Valyria…it felt good…”

“Seven hells!” He slams the book shut upon realising he cannot get past the first line, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

He has never heard of a man doing such a thing to a woman. Despite the vulgarity of it, he is intrigued. He places his copy of Unnatural History on the nearby table and stands, making his way towards the end of the library that contains the more salacious reading material.

He takes a quick look around to make sure the prying eyes of the maesters aren’t watching him, before scanning the shelves and selecting the tome he feels will be most relevant for what he is attempting to research.

It only takes a few seconds of flicking through the pages before he finds what he’s looking for. Graphic descriptions of how women can be prepared for intercourse, and even brought to peak, via the use of lips and tongue.

His eye widens and his breathing quickens as he imagines licking her in her most intimate area. It’s only when he realises that his cock is now straining painfully against the laces of his breeches that he hurriedly places the book back on the shelf and retires to his chambers.

He lays on his bed that afternoon, spilling into his own hand, with her name falling from his lips like an urgent prayer.

She is there at the dining table when he goes to supper that evening. It is not unusual for Helaena to invite her ladies in waiting to dine with them, and usually Aemond sits at the far end of the table, avoiding eye contact and all attempts at conversation. However, this evening feels different. Prior to tonight he had never heard her say she found him “dashing”, he had never pleasured himself to the thought of burying his face between her thighs.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest as he takes his seat. His food remains untouched. Every time he looks up he catches her eyes upon him. Does she know? How could she?

In truth, he cannot keep his eyes off of her either and it is probably that that drives her to stare as she does.

On an ordinary evening, Aemond sips delicately at his wine throughout the meal, leaving the cup almost full by the time he leaves the table. However, tonight he finds himself draining his first and gulping greedily at the second. The calming effect it has on his nerves is most agreeable to him.

He pleasured me with his mouth.

His grip on the edge of the wooden table turns his knuckles white, as he struggles to compose himself. His sigh of relief is almost audible as the meal draws to a close and everyone begins to retire for the evening.

He catches sight of her outside of her own bedchamber door as he is returning to his. Fuelled by the confidence that two cups of wine on an empty stomach has granted him, he lengthens his strides, catching up to her before she is able to make it inside and close the door.

She turns, startled, as he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

“My Prince?” She asks, a hint of fear and confusion pinching her delicate features as her brow furrows slightly.

Acting on his new found boldness, Aemond leans down to whisper in her ear, his voice husky. “I heard what you said earlier.”

He regards her face carefully as he pulls back, but there is no apparent recollection, so he decides to be more daring. Leaning in once more he says “Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I’d do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”

He lets her go and walks away with a smirk. When he chances a glance back over his shoulder and sees that she is still frozen in place, her mouth agape, he knows that she knows exactly what he is talking about and his words have had the desired effect.

“Sweet dreams, my lady.” He calls behind him.

[invidiia]

Hello! 🙃 Do you mind if I request a platonic yandere Dazai with a reader who used to be his subordinate in the port mafia but then they cross paths on a mission?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "i watch the rising sun!" 𖤐 p!yandere dazai // reader.

platonic yandere dazai meets his old subordinate.

m.list // now playing..

[ a/n ; THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!! if something doesn't make sense, please god just ignore it because it's 2am, i'm dehydrated, half asleep, and i really need to continue writing on this blog. ]

[ warning ; platonic yandere, dazai himself needs a warning, mentions of abuse (not towards reader), mentions of the abuse cycle, user is about 18, mori is present, there's literally more backstory/explanation to this than the actual point, im sobbin ]

It was years since Dazai left the Port Mafia.

You were his other subordinate, besides Akutagawa. The ways he treated you both were entirely different - it usually ended in you being forced to watch Dazai 'train' Akutagawa, while he later patted your head, praising you for being good, which was standing by his side and watching as he mistreated others. Of course, after that, you would treat any of Akutagawa's wounds. Dazai treated you so well because you were like him, but why didn't he treat Akutagawa the same? You never understood.

Dazai spoke to you once before leaving - ordering you to stay put. He even injured you, breaking a few of your fingers and telling you to say you had gotten into a fight before he left, so you wouldn't be suspected in aiding his treason.

While you were glad that Akutagawa would no longer have to suffer by his hands - you were somewhat upset by him leaving. While some of the others were fine with comforting you, it wasn't the same as when Dazai did it. You couldn't help but miss the times he would praise you and pat your head for doing well.

But over time, you changed. You'd learned how to cope a much better way, and instead of wanting his praise and affection, you grew colder to anyone who tried showing you any kind of love. When others in the mafia tried to comfort you over him leaving, they'd watch as you became cold to them, not letting yourself be vulnerable to anybody anymore. Akutagawa had also changed - however, he was.. worse. The abuse cycle that had started from Mori had yet to break.

It was about a month after Kyouka had been taken in by the Armed Detective Agency. Mori never told you much about the agency, nothing about who was in it aside from Fukuzawa, Yosano, Atsushi, and Kyouka, and that they were different in many obvious ways, but had a form of alliance to defeat the Guild, none of which you'd been involved in. Everyone else was a mystery to you, since you were never given jobs involved with the agency anyway.

It came to your surprise when Mori presented you with a brand new mission of sort, to go with him while meeting with the leader of the Agency. That was unusual - usually Chuuya or Akutagawa did jobs like this, or when you were given one, they took it anyway, just to 'be nice to you'.

But Mori insisted you go, even though he gave you a choice to give it to Chuuya, Akutagawa, or anyone else. Even Chuuya suggested he take the job, not explaining himself, just insisting you let him take it. But this time was different - you were offered this, given an actual chance to be involved with the agency's dealings with the Port Mafia, something you were never given.

Of course you took the job.

You trailed closely behind Mori, following him loyally as you two had walked to the meeting place. If it was held in secret, then why the hell was it outside, anyway?

"[Name]," Mori called to you, turning to meet your eyes. He continued speaking after he knew you were listening. "Fukuzawa-san brought another of his own for the same reason I am bringing you. Just a heads up," Mori cheerfully spoke. Why didn't he tell you beforehand? It didn't matter now, though.

Both you and Mori approached the place to meet with the leader. You could see there was another person with Fukuzawa, but you stood behind Mori, and their upper half had been blocked out. No big deal.

You stepped out from behind your boss, arms crossed above your chest as you eyed the leader of the agency. He looked so kind, a part of you wondered what it'd be like if you were with the agency instead.

But Fukuzawa wasn't the only person you saw.

Standing close behind him was a tall man with dark, wavy chestnut hair, in a long, tan trench coat. He wasn't just any man. That was the familiar face of Osamu Dazai. The youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia.

And you were his ex-subordinate, right there in front of both. Both of your eyes widened, but you were much more surprised to see Dazai than he was to see you, Like he expected this.

You barely listened to the conversation between Fukuzawa and Mori, only making out a few words - 'Guild', Defeat', 'Fitzgerald', 'Agency', and 'Mafia'. None of them mattered to you as much as they should have. Your eyes flickered between the pavement and Dazai, who stared at you intently, not bothering to hide it. He had an expression that you just couldn't read precisely - it was impossible to tell what he was thinking in the moment. You on the other hand? Your thoughts were clear, a beyond frustrated glare was evident on your face.

It felt like an hour standing there, listening to Mori and Fukuzawa talk, if you could even say you were listening. But it was over only twenty minutes later.

Mori smiled at Fukuzawa, while the other just nodded calmly. Your boss began to walk forward, looking at you to signal you were to walk with him. Fukuzawa and Dazai did the same.

However, when you and Dazai were next to each other, he stopped, turning to look at you. Out of curiosity, you sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were not kind, but a slight smile was etched onto his face. A bandaged hand took your shoulder, and Dazai spoke to you for the first time in years.

"My, how you've grown." Verbal surprise was clear in his voice. Dazai was about to speak again, but you cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't fucking touch me." The taller brunette sighed, turning his full body towards you this time, not just his head.

He smiled at you, closing his eyes. "You've changed so much. We'll meet again, I'll make sure of it." After finishing his sentence, he began to catch up with Fukuzawa. You stood there, looking at Dazai as he walked off calmly.

While you were upset about how he left you, it wasn't your main concern. Was he not sorry about the way he treated Akutagawa, making you watch as he made him suffer for so long?

Part of you wanted to run after him and punch him, but it wasn't worth it, not now. Even so, the thought seeing him was upsetting, and meeting him again wasn't in your best interest.

[ extra // i'll do a part two sometime later.. it's 3:51am rn lmao km sobingmgkgkgm ]

[simonrillleyyysss]

Hi!! Idk if you inbox is open right now, but if they are I am begging on my hands and knees for something involving soft sex with soap and an s/o who’s having period cramps.

I firmly believe that even though he’s usually a bit more rougher with you, he’d literally be the sweetest, constantly asking if your alright and praising you for taking it so well, ignoring the mess that you both were creating; your arousal and blood staining the mattress below. Also think his aftercare would def be the best, cleaning up the sheets, giving you a bath and providing you with water and anything else you need before falling asleep together (I need him so badly ugh- 😩😩😩)

love this anon thank u :3

soap is so tired and guilty listening to your complaints throughout the week, ur tummy hurts, ur boobs hurt..your head hurts, you’re just hurt overall! goddamn eve, why did she have to eat that apple? now his poor doll has to suffer the consequences of her actions.. sigh, he hates listening to you be sore and achey >:((

not to fret, he’s quick to suggest ideas—read up on articles lately while you two were cuddling and sappy, he was meant to be finishing work while you watched your show, head on his shoulder..but he had time to write up reports later, hm?

‘lookie..’

he quickly manuovered your hand onto his chest, lifting your free-ones pointer finger and dragging it along the screen, reading it aloud for you.

‘hai tae’ ease period cramps ae’home. google says..

blah blah…

apply heat tae yer abdomen..

engage in gentle exercise. ...

reach orgasm! see, sohen’ i could do tae help.’

you’re so quick to try and steer him away, trying to convince him it’s unsanitary.. but soon enough you’re convinced, letting him carry you upstairs, tug off your panties and let you get yourself ready, prepped and spread for him on the bed.

unsanitary? more like unholy to him, the way he doesn’t even bother to look at the blood while quickly prepping you with his fingers, making sure you aren’t wincing or in pain(you certainly aren’t.) and gently kisses your tummy while you gasp out and hum, tugging at his hawk.

‘oh—oh, wow. johnny, christ it feels even better than normal.’

‘aye? more?’

‘nhmhhhhmmmm.’

‘mon nai, use yer’ biggirl words.’

‘please.’

as soon as you’re assuring him you’re ready, he’s wiping the blood off of his fingers and stroking his veiny shaft, droplets of precum dripping from his intimidating head, pink and achey, slowly sliding himself into your ready cunny; your brows knitting together. sits for a bit,before placing his hands above your head and gently thrusting into you.

listens to your weak and embarassing cries, moaning and mewling into the thick air, scent of sex and blood twirling around the room, doesn’t take you long to cum, feeling him kiss and knead at your doughy, sore breasts and his cock brushing against your hot walls has you unraveling, back arching, unaware that your expensive sheets were covered in your pleasure and pain.

‘as’it lassie..takin’ me all, tell me if yer’ sore,.’

you’re shaking your head, trying to desperately keep his cock buried inside your hole, the scot above you growling in pleasure as he came inside of you, slowly pulling himself out to look at his masterpiece, thick droplets of white cum now mixing into a pale pink colour, your chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

let’s you do his face mask after your shared bath, massages you and gets you a hot water bottle for your abdomen, makes you watch a cheesy film..

‘if yer’ still sore intha’ mornin’, im’ offering tae help.’

‘it’s fine, johnny..’

‘jest’ use mae’ mouth next time.’