#trying not to be too technical while also being correct

[the-music-maniac]

It is very exhausting being in western fandom spaces sometimes. Tell me why I just wanted to enjoy a cute oubing ship vid on tiktok, and half the comments section was about people saying you can't ship them???

I wanna complain into the void, so here's a comprehensive of why Oubing/藕饼/Lotus Root Cake is fine (and even if it wasn't, why I don't give a shit):

(Spoiler warning for Nezha 2)

1. "You can't ship them cause they're brothers'": No, they are not brothers. Not by any definition of the word. Not by blood - not even sworn brothers technically, because they only refer to each other as best friends. They each have their own parents - those parents are not related to each other in any way, shape, or form. One of them is a freaking dragon, an entirely different species. Also, they're technically made of lotuses now. They weren't raised together either. Clarifying this point feels ridiculous.

2. "But they used to be part of the chaos pearl": If you wanted to define them by any type of relationship, they are soulmates. This is not me trying to spin them romantically, I mean they are literally soulmates. Their spirits are each half of a single Chaos Pearl, and they each represent opposite halves. They are literally soulmates and yin and yang.

3. "But they're children!": Are they three years old? Yes - and also no. (this is edited: I saw an official post that did say their ages were 3, not 6). They've been alive for centuries as a chaos pearl. I need you to understand that the original entity we saw at the beginning of Nezha 1, IS a creature that has been alive for thousands of years. They had personality too while they were fighting Taiyi. They were made into the pearls by the cauldron. Now, their mortal bodies as we understand it, is 3 (again edited. I originally said 6 cause I wasn't sure whether or not to count the 3 years of pregnancy). But because they're not really human, and their developmental stages therefore don't mirror a human, the movie shows them maturing into an adult form in the span of about 3 years. How do we know this? Ao Bing is the same age as Nezha, and he went from a baby to his adult form in those 3 years. The only reason Nezha is still in a child form is because he has the qiankun circle suppressing him. This is also the reason that putting the circle on his wrist releases his adult form. Also it's sort of maybe implied by the end of Nezha 2 that he may stay permanently in his adult form, since he reformed his body into it while he was in The Soup™. I dunno how accurate this part is so I suppose we'll see by Nezha 3. I would like to point out further that no three year old talks or acts like they do. Ao Bing and Nezha have very complete vocabularies, and are able to understand the complexities of their circumstances. They're both new to the world in this form, but they're not at the mental capacity of a 3 year old. It's like if you were dropped into a new form of existence with an adult brain.

4. "Nooo, why are you shipping them now": This ship is NOT NEW. It's been around since at least 2019. It is WILDLY popular in China. Back when Nezha 1 first came out, oubing literally won an award for best couple. I want you to understand the scale - from my understanding, they beat wangxian in cql. Y'all can correct me if I got this part wrong because I can't find the source of where I read this information, but if it's true, that's wild. I know the award part is correct. There was an official shampoo ad that reads like a shipping comic. Now that Nezha 2 came out, it is still one of the most popular ships. Every other post on my social media has been about Nezha 2 and at least half of that has been Oubing. There are over 2000 chinese fics on ao3 currently. Stop with this "why are you shipping them now", WE'VE BEEN SHIPPING THEM.

5. "It's not canon.": Not that I give a shit what's canon or even what the original creator thinks about shipping usually, but Jiaozi, aka the director of the movie, has stated that while he wrote Nezha and Ao Bing to just be a friendship that he thinks it is fine if people ship them. I'm pretty sure he also said something along the lines of 'people can interpret things how they want' or something.

6. Even if all of the points I made were not the case, I cannot stress enough how little I care about what someone should or should not ship. If you don't like it, just block the fanart/fic/video and move on. I promise society will not crumble because someone decides to ship two fictional characters from a mythology movie. We will be fine.

(Also if you see anyone in the chinese fandom write 藕饼cp, the cp stands for "couple". Just to clarify. They use different terms for shipping in chinese fandoms, they'll say they "ke CP" aka ship a couple)

Some of the comments I've seen make me wonder if people have even watched the movies. 'You can't ship them cause they're brothers', god don't make me laugh.

Don't let them find out that the chinese fandom is also shipping Ao Bing and Nezha from the 1979 cartoon, they'd lose their minds.

[ankababy]

A Home (part 24)

Part 1 Part 23 Part 25

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

You were good.

TW: torture, said torture explained in detail, murder, Niragi crashing out, even I’m starting to feel bad, #justiceforbugsy

It was late—almost past the hour. The Beach was quieter now, the laughter distant. The hallway lights flickered softly as you padded down the carpet barefoot.

You knew exactly where he’d be.

It was the room where he kept the weapons.

You opened the door without knocking.

And of course—Aguni was there. Just as you’d pictured. Sitting on a chair, stripping a gun down to its bones. Oil on his fingers. He looked up as the door creaked open, and his face didn’t change.

“Go away.”

That was it. Gruff, solid, final. You smiled anyway. Of course you did.

“I won’t stay long.” you said gently, stepping in. “Niragi told me you wanted to talk.”

His fingers paused as he held a cleaning brush halfway through the barrel of the rifle. That’s what made him tilt his head.

“Niragi told you that?”

You nodded, the hem of your sweater—not yours, someone fucking gave it to you in the hallways??—brushing against your legs as you walked further into the room.

“So I came.” You said.

Aguni could have corrected you. Could have said no, he didn’t call for you. That Niragi was either fucking with you or trying to hide something. But he didn’t. Because Niragi lying? That was interesting. That was something to watch.

So he leaned back slightly, shoulders shifting, and grunted, “Yeah.”

You smiled brighter. “What do you need?”

He glanced around, scanning the weapons like he might pluck a task out of thin air. Then he grabbed a set of knives off the side bench and tossed one in your direction. You caught it clumsily.

“Last time you cleaned ‘em good.” he muttered. “Do it again.”

You beamed, sitting down at the bench like it was your favorite chair in the resort. And maybe it was. Maybe you liked being in places like this. Among cold men with warm hearts locked away under steel, among violence and war and danger. You always seemed to belong where you shouldn’t.

Your fingers curled around the cloth, and you got to work, humming something under your breath as you polished the blade.

Aguni watched you in silence for a long moment.

Everyone talked about you—how lucky you were, how untouched, how beloved. It didn’t make sense. But watching you now, bent over a knife, soft thighs on a metal stool, hair falling over one shoulder, humming a song while surrounded by death…

He kind of got it.

You weren’t stupid. You were just good. In a world that punished good people. And somehow, you were still here.

Still alive.

Still smiling.

He made a note of that. Because anyone Niragi was lying to—and lying for—meant something. And if something happened to you… well. Aguni wasn’t blind. The fire that boy held behind his eyes? The way he stood behind you in that executive meeting, not in front, never blocking the view of his queen?

Yeah. That kind of loyalty? It broke things when it cracked.

So Aguni kept watching. And you kept cleaning the knives. Unaware that even here, in this cold little weapons room, you were softening stone with nothing but your voice.

You finished one of the knives and turned it slowly under the overhead light, admiring the gleam, even though you clearly had no real interest in weaponry. You liked beautiful things. Shiny things. Dangerous things too, though you rarely admitted it.

“Do you ever sleep in here?” you asked suddenly, not looking at Aguni yet.

He grunted, which was technically a no.

You smiled at that, resting your chin on your hand, elbow on the table, the knife still in your other hand. “Thought so, but asked anyway. I didn’t come only because you called, I also wanted to check on you.”

That earned a real look. One that ticked upward with the faintest arch of his brow, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“You checked on me?”

“Well, yeah.” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I like you.”

Aguni didn’t look impressed.

Your smile grew a little more sheepish. “You’re really intense, and terrifying, and your arms are huge—like, terrifyingly huge—but you’re not mean to me. So I like you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” you said simply, and went back to cleaning a blade like it was a lollipop stick.

There was a pause. Then you spoke again, quieter.

“You look tired lately.”

Aguni turned his eyes back to the weapon he was disassembling, but his hands slowed just enough to show he heard you. His jaw worked once, twice, but he didn’t say anything.

“You can’t carry the world.” you murmured. “No one can. Not even with arms that big.”

He grunted again. More guttural this time. Almost a laugh. Almost. “You always talk this much?”

You grinned. “All the time.”

He didn’t tell you to stop. He didn’t tell you to leave, either.

You turned another knife over in your hands, then paused, considering him again. “Do you think the world was always like this, and we just didn’t see it until now?”

Aguni didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it was low, flat. “No. The world made us like this.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressed together. “That’s sad.”

“Yeah.”

Silence again. A heavier one. You made spaces soft just by being in them, even when they were filled with weapons and old pain. You were the wrong kind of creature for this place. You shouldn’t have lasted a day. But here you were. With your perfect collarbone and Niragi’s bite on it, humming a tune while your fingers made steel gleam again.

You looked up at him.

“You ever want me to stay, you just gotta ask, okay?”

Aguni stared at you like you’d grown another head.

“Not like that.” you huffed. “I just meant—I don’t know. I like being around you. Even if you barely talk.”

He grunted.

You laughed at that, fond and warm and too radiant for this room, and went back to polishing the last blade. Aguni didn’t stop you. Not because he needed the help. But because—god forbid—he actually didn’t mind your dumb little company.

And if anyone else saw the way he let you exist in that space without a word of protest?

He’d deny it to the grave.

You held up another gleaming knife to the light, inspecting your handiwork like it was a diamond. “Okay,” you said, cradling it like a precious thing. “now that you’ve sat through my unsolicited commentary and philosophical rambling, it’s your turn.”

Aguni didn’t look up from the disassembled gun he was reassembling. “What.”

“How are you?” you asked simply.

He said nothing.

You blinked at him. “No, like. Actually. Not the grunt version. The real thing.”

Still silence.

“C’mon.” you nudged, not unkindly. “I’m not gonna psychoanalyze you or try to fix you. I just wanna know if your heart’s okay. Or your soul. Or your knee. I don’t know. Pick one.”

You placed the knife down, turning in your chair so your whole body faced him, knees curled up under you. “I think people forget to ask that. Like, we’re in survival mode twenty-four-seven and no one wants to admit they’re drowning. But you can tell me. I won’t do anything with it. Just carry it for you, if it’s heavy.”

Aguni’s jaw clenched for a long, quiet moment. He didn’t meet your eyes.

“You talk like that to everyone?” he muttered eventually.

You grinned. “Only the ones I like.”

“Pity?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. You’re hot and scary. I don’t pity you, Aguni, I genuinely like you.”

That got a blink out of him. He didn’t say anything.

“And no offense, but you look like someone who haven’t slept for years.” you added, soft again. “I just… I know what that weight looks like. So I’m asking. How are you?”

Aguni kept working, methodically fitting pieces of metal back together. For a minute, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer.

“Tired.” he said. “Sick of everyone pretending we’re gonna make it out of here. Sick of the Beach and Hatter’s speeches. Sick of having to watch kids play war.”

You nodded. You didn’t interrupt. You waited, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your top.

He stared at you.

You offered a tiny smile. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know what’s happening here. I know what people are. But I think… I think there’s still something beautiful left in people.”

He said nothing. Just stared at you. Maybe you were the strangest person he’d ever met.

You played with the blade in your hand. “You want me to bring you snacks next time?”

“No.”

“I’m bringing you snacks.”

Aguni huffed through his nose. Not quite a laugh. But something.

“And coffee.” you added. “You look like a black coffee guy. No cream. No sugar. Just pain.”

Aguni gave you a look that was a warning and an admission at once.

You grinned again. “Okay. Coffee, snacks, a decent knife-polishing playlist. Got it.”

He didn’t say thank you. But he didn’t tell you to leave, either. And when your shoulder brushed his as you leaned a little closer, he didn’t move away. Not even an inch.

“Can I check the guns out?” you asked. “I’ve never really… I mean, I held one during a game once, but it wasn’t mine. And you have so many.”

Aguni narrowed his eyes, sizing you up like he always did. As if trying to decide if you were joking. But you weren’t.

He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t push.

Then—finally, with a grunt—he set the rifle down, picked up a smaller handgun, and offered it to you handle-first. “This one. Safety’s on. Keep it pointed down.”

Your hands cradled it like it was fragile. “Whoa.” you whispered, turning it in your palms, weight shifting in your grip. “It’s… heavier than I thought.”

He nodded, watching you closely, arms crossed. Almost like a dad standing behind a teenager at a shooting range, though he’d never let anyone hear it said like that.

“I always figured movies made guns look lighter for dramatic effect.” you added, bringing it up slightly—not aiming, just testing its balance. “But this feels like… I don’t know. Do you remember your first?”

“First what?”

“Gun. First time holding one. First time realizing what it could do.”

Aguni nodded once. “Too young. It was someone else’s. Not a game. Real thing. Real blood.”

You swallowed, your hands going still. You understood. You didn’t have to ask more.

“I’m glad this one isn’t loaded.” you said quietly. “I don’t think I’d ever be ready to point it at someone.”

Aguni’s eyes didn’t soften, exactly, but the tension in his jaw relaxed a fraction. “You don’t have to be.”

You smiled again, setting the gun down gently, like it was something sacred. “But you are. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t get to not be.” he said.

You looked up at him—this carved-out, hollowed man, built of grit and grief and gunpowder—and said, “You carry so much. I don’t think people see that. But I do.”

His silence spoke more than words.

You leaned in again, your shoulder brushing his like before, and said softly, “Thanks.”

Aguni didn’t answer, but his hand shifted slightly on the table. Not touching you, not exactly—but close enough that if you moved just a little more, you could’ve rested your pinky against his.

He didn’t stop you from talking. Not once. He didn’t ask you to leave. Not once.

And for someone like him, that said everything.

~

The room was dim, lit only by the bare bulb overhead, its light flickering like a heartbeat.

Akira was tied to the chair with military precision—ankles, wrists, torso. He wasn’t gagged. Yet. His face was flushed with rage and fear, trying to wear a mask of something cocky, but the sweat on his temple betrayed him. He shifted once. The chair creaked. No one responded.

In front of him stood Niragi, leaning against the wall. A little too still. A little too quiet. A cigarette burned between his fingers, but he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. He just let it smolder.

And then there was Chishiya. Lurking in the shadows on the other side of the room, arms crossed. Half his face in darkness. The way he watched Akira… it wasn’t personal. Not in the way Niragi made it. But it was intentional. It was focused.

Akira broke first. “What the fuck is this?” he barked, yanking against the bindings. “You crazy fucks—you think this is funny?”

Niragi laughed. Slow and mean. He pushed off the wall and stepped forward, taking a drag then exhaling smoke into the air. “Oh, I think it’s hilarious.”

“Is this about Y/N?” Akira demanded, shifting in the chair again. “You know she talks to everyone like that. I didn’t even—”

Wrong answer.

A slap cracked across Akira’s face, splitting his lip. Blood welled fast.

“You don’t say her name.” Niragi said. “You don’t even fucking breathe in her direction unless I say so.”

Chishiya didn’t move, but his gaze tracked every twitch of muscle on Niragi’s body. He was watching—not to stop him, but to keep the balance. There was a method to this madness. A reason. A purpose.

“She’s not yours.” Akira snapped, head jerking up, blood in his teeth. “She’s not any of yours. She’s just—”

This time, Niragi’s fist connected with his stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Akira gasped, coughed, spat red. Niragi crouched down to his level, smiling that twisted, unhinged grin of his.

“No, she’s not mine.” he said softly. “But she could be. You? You were never even close. You’re nothing but a bug she didn’t notice she stepped on.”

Akira wheezed, glaring.

Chishiya finally spoke. His voice was smooth, detached. Almost bored. “You’re a footnote, Akira. That’s all. You were in the way.”

“I didn’t touch her like that.” Akira said. “You’re both sick. Obsessed. I didn’t even do anything.”

“But you wanted to.” Chishiya replied, stepping out of the shadows now, his hands still in his pockets. “You thought about it. Fantasized. And that’s enough.”

“She’s like a fucking religion to you people.” Akira spat.

Niragi smiled. “Exactly.”

It was the only time they’d agree. Ever. If they could ever work together—if they could put their hate and their differences and their twisted and unbelievably smart minds together for anything—it was because of you.

Only you.

“She would hate this.” Akira muttered, head rolling to the side. “She would hate both of you if she knew—”

Chishiya stepped forward. “But she won’t.”

“She doesn’t need to know everything.” Niragi added. “She already knows we’re fucked. And she still smiles at us.”

Akira blinked. “You’re sick.”

“Oh.” Niragi said, crouching again. “You have no fucking idea.”

Then he stood, wiped the blood off his knuckles with a handkerchief, and glanced at Chishiya. “Your turn, genius. Before I take the rest of his teeth.”

Chishiya looked down at Akira for a long moment. Then he tilted his head.

“I have nothing to say.”

And Akira, broken and bound, finally saw it. That there was something terrifying in both of them—something unnameable. Not love. Not even obsession.

Worship.

And it would burn everything down.

Akira was slumped now, one eye already swelling shut, lip split and still bleeding. But despite the blood and bruises, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

“I’ve been thinking.” Niragi said, walking around the chair, smoke curling off the cigarette in his mouth. “About how lucky you are. I mean—look at you. Front row seat to a private performance, two of the smartest people at the Beach interrogating you. You should be grateful.”

Akira groaned, blood trailing from his nose now. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Chishiya finally moved again, shifting closer. Calm. Clinical. “You keep saying that as if it’s news.”

Niragi leaned in again, clapping both hands dramatically on Akira’s shoulders. “Let’s play a game. You like games, right? It’s all games here.” His voice lifted. “It’s called ‘What The Fuck Did You Think Was Going To Happen?’”

Chishiya, impossibly, let out a small sound. Almost like a chuckle. A sharp little exhale that barely touched his lips. Niragi noticed it. Turned to him.

“See? He gets it.”

“Barely.” Chishiya muttered. But he didn’t move away.

Niragi turned back. “Round one. You see her—beautiful, bright, too good for this world—and you decide to touch her.” He slaps the side of Akira’s face, just enough to sting. “You don’t even ask. You think you get to be seen with her? Cute little tricks, acting like you’re not all twitchy inside your skin and all hard when she smiles at you.”

Akira choked out a sound, more frustration than pain. “She’s not yours.”

Niragi’s grin widened. “She’s not yours, either. And I don’t share.”

Chishiya stepped closer, crouching now in front of the chair, watching Akira. “You didn’t even get her name first time you talked. She didn’t care enough to tell you. That’s embarrassing.”

“She calls me ‘baby’ sometimes.” Niragi added, now pacing behind the chair. “Did you know that? Real soft. Like a song. Probably calls you ‘uhh…’ if anything at all.”

“She touched your arm.” Chishiya deadpanned, looking up at Akira. “That’s the highlight of your existence. A brief, meaningless moment she won’t even remember tomorrow.”

“But we will.” Niragi whispered, bending close to hiss it in his ear.

Another punch, harder this time—straight to the ribs. Akira wheezed and sagged sideways in the chair, breath stuttering.

“Round two.” Niragi announced, lighting another cigarette. “Tell us everything she ever said to you. And I mean everything. Otherwise…” He held up a knife, small, curved. “We start playing the advanced version.”

Akira coughed, blood splattering his chin. “You… you guys need help.”

“No.” Chishiya said. “You do.”

But they weren’t in a hurry. That was the most terrifying part. They didn’t want quick answers. They weren’t working on a clock.

It was about the fact that this man—this irrelevant bug—got a second more of your time than he should’ve. Got to breathe the same space, touch your arm, make you laugh.

Unforgivable.

Niragi leaned down again, far too close now. “Y’know, she’d hate this. All this blood, all this mess. But I’ll clean it up before she sees it. I’ll keep it pretty for her. Because she deserves pretty.”

He ran the tip of the knife down Akira’s cheek—not cutting, just threatening. Taunting.

“Does she know?” Akira rasped. “Do you think she’d still smile at you if she knew what you’re doing right now?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Probably.”

“She knows we’re monsters.” Niragi whispered. “Likes it.”

Another hit. Not a punch this time—a hard smack with the butt of the knife against Akira’s collarbone. His head lolled back, but he didn’t pass out. Not yet. Not allowed to.

Chishiya stood again, smoothing his hoodie. “He’ll break soon.”

“Yeah.” Niragi said, stepping back to admire with a head tilt. “And when he does, we’re gonna make sure he never even looks in her direction again.”

They weren’t done yet.

Not until it stopped being fun.

Akira groaned through blood-caked lips, slouched low now like his spine had given up. He wasn’t gagged, but it didn’t matter—he couldn’t talk over the ringing in his ears and the rhythm of Niragi’s pacing.

“You ever think about how fucking stupid people are?” Niragi mused aloud, arms flailing as he paced in tight circles. “Like, why would someone see a guy with a gun, a reputation, and a literal body count, and still decide to flirt with the girl standing next to him?” He spun toward Akira with an exaggerated shrug. “Is it delusion? Are you one of those mental dudes? What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

Chishiya, leaning against the wall now, murmured. “Terminal stupidity.”

“Stage four?” Niragi asked.

“Inoperable.”

Akira managed a wheeze that might’ve been a word. Niragi crouched down in front of him, cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, smoke trailing upward into his wild hair. “Whassat? You wanna try that sentence again? Speak up, champ, we believe in you.”

“I… I didn’t… mean anything by it…”

“Oh! You didn’t mean anything by it? That makes it fine, then!” Niragi stood again, exasperated. “Everyone, cancel the fucking torture session, he didn’t mean anything by it!” He spun toward Chishiya. “He said it was an accident.”

Chishiya’s deadpan didn’t even flicker. “Then we should definitely kill him. We can’t have accidents around here.”

“Can’t trust a man who trips into flirting.” Niragi muttered, then walked over to grab a chair and drag it across the floor with an intentional screech, placing it backwards in front of Akira. He straddled it, resting his arms across the top.

“You know what she said to me just before you fucking came up to her?” he said to no one in particular. “She said she wants to buy me a lava lamp.” His voice cracked into something weirdly reverent. “A fucking lava lamp. What kind of person says that? Who remembers something like that?”

Chishiya looked at Niragi. “Someone who’s not made of ash and spite?”

Niragi pointed at him with the cigarette. “Exactly. She’s like… lightbulbs in a blackout. And you—” He turned back to Akira. “—you wanted to smother that? With your slimy little elbow touches and forced ‘not hiding from any admirers’ pickup line?”

Akira looked like he wanted to melt into the chair.

“Oh my god.” Niragi said suddenly, standing up like he just had a vision. “Let’s give him a nickname.”

Chishiya arched a brow. “What are you, twelve?”

“I like nicknames.” Niragi’s eyes lit up with something unhinged. “We’ll call him—Bugsy.”

“Why Bugsy?”

“Because he’s like a bug. And he bugged me. And I want to crush him.” Niragi grinned again. “Plus, it’s cute. Like a little pet. We could keep him around and feed him.”

Akira groaned.

“Bugsy doesn’t like his name.” Chishiya noted.

“Well, Bugsy doesn’t like a lot of things right now.” Niragi said with mock sadness, crouching again, almost sweet. “But guess what, Bugsy? Neither do we. And guess who gets to decide if you ever walk again?” Akira flinched as Niragi leaned in, too close. “Not you.”

There was a pause. Niragi stood up and stretched, bones cracking audibly.

“I’m bored.” he said finally. “We beat him up, made fun of his tragic lack of game, mocked his face. What next?”

Chishiya rolled his eyes. “You always say that after five minutes.”

“I have a vibrant attention span.”

“We could just leave him here.” Chishiya offered, glancing down at Akira as though he were already a corpse.

“Leave him tied up?” Niragi tilted his head, actually considering it. “Put a note on him? ‘Property of the Beach’s mental illness club’?”

Chishiya nodded. “He’s not important enough to kill.”

Niragi stared at Akira for a long moment. “He touched her.”

“He’s already suffering.”

That… made Niragi stop.

He blinked. Then, slowly, he cracked a grin. “That’s true.”

Akira blinked blood out of his eye. “You’re both insane.”

Chishiya pulled his hood on. “You’re both boring. Can we go now?”

Niragi took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it to Akira’s crotch, grinding it out with his shoe, earning a loud grunt. Then he leaned down, grabbed Akira by the shirt, and said quietly, too quiet to be casual: “If you ever look at her again, Bugsy, I’ll feed you your teeth. Slowly.”

He let go with a shove, like Bugsy wasn’t even worth holding.

“Let’s go.” he said, turning to Chishiya. “She’ll be wondering where we are.”

They were halfway out the door when the voice came, strangled and half-choked, yet laced with something pathetic and bold.

“I’ll save her!”

Niragi stopped. “You hear that?” he asked Chishiya without turning. “Was that the bug talking?”

Chishiya didn’t answer, but the way he shifted said he heard it too.

“You don’t get it!” Akira coughed, spitting something dark. “She’s too fucking good for you! For both of you! You don’t deserve someone like her—you’re gonna ruin her! You’ll eat her alive and not even know it until there’s nothing left!”

Silence.

click.

The sound of Niragi’s blade flicking open was soft. Subtle. Intimate.

He turned, just his head at first. Then his full body. He walked. Calm. Slow. The knife glinting under the lights. Chishiya sighed audibly and closed the door behind them again. Inside, Niragi was already crouching down again, face inches from Akira’s. Not smiling anymore.

“You think she needs saving?” His voice was low, breath thick with venom. “You think you see her like I do? You don’t know shit about her. You just want something shiny to fix your broken little ego.”

Akira tried to look brave. That was stupid.

Niragi stood, stepped to the side—and then with no warning, no wind-up, he slashed his knife clean across the front of Akira’s shin. Deep. From just below the knee to the ankle.

Akira screamed. Instantly. Unfiltered. The noise of pain echoed off the walls, raw and feral.

Blood poured like a faucet, dark and vivid, down his leg and onto the floor.

“Shh, shh…” Niragi knelt, watching it trickle, fascinated. “Don’t die too fast, Bugsy. This isn’t even close to punishment. This is just a reminder.”

Akira writhed, trying to pull back, but Niragi shoved him hard against the back of the chair.

“You think she’s a fucking flower.” he snarled. “But she’s not. She’s the reason people like me don’t slit their wrists at sunrise.”

Akira tried to breathe through the pain, through the burn of his nerves screaming. “She deserves—”

“—to choose.” Niragi cut him off sharply. “She’s not yours to rescue. Not yours to worship. Not yours to pity. You don’t get to think about her like that.”

Then he leaned close again, the blade still dripping. “You know what she is?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “A miracle. She’s fucking untouchable. And you?” His eyes dropped to the wound. “You’re meat.”

Chishiya, meanwhile, had leaned against the closed door, his arms crossed. “Are you quite done?” he asked blandly. “He’s going to go into shock soon.”

“Let him.” Niragi muttered.

“I’d rather he didn’t. He needs to remember this.”

That got a little grin out of Niragi. He stood, kicked the leg of the chair lightly, and then turned back toward the door. “Let’s go find our girl.”

Chishiya opened the door again, not even glancing back. “Probably has a new pet by now.”

“I bet she’s cold.” Niragi cooed loud enough for Akira to still hear, tucking the knife away. “She needs someone to hold her sweater.”

As they walked out, Akira’s groans behind them quieted. Chishiya didn’t even look back.

“She needs someone who’ll actually last.” Chishiya said as they disappeared down the hallway.

And Niragi, still grinning like a devil, replied, “Then it’s a damn good thing she’s got both of us.”

~

It was three past midnight. The halls of the resort were mostly silent now. Your sweater was still loose around your shoulders, your bikini top glimmering underneath, faint shadows of moonlight catching on the edge of your cheekbone.

Then you opened your room’s door.

Chishiya, curled up in your armchair, flipping something in his fingers—one of your hair clips, probably. Niragi was sprawled on the long couch, shoes kicked off, smoke trailing from the open window, one leg hanging over the armrest.

You blinked, then smiled. A little tired.

“Oh.” you said, letting the door close behind you. “You two waiting for me?”

Chishiya looked up like he hadn’t been, but he didn’t say anything. Niragi scoffed like it was a stupid question, but didn’t deny it.

You didn’t know. Of course you didn’t. You had no idea that not an hour ago, the two of them had worked together, actually worked together, in some musty room on the other side of the Beach, tying up a man and cutting him open. You didn’t know how deeply your name had burned in that room like gasoline catching fire. You didn’t know how they had stood there, shoulder to shoulder, hatred forgotten, because you were the only thread that bound them tightly enough to not kill each other.

All you knew was that they were here.

“I just talked to Aguni.” You murmured, getting your unnecessary little accessories off.

Chishiya’s face didn’t change. “Why?”

You gave a small shrug, padding barefoot over to the coffee table where your frog and your lobster were in their little homes. “Niragi said he wanted to see me.”

A beat. Niragi looked sideways at Chishiya, but didn’t say anything. He just leaned back further on the couch, blanket half-falling off his torso, smirking at the ceiling, smoke coming from his cigarette.

“And?” Chishiya asked, his voice cool and light, like he hadn’t watched a man bleed out earlier.

“I checked out some of the guns.” you saiid.

There was something almost disarming about the way you moved, the way your presence filled the space. You didn’t ask why they were in your room. You didn’t ask what they’d been up to. You didn’t even ask if they were okay—because you already assumed they were. That’s how kind you were. You believed in people.

You dropped down onto the couch next to Niragi, pulling his blanket off his shoulder so you could share it, laying your head on the cushion. “I’m tired.”

“No shit.” Niragi muttered, but he let you lean against him anyway. He didn’t even move when your fingers found the edge of his sleeve and curled there.

Chishiya’s gaze flicked over you both. He didn’t say anything, didn’t tease. He just put your hair clip back on the table and stood up slowly. You looked over with a curious little smile.

“You leaving?” you asked.

“Getting water.” he said, though there was a water bottle on the side table.

You let it go. Of course you did. You always did.

Niragi exhaled slowly, smoke curling out the window as he glanced down at you. He was half listening to your breathing already starting to slow.

“I like this.” you murmured. “Us. I don’t know why, but I do.”

Niragi didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. If he opened his mouth, he might tell you that he carved pieces of the world open for you. That he’d drown in his own blood if it meant you’d never cry. That when you smiled at him, his ribs hurt because they had no idea how to hold the thing blooming inside.

Instead, he just pulled the blanket a little more over you.

And Chishiya, standing in the kitchen, drinking water he didn’t need, watched that through the reflection of the glass window and thought he should have killed Akira sooner.

Because nothing about this was clean. But all of it was real.

The blanket was warm, heavy with Niragi’s lingering heat and the sharp scent of his cigarettes, but it wasn’t complete. Not without the other piece. Your lashes fluttered half-closed, eyes heavy as your cheek pressed against the back of the couch. But your hand still reached out, barely lifting from the folds of the blanket, your fingers extending gently—toward the empty space.

“Chishiya.” you murmured, not even turning your head, just sensing where he was. “Come sit.”

You didn’t even open your eyes. You didn’t need to. You just patted the spot beside you like it was always meant for him, like this wasn’t just a sofa in a luxurious room at a beachside resort in a world where people died. No—this was a place you made feel like home. And that little bit of space, that warmth you offered so naturally—it was meant to be shared.

Chishiya stood still for a long second in the kitchenette, fingers curled around the neck of the water bottle. He hadn’t expected you to ask. He never expected anything from you anymore because you were always two steps ahead in the most unassuming way. Sweet. Effortless. Exhaustingly bright.

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to. But because he knew what it would mean.

And then he came anyway.

He crossed the room without a word and lowered himself down beside you with the same controlled grace he applied to everything. You shifted immediately, sleepily, body turning so you could tuck your shoulder gently against his, one of your legs brushing Niragi’s as your head now rested in the space between them. Perfectly slotted. Like you belonged nowhere else.

“Better.” you whispered. And god, you meant it.

Your hand found the fabric of Chishiya’s sleeve, a light clutch—like you needed him there. Just for a second. Just long enough for your body to sigh and soften.

Niragi was quiet beside you. Still. He didn’t scoff or smirk or shift away. If anything, he leaned closer. His thigh pressed against yours, and he watched your breath slow like it was something holy. He wasn’t used to this. Quiet. Stillness. He wasn’t built for softness, but for some reason, he was always gentler when it came to you—even if he didn’t know how to be anything but brutal.

Chishiya, on the other hand, just stared straight ahead. He didn’t glance at you, but his muscles had gone a shade less tense. Your presence always did that.

He could admit it now. He wanted to be near you. He didn’t understand why. It wasn’t logic or calculation—it was something primal. A want he couldn’t dissect, because if he tried, he’d find too many answers he didn’t like.

“I love being around you guys.” you mumbled.

Neither of them responded, but both of them heard it. Niragi’s jaw clenched. Chishiya’s eyes flicked down toward your hand still resting on his sleeve.

“I know you’re both kinda…” You paused. Words slurring just slightly. “Fucked up. And maybe I am too. I think that’s why I feel good around you. You never make me pretend.”

Your fingers twitched. You weren’t even really awake anymore. Just rambling like your heart was leaking truth while your mind shut down. “You’re like… knives, but not pointing at me.”

And then your breath deepened, slow and steady, your body slackening between them like your trust was implicit. Like you never once considered that these two boys—who’d carved up someone not an hour ago—could ever be a threat to you.

Because they weren’t.

Not to you.

Niragi stared at your face now, the shadows of sleep making your features look even more delicate, the tip of your nose cold from the AC, lashes fanned out.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t dare.

He’d kill anyone who woke you.

And Chishiya? Chishiya stayed just as still, his heart beating in a slow, unfamiliar rhythm.

It was terrifying.

You were terrifying.

Because they didn’t believe in angels, not until you showed up and decided to curl yourself between two monsters like they were just broken boys you could love back together.

And worst of all? They let you.

~

In the morning, you woke up slowly, blinking against the early sunlight slicing through the open curtains. Your cheek was still pressed into the softness of your blanket, the smell of Niragi’s cigarettes and Chishiya’s scent still faint in the air. You stretched a little, arms reaching out blindly to either side, expecting to bump into them—warm bodies.

But they weren’t there.

No note. No message. No trace.

Typical.

You let out a small sigh, hugging the blanket tighter around you and closing your eyes again for a moment. You weren’t mad. You were never mad. You just missed them already, even though the day had barely started.

~

Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the resort, Bugsy—aka Akira—was still tied to the same chair. His face had bruises painted across his cheekbone and jaw, one eye swelling shut, lips cracked and dried blood caked under his nose.

And he was mumbling something.

Something about you again.

Chishiya was standing by the wall, flipping through some magazine he’d stolen off a passing guy earlier that morning. Niragi? Niragi was crouched in front of the guy with that fucking glint in his eye. That spark.

“Still talking about her?” Niragi said in a voice that was mockingly soft. “Cute.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Akira spat, though his words were slurred.

“You should be.” Niragi replied flatly, and stood up again.

Without much ceremony, he turned toward the table where they had a series of entirely unnecessary tools—because truly, the beatings had long become more about entertainment than interrogation. He picked up something new. Something nasty. It looked like a sharpened piece of scrap metal that had once been part of a grill.

“I swear, I will get her away from this place.” Akira growled, his voice gaining just enough force to make it annoying.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Niragi said, spinning on his heel. “You know what’s weird, Bugsy? You keep acting like she wants to be saved.”

“She doesn’t know what you are—”

“Wrong again.” Chishiya said flatly from the corner without even looking up.

Then Niragi stabbed the piece of scrap into Akira’s thigh. Not deep. Not fatal. Just enough to drag a scream from the poor bastard’s lungs and shut him up for at least thirty seconds.

“God, you’re so loud.” Niragi complained, stepping back and shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “You really think she’s gonna ditch all this—” he gestured at himself with a grin that was all teeth. “for some desperate, mid-tier simp with a crush and zero survival skills?”

“She pities you.” Akira hissed. “She pities both of you.”

“Maybe.” Chishiya said finally. “But she’s still in bed with us.”

That shut him up.

Niragi made a dramatic little “oooh” face. “Look at you. You’ve got jokes.” He bent down, real close to Akira’s face. “You’ve got no idea what she’s like, Bugsy.”

“I think she likes the frog more than she likes you.” Chishiya added absently, flipping another page.

Niragi let out a bark of a laugh, nearly doubling over. “She does! She does! The frog, man!”

“And the lobster.” Chishiya corrected. “Can’t forget the lobster.”

“She has a lobster?” Akira wheezed.

“You don’t even know what she’s like.” Niragi said, wiping at the blood on his knuckles. “That girl cries over bugs and tells me I need vitamins. You think you’re the one for her?”

“Go write her a poem.” Chishiya muttered.

Niragi snorted, then shoved his chair back. “You should be thanking us. This is the longest anyone’s ever talked about you. Actually…” he said, tone light, tapping his fingers against the chair’s metal frame, “let’s have a little heart-to-heart, yeah?”

Akira groaned. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, I insist.” Niragi said, walking around to the front, squatting down, elbows on his knees, all that manic boyish energy barely held in by the twitch of a smirk. “Tell me, Bugsy… when exactly did you decide you were gonna ‘save’ her? Was it the first time she smiled at you? Or when she didn’t give a single fuck about you?”

Chishiya moved a bit closer this time, dragging a chair and sitting in it backwards like Niragi did last time.

Akira glared between them with his one good eye. “She’s too good for you. Both of you.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Chishiya agreed with zero hesitation. “But here’s the funny part—she knows it.”

“She knows,” Niragi repeated, grin curling like smoke. “and yet…”

“She’s still curled between us at night.” Chishiya finished, deadpan.

“I HATE both of you.” Akira muttered, trying to shift in the chair. “You don’t love her. You’re just… obsessed with her.”

“Same thing.” Niragi said, waving a hand. “I mean, what’s the difference between love and obsession, really? I let her sit in my chair. That’s love. I haven’t burned the whole Beach down just to keep her with me. That’s restraint.”

Chishiya gave a slow blink. “He has a point.”

Akira’s mouth twisted. “You’re all fucking insane.”

Niragi’s eyes lit up. “We are! It’s the only thing you’ve said all morning that I agree with.”

“Insane and fun.” Chishiya added, propping his chin on his hand.

“Don’t forget hot.” Niragi said.

“I never do.” Chishiya murmured.

Akira was very much trying to will himself into unconsciousness at this point, face falling somewhere between pain and frustration.

“So.” Niragi said cheerfully. “What’s your plan, Bugsy? Let’s say we vanish—poof, gone. She’s free. What next? You run off into the sunset with her?”

“She wouldn’t even remember your name by the time she hit the gate.” Chishiya said helpfully. “She doesn’t know your name now.”

“She does!”

Niragi leaned in. “Does she?”

Akira opened his mouth. Closed it. “…fuck.”

Niragi leaned back and howled with laughter, kicking his foot against the ground like a kid at recess. “She doesn’t even know your name! I’ve seen her name her leftover pastries!”

“She has a frog and a lobster. And they get more attention than you.” Chishiya said, flipping a piece of rope between his fingers. “And yet… here you are. Still talking about saving her. Still bleeding for her. Still pining.”

“I’d die for her.” Akira muttered, his voice hoarse.

Niragi tilted his head. “Cute. I’d kill for her. Already have. You think that wins you points?”

“She deserves someone normal.” Akira said, suddenly serious, choking on the blood in his mouth. “Someone who doesn’t tie people to chairs or manipulate them or—”

“Boring.” Niragi groaned. “That sounds so boring. She deserves someone who sees her. Someone who gets what’s underneath all the sweetness and pink and glitter and that soft little voice that breaks your fucking heart.”

There was silence after that.

Even Akira, broken and furious as he was, couldn’t argue with that.

Eventually Niragi slapped the bloodied metal scrap against his thigh just for effect.

“Well, this was fun.” he said. “Therapeutic. You ever need a support group, Bugsy, you know where not to find us.”

Chishiya rose too, stretching lazily.

“You’ll be fine.” he said flatly. “Probably.”

Bugsy mumbled something incoherent, but neither of them listened.

And then, very calmly, very lightly, Niragi reached into his belt, pulled out a blade and looked at Akira with a boyish grin.

“One more.”he cooed softly.

Chishiya stopped, one hand on the door handle, arching a brow. “Really?”

“Just one.” Niragi said, crouching down again, facing Akira. “For Bugsy.”

Akira breathed hard through his nose. “You’re fucking insane.”

“We’ve covered that, yeah.” Niragi said, tone airy.

And then he didn’t wait. Didn’t count down. No warning, no slow sadism—just a sharp, savage jab of the knife right into the meat of Akira’s thigh, below the old wound, dragging it across as if carving his initials into a tree. The wet, visceral sound of it filled the quiet room like a cough in a church.

Akira screamed. Short, hoarse, half a breath—because the pain cut through him faster than he could even scream properly. The chair rattled, his wrists yanking uselessly against the ropes.

Niragi just watched him. Smiling. Smiling like it was funny.

“See, this one,” Niragi said, voice warm, affectionate even, as he slowly pulled the blade out with a disgusting sound. “this one’s for touching her. Her arm. Her back. What were you trying to do, huh? Guide her? Walk her away from me? Be her knight?”

The blood ran freely, soaking into Akira’s already-ruined swim shorts, dripping onto the floor.

“You really thought you had a chance.” Niragi murmured. “That’s the funniest part.”

“I didn’t—” Akira gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice level, but his breath was ragged, broken. “I just… wanted her safe…”

“From us?” Niragi said, with a bark of laughter. “Shit, Bugsy. You know how many times I could’ve hurt her, for real? How many times I could’ve broken her? But I didn’t. I don’t.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.

“You wanna know why?”

Akira didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Niragi’s mouth brushed close to his ear.

“Because she’s mine.”

There was nothing romantic about the way he said it. It was ugly, raw, possessive. It wasn’t the word of a man in love—it was the word of a man starved, who’d finally found a taste he couldn’t live without. Who would kill and burn and bleed the world for just another drop of you.

“She’d never let you get this close.” Niragi said as he stood. “Never let you put your hands on her like I have. Never curl up in your bed, never fall asleep with her face against your chest. You don’t even exist in her world the way we do.”

Chishiya still hadn’t said a word. Still hadn’t moved. He watched the pool of blood expand beneath Akira’s chair, calmly, almost analytically. “You done?” he asked finally.

Niragi tilted his head. “Yeah.” he said, like it was nothing. “That’s enough for now.”

He wiped the blade on Akira’s already-ruined shirt and tucked it back into his belt, casual as anything.

Akira slumped, breathing in harsh, uneven gasps, sweat pouring from his brow, but still, somehow—still—he tried to look up. To glare. Respect for the effort tbh.

“I’m not scared of you.” he rasped.

“Cool.” Niragi grinned. “She was.”

As Akira slumped forward again, Niragi walked toward the door, cracking his neck with a yawn. “Well, I’m starving. Want breakfast?”

Chishiya nodded. “Let’s leave him tied up. See how he feels about brunch.”

Chishiya opened the door. Niragi followed. And finally, they left.

~

Kuina’s room always smelled like peach body mist and something warm. Homey. You were curled up on her bed, barefoot, a soft lavender robe pulled tight around your bikini—because you hadn’t bothered to change yet after the pool, and she hadn’t minded.

“So, then I told him I don’t play volleyball because I’m legally allergic to team sports.” you said, eyes gleaming. You were a natural leader, so no, you weren’t actually legally allergic to team sports. “And he actually apologized. Can you believe that?”

“Only because you looked like you were gonna cry.” Kuina teased, flicking your leg gently with her fingers.

“I was gonna cry.” you admitted, hugging her pillow. “I have sensitive skin!”

She grinned at you, but her eyes softened for a second, watching how you looked down into the fabric. You were always on, always smiling.

Before either of you could get further into it, the door opened, and in stepped Chishiya.

“Oh—hey.” you said gently, sitting up straighter. “Are you here to talk about the plan? Should I leave?”

It was automatic, that kindness of yours. Always making room for others. Always pulling away so others could have their space. Even now, when you were curled up in comfort with Kuina, you offered to disappear like it was second nature.

“No.” he said, voice as neutral as ever. “Not about the plan.”

Your head tilted just slightly, your eyes softening again. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” he repeated, already making his way into the room. He dropped into the chair near Kuina’s desk. You sat back, gaze flicking between the two of them, curling your legs under you again.

Kuina gave Chishiya a look. It wasn’t teasing. It was soft. Maybe a little amused. But mostly knowing. Because no matter what he said—about it not being about the plan, about not needing anything from you—Kuina knew. He knew.

He just liked being near you.

You were his comfort zone.

And there was something almost sweet in the way Chishiya always found his way back to you two. To his girls.

You adjusted yourself on Kuina’s bed, robe slipping slightly off one shoulder, exposing a hint of the pink strap beneath. You didn’t fix it. You didn’t even notice. You were too busy smiling—bright, warm, like the sunrise had moved into your chest.

You turned your gaze to him, always soft, always so full of something kind. “So,” you started, voice dipped in honey. “did you know Kuina used to do karate or something? She said she could totally flip me in two seconds flat. I’m skeptical.”

“I said could,” Kuina huffed. “not would. Big difference.”

Chishiya gave you both a glance, lazy, but his eyes lingered. “I believe her.” he said.

“You’re taking her side?” You gasped.

“You’d break before she hit the ground.” he replied. That same cool, clinical voice—but god, you loved when he gave you attention. When he spoke to you like that, even when it was dry humor.

You put your hand over your heart. “Rude. Rude and heartless.” But you were laughing. Your fingers found Kuina’s again and gave her a little squeeze. She smiled at the way you always touched people. It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t manipulation. You just… loved. So freely. “You’d be the worst nurse ever.” you said, nodding at Chishiya. “Zero bedside manner. You’d probably just roll your eyes if I flatlined.”

Chishiya tilted his head a bit, gaze level. “You wouldn’t flatline.” he said simply. “You’re too stubborn.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “well that’s kind of nice, actually.”

You didn’t know what they did when you weren’t around. You didn’t know about Akira tied to the chair, the blood still drying beneath his bare feet.

But you knew their eyes when they looked at you.

They loved you. In completely different ways. Kuina loved you like the sun—worshipped the light of you, basked in the attention. Chishiya loved you like a scientist loves a miracle—quietly, obsessively.

And only one of them, only one of them, had blood on his hands right now. Blood still warm. Metaphorically. The scent still ghosting his skin even here.

But he sat there anyway, watching you laugh. Watching you swing your feet and tuck your hands under your chin and talk about nothing like it mattered.

Like you were untouchable. Sacred. Clean.

He couldn’t stop. He never could.

“I saw a beetle earlier.” you told them. “Like, this really shiny one. I tried to save it from a leaf, but then it crawled onto my arm, and I screamed and threw it into the bushes, so I guess I failed that one.”

Chishiya only hummed, eyes never leaving you. Kuina snorted. Chishiya just stared. Your curse. Your gift. Your stupid, beautiful rambling.

You had no idea what they’d done last night and this morning. You had no idea.

Too good to be here, too good to be theirs—and yet here you were. Right where they wanted you.

Safe.

Soft.

Smiling.

Your legs kicked a little. “So… can we hang out today?”

Kuina smiled, because how could she not. “You mean right now?”

You nodded, lips puffed slightly like it helped with persuasion. “If you’re not busy. I mean, you probably are. You’re always doing something, you sneaky little secret agents with your murder plans and card stealing plots and… and torture dungeons or whatever.”

Chishiya blinked. Just once.

You turned your gaze to him, a little more direct now. “Seriously though. If it doesn’t get in the way of your… planning stuff, I’d like to be around you guys. I’ll be quiet if I need to. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You don’t have to beg. You know we want to be around you.” Kuina said.

You turned your head and looked at him directly. “Chishiya?” you asked, voice small, testing the waters. “You too?”

He didn’t sigh. Didn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he looked at you a beat longer, then said, simply, “Sure.”

“Yay.” you gasped, clapping your hands together and leaning against Kuina, who leaned into you. She wanted to touch you all the time—wanted you draped across her lap, wrapped around her arm, fingers in her hair. You gave that kind of warmth like it was nothing, and Kuina drank it in like she’d been starved.

Chishiya’s arms were crossed, his face the usual, but his attention never left you. You offered up affection the way other people offered candy. So easily. So earnestly. No strings attached—except, perhaps, the ones you unknowingly tied around everyone’s throats.

You reached out a hand toward him—palm up, not pushing, just offering.

“Come on.” you said. “I haven’t had a good walk in a while. The gardens are pretty. I want to show you that tree I named yesterday. I named it Marvin. He’s deeply underappreciated.”

And just like that, Chishiya took your hand.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

You stood, beaming, and between them both—between the woman who would kill for you and the man who already had—you looked like something holy.

Not even real.

And maybe that was the truth, you weren’t.

~

Outside that room—one no one passed by anymore, one no one asked about—Niragi stood leaning against the wall. The glossy black of his gun caught the dim light, just faintly.

He was waiting.

He hated waiting.

Footsteps approached—soft, slow. Niragi didn’t have to look. He knew who it was.

“About time.” he muttered, head still tilted back against the wall, one foot pressed up behind him. “What, you stop to brush your little Barbie hair before coming here?”

Chishiya appeared from around the corner, unhurried as always. “No.” he replied smoothly. “I just don’t have the kind of free time you do.”

Niragi scoffed, finally turning his head to look at him. For a second, neither of them moved. Then Niragi straightened. “I’m not going in without you.”

Chishiya raised a brow. “Oh? Getting sentimental?”

“No.” Niragi snapped. “I just don’t want to kill him too fast. I need someone to pull the leash.”

Chishiya didn’t laugh, but there was a curl of something at the corner of his lips. “Touching.”

When it came to you, their loathing for one another softened just enough to become something functional. You were the middle point. The flame. The obsession that neither of them had the ability—or the will—to escape.

Niragi opened the door.

The room smelled like sweat and blood, heavy and metallic. The same chair stood in the middle of it, and Akira was still tied down. Slumped forward now, one eye bruised shut, the corners of his mouth cracked and bleeding. His chest heaved when the door opened. He twitched slightly. It was unclear whether he was trembling from fear, pain, or simply the exhaustion of holding on.

“Miss us?” Niragi asked, stepping in like he lived there. “I missed your stupid fucking face.”

Chishiya walked in behind him, silent as a ghost. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Just stood near the table, observing.

Akira raised his head. Or tried to. His voice was hoarse. “Fuck… you.”

“Cute.” Niragi said, kneeling in front of him and patting his cheek like a dog. “Still got bark. Too bad that mouth’s only good for talking about her.”

Akira flinched when Niragi leaned in closer.

“Idiot. Fucking idiot.” He stood again, grinning wide, unhinged. “You think she needs saving? She’s not some little porcelain doll. She’s not yours, never will be. If anyone gets to ruin her, it’s me.”

From behind him, Chishiya finally spoke, cold and dry: “Very romantic.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Niragi snapped without looking at him.

Akira looked at Chishiya now, or tried to. “You’re just standing there.” he rasped. “Letting him do this.”

Chishiya tilted his head. “You don’t understand. This is the kinder option.”

Niragi chuckled. “Aw, Chishiya. That almost sounded like loyalty.”

Chishiya ignored him. “Bugsy.” he said, calm, clinical. “You’re not really the problem. You’re just… in the way.”

And then, as if he were brushing lint off his shoulder, Niragi pulled the blade from his pocket and stabbed it into Akira’s thigh. Not the same spot. A new one. A slow, deep sink.

Akira screamed through clenched teeth.

“You ever think,” Niragi murmured, close to his ear. “that you’re not bleeding enough?”

Chishiya crossed his arms, glancing at the floor. “Try not to kill him. Yet.”

“I’m just decorating.” Niragi replied sweetly.

He twisted the blade once.

Akira’s breath hitched. His body convulsed against the ropes. But he wasn’t dead. Not yet. And they weren’t done. Not yet.

They weren’t going anywhere.

Not until this little piece of your puzzle was removed—slowly, painfully, and with precision.

“Shit, this guy screams.” Niragi snorted, stepping back from Akira with his knife still gleaming wet, like it was proud of its work. “You hear that pitch? That’s almost a soprano.”

Chishiya flicked a glance toward Niragi and said dryly, “You should consider a talent show. I’m sure The Beach would love to hear more of your vocal coaching methods.”

Akira groaned, trying to talk. Niragi crouched back down in front of him, elbows on his knees, face way too close. “Sorry, what was that? You wanna sing already? Say it louder, Bugsy boy.”

“Y-You’re insane.” Akira hissed through grit teeth, head trembling.

“Yeah?” Niragi beamed. “God, finally, someone who gets me.”

He stood back up and made a twirl, arms wide. “I’m insane, he says! Did you hear that, Chishiya?! Diagnosed! Guess we can pack it up now. Time to take me to the loony bin.”

Chishiya sighed, but the corners of his mouth twitched in that way that only showed when he was highly entertained. “If they ever find a loony bin that’ll take you, I’ll personally light the welcome sign.”

“Romantic and sweet.” Niragi grinned, tossing the knife in the air and catching it again with a snap. “This is why the girls love you.”

Akira’s head lolled against the chair. “She doesn’t love you. You think this is what she wants?”

That made Niragi stop. Just for a beat.

And then he threw his head back and laughed. A loud, broken sound, almost too loud for the room. “Oh, man. You really think this is about what she wants?” He turned back toward him, eyes so bright it was dizzying. “It’s about what she is. And she’s mine. Not because I told her, but because she chose it. That’s the fucking tragedy, right? That even with this—” he waved a hand at himself, like he was acknowledging every disgusting, vicious thing in him—“she still looks at me like I’m a sunrise.”

Chishiya’s gaze cut to Niragi at that.

“That’s not true.” Akira rasped, voice cracking. “She—she’s kind. She just doesn’t know what you are—”

“Oh, she knows.” Niragi interrupted, stepping closer again. “She knows, and she stays. She hugs me like I’m something soft. She touches my face like I won’t bite. You ever had that, Bugsy?” He leaned in close, smile twitching. “No. You never will.”

Niragi wiped a spot of blood off Akira’s cheek with his thumb, almost tender, before immediately slapping him across the face so hard the chair rocked.

“Oops.” Niragi said, grinning wide. “That one was just for fun.”

“Are you done?” Chishiya asked. “Some of us have things to do.”

“I’m the star of this bitch!” Niragi barked, laughing. “Let me shine!”

“No one is dimming that light.” Chishiya said flatly.

Akira’s head dropped. He was shivering now, either from blood loss or just pure disbelief that these two psychos had found each other. Bonded over you. Probably compared notes.

“You should be worried.” Akira said quietly.

Chishiya arched a brow. “About you?”

“No. About her.”

That… paused the room.

“What does that mean?” Niragi asked, still smiling, but there was something stiff in his jaw now.

“She’s not stupid.” Akira coughed. “She’s kind. You think she doesn’t know? What you are? What you’ve done? Both of you?” He looked up, bloody and worn. “She’s playing you. Both. You just don’t see it.”

Niragi took a slow breath. Then tilted his head.

“Chishiya.” he said, too casual. “Close the door.”

Chishiya didn’t question it. He stepped over and let the door shut with a soft, final click. Yes, the doors on the Beach were still unusable, but Chishiya was a crafty guy, wasn’t he? Now, the Beach had one door with an actual lock.

This one.

Niragi didn’t say another word. Just grinned, still, as he slid another blade—something smaller, thinner, shinier—off the table.

Bugsy had just bought himself another round.

A flash of metal in Niragi’s fingers, so sleek it almost shimmered. The kind of knife you use for small things. Delicate things. And somehow, that made it worse.

“Wanna say it again?” Niragi asked, crouching low and smiling wide, his voice light—too light. “That she’s playing me? That she’s too good for this? Go on. You were doing so well, Bugsy.”

Chishiya leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed. “You’re wasting your time trying to argue logic with someone who’s already made up his mind.” he said to Akira, voice clinical. “He doesn’t care if she’s using him. The delusion’s more fun.”

“Exactly.” Niragi cut in. He slid the tip of the knife slowly down Akira’s thigh, not cutting. Just teasing. Playing. His mouth still pulled in that same sick, gleeful smile as he spoke. “Let me tell you something, Bugsy. She could tell me to jump off the fucking roof and I’d do it. With a smile. You think that’s weak?” He leaned closer, eyes wide and glowing like wildfire. “That’s religion.”

Akira’s breath hitched. “She… she wouldn’t want this.”

Niragi chuckled, low and breathy. “She’s not here, is she?”

And then the blade slid in.

A clean, perfect slice—not too deep, but long. Across the side of Akira’s upper thigh, muscle splitting open like raw fruit. The chair jolted under the force of his scream.

Niragi didn’t flinch. He just kept watching, eyes steady, satisfied. His thumb smeared the blood like it was paint. “You ever cut a person the way you cut fabric?” he mused, almost academically. “It’s so soft. You don’t even need force, just the right angle. Don’t worry. I’m not killing you. Yet.”

Akira was panting hard now, barely coherent, sweat mixing with blood. “You’re… you’re monsters.”

“Of course we are.” Chishiya said flatly, stepping forward now. “But you knew that the moment you laid your hands on her.”

He knelt in front of Akira—not too close, just enough. That eerie calm never left his face. “Here’s what you don’t get.” he said softly. “She knows us. She knows exactly who we are. The damage. The blood. The manipulation. The fun.” His lips curled slightly. “And she still smiles at us.”

That, somehow, was the cruelest part.

Because it was true.

“You don’t get to talk about her.” Chishiya added. “Not anymore.”

Niragi stepped back, licking blood off his knuckles in a twitchy little habit. “I was gonna let you live.” he said conversationally. “Just hobble you a little. Maybe take a finger.” He looked down at Akira’s leg—split, leaking—and gave a mock gasp. “Oops! Too late.”

Akira laughed, or maybe sobbed. It was hard to tell. “You think she’s going to choose you?” he asked through gritted teeth, eyes bloodshot. “You think she’s going to love either of you? You’re delusional. She’s just… she’s kind. That’s it. That’s all.”

Something in Niragi’s face twitched at that. Just once. Then he turned to Chishiya. “How much longer are we keeping him?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Until he learns not to speak.”

Niragi nodded. “Cool.”

He picked up a piece of wood—just a splintered chair leg lying nearby—and pressed it lightly to the cut on Akira’s thigh. “This might hurt.” he said, voice faux-sweet.

Then—he slammed it down.

The scream that tore from Akira’s mouth was feral. Chishiya didn’t even blink. Niragi just laughed like it was music.

The room reeked of blood and sweat. But Niragi, the monster he was, just looked satisfied. Happy even.

Chishiya watched him, quiet, calculating, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Not because of the violence.

But because Niragi, for all his fire and filth, was starting to resemble something dangerous in a new way:

A man with purpose.

A man in love.

Akira’s head hung low, his shoulders trembling, a pool of blood thickening around the chair legs. His thigh looked like a slab of meat from a butcher’s block. The worst part was how quiet he was now. Not unconscious. No, no. Just… broken. Bent into some terrible shape of himself. He was too drained to even cry.

“Alright.” Niragi said, cracking his neck. “This guy’s boring me.”

“Now?” Chishiya asked. Calm as ever. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he was discussing nothing more serious than a mild rain forecast.

“Yeah.” Niragi said, dragging his blade across his sleeve to clean it. “He’s not even fun anymore. I mean—look at him. What’s he even for now? He can’t walk, he can’t talk, he can’t even get your name right.” He squinted dramatically. “Bugsy? The fuck was that?”

Chishiya smirked. “I don’t think he was functioning at full capacity.”

“He was never functioning.” Niragi said, voice rising. “He was just a guy who thought touching her would be funny. Like he didn’t even get it.” He crouched again, tipping Akira’s chin up with the point of the knife. “You don’t get to treat her like a person. She’s not a person. She’s—” he paused, thinking, then let out a wheezy little laugh, “—a whole religion, man.”

Chishiya’s eyes flicked over. “You’ve said that already.”

“Because it’s fucking true!” Niragi barked. “You’d poison the water in here if she looked at you long enough. Don’t act like you’re any cleaner than me.”

Chishiya didn’t argue. He never did. He just stood there, watching Niragi with that cold gaze. But his silence wasn’t disinterest.

It was agreement.

“I mean,” Niragi went on, standing up again and pacing in a lazy circle. “we could kill him. But it’s also kinda fun having a pet.” He looked down at Akira again. “You like that, Bugsy? Being our little beach rat? No? Huh. Guess you’re not in a very ‘yes and’ mood today.”

Akira coughed, his voice hoarse. “You’re… insane.”

“Oh my god.” Niragi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s the eighth time someone’s called me that this week, get a new line!”

“He’s right though.” Chishiya said casually. “You are unwell.”

“And you’re a freak with a god complex.” Niragi shot back, grinning. “At least I’m not pretending to be emotionally unavailable.”

“I’m not pretending.” Chishiya said, almost offended.

Niragi laughed. “Sure you’re not. Anyway—” he leaned over and slapped Akira’s cheek lightly, then again, harder, just to see his head loll. “Wanna kill him tonight, or tomorrow?”

“It’s already tomorrow.”

“Shit. Then we’re late.”

They both stared at Akira.

Niragi tapped the flat of his blade against his palm thoughtfully. “We could just slit the throat. Quick, simple. Kinda boring.”

“I have chemicals.” Chishiya said mildly.

“You would.” Niragi snorted. “What are you gonna do, dissolve him in a bathtub?”

“Not all of us like to paint with people’s blood.”

“You’re missing out.” Niragi muttered, then perked up. “Hey. What if we let him go? Just to see what happens?”

Akira stirred, blinking through blood and sweat and some kind of miserable hope.

“Oh—oh my god.” Niragi gasped, laughing. “Did you believe that?”

Chishiya rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease him like that. He’s barely clinging to consciousness.”

“That’s what makes it funny!” Niragi said, grinning wide. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit this has been a good time. Two guys. One Bugsy. I liked it.”

Chishiya actually huffed a small breath. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was the closest he got.

There was no punchline left in Akira.

Whatever light had burned behind his eyes, whatever flicker of hope or fear or just plain confusion—was gone. He slumped in the chair like a sack of broken parts. Breathing, but not really. Awake, but not present. Somewhere far off, deep inside his head, where this wasn’t happening. Where maybe you still looked at him like he was someone, not a smear of blood and piss and failure.

Niragi stretched his arms behind his head, spine cracking loud in the quiet.

“Alright.” he muttered. “We’re done.”

Chishiya didn’t reply. He stood across the room, expression unreadable as always, but still. Still there. Still watching. Still not leaving. Not stopping this, either. That was its own answer.

Niragi turned back to Akira, crouched in front of him, face close. His voice dropped low. Almost gentle.

“You don’t get a legacy, you know. You don’t get to be a name she remembers. No tragic backstory. No little candle of grief in her heart.”

He touched Akira’s cheek. A slow, thumb-stroke, like comfort.

“You’re just… subtraction.”

Akira flinched—barely—and Niragi smiled.

“You’ll be erased like a smudge on a window. Like you were never here.”

He stood. Then he pulled out the smaller knife. Not the flashier one he waved around before—this one was thinner. Cleaner. Surgical. No flair. Just death.

“Any last words?” Niragi asked, turning the blade in his fingers.

Akira didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Chishiya tilted his head. “I think that’s a no.”

Niragi turned to him, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You wanna do it?”

Chishiya blinked. “You’re offering me the kill?”

“I’m not that greedy.”

Chishiya seemed to consider it. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm against his arm. And then he said, very flatly, “No.”

Niragi didn’t press it. He just stepped in again, moved the blade up under Akira’s jaw—and stopped. For a long beat, he simply stood there.

“I hated you on sight.” he said quietly. “Because you looked at her like she was for you.”

His voice dropped lower.

“She’s not.”

The knife dragged across Akira’s neck. A clean slice. Not messy, not frenzied. Just final.

A strangled gurgle followed, a twitch, a jerk. Blood pouring down his front in thick ropes. And then—stillness.

Chishiya didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He only stepped forward to check the pulse. Gone.

“Well,” he said, glancing up. “you didn’t miss.”

“I never do.”

Niragi wiped the blade with care this time. Reverent, almost. Like it had done something sacred.

Because in his head, it had.

Because in his head, this was devotion. This was loyalty. This was the holy work of keeping you untouched by the ugly hands of men who didn’t understand. He didn’t do it for fun—though he’d still grin while it happened. He did it for you.

They did it for you.

~

You wandered through the hallways with no real destination. The resort was quieter now. Less laughter. More shadows stretching long. You wanted something to do—someone to talk to. So, you threw on a hoodie over your pretty little sleep set and padded barefoot down the floor. You turned a corner, the wide hallway yawning out into a larger space—

And then you froze.

There he was. Niragi.

Leaning against the doorframe of one of the rooms, arms crossed, cigarette tucked between two fingers. He looked untouched. Calm. But behind him—behind him, militants. Mops, buckets, bleach.

Two of them carrying a dead body. Slumped. Bloodied. Unmistakable.

Akira’s body.

At least… what was left of him.

Your stomach dropped.

He saw you.

You saw it.

His eyes locked on yours, that slow, evil grin pulling across his face, all smoke and blood and pride. His jaw flexed just once, like he was biting down a laugh.

“Night, baby.” he said lazily, dragging from the cigarette. One hand in his pocket. Just watching. Supervising.

You didn’t say anything at first. You were still trying to breathe. Trying to stitch together the obvious into something more survivable. Something that wasn’t what it clearly was.

“What… is this?” you asked. But your voice cracked halfway through. Not soft. Not angry. Just stripped.

Niragi cocked his head slightly, exhaled. Smoke curled like a noose between you.

“Cleanup.” he said casually. “Spring cleaning, I guess.”

He said, as the dead body was right in front of your eyes.

You took a step forward, then stopped again. Your arms were shaking. Your teeth clenched so tightly your head throbbed. “Don’t fuck with me, Niragi.”

“I’m not.” He looked over his shoulder at the men behind him. “Are we fucking with her?”

A few chuckles. One of the guys accidentally kicked a mop bucket.

Akira. Dead.

Your mouth parted. Your throat closed.

He was still watching you. The glint in his eyes was awful. Worse than cocky. It was satisfied.

You stepped back, heart trying to climb out your ribs. “You—oh my god. You really—you actually—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. “What the fuck did you do?!” you took a step back. “Are you—? Are you insane?” Your voice cracked, breaking somewhere between disbelief and fury. “Is this—was this—you did this?”

He didn’t deny it. He just took a step forward. You stumbled one back.

“Niragi, leave me the fuck alone—”

“Oh, come on.” he cut in, stepping again, his smirk sharpening as your panic grew. “You don’t get to act all shocked. You knew what this place was. You think we survive here by playing nice?”

“He liked me!” Your voice was shaking. “You did this because he liked me—!”

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, and he scoffed. “No. I did this because he touched what he shouldn’t have.”

Your eyes burned, and it wasn’t just from the blood you’d seen. It was everything. The night. The tension. The way he looked at you now—like a wolf who didn’t regret the sheep’s throat it tore out.

“You’re disgusting.” you said.

Niragi raised his brows, grinning. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t breathe for a second. Couldn’t think. Your hands clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if pain could ground you.

Niragi took one casual step forward. Just one.

You pointed at him, hand trembling. “Don’t.”

His eyes softened. “You mad at me, baby?”

“I’m telling you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Oh?” He blinked, almost hurt. “That how you talk to people who love you?”

Your entire body flushed with rage and confusion. “Don’t you dare—”

He cut you off, voice low. “He touched you. You let him touch you.”

“I—” You nearly choked. “That’s not a fucking reason.”

“It was for me.”

You took another shaky step back. “This is insane. You’re—this is fucked up.”

“At least you know.” he said simply, and turned his back to you.

Just like that. Conversation over.

Dismissed.

You stared at his back, breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat cracking like glass.

The militants kept working. The air smelled like bleach and old rot and something more bitter—something deeper.

And you? You turned, slowly, slowly, and walked away—half running by the end of it, not sure where to go, not sure if the shiver in your spine was horror or some sick recognition.

He loved you.

He loved you.

And you’d just seen what that meant.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

You didn’t walk back to your room. You ran.

Heart in your throat, breath ragged and quick, echoing halls like the walls were closing in. The blood hadn’t even dried on the back of your retinas yet. Akira’s face—what was left of it—kept flashing behind your eyelids with every blink. You didn’t know if you were gasping or sobbing or choking on your own disbelief, but your hands trembled like they weren’t your own, like your body had betrayed you along with everything else in this fucking world.

Your door was cracked open.

Chishiya was there.

He was sitting on the edge of your couch, posture relaxed like he’d been waiting. His eyes lifted the moment you entered—those impossible, unreadable eyes—and in the quiet of your room, your walls cracked completely.

“Chishiya—”

Your voice was a small, broken thing.

You didn’t even give him time to ask.

You ran to him, collapsed into him—not quite a hug, not quite full contact, but you gripped at the hem of his hoodie, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. He just… held you. Palms flat against your sides, gentle, grounding pressure. It wasn’t emotional. It wasn’t soft. But he knew you needed it.

“I-I—I saw it—” you gasped, the words tumbling over each other, your throat closing up with every syllable. “It was him—he—Niragi—he killed him—he killed Akira—”

Chishiya’s grip didn’t falter. But his gaze settled over your shoulder like he was memorizing every breath you took.

“I just wanted to go for a walk.” you whispered, still clutching him. “I just—couldn’t sleep—and then—god, Chishiya, there was so much blood—”

He didn’t shush you. Didn’t speak over you. He let you cry. Let you talk. Let you press your fragile, unraveling heart into his presence like he was your last safe place on earth.

Because how could he not?

How could he not when you were this soft thing?

How could he not when you trusted him so blindly, so genuinely, that you didn’t even suspect for a moment that his hands—the same ones now steadying you—had been tied to the chair that held Akira down?

He didn’t lie, but he didn’t confess either. Because you didn’t ask. And maybe… maybe a part of him hated that you didn’t.

Because you should have.

But god, how you shattered like glass in his hands—how pure and furious and betrayed your voice had sounded when you said Niragi’s name. Like you still believed there was good and bad in this world. Like you weren’t already neck-deep in the rot with the rest of them.

He watched you sob like the world had ended.

You sniffled hard, rubbing the sleeve of your hoodie against your eyes like it could erase everything. As if Akira’s face wasn’t carved into the back of your skull.

And all the while, Chishiya sat still beneath your touch. Quiet. Steady. Until he spoke.

“We tied him up last night.”

You froze.

The words landed like a needle to your spine. You pulled your head away from him just slightly, but his voice didn’t waver.

“He said some things.” Chishiya continued calmly, his eyes following yours. “About you.”

“What—?” you breathed. “What are you saying?”

Chishiya didn’t stand. He didn’t reach for you again. He just sat there, watching you. “I’m saying that Niragi and I handled it.” he said simply. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

You stood up so fast it was like the air burned.

“You—” The breath choked in your throat. You stumbled back, one step, two. “You? You did that? You were there?”

He nodded once. Not regretful. Not cruel. Just… truthful.

You stared at him like you didn’t recognize him anymore. But the worst part was—you did. You knew this part of him existed. Somewhere in the corners of that beautiful, hollowed-out brain, you knew. And maybe that was what hurt the most.

“You… let me cry to you—you let me—god, I told you what I saw—” Your voice cracked, rising into something that scraped your throat raw. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I was waiting to see how much you’d let yourself believe.”

You blinked at him, lips parting—but the sob that came out wasn’t a sound anymore. It was an ache.

Your knees nearly gave. Your whole body trembled. You backed toward the door like he might reach out and take something else from you—but Chishiya never moved. He just watched.

You looked so heartbreakingly beautiful like that. Face red, tear-streaked. Disbelief shining in your eyes like dying stars.

He almost said sorry.

But then, the door creaked open behind you.

Niragi leaned against the doorframe, one hand still on the knob, the other stuffed lazily in his pocket. His gaze dropped instantly to you.

And oh. The smile that pulled at his lips when he saw you like this.

Red-eyed. Tear-dripping. Hoodie hanging off one shoulder like a child who’d just been caught crying in the rain.

“You tell her?” he asked, flicking a glance at Chishiya like they were discussing a math problem. “Nice.”

“Get out.” you breathed. “Get—get out—”

“Oh, princess.” Niragi said lowly, stepping in without hesitation. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like you didn’t fucking know I was capable of this.”

He walked past you slowly—so close his shoulder brushed yours—and you froze like your nerves had been cut. Your tears kept falling, but your chest was tight now. Your throat was sealed.

You didn’t move when he turned to you, one brow arched. You just stared at the space between them. These two monsters. These two men who knew you better than anyone—who watched over you, stood beside you, loved you in their sick, twisted, broken ways—and still spilled blood behind your back.

For you.

They didn’t say it, but you knew.

“Don’t cry over him.” Niragi said simply. “He wasn’t shit.”

They knew what they’d done. And they didn’t regret it.

The silence was thick. Heavy. Your breath hitched around the lump in your throat, that aching, wet pressure that made your whole face feel too small for the emotions in it. You didn’t cry loud anymore. It had quieted into trembling shoulders, shuddering inhales. Like you were trying not to break the glass cage around you, trying not to scream and shatter everything.

You turned your back to them. You didn’t want them to see how beautiful you looked in grief.

And oh, you were. Even now—like something from a painting left in the rain. Gorgeous, fragile, so good even now, even after finding out the truth. A truth you probably always knew deep down, in some dreamy little corner of your pink-tinted world, but tried to ignore. You wanted to believe in people. You wanted to believe they could be better. And that was what ruined them both.

Chishiya watched your back, his hands steepled together in front of him like he was trying to contain something inside himself. Not guilt—he didn’t do guilt. But something rawer, more hidden.

And Niragi—he wasn’t even pretending to be sorry. He stood there with a scowl half-formed on his lips, eyes tracing your body like he needed to memorize every inch of you again just in case you slipped away.

“Say something.” you whispered, still not looking at them. Your voice cracked.

“Like what?” Niragi muttered. “You want a fucking apology?”

“Yes!” you shouted suddenly, spinning around to face them, cheeks hot and wet and your fists curled like you could do anything against them. “Yes! Or—or something! Something that shows you give a fuck!”

Niragi opened his mouth—but it was Chishiya who stood up first. Quietly. Slowly.

“No.” Chishiya said. “You don’t want an apology.”

You blinked at him.

“You want to believe that maybe we still have enough soul left to be good for you. But it’s not about that.” He looked right at you now. “It’s about whether you can accept who we are.”

Your bottom lip trembled. Your heart thrashed. The ache inside your chest felt volcanic, erupting hot behind your ribs. “I liked him. As—as a fucking friend.” you whispered.

No one said anything for a moment.

Then Niragi scoffed. “Bullshit. You knew him for, what, a few days?” he laughed, bitter and cruel and furious. “And what, he smiled at you once? Called you cute? That’s enough to make you cry like this?”

He stepped forward, jaw tight.

“Meanwhile, I’ve—” He stopped. Bit back whatever violent truth was about to spill out of him. “We’ve been beside you for weeks. Watching you. Protecting you. Loving you.”

The word hung there. And neither of them corrected it.

You blinked again. Tears still leaked from the corners of your eyes, but your face softened—just barely.

“You think this is love?” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Hurting people for me? Killing people?”

“Yes.” Niragi said, instantly. No hesitation.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t cry more. You just looked… lost.

But Chishiya moved closer then. Not quite touching you. Close enough to feel his presence.

“I’ll never ask you to forgive it.” he said. “But I won’t lie to you about it either.”

You turned your face toward him. “You already lied.” you whispered. “You watched me cry about him. You were gentle with me.”

“And I meant it.” he said. “I am gentle with you.”

That—that—was what undid you. You sank down onto the edge of the bed, slowly, like your legs gave out from the weight of it all. The betrayal, the horror, the aching, fucked up affection.

They were monsters.

But they were your monsters.

And as messed up as it was, there was some part of your broken, frayed heart that still fluttered at the way they looked at you now—like a shrine, like a god, like the only untouchable thing in this entire nightmare world.

You looked lost. And for the first time in a long while, neither of them tried to fix it. Because they knew they’d already broken it.

“You ran from me?” Niragi snapped suddenly. “After everything I’ve fucking done for you?”

You couldn’t answer. Not yet. Not when the lump in your throat made it hard to breathe.

“You told me to leave you the fuck alone.” he spat your words back at you, voice rising now, uncoiling. “After all the times I’ve—what? Stood in the back so you could sit in my fucking chair? After I didn’t lay a hand on you at that meeting even though you looked so—” He cut himself off and let out a noise like a scoff, but it was bitter. So bitter it tasted like blood.

You backed up instinctively when he stepped forward, like you were trying to keep the peace, even in your tiny pink bikini bottoms and oversized sweater. Still trembling. Still trying to be good.

“Don’t.” Chishiya said from behind you. Calm, but edged.

That made Niragi laugh. Actually laugh. Sharp, sharp, sharp.

“Oh please, you think she’s gonna run to you after this? That you’re the safe one?” Niragi barked out another cruel chuckle. “We fucking did this together. You and me. Bugsy, or whatever the fuck his name was. She just doesn’t like when I’m the one who makes it messy.”

Then, without warning, he reached for something—your little bag sitting on the dresser. You barely had time to register what he was doing before he threw it, full force, at the wall.

It hit with a loud crack. Lipsticks scattered. Your tiny little perfume bottle shattered. Your brush, the one with the rhinestones, skidded under the bed. And you gasped, instinctively running over to the pieces like it was your pet that had been hurt.

Niragi was pacing now, hands in his hair. Breathing like a feral animal. His arms tense, twitching. His chest rising too fast, and it was that thing again: where he wanted to tear the walls down if it meant you’d crawl back into his arms to soothe him.

“You liked when I was like this!” he snarled, voice cracking. “You liked it when I bit you! You liked it when I grabbed you! You never said no!”

“You’re—you’re not the only one who gets to hurt! I liked you. I like you, but you—you killed someone. And you didn’t even flinch.” you yelled back. Loud, trembling, eyes glassy. Your voice broke and came out half a sob.

He stopped. Just for a second.

That was the wound. Not the crying. Not the shaking. Not Chishiya standing silent. No, that—the idea that you still liked him, but this ruined it—that’s what cut.

“Yeah.” Niragi said, voice going hollow now. “I didn’t flinch. You know why?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. Not with your wide, stunned stare. Not with the way your fingers curled into the hem of your own sweater like it was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Because I knew I’d do worse if it meant no one ever got to hurt you first.” His voice had lost all its anger. All that was left was steel. Cold steel. “I’d do it again, and again. And again. Because someone has to be the fucked up one if you’re gonna stay all pink and shiny and dumb about bugs and frogs and love.”

You stared. You couldn’t stop shaking.

Chishiya stepped forward finally, slowly, deliberately. Still calm, but with something brewing beneath it now. Something that read enough.

Niragi looked between you two.

And then—fuck off—he turned around and punched the closet door. Hard. The whole room rattled, and for a second you thought he’d broken his hand. But he just leaned there for a beat, breathing hard, forehead pressed to the cracked wood.

No one spoke.

And then he left.

Didn’t look at you. Didn’t say another word. Just left the door wide open behind him.

And you, the one everyone wanted, stood in the middle of the wreckage—pink, shaking, with perfume on your hands and a heart too good for this place. You didn’t even realize you were crying again until Chishiya walked toward you and started helping you pick up the pieces. One by one.

Wordlessly.

Because he knew now: no matter how much of the blood he washed off, he still had it on his hands. And you had nothing. Just love. Always just love.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

Your voice cracked so gently, it almost didn’t sound like speech at all. Like something spilling. Barely a noise. But still—still—you said it. Thank you. For what? For helping you gather the scattered pieces of a life that had just been kicked across the floor? For not yelling? For not being Niragi?

Chishiya didn’t look at you right away. He was crouched beside your vanity, picking up a lip liner. Quiet. Slow. You could feel him thinking. Or maybe just choosing not to. That was his thing, wasn’t it? Pick up the facts. Leave the feelings out.

But you were all feelings.

“I mean it.” you said again, softer now. Kneeling across from him, brushing your hair out of your face with the back of your trembling hand. “For helping.”

He set the liner down in the little pile of broken things between you. “You’re thanking me?”

You nodded. Just once.

Chishiya watched you like you were breaking open in front of him—porcelain skin, flushed eyes, the streaks on your cheeks still wet. You didn’t cry like people cried. It was too delicate. Too quiet. You didn’t sob or scream. You just… dripped. Silently. Like a tap someone forgot to shut off. And somehow, that was worse.

“You’re still kind.” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t believe it.

You gave him a tired, tiny smile. It was hollow. “Yeah.”

And that was it. That was the soft bell that rang the end of the night. Because your voice was sweet, and your fingers were still gentle as you scooped rhinestones back into your broken bag. But there was no glitter left in your tone. No sparkle. No sparkle in your eyes. Just exhaustion. Just grief, clean and clear and heavy.

You didn’t say, I don’t want you here. You weren’t built for that kind of cruelty. You just said, “You should go.” Simple. Soft. Like you were protecting him from yourself.

Chishiya didn’t argue. He stood slowly, watched you for a long second as if trying to memorize the new version of you—this dulled, dimmed version. You didn’t look up. Didn’t ask him to stay. And he didn’t say he was sorry. Because he wasn’t.

But for a moment—just one—he reached out. Fingers brushed against your cheek, knuckles feather-light. Like he wanted to apologize with something wordless. Like he wished he hadn’t been part of what broke you.

And then he left. No sound. No goodbye. Just silence and the click of the door behind him.

And you, alone now, knelt on your floor, with a handful of lipsticks and a wet face and a chest so tight you thought it might cave in.

God, even your sweater felt too big on you.

You didn’t move.

Not for a while. Not after Chishiya left. Not after the door clicked. You just stayed there—kneeling on the carpet, your broken things around you, your chest heaving too quietly to be called sobs but too violently to be anything else.

It started as a breath.

And then the breath broke.

And then you broke.

“I didn’t do anything.” you whispered.

Your hands clutched the soft sweater at your chest. “I didn’t do anything.”

You said it again. “I didn’t do anything.” A little louder this time. As if volume could make it true. As if it could roll back the night and take you back to before the blood and the lies and the screaming and Niragi’s fucking laughter while he ripped through your things.

“I didn’t do anything.”

You said it again. And again. Until your voice cracked down the middle and turned into a scream caught in your throat. Until your hands were fists in your hair. Until you were rocking back and forth on the floor with no idea how long you’d been doing it.

“I didn’t—I didn’t—do—anything—”

Your voice hiccupped into a sob. You pulled at your own sleeves like they were going to come off your skin, like you could tear it all away, the warmth, the affection, the softness they all used like weapons.

You were kind. You were kind. You were so kind.

And they killed someone.

They killed someone and then they came back to you. They came back and sat on your couch and took your blankets and held you like they weren’t murderers.

And you let them.

You fucking let them.

You folded forward, arms around your middle, pressing your cheek to the floor. The coldness there felt real. It felt like something. It was the only real thing left in this room—besides the pain. The pain felt real too. You could taste it. You could drown in it.

You clawed at the carpet like you were trying to find a trapdoor to fall through.

“I was good.” you whispered, and you said it again. “I was good. I was good. I was good.”

Your voice was a ghost of itself, an echo in an empty room. You weren’t sure if you were speaking anymore or if the words were just pouring out of you like blood. You kept saying it anyway.

“I was good. I was good.”

You threw the nearest thing—a hairbrush—across the room. It hit the wall and fell limp like everything else around you. Nothing made a sound. Nothing responded.

Your mascara was running into your mouth. Your throat tasted like salt and sweat. And your hands, your hands—they looked wrong.

You stared at them for a while. Just stared.

As if they could tell you what to do now.

As if they could explain why kindness didn’t save anyone.

But they were just hands. Small. Pretty. Shaking.

You curled into yourself. Laid down on the floor with your knees to your chest. Silent now. The crying came in waves, and you were in the part after the wave breaks—when you’re not sure if the water’s going out or if it’s just gathering itself to crush you again.

The room spun. Or maybe you did.

“I was good.” you whispered again.

And this time, it didn’t even sound like your voice anymore.

You’d like to die a little.

~

Niragi slammed his door so hard it bounced back open. Didn’t matter. He didn’t notice.

He was already ripping the lamp off the wall, the cord snapping out like a whip before the ceramic smashed against the floor.

A chair went next. Splintered. Kicked. Stomped. The bedframe took a bullet to the head when his gun came out shaking in his grip, his finger locked on the trigger like it could stop the ache in his ribs if he just kept firing.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Clothes, pillows, whatever the fuck—torn through. His table flipped. A mirror cracked from corner to corner. His reflection twisted with it. And he laughed.

He walked across the wreckage, grabbing the ashtray off the windowsill, threw it without looking. The wall caught it. Shards flew.

A bottle went next. His favorite one. The good one. The one he kept for when he wanted to taste something other than blood and sweat. Gone. Shattered. Pooling amber across the floor like spilled guts.

He didn’t care.

He’d fucking shoot it too if it looked at him wrong.

His chest rose and fell like it was about to explode. Gun still in hand. His other one fisting the collar of his shirt, pulling it hard enough to choke himself. Hard enough to tear something. Maybe skin. Maybe soul.

He turned and kicked the wall.

Again.

Again.

He was yelling at himself now.

Because this wasn’t about anything anymore. Not the guy they took out. Not Chishiya. Not the game. Not The Beach.

This was about you.

About you on the floor of your room with your cheeks wet and your voice cracking. About the way your eyes looked at him like he was a monster—finally. Finally. Like you saw him.

And it hurt.

It fucking hurt.

“Because of a girl.” he spat, to no one, to the mirror, to himself.

He spun, kicked the edge of the broken dresser. The wood cracked. So did something in his ankle. He didn’t flinch.

A scream clawed out of him. Nothing intelligible. Nothing sane. Just raw, throat-stripping fury and grief in the shape of sound.

His chest heaved.

He dropped the gun.

Let it clatter at his feet.

Stood there with his hands in his hair, pulling, pulling like he wanted to rip the feeling of you out of his brain. Out of his bloodstream. Out of his bones.

You. You. You.

He hated everyone.

But not you.

He could never hate you.

He wanted to wake up next to you. He wanted to hold your wrist and feel your pulse. He wanted to hurt every single person who looked at you twice. He wanted you to smile at him again. Just once. Just one fucking more time.

But he broke it.

He broke you.

He sank to the floor, back against the wall, legs sprawled out like a dead man. Breathing like it hurt. Hands slack on the floor, the blood from a split knuckle staining it. His lip was bleeding too. He didn’t remember when that happened.

And he laughed again.

Choked on it.

“I fucking miss you.” he whispered.

To no one.

To everything.

To you.

~

Chishiya sat alone on his balcony. The sky was the color of an old bruise—cloudless, starless, quiet. And below him, The Beach pulsed faintly with life. Drunk laughter. A splash at the pool. Music bleeding out from someone’s cracked window.

He hated them.

All of them.

But he watched anyway.

Watched as they stumbled around, flickering, too stupid.

He didn’t smoke. He didn’t drink. He didn’t distract himself. He just sat there, chin tipped forward, eyes half-lidded. Empty. But thinking. Always thinking.

Was it worth it?

The answer: yes.

Akira—or Bugsy or whatever name he wore—was a variable. A threat. A man who looked at you like you were his second chance at light, and maybe that was what made Chishiya’s stomach twist the most. Because there was something almost innocent in it. Something real.

And that meant danger.

So yes. It was worth it.

And still.

He blinked slowly, vision catching on the faint glow of a paper lantern down near the edge of the courtyard. A girl passed beneath it, not you, but his brain flickered for a second and filled in your silhouette anyway. That softness. That warmth.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side against the wall.

You were in his mind again.

No, that wasn’t right.

You lived there now.

Like a breath he didn’t take. Like a word he didn’t say.

And it was strange, wasn’t it? Because he didn’t believe in things like guilt. Or longing. Or devotion. But he believed in you.

He’d seen the way you stood in rooms—how people orbited you like moons around some perfect sun. How even the most violent men softened around you. How Kuina looked at you like she wished you’d look back. How Niragi hovered behind you like a wolf pretending he wasn’t starving.

And Chishiya…

He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t starving. But still—he’d let you pull him in. With that smile. With those questions. With your affection. You never stopped talking, never stopped looking at him like he was more than what he was.

And now you knew. Now you saw him. A piece of the truth. The same way you’d seen Niragi.

Was that what love looked like?

The way you’d fallen apart in front of him? The way he didn’t reach to stop you from backing away? Was that love?

He wanted to say no. He wanted to file it away, clean and logical. A cause. An effect. A necessary operation.

But his chest ached anyway.

The mission—your safety—your future—that was all supposed to come first. He and Niragi had done what needed to be done. And yet, the way you cried in that room… how your voice cracked when you told him to leave, when you thanked him anyway, soft and broken—it twisted something inside him that had never twisted before.

Was that what love looked like?

Letting you grieve because you needed it, even if it meant you’d hate him? Letting you fall apart alone, because you deserved to know what happened? Letting you push him away, even if all he wanted was to stay?

He didn’t know. Not really. But he knew this:

He missed you.

Missed the way you clung to his sleeve. Missed the way you always included him in the conversation, even when he gave you nothing back. Missed your soft fingers brushing his wrist. Missed the quiet way you said his name, like it meant something. Like a prayer. Like you believed in him. No one had ever said it like that. And no one ever would again. Unless—

He sat forward, elbows on his knees now, fingers laced.

Would he fix it?

Would he try?

He wasn’t sure.

But he did know Niragi was unraveling. That violence only got worse when Niragi felt abandoned. That his madness had always been stitched together by the thinnest threads—and you were one of them.

You were the one.

And Chishiya…Chishiya was supposed to be the rational one. But he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Because the idea of you never looking at him like that again—never brushing against him like a breeze, never calling his name in that quiet voice again—it felt like losing something he never had before. Which was true.

Maybe this was love.

Maybe this was how it started. With blood. With silence. With the sound of your tears echoing in his skull long after you’d stopped crying.

He leaned back again. Stared up at the black sky. No stars. But he still looked.

~

You laid curled up on your floor, knees to chest, arms around yourself like they could keep anything together. Your eyes were open, dry, but your throat ached from crying, and you hadn’t said a word in hours.

You didn’t talk to yourself anymore. You didn’t hum. You didn’t make little lists in your head.

You thought about the way things used to feel, and how you’d give anything just to feel stupid again.

You wanted to die, not in some dramatic way—just quietly. Softly. Like a candle going out.

You were so loved, weren’t you? So loved it hurt.

And now that love was a rot.

Niragi laid on his floor like he was dead, one arm over his eyes, one hand twitching around nothing.

Every little object was thrown all around the room, his shirt somewhere he couldn’t remember throwing it.

He hadn’t smoked. He hadn’t moved.

He’d screamed himself hoarse earlier. No one came. He didn’t want them to.

He thought about the sound of your voice telling him to get out.

He thought about how he loved you more than anyone had any right to love anything.

And how that ruined you.

He wanted to die, but only if it meant being born again in a world where he got to meet you first.

Chishiya sat on the edge of his bed now, spine straight, hands slack between his knees. There were no tears. There never were. But he hadn’t moved in over an hour. He was thinking, which was normal—but the thoughts weren’t clean anymore. They spiraled, overlapped.

You haunted the corners of his room, like a warmth that had left.

He could still feel the tremble of your body in his hands when you cried.

He wanted to die, in the sense that he wanted this part of himself—this mess, this ache, this softness—gone.

He wasn’t made for tenderness. But you were.

And now you weren’t talking to him either.

You clutched a sweater that didn’t belong to you, something soft that still smelled like someone else. You weren’t sure whose. Kuina’s? Niragi’s? Chishiya’s? It didn’t matter. It was something warm and not yours.

You stared at the door.

You hoped it would open.

You hoped it wouldn’t.

Niragi punched the wall again. Not hard. Just to feel something.

He hated himself for breaking you.

He hated Chishiya for being part of it.

He hated. So much.

Chishiya stared at his hands. They had blood under the nails still. From Akira. He didn’t care.

He used to believe in numbers. Strategy. Distance.

You ruined that.

Now he believed in grief.

Niragi whispered something against his own arm. Over and over.

It sounded like your name.

It might have been an apology.

It might have been nothing at all.

Chishiya heard movement from the halls. He didn’t care to look. He already knew it wouldn’t be you.

He wished it was.

Just a step. A single word.

Anything.

He would have taken anything.

You stared up at your ceiling.

You wondered if they missed you too.

All three of you breathing, quiet, broken, in different corners of The Beach.

None of you sleeping.

None of you healing.

All of you alone.

Waiting.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth @soaplickerrr @sillyenemyarcade @miellette @sk1ndx0

[sidemari]

• "Looks can kill" •

A SFW and NSFW headcanons compilation about some of the Heartsteel members.

Characters included: Ezreal, Kayn, Sett and Yone [separately] x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Aftercare, creampie, cum eating, intercrural sex (thigh sex), face sitting, fingering, light chocking, mirror sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), riding, sexual toys reference (vibrator, especially), size kink, sub/dom references, unprotected sex. The SFW part is just, well, fluffy stuff.

Header: https://br.pinterest.com/pin/1829656093525025/

♥ Ezreal

SFW

He's as energetic as your boyfriend as he is a singer. Not even a bad day can win from his shining and bright personality, and you couldn't be more thankful for that.

He never ceases to surprise you with gifts, romantic dinners, or even some vacations together, where you can have him all for yourself during some days.

Almost 100% is the type of always obeying you because he's afraid you'll get mad at him, even if you're the chillest person on earth. Something like, "Can I go out with the boys? We'll be quick." always leaves his lips even if you tell him every single time that going out without you is more than okay. You also usually respond with something along the lines of, "Geez, you sound like I'm the most strict girlfriend ever." and he'll get shy saying that he only needs reassurance.

Asks Yone if you can participate in the Heartsteel rehearsals and will blush when Yone says you'll probably give him way less worries than Ezreal himself or Kayn. You're more than welcome in those rehearsals, so prepare yourself to help Ezreal along the way with the correct words of his verses, the timing of the dance steps, and the exact note he should reach in the chorus if you understand a bit of music. If you don't understand about it or don't really like the technical part of music, you can always manage to get Yone's gratitude if you stop Ezreal from getting in trouble.

NSFW

He has a thing for cumming inside of you. It's just such a nice view seeing your mixed essence seeping out while you try to keep it inside of you, but to no avail. He might fill you up more than once because it's hot: it's hot having your walls clenching around him, milking him as he fills you up to the brim with cum. Respects you if you don't like the mess of it, but will always hope you'll let him try it every now and then.

His supposed "cuddling" often ends in sex. Not that you can complain: it's just as hard for you to keep your hands off him as it is for him to keep his hands off you. If you're both too tired, he'll usually go for non-penetrative sex, just lazily thrusting his cock between your legs while his fingertips brush your aching clit. Within seconds, his precum is spread all over your inner thighs so the movements get smoother while his rubbing changes intensity and pace. If your body feels more hot and bothered than tired and sleepy after some minutes of this, you'll ask him to finally put it inside of you without changing positions, just so you can feel finally complete. He'll always oblige you, yet his pace will still be slow, with the main objective of feeling every sensation on edge rather than only cumming. In order to not make more of a mess, you'll ask him to finish in your mouth, just so you can taste him and make him taste himself on your tongue as you always kiss him afterwards.

♥ Kayn

SFW

Even though he's way too protective for your own taste and jealousy can quickly develop inside his heart, Kayn will openly talk about you and your relationship to the other Heartsteel members or even the media. He trusts you with his life and simply knows that you'd never allow anything that puts your relationship on a strain to happen. 

Expect him to devote some of their songs to you while being in a show, just so he can see you blushing in the audience.

If he's going to be seen in public, he wants to be seen with you. He'll tend to make public displays of affection so people know you both belong to each other. Still, he'll respect you if you don't really like holding hands or kissing in public, but inside of his head, he's twitching to hold your waist or show you're his somehow while he knows there are some people taking pictures of you both.

Outside the Heartsteel frenzy, he's still the same boy you'd fall in love with: confident, audacious, short-tempered, and cunning but also extremely friendly, caring, affectionate, and attentive to you and all your needs. 

He will never make his job his priority. Before being an idol, he's still your boyfriend, and he takes that responsibility extremely seriously.

Will definitely help Aphelios write some verses about you for some of their songs. Those verses probably would have some hidden meanings that only the two of you would associate with certain memories.

NSFW

He'll overload all of your senses with himself: his fingers or tongue won't stop stimulating your clit and nipples, his kisses won't leave your lips, neck, breasts, and thighs, and his grip won't allow your hips to move so easily as he's bringing you over the edge again. He not only wants to mark you in any way possible; he needs your body to understand you're his and that only he can satisfy you the way you deserve.

Will probably own some toys. He knows he can make you a mess of yourself only with his cock, hands, and tongue; still, it's just so enticing seeing you pathetically pretend you're okay as he's controlling the vibrator that's inside of you while you're trying to do chores, study, or even work. Something about you frustratingly trying to overcome the fact he's trying to shame you for being in that situation makes his blood boil in need. You'll pretend you're handling it all too well until your body is begging you to cum. You don't want to give him the satisfaction, but when he settled on another type of vibration and another pace, the pressure built inside your body just snapped without warning, making you feel lightheaded until the waves of pleasure completely faded away.

It's just part of his personality, adoring making you shy as he does everything he pleases with you, so he definitely loves to make you watch as he rails you. You had been fucked in front of the bathroom's mirror more times than you'd like to admit. It was always a mess of your body being pressed against the countertop, your hands trying to find support on the biceps that was pressed against your throat, Kayn thrusting in and out of you in a delicious rhythm as you watched it all in the mirror and heard about how good you were at taking his cock.

If having sex with Kayn is, most of the time, a bit overwhelming, straining, and fervent due to his darker tendencies, the moments that always come right after you both are finished are all about you being peaceful, relaxed, and safe. He'll tend to your needs, leaving his own in the background as he knows how tired and unsure you can get after having your limits tested. So he'll allow himself to massage your body, checking any bruised spots, and cleaning you up completely before bothering to go to shower while he never ceases to reassure you that you're always incredible to him and how much he absurdly loves you.

♥ Sett

SFW

The softest man you'll probably ever know. He's way too adorable, romantic, and devoted under his facade of "I'm a tough guy, look at my size!".

He's that type of boyfriend that video calls you to show things he thought you'd like or to get your help with which outfit he should use on an official Heartsteel photo shoot or even just to see your face blushing when he says he loves you multiple times.

No toxic masculinity for him. You want to have a girls night but don't feel like calling anyone home? He's so down for it. Sett will definitely go out to buy some of your favorite snacks and drinks, and even some skincare, body wash, and hair products you've been saying you wanted to try for a while, just so he can see you happy. It usually ends with you both hydrating your hair and body with divine-smelling lotions while your faces are covered by some weird jelly mask that makes it a bit hard to eat all those snacks as easily as you would like and the television streaming your favorite movie. How can a night in be more perfect than that?

NSFW

You can't convince anyone he doesn't have somewhat of a size kink. Something about manhandling you (with delicacy though) just turns him on so, so easily. Also, seeing you so fragile and small, struggling to take all of him even after months together — either if you're riding him or under him — is one of his favorite moments of the day.

He’ll always asks if what he's doing to you is okay, even if you had given him all the consent he needed at the very first kiss of the night. You just find it hot when he's all, "Can I keep going?" while you're practically begging him to not stop.

Instinctively waits for you to cum so he can finish only after you, as a way to show you you're always his priority, even in bed.

He's a sucker for when you want to take control. Completely adores when you're riding him because touching your breasts and rubbing your clit is so easy in this position. Will get all giddy on the inside while guiding you through your movements and adjusting your body above his. Also begs you to go faster whenever he's close, swearing he'll be a good boy and handle it when you show you're unsure about it. (Of course you knew he would; you just wanted to hear him admit that).

Will definitely treat you like his princess after sex: asking about how you felt, if you're fine or in need of anything, or if there are any sore spots causing you pain, will bring you water or any other drink, prepare a bath for you two, let you wear one of his shirts as your pajamas (that's the peak of the night; you look so beautiful and cute in it), and cuddle while he kisses you and traces random patterns on the skin of your thighs, hips, and arms. (He'll affirm that's the bare minimum he can do to you. Poor thing doesn't know how frustrating it can be to demand such treatment from most men.)

♥ Yone

SFW

This man is truly something.

He's the quiet and protective type, most of the time keeping your relationship as discreet as possible. This doesn't happen because he doesn't want to be seen with you; instead, he wants to protect you: he aims to protect you from the media, from some of their insane fans, or even the paparazzi. If his personality is contained and chill while managing Heartsteel or even in public, his personality with you and you alone is the opposite.

Caring, loving, and vulnerable: those words describe Yone's true personality more efficiently. He's the type of guy that even after a dreadful day would make you his priority, giving you all the attention you need and reassuring you he's still the luckiest man on earth because he has you by his side.

You, on the other hand, also make sure he's feeling safe, cared about, loved, and at ease: every time he comes back home after a show, you receive him with his favorite foods and desserts, run one of the most relaxing baths of his life after dinner just so you can shower him with affection afterwards, while he's lying down on your chest as you caress his long hair. 

NSFW 

Yone gives the vibe of that one type of guy that does everything he can and cannot to ensure his girl is satisfied (especially in bed).

If you prefer to receive oral, expect him to beg you to sit on his face and smother him with those thighs as he ravishes you till you're weak from cumming. But if you prefer giving oral better than receiving, he'll allow you to go down on him just so he can watch you struggling to take all of him in your mouth without getting your eyes watery or without gagging.

He's the one that usually initiates and controls things. Knowing he's the one that will set the pace, the depth, and the strength of his thrusts on his own will makes him twitch inside of you without any effort. He usually settles for a medium pace, every now and then making his thrusts way faster or slower on purpose so he can hear you whine under him. He'll always reach the deepest part within you before retreating a little for the next thrust so he can indulge in you shivering and whimpering his name every single time he's that deep inside of you. Also, he will probably guide your hand to your abdomen so you can feel how deep he is inside of you before actually setting a faster pace.

Yone always respects your will. You want to be the one in control? Sure, he'll be the best sub you'll ever have, even if he prefers to be the dominant one. Do you want to try other positions or places? He's down for it too; just guide him, and he'll make sure you'll feel in heaven. You want to try something new, like a kink or even a toy? Of course, 'cause as long as you're cumming hard and making a mess of yourself, he'll tend to all of your wishes.

"What am I even doing with my life?" - Mari

[rieamena]

bitches ;

"bitches love me 'cause they know that i can rock"

wc: 4.2k

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"one, three, five, seven, nine. one, three, five, seven, nine." you rhythmically counted as you led the stretches, the other members filling in the even numbers

the new semester at tokyo metropolitan technical college had kicked off with its usual blend of excitement and stress. classes were in full swing, and everyone was adjusting to new schedules, late-night study sessions, and the endless hum of campus life. for you, balancing cheerleading practice with a heavy academic load was challenging, but what could you say? you thrived under pressure

sukuna, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered by everything. he glided through life with his signature mix of arrogance and ease, the kind that drew people in like moths to a flame. the kind of guy who attracted attention without even trying. as the star wide receiver for the university's football team, he was known as one of the campus' "golden boys". girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, and yet somehow, he'd chosen you and you chose him. you were used to the looks people gave you when they saw the two of you together—the envy, the curiosity, but never the surprise. everyone thought it made sense for you two to be together and over the past year, you'd grown accustomed to being sukuna's girl. the ups and downs of dating someone as intense as him was just part of the package. and lately, there hadn't even been any downs. no fights, no cold silences, no unspoken, lingering tension

the week before the game felt like a blur, everything going at a pace you could barely keep up with. as one of three captains of the cheerleading team, you carried not just the pressure of personal performance, but also the weight of your team's success. every move, every stunt had to be flawless. nobara was relentless, barking out corrections like she was born for this job, while mai, as always, held an icy standard of near-impossible perfection. there was no room for error—not with the pressure of performing in front of a crowd this big

every afternoon, after hours of classes and obligations, you and the team would head to the gym for practice. your body was exhausted, aching from the previous day's grueling routine, but there was no time to rest. there was too much riding on this game. not just the crowd was relying on you, the school was relying on you too, and you couldn't afford to disappoint anyone

the gym echoed with the sharp beat of the music, synchronized stomps and jumps, the grunts of teammates pushing themselves harder with each repetition. your focus was unshakable, your every movement precise and calculated. during a brief water break, you stood at the edge of the gym, wiping sweat from your brow, breathing heavily as you took a sip. nobara slid over next to you, a bright grin on her face despite the exhaustion lining her features

"the game's in the bag," she said, elbowing you lightly. "we've got this."

you let out a tired chuckle, grateful for her constant optimism. "you sound more confident than the team," you said, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead

"i don't just sound confident," nobara replied, rolling her shoulders back with exaggerated flair. "i am confident. sukuna's been playing like a beast recently. if they lose, it's on everyone else."

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you caught your breath. "if he's playing like a beast, i think it's going to be everyone's problem." nobara's laughter joined yours, and for a brief moment, the pressure that had built up over the past few weeks seemed to fade. no matter what happened, you knew you had your team's back

mai, however, didn't share that same sentiment. she stood off to the side, watching the two of you exchange words. her sharp eyes glinted with a quiet intensity that always made you feel like she was scrutinizing every detail, waiting for something to go wrong. she was perfection personified, and no one knew that better than you. she didn't just want the routines to be perfect; she demanded it. the sound of a whistle broke through the air. mai didn't speak; she didn't need to. her gaze alone was enough to silence the room and pull everyone back into focus. it was time to get back to work

"now, let's make it perfect." nobara said with a wink, slapping you on the shoulder as you both walked towards mai

the next hour passed in a blur. the music blared, your teammates hit every motion, every stunt, every jump. the precision in the air was exhilarating. you knew the entire team was running on fumes, but no one dared to slow down. the routine was flawless by the time you ran it again, the final lift coming together with ease. there was no room for hesitation, no space for mistakes

you, nobara, and mai stood at the edge of the mat, watching as the rest of the team rehearsed one last time. nobara nudged you with her shoulder, a smile on her lips. "see? i told you we'd kill it."

you grinned back, the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. "yeah, i think we got it."

mai, who had been silent for most of the practice, finally spoke, her voice sharp and loud, addressing everyone. "don't let your guard down just yet. tomorrow's the real thing. go home, stretch, and get some good sleep."

you gathered your things, trying to shake off the nervous energy building in the pit of your stomach. it's tomorrow. the big game. the final performance. it would be an understatement to say that everyone would be watching. your mind briefly flickered to sukuna. you hadn't seen much of him outside of practice, but that wasn't unusual before a big game. he was focused, determined—the sukuna people expected on game day. you pushed the thought aside. it was time to focus on the game—on your team. nothing else mattered.

when he texted that night, it was brief:

"see you tomorrow. stay cute."

the stadium was packed to the brim, a sea of blue and gold stretching across the bleachers. students waved banners and painted their faces, their energy palpable. even those who didn't know a lick of football knew this game would be a turning point for the season. the entire team was under pressure to deliver

the cheer team assembled on the sidelines, running through last-minute adjustments. nobara was in high spirits, as usual. mai was focused, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. you were a bundle of nerves—but it was the good kind, the kind that made your heart race in anticipation. when sukuna jogged onto the field, the crowd erupted. he looked as composed as ever, all sharp angles and unshakable confidence. there was no hesitation in him and only a few minutes passed before the whistle blew, signaling the start

the game was a blur of motion—passes, tackles, and precise plays and sukuna dominated the field. every time he caught the ball, the crowd held its breath. he moved like he owned the place, his every step calculated and powerful. by halftime, the tokyo tigers had a comfortable lead

you were grabbing a water bottle near the sidelines when sukuna approached. his face as impassive as ever. the halftime show roared behind you—the band blaring and the crowd buzzing with post-touchdown energy—but sukuna's presence cut through it all like a blade

"i'm breaking up with you."

at first, the words barely registered over the noise combined with how much your ears were ringing after going full out performing the cheer routine just two minutes ago. "i'm sorry, what?" you blinked at him, certain you must've misheard

he sighed, looking visibly irritated. "i'm breaking up with you."

your stomach twisted into knots, the edges of your vision narrowing. the crowd's noise swelled, and you could feel eyes on you—spectators, teammates, other cheerleaders all scattered across the field. a few people in the section you two stood in front of were close enough to hear his words, but everyone in the bleachers could see the tense body language, the way sukuna towered over you with a look that bordered on boredom. you tried to lead him away, but he didn't budge. "can we talk about this somewhere else?" you asked, your voice low and strained

"no." his tone was cold. he might as well have been discussing the weather. "this is as good a place as any." the embarrassment hit like a punch to the gut. there was no warmth in his gaze, no flicker of regret or hesitation. "why?" you asked, clinging to what little composure you had left. "what's going on?"

"i don't need a reason." he shrugged, as if you were something he'd simply grown tired of. "i'm done. i don't want to be tied down anymore."

the words didn't feel real. they couldn't be. you had been together for over a year. you'd supported him through late-night practices and cramming sessions hours before grade deciding exams and countless dates and—just like that? its over? you had laughed, fought, shared memories—things that were supposed to mean something. and now, standing there under the blinding lights, he was throwing it away like it was nothing, like it meant nothing.

"sukuna—"

but he was already turning on his heel. no apology, no explanation. just a final, dismissive glance over his shoulder before he walked away

for a few moments, all you could do was stand there, frozen in place as the crowd continued to cheer and shout around you. nobara's voice filtered through the haze—your name, spoken with confusion and concern—but you couldn't move. you couldn't breathe.

finally, you forced your legs to carry you to the sidelines. the rest of the game passed in a blur. nobara kept shooting you worried looks, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. it felt like you were underwater, every sound distant and muffled. when the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, you packed your bag and fled before anyone could stop you

you didn't make it far. by the time you reached the campus pathways, exhaustion overtook you—an unbearable weight that pressed down on your chest. your knees buckled, and the world tilted. you hit the ground hard, the pavement cool against your overheated skin

the night sky blurred, stars spinning above you. you must've blacked out for a couple minutes because when you opened your eyes again, there was a figure crouched in front of you

"hey. you okay?"

the voice was low and unfamiliar. as your vision cleared, you recognized ino—the leader of the skateboarding club. his dark clothes blended into the shadows, but the concern in his expression was unmistakable. "you passed out," he said, matter-of-factly but not unkind. "i was skating by when i saw you hit the ground." he motioned to his skateboard that leaned on the bench you sat on

embarrassment burned through you. "i'm fine," you muttered, though the shaking in your limbs betrayed you. "uh-huh. sure." ino raised an eyebrow. "you collapsed in the middle of the street. that's not exactly the picture of health."

you tried to stand up, but dizziness washed over you again. ino reached out instinctively, one hand bracing your shoulder to keep you steady. his touch was warm—firm without being overwhelming, it reminded you of how he would touch you in private. "here." ino handed you a bottle of water from his bag, before grabbing his board. you took it gratefully, drinking in slow sips until the worst of the nausea subsided. "better?"

"yeah, thank you," you whispered, though the ache in your chest hadn't lessened

"want me to walk you back to your dorm?" he asked after a debating with himself. his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. "you shouldn't be alone right now."

you hesitated. ino wasn't someone you knew well—just a face you'd seen around campus. but the thought of returning to your dorm alone, with nothing but the memory of sukuna's cold dismissal echoing in your mind, felt unbearable

"okay," you said quietly. "thanks."

you took ino's hand without thinking, your fingers curling around his as he gently helped you to your feet and you let go once your legs found stability. the night was colder than you'd expected, the cool evening air brushing against your cheeks. the sensation felt sharp, almost grounding, and for a moment, you focused on that—on the feel of the night air, the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze—anything but the emptiness inside you

ino stayed close, his presence surprisingly steady as he guided you through the campus. you tried to walk at your usual pace, but each step felt like an effort. your body—still exhausted from the emotional toll—was heavy. it wasn't just the physical exhaustion from the game or the pain of sukuna's words. it was the weight of everything—the frustration, the confusion, the sudden loneliness that felt almost unbearable. every time your mind tried to escape the mess of your thoughts, it would circle back to sukuna, his face unreadable, his words echoing in your head. i don't want to be tied down anymore.

you swallowed hard, trying to push the thoughts away.

ino seemed to sense that something deeper was going on. he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you walked together in silence, his steps steady and unhurried. there was no rush, no pressure to speak. just the sound of your feet against the pavement and the occasional rustle of leaves above you

"not to be rude, but you don't look fine," he said after a while, his voice quiet but direct. "something's on your mind."

you gave a weak laugh, a dry, humorless thing. "what gave it away?" you said, though you didn't feel like joking. you wanted to be alone, to hide from everything, but that wasn't something you could say to him. not now. not when you were so far from being okay. "i guess it's kind of obvious, huh?"

ino didn't answer right away. instead, he kept walking, his pace unwavering, and you appreciated that. he didn't push. he didn't prod. but when you glanced at him again, you saw the concern in his gaze—an unspoken question. he didn't need to ask for you to know that he noticed the change in you. the emptiness. the exhaustion. the subtle shift in your expression when sukuna's name was mentioned. "i saw you two at the game," he said casually, though there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. "didn't look like things were going too well."

you sighed deeply, the weight of the conversation settling into your bones. "yeah, well, they weren't. he..." you didn't even know where to begin. there wasn't a way to describe how it had all unraveled so quickly. how in the span of minutes, everything had changed. "he broke up with me."

ino was quiet for a second. his grip tightened slightly on your hand, but he didn't say anything at first. he didn't need to. you could tell he wanted you to get everything that happened in the last hour out

"i didn't even see it coming," you continued, your voice shaking slightly. "one minute, everything's fine, and the next... he says he doesn't want to be tied down. just like that. no explanation. no reason. he just..." you trailed off, frustration rising in your chest again. "ended it."

the words tasted bitter on your tongue. you'd never imagined hearing those words from sukuna, not after everything. you weren't sure if you were angrier at the way he'd done it or at the fact that it hadn't even seemed to matter to him. he hadn't tried to make it work. he hadn't fought for it. "i don't get it," you whispered more to yourself than to him. ino didn't respond right away, his gaze distant as you both walked in silence. for a while, it felt like you were just walking side by side through the night, no words needed. he didn't offer any empty words of comfort or reassurance; instead, he simply allowed you to have space, to breathe. you felt the tension in your shoulders loosen just a little

"sounds like a real asshole," ino finally said, his voice low but firm. "you don't deserve that."

you glanced at him in surprise. his expression was unreadable, his features still as sharp as always, but there was a softness in his tone that caught you off guard. he wasn't mocking you. he wasn't being condescending. it was as though, in that moment, he genuinely understood. "i know right," you muttered, your gaze drifting downward. "i thought it was something real. but i guess... i was wrong." ino didn't say anything to that. he just kept walking, and for the next few minutes, you walked together in a comfortable silence. that was… until you broke it

"have you dyed your hair before?" you asked, the question filling the air. it was a genuine question, why have brown hair with an all black aesthetic?

"uh… i've tried to?" ino looked at you, somewhat confused at your words. you noticed this and quickly told him why you asked. "oh, well my hair doesn't dye that well. i tried to dye it black back in freshman year of high school but the color never stayed for more than two days." he looked straight ahead, remembering how everything in the bathroom was covered in a veil of black for a while. "yeah but, i've grown to like my natural hair color. i think it suits me!"

when you reached the dorms, the air had become noticeably cooler, and you realized how far you'd walked. you didn't expect your legs to take you this far, to the point where you could see the lights of the building ahead, the familiar structure of home

"i can take you upstairs, if you want," ino offered, his voice a little softer than before. "if you're still feeling weak?"

you shook your head slowly. "thanks, but i think my legs will be okay. plus, there's an elevator so i won't be doing four flights of stairs tonight."

he paused, like he was worried, but instead, he gave a small nod. "alright," he said quietly. "have a good—well—better night. get some rest." he left with a casual wave, his figure slowly fading into the night, and you stood there for a moment longer, watching him go

by the next day, the news was everywhere. you couldn't take two steps without hearing your name or sukuna's in a passing conversation. tokyo metro wasn't huge, and you were both popular enough to draw attention. nobara had spent most of the morning grumbling about it

that evening, you made your way toward the performing arts building, the low hum of the campus night surrounding you. the day had been long, its weight pressing on your shoulders, but the promise of helping akari rehearse her lines provided a small sense of relief. akari, a theater major and someone you'd known since high school, had asked for your assistance in running through her duet. she's always had an incredible passion for the stage, and the way she brought scripts to life made her a joy to work with. it was easy to get lost in the art of it all, to forget about the world outside, and that's what you needed right now

as you entered the small rehearsal room, you were immediately greeted by the familiar scent of aging paper and the slight echo of wooden floors beneath your shoes. music sheets and scripts were scattered haphazardly across the table, a sign of how much time akari had already spent preparing for today's session. she was at the center of it all, her expression focused as she went through her lines, her voice quiet but filled with emotion

you leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing your throat. "finally," she said, tossing a look over her shoulder. "i thought you'd bailed on me."

"never," you replied softly, setting your bag down. "you sure you're good to do this?" she asked, watching you with quiet concern. "yeah," you said, though the truth was more complicated. "let's just get started."

she handed you a sheet of music, her fingers brushing yours."ready for the duet section?" she asked, her eyes bright with eagerness. you smiled, crossing the room toward her. singing had always been a private thing for you—something you reserved for yourself, in the privacy of your room or hidden behind the shadows of your thoughts. but with akari, it was different. she had a way of pulling people out of their shells, drawing them into the art and making them feel like their voices mattered. it was that same energy that had encouraged you to say yes when she asked for help

you nodded as you picked up the sheet music, your fingers brushing the edges of the paper as you prepared to sing. the first few notes were tentative, uncertain, but soon your voices began to blend. it was effortless, almost as if the two of you had sung together for years. as the song built, the harmonies meshed seamlessly, the notes flowing in a way that felt almost natural. it was the first time all day that you felt grounded, your thoughts fading away as you lost yourself in the music. the song lingered, its final chords hanging in the air, and for a brief moment, the outside world seemed to disappear. it was just you, akari, and the music. but then, just as you were about to speak, a voice cut through the air, breaking the spell

"not bad."

you froze, your eyes darting toward the doorway, where you saw ino leaning casually against the frame. his presence was unmistakable—his laid-back posture, the sticker-laden skateboard tucked under his arm, the usual black attire that always made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. he was a familiar face, not just because of his heroic acts yesterday. around campus, ino's known for his easygoing demeanor, his effortless charm, and his reputation as a skateboarder. you've heard from fleeting gossip that he's been to national competitions before, and always got top three. to be honest, you were kind of shocked that he hasn't been named as one of the university's golden boys yet

ino's eyes were on you, and his lips curved into a small, playful grin. "didn't know you could sing like that," he said, his tone light but filled with the subtle admiration that only made you feel a little self-conscious. you chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing slightly under his gaze. "it's just a hobby," you replied, trying to shrug it off

ino's grin didn't fade. instead, he stepped fully into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. he looked between you and akari, sizing up the situation in that effortless way he always seemed to have. "could be more," he said, his voice carrying a certain weight now, as though he were making a proposition you couldn't easily dismiss

your brow furrowed, and you looked at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "more?"

"yeah." he shrugged, his eyes never leaving you. "i'm starting a band. we need a lead singer." there was a pause, as if to let the words hang in the air, and then he added with a glint in his eye, "i think you'd be perfect for it."

you blinked, your mind racing to catch up with what he was saying. you? the thought seemed foreign, almost laughable. you weren't a singer, not like this. it was just something you did for fun, in the privacy of the rehearsal room or in the quiet corners of your own thoughts

"a band?" you asked again, this time more out of disbelief than anything else

ino nodded, as though he expected the question. "yeah. we meet fridays. think about it."

his words lingered, and the offer—so casual, so easy for him—left you stunned. before you could fully process it, akari was poking your side, a teasing smile on her lips. "you'd sound amazing in a band. i can already picture you in the spotlight with your glittery mic."

you shot her a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. "you really think i'm band material?"

"well, you are pretty good," she replied with a wink, "and you've got the stage presence. truthfully, you should be in theater with me but alas…" ino nodded along, his gaze unwavering, as though he were silently daring you to take the leap. "it's not as crazy as it sounds," he said, his voice steady. "i know the group. we've been jamming together for a while. you'd fit right in."

you suddenly remembered something about sticking to the status quo… but surely it couldn't hurt to stray a little?

"i'll think about it."

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jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

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@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@mayyhaps @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

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@e-dollly @ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode

@baekhyunsbestie @vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[tobyfier]

The Mailman

Ah yes, the mailman. The new resident in the apartment, the complete opposite of milkman, aka Francis Mosses. How does Francis feel about the new person in the apartment? Will he hate him or not? Continue reading to find out!

;Male Reader

(P.s English is not my first language, feel free to correct my mistakes!This is also written from Francis’ pov)

ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★

I didn’t exactly know how to feel about the new resident of the apartment, however I did know his name. M/n L/n was it? Yes, I thinks so. He was..energetic to say the least, quite the surprise considering the current situation about doppelgängers. The other residents didn’t seem to mind his personality, in fact they all seem to like him a lot..If I had to be honest I envy him.

I mean who wouldn’t? He’s nice,energetic,approachable,and pretty charming. Not to mention he seems to enjoy his job as a mailman, while I’m stuck here being the boring milkman. Nobody really approaches me, saying I look intimidating and not much of a social guy..rude but technically yeah, I could care less about socializing and I only want to finish my job for the day so that I could go home, I never really had much of an interest for romance or socializing with other people. But he seems to be the complete opposite, whenever we was by each other he would always flash me a smile and greet me. I never really say hi back but he doesn’t seem to mind that at all. And whenever he delivers a message or package he would always make small talks with the person, whether it be how their day was or how the weather looks nice. Sometimes I wonder how someone can be so sociable with others.

One time he started talking to me ranting something about space and how he likes stars, he wouldn’t stop ranting. And so I told him to stop talking and left..the next day I was doing my usual job as a milkman, delivering milk to people who ordered when I saw him going house to house delivering a mail or a package. And when we went pass each other, I expected him to ignore me considering I rudely left him on the street yesterday. But he greeted me morning as usual..he’s such a strange and unpredictable man.

Few weeks later..

“Hm..” I hummed as I press the doorbell of the house, I put the bottle of milk down and continued walking to the next house. I could already hear the person talk about how much of a loner I am, just like the other houses..ugh I just want this deliveries to get done fast so I can go home and lay down on my bed..Ah there he is again with his upbeat personality, as usual. How can someone talk so much, if I ever tried that I would be tired before I can even manage to say a paragraph. What if I try to greet him back this time, would be nice if I change my pace a bit, right?

“Morning Mr. Mosses, nice to see you again once more!” He greeted, tipping his hat down as he flash me a smile.

“Morning to you too, L/n.” I greeted walking past him, I could tell he stopped walking for a few seconds because I didn’t hear his footsteps, I walked pass him so many times to the point I could distinguish his footsteps from others..would that be weird for others? I looked back to see that he wasn’t walking anymore, rather skipping like a happy person..cute..

Timeskip

Ugh finally, this day is finally over. I could go back home and rest..once the metal door opened I went inside and gave the doorman my ID and blah blah blah, the usual routine. After checking that I was the actual person, they finally opened the door to let me in the apartment. I walked up the stairs to the third floor which was tiring to say the least, and went to get my keys in my pocket. Once I got it I led the key to the knob but noticed something, the door that led to M/n’s room wasn’t lit up as usual. Usually he opens the lights after he’s back from his job, perhaps he’s later than usual? I sighed, it’s probably nothing I’m probably-

“Oh Mr. Mosses!” He greeted, I turned my head to see him standing beside me except..he doesn’t have his hat on, is this the first time I’ve seen him without it? “Looks like you got here first!”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, a bit confused

“Oh it’s nothing..” he said quickly “and uh-here!” He handed me a letter but it’s not showing the front, hold on a letter for me?

“Oh thank-“ before I could even thank him, he was already closing the door, he seems to be in a hurry. I checked the letter to see who it was from and saw that there was a heart, a love letter? But from who.. “From M/n L/n; to Francis Mosses..” I muttered.

Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought..

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Might be a bit of a stretch, but could u writ something for Darry x reader where they're new parents, reader just had their son, and they're introducing their new baby boy to yhe gang ❓️

Three's a Family, Five's a home, Seven's a Party

Synopsis: After 9 months, 9 grueling months of school and pregnancy, you finally get to bring home your sweet baby boy. You're tired and overall relieved to have him out of your body, but you're ready to introduce him to his family, blood related and friendship related.

Tags: Fluff, AFAB! Reader, Reader is technically engaged to Darry, set some time after the book, implied that Reader has graduated college and makes good money, a smidge of angst, talks about possibly getting reader pregnant again.

Authors Note: I took the time to write this piece of work, eat it up my faithful followers.

"Fuck Dar..." You groaned softly as you gently picked up your son, feeling sore from the previous day in labor. "My back's still screaming at me, though I do have to say it's nice to see my feet again..."

Darry snorted softly as he rounded the truck and helped get things out. He grabbed the baby bag and hoisted it up like it weighed nothing, which to you, weighed as much as the son. "Don't go getting used to that now, if things are in the cards then I want another." Darry teased as he kissed your temple and picked up the baby carrier from the back seat.

When he saw your soft, knowing glare, he laughed to himself. "I'm just joking Babe." Darry then tapped the car door with his hip once you held your son in your arms, closing the door. "Alright, let's get you inside. You're probably beat..."

"You are correct about that, I am beat..." A sigh escaped your mouth as you followed him into the Curtis House.. It was silent, meaning that everyone was out and you both had a moment to breathe. "This is going to be a shock to them, we didn't even tell them that I went into labor."

Darry simply shrugged as he put the baby in the carrier, leaving to go get the bassinet from his closet so your kid can sleep while you sleep. "In my defense, they never asked why you weren't around the house the past couple of days. They assumed you were just busy with last minute assignments or looking for work after graduation, the rest of the gang also didn't assume anything wrong when I was out of the house. That's probably a sign that I work too much, but I'll take what I can get."

A chuckle escaped your throat as you settled on the couch, watching Darry set up the bassinet as you held the little baby against your chest. "True true... Seeing as how you were by my side from the moment I went into labor until I was discharged, I'm assuming you either got a week off or you're using all your paid sick days on being here for us..." Darry looked at you and shrugged, a fond smile crossing his lips as the sight before him.

"I used most of my stock piled sick days, I had to put them to use sooner or later and what a better way to use them then to be there for my future spouse as they bring my child into the world." He hummed, stepping back when the bassinet was set up. It was the same one that he and his brothers had slept in when they were babies, it held an entire generation and was going to hold another. "Here, pass the little thing, he deserves some sleep too."

Darry watched as you sat up and gently passed the little bundle of joy to him, his son's blue-green eyes that mirrored his own staring back at him the innocence that lacked in this world. He shifted the bundle in his arms and just looked back down at the innocent bundle of joy. His moment, much to his disappointment, was cut short by the sounds of the gang outside.

"Damnit Pone, maybe don't try and bite the curb. You're so close to graduatin', we don't need your head getting knocked off." Sodapop said from outside, his voice and multiple footsteps getting closer. Darry sighed and stood up, gently shaking you and handing you the kid. He then picked you up like you both weighed nothing, which to him you didn't, and sat you both down on his lap.

The moment the door opened, Sodapop and Ponyboy stepped into the living room, they saw the scene unfolding before them. You, tired and partially asleep against Darry, Darry, who was holding onto you, and this little squirming bundle in your arms. The boys looked at each other for a minute, looking back towards the scene with mirrored expressions of shock.

"Hold the hell up, when did you give birth?" Ponyboy asked, approaching the small little family unit sitting in one arm chair. His green eyes drifted over the baby, now squirming and wide awake, reaching up to grab at anything available.

Darry shrugged as his eyes locked on his brother's. "A few days ago, she just got discharged." He answered as he reached out a finger and gently stroked the brown hair already growing from the infant's head.

"Okay, stupid question on my part." Pony replied as he looked at the little baby resting on your chest before asking another question. "Can I... Hold him?"

Darry looked up at Pony and then looked to you for permission, when he got the go ahead, he gently shifted you in his grasp and picked up the little tyke. "C'mere Pone, hold his head like this..." He instructed as he showed Ponyboy how to hold the newborn.

Ponyboy looked at the bundle in his arms, stars practically forming in his eyes. "Woah..." He whispered as he sat down on the couch and stared back at the baby looking up at him. Sodapop soon joined him, sitting down next to him and looking at the bundled up babe.

"He looks just like you Dar. That's gotta sting, she carried him for 9 months and he comes out lookin' like you..." Sodapop joked as he poked your son's cheek. Darry snorted softly as he watched his brother's adore his son just as much as you both did.

"She complained the first minute but she loves him, loves both of us." He joked as he rubbed your back, watching as you deflated and observed his brothers play with their nephew. "We decided on the name Victor, like Grandpa Victor from Mom's side."

"The one that actually took the time to check up on us after the funeral?" Ponyboy asked as he looked up from little baby Victor. Darry nodded as he rubbed your hip. "The very same." Darry confirmed as he leaned back with you.

Soda opened his mouth to speak or make another joke but was interrupted by Two Bit and Steve walking inside the Curtis Home. "That's fucking stupid and you know it!" Steve exclaimed as he pushed a noticeably tipsy Two Bit.

Acting on instinct, you slowly turned around, obviously tired, and glared at the loud boys. That was when the boys read the room, their eyes landing on the baby held in Ponyboy's arms. Two Bit sat down his bottle of beer and straightened himself out, already switching to his 'Home-Mode' that he used when interacting with his sister.

"Well damn, when did she pop?" Two Bit asked as he approached the younger two Curtis Brothers and the new addition to the Curtis Family. "What's the gender? I bet Steve 5 bucks that it was a girl."

Darry sighed and shook his head before going to answer only for you to pipe up. "I gave birth a few days ago Mathews. Also you owe Steve 5 dollars. It's a boy and we named him Victor." Your eyes were lidded but you still had that tired smile on your lips, the same smile that Victor got to see for the first time and the same smile that made Darry fall in love with you.

"Damnit..." Two Bit groaned as Steve smiled and punched him, not in a way that'd hurt him but in a way that was joking. Like how Soda would punch Darry after a joke or a bad take. "I'll pay you back. For now though, let me see my honorary nephew!"

Steve rolled his eyes and stood next to Two Bit, examining baby Victor. "Honorary Uncle Steve and Uncle Keith, doesn't sound as bad as I thought." Steve commented to Two Bit as he reached out and scratched the newborn's scalp.

"Uncle Keith? No, I'm gonna be Uncle Two, the FUN uncle thank you very much." Two Bit shot back as he sat down on the floor in front of Ponyboy, Sodapop, and little Victor. Sodapop cleared his throat and stared at him like he personally insulted him. "Right, I'll be the second fun Uncle. Pepsi over here is the first."

As you and Darry watched the boys talk and fawn over the little baby, you cuddled close to him. "Y'know, I like to think Johnny and Dally would've made great uncles for little Vic. I know Dally didn't like kids, but I think he'd make an exception."

Darry nodded his head as he watched, gently rubbing your side and massaging your hip. "Likewise. Dally may have been a hard ass, but he would've been great with a little bit of guidance from Pony and Johnny." He whispered against your skin, just watching as a smile graced his lips.

"Pony's gonna be the responsible uncle!" Two Bit declared loudly, startling Victor and making him cry. A sigh escaped your lips as you got up to soothe the baby only for Steve to gently take the bundle and start consoling him. Oddly enough, it worked.

Steve smiled and whispered soft words of assurance to him, he was surprisingly good with kids... Huh, maybe this little found family could be the village needed to raise this kid with you and Darry.

[kazzattack]

Pretty, pretty girl…

Dick Grayson x Black fem!reader x Jason Todd, w/c 2.6k

Synopsis;; You attend one of Bruce Wayne’s galas with your father, for the pure pleasure of seeing the infamous Wayne brothers, and end up being snuck into the manor for the night.

content;; 18+, threesome, oral (fem receiving, implied male receiving), face fucking (male receiving), brief chokehold, hair pulling, fingering, finger sucking, eye contact, lots of banter, technically mirror sex (bc I lowk forgot about the mirror oops), light degradation (whore, slut), brief dry humping, doggy style, manhandling (?), spanking for 2 seconds, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart), Jason’s a bit of a meanie, and Dick is… Dick, I think that’s it, poorly edited/proof read

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” you begin to mutter, frustrated that you agreed to attend in the first place. Still, you find the will power to put on your prettiest smile and runway worthy strut.

Functions likes these never served any entertainment for you, nor did you get anything out of it. Galas your father attends for the sole purpose of saving face, surrounded by rich scum and snakes. At least this is Bruce Wayne’s gala. One of the only billionaires you find tolerable. The only people worth going for are those Wayne boys, though. Pure eye candy. You couldn’t pick a favorite out of the two.

Dick Grayson’s the first to greet you, eyes darting up and down over your figure before meeting your eyes. “Hey pretty lady,” he sing-songs, friendly and welcoming despite the telling glint in his eyes. Wayne’s prodigal son, the first, and he definitely fits the title. Dick is almost surprisingly sweet, pouring you wine and complimenting the shiny gold jewelry around your wrists and neck, rather than the dress that rides just a bit high on your thighs when you sit in the chair he pulls out for you.

Jason Todd meets you with an unintentional death stare, bless his heart. Not to say you don’t do the same thing at first. If he wasn’t 6’1 and 200+ lbs of pure muscle stuffed into a red tux, he’d be easier to miss. At first you don’t even realize his connection to Dick, let alone Bruce Wayne, but you quickly take notice of the familial banter from afar. As of now, you two share the commonality of not really wanting to be here. The two of you only get the chance to properly speak thanks to the loud-mouthed brother, followed by the chance to subtly gawk at each other, of course.

The two of them, though most of the effort is through Dick, make most of the event fly by. You take part in shameless flirting with the leaner of the two, laugh a few times at Jason’s more snarky jabs, and before you know it? Your father’s left wondering where his daughter ran off to. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to tell him two out of many of Wayne’s kids are busy trying to sneak you into his manner.

The… guest bedroom? Is awfully large, along with the bed, and the nightstand, and the mirror you use to make eye contact with Dick. They’ve put you under the impression to have made it past the security system, but realistically they both know Bruce has been notified of your presence. They also trust the billionaire playboy will mind his business. And besides, the old man should be the least of your worries when Dick tugs your dress up, followed by Jason’s calloused hands running up your thighs.

“You’re shameless,” you tease, settling yourself between Dick’s legs with your back against his chest while Jason lowers his overwhelming stature in front of you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you haven’t seen the half of it,” he corrects, grabbing the tiny zipper between his fingertips to expose more skin. “Especially not from that one down there.”

Jason scoffs, sliding your heels off as he responds. “I’m almost positive she knows what you are. Hard not to.”

“I know what I am,” Dick snickers into your ear, hands snaking over your figure. “You’re the one who stomps around acting like you’re too high and mighty for a little fun.”

You muster up the courage to jump in, urging Jason to come a little closer to your face. Despite the persona, you’ve both warmed up to each other throughout the night. “You too good for me, Jay?” You inquire, tugging him closer by his collar and tie. The glint in his eyes answers for you, giving away every intention he has for the rest of tonight.

“‘M just shy,” he jokes, though you’re not 100% sure he is. After a few drinks and the comfort of a seperate room, his eyes wander more freely, and it doesn’t take long before you notice Grayson’s gawking at you through the mirror as he undresses. “Not that you’ve gotta worry about that anymore.”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Jason was no longer shy, clearly.

“Oh my god, Jay-“ you moan above him, head resting on Dick’s shoulder as one hand roams around your upper body. The other curls under your knee, supposedly holding your legs open as opposed to closing around Jason’s head while his tongue flicks against your clit.

“Fuck, you sound gorgeous,” Dick whispers as he sucks another hickey into your collarbone, and you feel a smooth hand wrap around your neck and rest there. “You gonna make those pretty noises for me too?” His tone is sultry and teasing, though you aren’t sure if it’s meant to provoke you or the short-tempered brother between your legs. You haven’t spent that long with them, but it’s been long enough for you to learn of Jason’s competitive edge and Dick’s insufferable tendencies to get under his skin.

“You could always find out for yourself…” you manage to respond, circling your hips in time with the thick finger on your insides. The strength is found to pick your head up and look at Dick, who’s already watching you like a hawk. Eyes focused with an almost obsessive gaze, tongue grazing over your skin. You can tell he’s fixing his dirty mouth for a quip but you cut him off with a gasp as another finger is dipped into your cunt, breaking eye contact as your head falls back.

“Quit talking to him,” Jason grumbles into your heat, “just sit and look pretty like you were doin’.” His words are muffled and the bass in his voice vibrates against your leg, leaving no room for you to consider not listening to him. He’s sure you’d much rather listen to him after that debauched moan you let out anyway.

Your hand moves to tug on the white streak of Jason’s hair, blanking out for a moment as the tips of his fingers curl and thrust into you. “Aw, gonna let him ruin the fun?” Dick teases, “I still wanna look at that pretty face.” He fixes you after his comment flies over your head, gripping your jaw to face him in the mirror and letting go to see if you’ll focus on your own. Jason, still seemingly irritated with him, tightens his biceps around the plush of your thighs and pulls you further from Dick. He doesn’t like sharing either. Noted. You glance down at him, green eyes half lidded and entirely zoned in on your pussy. He doesn’t talk all that much, but he’s got his own filthy mouth, tongue dipping in with his fingers for a moment as his free hand circles your clit. This is where you learn that Dick has his own frustrations too. He needs control, power in his hands.

“No wonder you like her,” he grins, “she’s almost as hard-headed as you.” Through the hazy pleasure you giggle, not expecting the way his arm slots around your neck. There’s a gasp before a strangled moan and you clench around Jason’s fingers, hips bucking into his face and he groans into your pussy. You’re in a more compromised position now, and he’s looking you directly in the eyes while his free hand tweaks at your nipple, making you arch further away from him.

“Oh, the pretty lady likes this? You want it tighter?”

Shamelessly, you nod despite your restrictions and he listens, squeezing your head between his forearm and bicep. A familiar feeling coils in your tummy, pretty nails digging into the flesh around your neck as your leg wraps around Jason’s head. You’d feel bad if it weren’t for the needy groan against your cunt.

“Ohh, gonna come on his tongue from getting choked out? Yeah, let him know who you’re looking at while you fuck his face.”

Oh?

You’re ashamed of it, but the limited oxygen and lightheaded effect had you follow along without a thought.

“‘S you- fuck, Dick- I wanna…”

At this point, Dick’s sure he can see steam from Jason’s ears.

Still, his ministrations only go deeper, even if it’s not exactly of his free will. Thick nails dig deep into your hips and thighs to keep you in place as you orgasm and he helps you ride it out as he huffs and grunts. Meanwhile you’re right where Dick wants you, laying up against his chest and moaning against his forearm as if you were his bitch.

“Fuckin’ attention whore,” Jason sighs, easily moving your body further from Dick after practically yanking his arm from you. “Can’t go five minutes without begging for someone to look at you?” He’s clearly ticked off, but the frustration is also accompanied by the bulge of his dress pants pressing against your thigh. He hates the competition yet he undeniably craves it, and it’s clear in how much rougher his touches get. Jason moves to kiss up your body as his fingers curl at a slower pace, holding your hips in place to keep you from squirming underneath him.

“Jay-“ you sigh in bliss, hips trying to inch away as you sit up to look down at him. “Ja-son… ‘s too-“

“Shut up,” rude, “I know this pretty pussy’s beggin’ for it.”

“Struck a nerve? Sensitive much.” All he gets it a glare, rightfully so. You’d expect Dick Grayson to get in on more fun, but he’s just evil. He likes seeing a pretty girl like you squirm. Jason’s clearly more hands on, scissoring you open a few times before abruptly pulling away shoving his fingers down your throat. You’d be embarrassed by how easily you take it if the two of them weren’t mesmerized, watching while you suck his fingers clean of your own slick.

“We got us a pretty little slut, Jaybird,” Dick praises.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?”

“No, actually.”

“Well I am now, Dick.”

You get out a little giggle while they bicker before Jason flips you over, positioning your ass against his pelvis and guiding your hips back. You’d been too high in pleasure before to realize that Jason Todd is big, everywhere. His dick presses against you through his pants and you almost panic as he pushes you back and forth, watching your ass bounce against him a few times and you whine.

“Yeah, y’feel that?” He groans from behind you and only Dick can see the prideful grin on his face. “You’ll take it, baby, jus’ for me.” Still, you let out a little whine at his words and clench around nothing. What you can see is the bulge in front of you as your head rests between Dick’s legs, doesn’t look as big but it’s definitely enough. You have no right to complain.

Jason leans over to deepen your arch and you hear his belt unbuckle. You wanna tell him wait, but you’re too slow. The tip of his cock slips against your opening and you mewl, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Oh my god, Jay-“ you gasp before he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Fuck… what’d I tell you?” He grunts, already halfway inside. “Already so wet and you’re tellin’ me you don’t wanna get fucked?”

“Be nice,” Dick interrupts as his fingers curl into your hair gently, as if he didn’t have you moaning against his arm in a chokehold earlier tonight. He gets to be the nice one now, your handsome knight in shining armor. If that were entirely true, though, he wouldn’t be over so slightly forcing you back onto Jason’s cock with his other hand.

Dick’s order is easily disregarded once he’s all the way inside, and with a few thrusts, pulling all the way out before slamming you onto his cock, pretty nails are clawing at the fabric of Dick’s slacks and you muffle your moans into them with soft whines. “Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he hums from above you, cooing at you with a soft voice yet tugging your head up by the chin a little harshly to look at you.

“‘S big.. oh- fuck, Dick-“

“‘Scuse me?”

Oopsie.

“Now you’re in for it, doll.” The smile of amusement and lust on Dick’s face is almost demeaning.

“We got an ungrateful little slut,” Jason scowls, tugging so hard on your hair he might fuck it up if he doesn’t fuck you up first. His thrusts gain a brutal pace and he fucks you even deeper than before, leaning down to your face before he speaks again. “Here I am, face covered in your cum, fuckin this tight cunt with my cock and you’ve still got the nerve to be moanin’ for him? The fuck is he doing for you, huh? Tell me. Tell both of us.”

You can’t, even if you wanted to. Even if you could. Just from the close proximity, the way his dick hits that sweet spot harder and harder has you whimpering an incoherent apology and clenching around him. The only thing he can make out is the pathetic little “‘m sorry” as your hand moves to cover your face.

“Oh hell no,” he corrects you, grabbing your arm and folding it behind your back. You’re weaker than ever right now, no longer holding yourself up. In fact, Jason’s the one holding you, keeping you stable while he fucks the lights out of you.

“I think she wants it like this,” Dick chimes in, smiling like all you’re doing is putting on a show for him. Not that you mind, of course. You’re busy trying not to cry from the intensity, but you haven’t even realized your mascara’s been fucked up for a hot minute already.

“Yeah, you wanted this, right? Bet you thought you’d get it from that bastard,” Jason huffs a guttural laugh, “guess he shoulda told you about this thick dick.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, Jay- fuck, please,” you beg from beneath him, tightening around his dick as another orgasm has your moans higher pitched. “Wanna cum- lemme cum, Jason, please-!”

“Now you wanna moan my name?”

“Guess you fucked some sense into her.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Grayson.” The venom in his voice is for Dick, but unfortunately the anger gets taken out on you with a sharp smack on the ass and you yelp. “Give it to me,” he groans, “cum all over this cock.”

“Thank you- thank you, Jason-“

Your eyes roll, so far back you can see your skull as he fucks you throught it. You still babble on about how good he feels and he never lets up, focused on his own orgasm as he shoves your face into the mattress. Without another beat, he fucks you full, nasty fluids gushing around his cock as he finally calms down. You damn near back out, honestly, but distantly you can hear another belt buckle being undone.

“Y’done yet, Jaybird?”

“Not really,” he huffs through a deep groan, still rutting into you. “But go ahead. Just don’t piss me off again.” Dick fake pouts, pulling your face back up and you’re met with his length, throbbing and neglected.

“Wha…” you weakly moan, legs trembling and cunt twitching around Jason. Dick almost moans at the sight of your fucked out face, drool pooling at the corner of your lips and mascara smudged down your face. Still just as gorgeous, albeit more shameful than before. Dick can admit he prefers you with this look.

“We’ve still got plans for you, pretty girl,” he whispers, squishing your cheeks to push your mouth open before slapping the fat of his cock onto your tongue. “You still with us?”

“Mhm…”

“Good, good girl.“

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

a/n;; dick was supposed to have the upper hand for most of this but listen, things happen. writing this was honestly so fun but idk if it’ll ever happen again anytime soon </3. pls enjoy, like, comment and reblog, i’d appreciate it :p

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.

[hansoape]

Hand Holding headcanons Primarch Edition

hi hello personal HCs for how the primarchs hold hands lets go (can be seen as romantic or platonic)

Lion El Jonson- He doesn't hold hands. If he wants your attention he'll just grab you or gaze broodily in your direction. If he likes you enough he might awkwardly pat your hand during a moment of severe emotional intensity.

Fulgrim- holds hands like true noble. Barely touching, light. Only using the tips of his fingers. Like how how a footman might assist a princess stepping out of a carriage. All regal airs and barely contained politeness. You WILL help him down the stairs like a good manservant.

Perturabo- Crushingly strong and hot as a furnace. Holds your hand with his entirety. Hands rough and calloused, but oddly comforting. Kinda sweaty. Subconsciously squeezes harder the more wound up he gets. Hand Hold Danger Level of about 6

Jagatai Khan- Has a surprisingly gentle touch but if he grabs your hand its because yall are about to start running so you better hang on. Holding hands with him isn't a comfort its a warning of impending shenanigans.

Leman Russ- 50/50 chance of breaking your hand when he goes to hold it. Too warm and enthusiastic, like getting your hand crushed by a giant toddler. You're not getting comforted you're about to get swung around his head like a toy.

Rogal Dorn- Might not be into hand touching, but also might try. Has to do it right. Proper grip and proper amount of pressure. Perfect on a technical level but emotionally detached. He will also instruct you on your own hand placement, for optimal holding. You WILL get a survey afterwards to rate how he did.

Konrad Kurze- you're never getting that hand back.

Sanguiny- His touch is soft and warm, and he'll hold you for as long as you need him too. Whether its relaxing at home or going to the dentist he will be there, tracing comforting circles on your skin with his thumb. Hand Holding Danger Level of 0. He knows how to do it. You can also hold his hand while he's anxious and he will greatly appreciate it, fingers interlocked loosely with yours.

Ferrus Manus- See's hand holding as a competition. Refuses to control his grip strength. Always keeps his hand in an eagle-claw formation for max grip. Only the strongest, with fingies of steel, may hold his hand. WILL judge you if you complain or try to correct him. Not a fun experience unless you like hand-fighting and arguing.

Angron- Looks scary, like he will bite your fingers off, but is actually great at hand holding. Keeps your hand firmly in place and will help you with anything. Going down the stairs, if you slip, need balance. If you need assurance he'll let you squeeze his fingers as hard as you want. WILL proudly hold your hand and roar at anyone tryna mess with you.

Guilliman- holding hands with him means you're going to be there for a few hours while he explains The Imperium at you. He doesn't comfort you, you comfort him. Rub circles on HIS skin with your thumb. He misses his mom you gotta soothe him.

Mortarian- Both unbearably warm and freezing cold. Clammy, sweaty, skin an uncomfortable gummy texture. Sticks to you when you try to let go. Sometimes his fingers accidentally corpse-lock and you gotta pry them open. WILL forget he's hanging onto you and will drag you along.

Magnus- Hit or miss with him. He's either too distracted to hold hands or suddenly too bashful. The best you can get is him entwining a clawed finger with yours, most likely when you are reading together in the librarius. A reminder of his affection towards you in the quiet moments of your lives.

Horus- Doesn't matter your relationship, will hold your hand like a jealous husband, like you are perpetually at risk of being snatched away. Grip a bit too tight, almost possessive. Will need breaks to keep your circulation healthy. Likes to hold the entirety of your hand in his. Don't lock fingers with him. He's going to hold you in a vice and you're going to like it.

Vulkan- 11/10 the SUPREME hand holder. Absolute perfection. Warm, gentle, makes your hand feel like its being hugged. Strong and protective. Completely engulfs your hand with his. Will hold your hand for as long as you want, doesn't mind he's just happy to be there. Its hard to just hold hands with him as the temptation to fully cuddle is an ever present threat. He WILL hold you like the gentlest softest mattress and you WILL fall asleep in his arms.

Lorgar- Holds your hand like a preacher about to baptize you. Palm against palm, held up in reverence. Not very comfortable. Will continue to hold you there even when your arm goes numb. No moving he's still preaching. What do you mean you can't feel your fingers you better keep holding on if you are truly taking his words to heart.

Corvus Corax- Hand holding will take some coaxing. Starts limp wristed at first, like his heart isn't fully in it. Gets huffy when you don't want to hold his hand anymore because of it. Will get better over time the more you encourage him. Starts to grab your hand when he's not even thinking about it, but won't acknowledge that he's doing it. WILL hold your hand while you explore ancient grave sites.

Alpharius Omegon- Won't hold your hand, but you can watch them hold hands with each other.

[deadhands69]

cursing each other over and over again [2/3]

MDNI

Toge Inumaki x cursed speech reader (not quite the same as his)

Super fluffy, mildly angsty but it gets smutty in the next one. Warnings/content/etc: Toge Inumaki x reader, fem-bodied/no pronouns, unestablished relationship, swearing, light violence (slapping), kissing, slightly suggestive conversation, mentions of dub con, cursed speech use. AU: Jujutsu University, all characters over 18

part 1 - this is part 2 - part 3

Text key:

🖤 You 🤍 Toge

Even after clearing things up with Toge, you still felt weird about going to class in the morning. Sure, you talked things through with him but didn’t know what to expect from everyone else.

In addition to this, you're exhausted. You spent most of the night laying in bed regretting a chunk of the texts you’d sent him instead of sleeping. You particularly regret telling your crush you have no game and can’t even manage to talk to him. How embarrassing is that?

He seemed to understand though. He has to, right? Dating with cursed speech of any kind isn’t easy. You can’t just walk up and strike up a conversation with someone you like. There’s also the weird dynamic shift when they realize you can control their actions. When you inadvertently force them to kiss you and you’re awkwardly trying to get out of it, knowing it’s not what they want, traumatizing you both in the process. Or worse, you could accidentally hurt them. That’s probably even worse for him. Maybe he gets it?

Anyways, what does two cursed speech users dating look like, you’d be cursing each other back and forth constantly. He probably doesn’t want that.

Stopping yourself, you can’t think about this all day.

On the walk across campus, you started trying some breathing exercises Gojo gave you when you first arrived. In addition to the usual homework, he also tasked you with learning to control your emotions. Fair. So far, you’ve found it easier some times than others. This morning wasn’t too bad until, in your distraction, you collided with Toge where two sidewalks intersect.

He says “kelp”, his eyes smiling. You wave and smile back.

Your heart is racing, but at least it’s no weirder than when you first met him. You walk together silently until you reach the classroom.

Immediately, Panda high-fives him as Maki smacks him in the back of the head. You take your seat as she continues to berate him. Yuta sits next to you asking about your evening. It would be nice, but you can tell he’s just pushing to see how things went with his friend. He moves seats as soon as Inumaki approaches.

Just before class is scheduled to start (okay, you have an extra five minutes every day because Gojo is consistently at least five minutes late) your phone buzzes.

🤍 [sorry if that was weird for you] 🤍 [i actually didn’t tell anyone we hung out] 🤍 [maki told the gc you left my room at midnight after i left everyone on read]

You look up to see Toge waiting to see how you'll react. 

🖤 [haha i mean it's fine] 🖤 [technically that’s true] 🖤 [but] 🖤 [there’s a solid implication there] 🖤 [at least rumor me is getting laid]

You look at him rolling your eyes to make it clear that was sarcasm, you’d correct people later. He laughs.

The rest of the week passes quickly. Lots of homework to catch up on and even more to learn. Wednesday, you got to go on a mission with Maki. Who, you are pleased to learn, is a lot more caring than she lets on. The two of you were able to take out a few grade 2 curses together fairly quickly. It felt great being able to use your technique for more than destruction. After, you got sushi and talked for a while. You talked about jujutsu sorcery, life, pretty much everything. Toge came up once but since that was nearly all anyone in your class had asked you about since you arrived, she didn’t drag the subject out.

By the time Friday arrives, you realize you haven’t had time to fully unpack and set your room up. You also hadn’t talked to Toge much more than in passing. 

Pulling your folded clothes out of boxes and hanging them in the closet, your mind wanders. He asked to hang out first, does he want you to reach out next? Is he just busy? Or did you scare him off? You only hung out once, just because you have a huge crush on him doesn’t mean he feels the same after spending some small amount of time with you. He still seems to want to be friends, at least. So it wouldn’t be too weird to ask to hang out this weekend. That’s not so bad. Looking down at empty boxes, you realize you’ve been spiraling longer than you thought. Maybe you should just text him.

Pulling your phone out, you hear a commotion down the hall. The clang of pots and pans on the ground, Panda’s oversized footsteps thumping down the hallway, Maki yelling and Toge screaming “CAVIAR!”

Or, maybe you should text him later. He sounds busy.

A scuffle of footsteps make their way closer to your cracked door. Maki pokes her head in, she’s covered in half cooked rice. 

As mockingly sweet as she can muster, “hey [y/n], getting set up?” 

You nod, pretending you didn’t just hear the chaos. 

“Need help with those shelves?” she says gesturing to a box you’d thus far neglected.

“Yeah, I -” 

“Perfect! Here, take this” she shoves a disheveled Toge through the door and slams it.

“I was just about to text you. But you sounded, uh, busy.”

You lean into the doorway to look him up and down, amused. He laughs and pulls a grain of rice out of his hair.

Hanging shelves goes fast with the two of you, he holds them level while you screw them in. And since you’re concentrating, you almost don’t notice how close the two of you are standing together. Almost.

You’re on the last one above your bed, it’s the biggest and it’s heavy. He shifts so his hands are on both sides of the shelf above his head, pressing you between the wall and him. This shouldn’t be weird, you tell yourself. It’s not like there’s a better way to hold it. No, this is how you have to do this. Telling yourself that doesn’t change that you can feel his chest pressing into you and breath against your neck. Nevermind that you were on the floor of his room rolling around before he bit you Monday, this felt. Different.

Distracted, you pause for a second to take it all in. The feel of his warm body pushing into you with every inhale. His arms flexing above you. He’s so strong to hold something so heavy. Oh, shit. Back to work.

With some fumbling, the last screw goes in and you’re done. You spin around to mouth “thanks” but Toge stays in place. Smiling down at you, his arms drop slightly from the shelf to the wall, still pressing you back. His smokey violet eyes connect with yours. You glance at the circles on his cheeks, visible since he took his jacket off shortly after arriving. Sliding his hands down further, he gently grabs your wrists and pulls you down to sit with him. Keeping the closeness: you’re still up against the wall with him leaning in. He smiles and you forget how to breathe. His hand brushes the hair from your forehead, sliding it behind one of your now flushed ears. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as he moves in closer.

BANG. BANG. BANG. 

“Inumaki!?” 

Wide eyed, he freezes: still leaning into you with one hand on the wall near your head and the other at your side. 

BANG.

“Panda cleaned my kitchen. If you’re done hanging shelves, come help me with the extra laundry you made!” you hear Maki yell.

“Salmon!” he grumbles, not fast enough. Another bang and your door cracks open, giving Panda and Maki a direct view of the two of you on your bed. In the background, you see a pretending-to-be-nonchalant Gojo passing by then double-taking back to look over their shoulders. 

Well, so much for dispelling rumors.

He begrudgingly stands up and walks to the door. 

You slump into your bed in both embarrassment and disappointment. You were so close. You glance back at them.

Holding one finger up for the three of them to wait for something, Toge shoos the other three away and closes the door. 

Returning to your bed, he crawls back to you, pressing his hand back to its spot on the wall behind you while bringing the other behind your head. Leaning in, without hesitation, he presses his lips onto yours kissing you feverishly. Your face melts into his and you completely forget about the group standing outside your door listening. He pulls back, pecks your lips once more, and smiles before grabbing his jacket and walking out. You lay there, too stunned to move. Your hand slides over your comforter and - wait, is that a grain of rice?

9:58pm - Friday

🤍 [not to ‘you up’ you but you up?] 🖤 [kiss me once and you’re looking for a bootycall now?] 🤍 [you know it] 🖤 [pshhh] 🤍 [nah] 🤍 [fr tho i need to talk to you] 🤍 [i wanted to earlier but Maki just set me free 20 minutes ago] 🤍 [and i had to wash the rice out of my hair] 🤍 [can i come by?] 🖤 [you’re not making the rumors any better, Toge…]

You’re pretty tired from getting your room set-up and finishing all of your homework but you know you definitely won’t get any sleep putting this conversation off. Hopefully he doesn’t think kissing you was a mistake. You don't think you used your cursed energy on him?

🖤 [but yeah] 🖤 [of course you can]

Quickly, you jump out of bed to change into something cuter. Still gym shorts and a t-shirt but at least these ones aren’t ripped or stained. You fix your hair before running to the knock on the door.

Toge walks in, looking around in awe of your room. The shelves the two of you put up earlier are now covered in books, plants, and color changing lights in the shapes of your favorite anime characters. He gestures at them and smiles. The dim lighting glows in a rainbow of colors that dance on his face. Taking a massive breath, he begins typing. Pausing, he erases what he wrote, puts his phone away, and unzips his jacket. Biting his lip, he turns to you. Is he about to say something?

Extending one finger, he slowly points at you then at himself. Still biting his lip, he shrugs his shoulders in a question. His eyes dig into yours, begging you to understand.

“together” you whisper-yell, this time feeling your cursed energy pull him to you. A twinge of guilt hits the back of your mind at accidentally using your power on him, but it’s quickly pushed aside by the familiarity of him smashing his lips into yours. He kisses you with even more passion than earlier, gripping your waist like he can’t pull you close enough. You run your hands through his damp hair. He pulls his face away momentarily to nod yes, before smiling and squeezing you back into him. 

Your curse has completely faded and he’s still here.

[I’m so proud of him, I didn’t really think Toge had game, but somehow writing him this way made sense. Good for him.]

part 3

m.list

[liketwoswansinbalance]

What would you do if you knew you couldn't fall??

Did you mean "fail?" Unless you meant literally falling, I will answer as if you wrote "fail." You can correct me if that is the wrong interpretation, and I could answer the question again.

Assign first-class experts to solve the world's problems... so I wouldn't have to do it all—assuming the technicality is that I start the projects, then they probably would not fail. Would that loophole work? (Realistically, if it didn't work, I don't think I'd actually be altruistic enough to do all that...) Would I have to see the projects through to completion? That's quite a lot of work. But doing this would likely mean I will probably have a clean conscience for the rest of my life, ideally, because, I know I should if I had the power to do so.

In relation to #1, even if this is non-necessary, also assign people to figure out if there's life on other planets. I just want to know. Don't need to contact whatever is out there—I don't want anything to go wrong. I'd just want to possibly spy on them for a little while. The problem is: spying is unethical, so I'd have to convince myself that I'm either doing it for cautionary reasons or as a longitudinal, naturalistic "study." This could be a pandora's jar, so I might take it off the list.

Cure stupidity and herd mentality. (Curing all physical ailments is built into no. 1 already.) Or better yet, get someone else to do it. (At the same time, we could argue that these qualities are part of being human or flawed, and that we shouldn't tamper with our human-ness. In which case, just no. Also, we would lose part of our former connection to literature, pre-cure. For instance, we would no longer comprehend the meaning of the trope: "love causes poor judgment." So, would it be worth it? Even if the world were terraformed and otherwise reshaped in more metaphorical ways to be "perfect," I think we would still manage to invent new problems because it's what we've always done as a species. Thus, there needs to be a reasonable stopping point. And, I'm not sure what that point is, meaning several other items on this list might have to be struck out.)

Have the world's politicians be... better somehow? Ensure they are sane and moral, that they trust science, are scientifically-literate... I feel, perhaps, like we might get better results if we chose science-fiction writers, particularly those who've managed to predict our present and know how to do social commentary. They seem to be aware of and actually care about the state of humanity. (I'm not really well-informed enough to make any decisions, but I know well enough that the world needs people of varied knowledge and skillsets to continue on. So, I'm not completely, intentionally trying to valorize only what I'm interested in. I'm just biased like any other human being is.)

Delegate everything I don't like doing to competent people (like cooking), and reap the benefits of the exact outcomes I'd want every time. If they were successful, I'd never have a problem with dust and no one would ever move my stacks of books and paper, which often collect dust.

Turn myself immortal and gain eternal youth. (This should probably be item no. 1 on the list, actually, to account for how long the first few tasks could potentially take.) Then use those means on others who would want it done. If it's someone I don't like, I could still let them become immortal, and would just tell them after this favor not to cross paths with me again. I would also try to convince anyone I want to keep around to stay.

No. 6 would attract too much publicity. I'd need a way to continue being relatively anonymous, except for what I would selectively want to be recognized for. (If I couldn't fail at it, I'd love to become the next "Shakespeare" or some kind of literary giant... and maybe then have the world forget about me... and be rediscovered and reinterpreted by future generations who use my original and/or revolutionary works as required reading in their syllabi. That'd be striking and cool. I'm not sure how I would stop suffering from belatedness though.)

Find a way to never sleep, never eat, never exercise, and not experience cognitive decline. I would only do the ones I like doing.

Find a way to resurrect people from the dead. (I already know this has too much margin for catastrophe, so there would have to be restrictions on what can and cannot be done. At the same time, I am also aware this would violate nature, so it might have to be removed from the list. Who am I to decree the rules?)

I haven't addressed religion yet. I'd have to find some way to alleviate my guilt, but that's more of a temporary fix and not a real solution. I'd have to find some way to remain a mostly good or at least harmless person, assuming I'm mostly one now. If there's no reason for anyone, any force, or anything to object to my existence, I would hope I would be allowed to continue on with my plans.

If there were some way to affirm what I think my personal beliefs are, that would be great. At the same time, that defeats the point of faith, and so, I'm not sure what to do about this dilemma.

Learn everything I want to learn now that I have infinite time to learn it (and infinite time to procrastinate).

Consume all the media I want to consume and also never miss new installments or works of art because I wouldn't be outlived by creators.

Become some kind of successful writer. I mentioned this before, but to specify: maybe a novelist or maybe an academic critic—why not both?! Sky's the limit!

Eventually, if I could never fail, I might wonder about whether anything could ever be a challenge or worth doing anymore. (Doubt that will happen since I have a fear of failure anyway—and being cured of it would be a wonderful reality to live in!)

And so, I could want to die eventually. (Again, highly doubt that will happen.)

In case: It's not my top priority, but: study philosophy, so I don't become corrupt, apathetic, or suicidal since I know things can happen to the human psyche after too long.

If no. 1 didn't happen, and humans were faced with climate change as well as other problems, then I would want to die before the planet were barren and ruined, so I wouldn't have to live under dystopian conditions.

Some of the above might not happen because I may procrastinate too much. That would suggest that the revised item no. 1 should be: conquer procrastination once and for all, and only then proceed in a rough order.

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

How do the ROs feel about MC's bad habits? :( like overworking themselves, not eating, not sleeping, etc. etc. Because I'm very worried djkehems...😔 (even more so because my MC is manipulative so he's like hiding it 😡 (I say, fully knowing that I technically made the choices to make him like this))

Kieran: For an mc whose self neglect is habitual—and doubly so for an mc who attempts to hide/deny it—they apparently aren’t going to learn to correct this and will only repeat their offenses. So—given MCs and Kieran’s more hostile relationship—they’re going to utilize that to correct this. MC trying to hide that they’re overworked/injured etc? Kieran is insistent mc visits the infirmary. Oh and did they not mention? No, no we’re not getting a nurse’s help—they’ll be bringing mc there themself and personally attending to them. This is going to be as uncomfortable between them as possible (and we maintaining intense eye contact >:/)—that should teach mc to seek an actual healer’s help when needed (or not repeat the problem) before Kieran themself notices. And they are very attentive. Good luck hiding your condition from them. L uses this on Aurynn sometimes, tho it’s been 6 years for some of those habits to decay again.

Nihm: 🥺🥺🥺….? You’re not gonna be nice to yourself….?

Honestly their kicked puppy act is usually enough to spur most people into fixing or at least addressing the immediate problem. They’d also probably try to help mc with some things to make taking care of themselves easier/more enjoyable, like trying to find ways of getting the cooks to make something similar to what mc would have eaten at home etc. Since mc can’t go home right now, they figure maybe they can bring a little bit of home to them.

Lilith/Lucien: I mean like—relatable. But also—:( hey cmon now. They’re the type to want to help shoulder their friends’ burdens to lighten the load. Carves out spaces where mc can address their needs like taking them to dinner or staying with them til they fall asleep etc. They’re observant and their approach to things would also vary depending on MCs personality. If being direct will get them to listen then great but for say a more combative or manipulative mc they’ll play mind games right back to spur them into doing what L wants and taking care of themself. Always very pleased when they get mc doing some mundane self-care task and will stare adoringly while mc eats/sleeps etc.

Samira: She has already made it clear in the demo she isn’t happy about it—she worries over mc and understands this is born out of MCs circumstances etc but it’s still frustrating to watch them neglect their own needs while attending to those of other’s and/or try to hide when they neglect themselves (although she is kinda a hypocrite in this regard). She’s made it clear—mc can’t pour from an empty cup. Keep this up and they’ll end up too broken to function. Depending on MCs personality, she does scold them for hiding it or harmlessly manipulates them into doing something to take care of themself by framing it another way or guilting them into it. And she tries to keep after mc to make sure they remember to do things like eat/sleep/get outside etc.

Aurynn: I mean like same but maybe don’t? Speaking from experience 👍 Their situations are different, sure, but still. He does worry over them even if he isn’t the best at showing it, but bc he’s also the epitome of hiding/denying his condition and not seeking help, he usually enlists Sam’s help if he doesn’t really know what to do for mc. He’s good at being annoying as fuck tho so he’ll utilize that to irritate or challenge mc into doing what he wants—like eating your fucking dinner, coward.

[aroaceleovaldez]

I HAVE BEEN REMINDED OF SOMETHING i think i've made a post about it before but maybe it's just sitting in my drafts. idk, whatever, I will ramble again. Said thing that reminded me was a tiktok by madison_murrah about how the PJO TV show doesn't get the balance between mundanity and magical correct for pjo and I want to expand on that cause while a.) it totally is a problem in the show and i take issue with it, b.) it is also a problem in later books and i ALSO take issue with that too and i would like to elaborate on it

this got long so ramble of the day below the cut:

so the thing is that PJO is actually pretty unique in it's approach to hidden world modern fantasy. like, hidden world modern fantasy is a decently established genre with a ton of examples, but there's a reason why PJO stands out so much, and that's because technically it's NOT "hidden world." There is very intentionally no distinction between the mundane world and the mythological, at least in first series. They 100% overlap. And you do not necessarily need to be "special" to see the "mythological world-" some mortals are totally naturally clear-sighted, a lot of kids are clear-sighted, and it's like 50/50 for if mortals can become clear-sighted. In fact, most demigods aren't immune to the effects of the Mist, all that really matters is if you're actually thinking about being able to see through it. And there's a reason for that!

In general, this format of the "hidden world" modern fantasy serves two purposes: One, as the series is meant to introduce people to Greek mythology and explain why it is relevant and how it can be relatable in modern contexts, it intentionally juxtaposes myths against modern concepts: Medusa runs an apparently average garden statue store. Procrustes runs a mattress store. The entrance to the Underworld is in LA at a record store. Circe lives on an island paradise that's secretly dangerous. Hydras are like chain donut stores that seem to pop up on every corner. Perseus and his mother struggle in Perseus' childhood but get a happy ending. Calypso has an island paradise where the challenge for the hero of our story is being tempted to leave behind his goals. The plot of Sea of Monsters is blatantly the Odyssey, and it's about Percy trying to get to his best friend (who he shares a literal psychic link to) who is in danger of getting married to someone awful (a literal monster) to help you understand Odysseus trying to get back to Penelope and how important to each other and in sync they are. Battle of the Labyrinth is Theseus and the Labyrinth and it's Percy/Theseus trying to protect his home and his people and fellow kids (like Nico) from the dangers in the maze. These are all supposed to help us understand what is actually going on in those stories.

We also still see how Greek mythology influence shapes and influences western culture in general in their world (which is supposed to be our own and so uses real-world examples) - in government, in architecture, in pop culture - Mythomagic is clearly supposed to be your standard TCG like Magic The Gathering. And in general there is no distinction between where the mythological ends and mundane begins - Camp Half-Blood is both a magical training space for demigods and your run of the mill underfunded summer camp, complete with cheesy camp songs and t-shirts and crafts. Olympus is located on top of the Empire State Building which is operating completely as normal except for when a demigod asks to go to a non-existent floor. Your best friend with a muscular disease in his legs is secretly a satyr. Your brother with down syndrome is a cyclops. Your teacher in a wheelchair is secretly an immortal centaur. Your crappy algebra substitute is a literal fury. But also they're still your teachers. The satyr is still your best friend, the cyclops is still your brother. And that brings me to the second aspect of all of this (which i have talked about before [here] and [here]) - the other purpose it serves is that it is an extension of the overarching disability themes that form the core of the series.

The entire reason that meshing of mundanity and magical is so intertwined is entirely because it's part of the disability metaphor, specifically inspired by early 2000s parenting/teaching concepts for children with disabilities, particularly learning disabilities, as trying to reframe disabilities as "superpowers" to empower kids (and still exists in some more modern forms - like referring to disabilities as "being differently-abled") (I talk about it in my previous post on the subject but this generally fell out of favor due to many kids/students finding it belittling of their struggles) - this is why we get the description of ADHD and Dyslexia being framed as "demigod superpowers." In the series this structure is intentionally made to encourage kids to reframe how they view disabilities in general as not something negative but something interesting and fantastical that they may be more open to engage with - and PJO does this in a really nice way where a lot of the disability struggles are still acknowledged and treated sympathetically. Kids still get bullied, Percy and Annabeth struggle in school or with reading/spelling, they grapple with both internal and external ableism. The entire reason for the titan war in the first series, at least from the demigod perspective, is criticizing flawed systems meant to support disabled people that don't do their job effectively or let too many people fall through the cracks. The Mist "hiding" the "mythological world" from mortals (and even some demigods) is about how most abled people (and some undiagnosed people) don't recognize disability struggles until it affects them personally. None of these things are glossed over! It's handled with nuance and care! The series says "you can be disabled and you can be like these fantastical heroes - not in spite of your disability, but alongside it. Neither negates the other." The series was explicitly made so Rick's disabled son could see himself in a hero and learn about mythology for school. Those are the two pillars of the entire franchise: Disability and learning about mythology.

So, when you mess with that "hidden world" structure, the entire thing falls apart and it immediately doesn't feel right, because it's no longer serving either of those two purposes when it needs to be fulfilling both. Late-series Riordanverse has a tendency to compartmentalize the mythological and keep it entirely sectioned off from the mundane. Think about first series and even TKC versus later series - how many mortal characters are there? what do they do? are they just in the background or do they interact with the main cast frequently? are they more than just family or an extension to the main cast? First series we see Percy's classmates frequently, Percy talks about his mundane experiences at school, multiple mortal parent characters (and other mortal characters like Rachel) are active participants in and vital to the plot. We even see a lot of background mortal characters. In TKC, not only are all the magicians technically mortal, but also Sadie's completely mundane best friends help her out. Now think about HoO, or ToA, or even MCGA. Think about the mortal characters in those series. How important are they? Out of the important ones, how much are they in mundane situations versus being almost entirely involved in something mythological? How many aren't related to any of the main cast? How many aren't actively working for a god? The answer is basically zero! Why is that? Because Rick stopped letting the mundane exist. The entire draw of the main series is that Percy does continue to live this mundane life and that adds to his mythological life and makes the balance and meshing between them interesting, but basically all mundanity ceases to exist by HoO. Camp Jupiter is an isolated entirely magic town. Percy and Jason's schools are full of mythological beings as basically the only people they interact with. The Tri's headquarters is an entire giant building in New York City that they completely control that just so happens to ALSO be directly across the street from the local Oracle's house, because even where Rachel lives isn't allowed to be mundane anymore. Why is Olympus just at the top of the Empire State Building versus the Tri having an ENTIRE building? That feels weird and unbalanced, particularly given the difference in importance between those two! Because one is playing into that balance of the meshing of mundane and magical and the other isn't! The show continues this trend. It doesn't allow any of the mythological to exist within mundanity like it functions in the books, which creates a completely different atmosphere and doesn't allow those spaces or scenes or characters to serve their actual narrative purposes, either making it easier to understand mythology contextually or what disability metaphor or representation is occurring there.

It's part of the problem with show!Percy being too mythologically-savvy - Percy is supposed to be the mundane lens unfamiliar with mythology that the audience is learning by proxy through. That's the entire point of the series! If you have Percy already know everything because he's already too ingrained into this mythological environment from the start, and he just exists in this entirely magical world where he understands everything immediately then the literal target audience of the entire franchise (students being introduced to mythology) is left behind! That's part of why the pacing of the show feels so bad! It's rushing through every scene that's more or less the same as the books, particularly anything mythological, because the show is assuming you've already read the books and already know enough mythology to know what it is and what happens and that you don't want to see it again, so it rushes through. The show doesn't explain things that it presumes you already know - worldbuilding, character decisions, basically any mythology, etc, so it doesn't even bother with it.

Later books in the franchise do this too - as long as it's tangentially Greco-Roman mythology, or if it's anything to do with the main series like a reference in TKC or MCGA or etc, it's not going to elaborate much if at all. HoO speeds through Jason's introduction to CHB, and the only reason we get much introduction to Camp Jupiter is because it's actually new. We're no longer trying to contextualize or learn about mythology, it just all becomes set-dressing and references thrown at you rapid-fire as filler. By late HoO and into TOA and TSATS and such, we're not longer even within the realm of pretending like we're adhering to mythology at all. Why is Iris a vegan? Why is Rhea a hippie? Dunno, don't care! Literally doesn't matter! Why are the pandai panda/elephant-monsters and the troglodytes frog-monsters when that's not part of their actual history at all? Well a.) literally just word associations and b.) possibly a little bit of racism (they're supposed to be humans from India and northern Africa, and you made them monsters. cool. okay. and their plotlines totally aren't horrible within those contexts. awesome. please try thinking literally at all next time, thanks). We're not even bothering to look at mythological instances anymore for a basis, a lot of it's written like we're just going based on the first results on google (hi Menoetes and the cacodaemons - the latter of which is not even spelt correctly once in the entire book - which is weird because they do say "daemon" so they know the word. Not that the cacodaemons are mythologically accurate at all because then they would be humanoid. Instead they seem to just be inspired by the things from Doom). None of it serves the purpose of the narrative at all; we're literally just making random choices, some of them quite distasteful! In large part due to refusing to acknowledge the actual contexts of the myths and how that might translate into something similar or equivalent a modern setting to help conceptualize it - something the first series did inherently by design. And we need this! A.) So that you're less likely to make bad decisions because you are inherently thinking about the historical and cultural contexts of these things and how to compare/explain it, and b.) because the audience for later books/the other series and the show is going to be the same as the first series! Those nonsensical references may be at best cameos to people who are already familiar with them, but if your intended audience is new to mythology then making references like that is just going to leave people out of the loop! You don't shift your target audience in the middle of a franchise!

Later books in the series and the show are failing to understand what the first series was actually doing narratively and how it was approaching these subjects and its audience. When you fail to do that, it completely messes up the general worldbuilding and the core themes and intentions of the franchise as a whole. Once you lose touch with that you might as well just be writing a completely different franchise. You need to approach it from the same lens or else it will feel completely off, because otherwise you've lost all base touchstones that make the series what it is.

[inkdemonapologist]

FINALLY got these scribbles from last session of the Cthulhu game scanned in lmao, THINGS HAVE BEEN SO BUSY but cthulhu has been very exciting!!

While looking for some Alan Leroy guy to figure out why the Phantom is following(?) him(?), we asked around with (a) his book club friends and (b) the mob, as one does. Sammy managed to avoid seeing the yellow sign when he realised very quickly what Cool Obscure Book this book club pal might be describing (unlike Jack, a polite boy who does not RAPIDLY AVERT HIS EYES FROM HIS CONVERSATIONAL PARTNER), but did not manage to avoid being hustled off by the mob to talk to The Boss when Henry asked just a few too many questions. it went fine but Sammy was SO STRESSED, HES ALREADY BEEN KIDNAPPED BY GANGSTERS ONCE HE DOESNT WANT TO DO IT AGAIN

also hes still cute in this hat. you should wear hats more often sammy. ANYWAY if you're here for Out of Context quotes from this session, I GOT EM RIGHT HERE UNDER THE CUT:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] He will mention to Henry, something about "Oh boy, dreams are starting up again" kind of thing. [Henry] Yyyyup. [Henry] Don't get possessed again. [Sammy] [Sammy] i dON'T THINK SAMMY KNOWS WHAT TO DO WITH THAT!! The last time he got possessed was BY PROPHET, whom he still shares a body with!! [Henry] Prophet doesn't count! Don't get possessed by anyone else. [Sammy] .... I'LL DO MY BEST, [Sammy] I just like the idea of Henry being like 'don't get possessed' and Sammy just LOOKS at him, like............ I'm already possessed, what are you talking about

[Sammy] Given how these things like to happen on auspicious days, I'm a little worried about New Years,

[Joey] That's exactly the spin he's going to put on it -- Some time off for New Years, and a bonus day off to recover from the celebrations! [Jack] Gotta account for those, now that drinking's back!

[Henry] Oh good, I was really worried Joey would call Norman and get a "who are you?" [Jack] Norman DOES do that, but just because he thinks it's funny. [GM] That's possible, yeah, [Sammy] Oh my gosh. I believe it, is the thing. [GM] I do too, honestly... this might just be a thing that happens.

[GM] And the studio seems normal, and nobody got kidnapped in the night, not even Norman, and Henry's family is safe -- things are doing so good! [Jack] Nobody that we're currently in contact with got kidnapped in the night! [GM] That's true. [Jack] I'm not ruling out Bertrum getting kidnapped. [Jack] ...unrelated to the Carcosa nonsense, he just got kidnapped. [GM] That's what he gets for hanging out with the mob. [Jack] Sorry, I mean, "The Great Bertrum Piedmont." Have to use his full and official title. [GM] That's how you get him un-kidnapped, he just breaks through a wall to correct you. [Jack] *laughing* The Kool-Aid Bert................ [GM] The Great Kool-Aid Piedmont, [Jack] Now that's fanart I don't want to see.

[GM] Welcome back! We've been talking about the Great Bertrum Piedmont Kool-Aid-ing through a wall to correct you about his name. [Sammy] *startled wheezing* Okay, well it sounds like I've missed some really important developments!

[Jack] I think Jack would lean in the direction of like, they wanted to get in touch with him at the charity thing-- aaagh, that's technically not true. He's not the fast talk boy, he's not allowed to, [Sammy] I mean, he CAN fast talk, Henry does it all the time! [Jack] But does he succeed-- [Sammy] Henry's not the Fast Talk Boy but he keeps LYING anyway!!!

[Sammy] I feel like Jack is good at looking worried, and, caring about his fellow man, [Jack] I don't think he has to TRY to look worried??? [Sammy] I don't think Sammy contains these qualities. Sammy looks like he's here to arrest you. [GM] She's actually giving Sammy a concerned look, [Sammy] Sammy is HERE FOR THE PROTECTION MONEY.

[Jack] Well, this was lovely! Time to leave, because Sammy's already... vibrating against the door trying to clip through it.

[Sammy] Sammy's IMMEDIATELY going to tell him about this clarinet with the missing E flat extension. [Sammy] ....and then ALSO mention that he thinks maybe he's seen this guy before.

[Joey] Joey slightly fixes Henry's hair before they head in. [Sammy] (That's a little bit gay, but alright,) [Jack] (I think it's more than a little bit) [Joey] LISTEN, listen, Joey recognises-- [Jack] Linda's out of town! [Joey] --Joey recognises the neighbourhood,

[GM] The door gets opened pretty quickly, but the guy inside actually looks a little like he's suddenly out of his depth, because whatever he was expecting to happen is not what is happening. [Sammy] That's a common reaction to Joey Drew.

[Joey] I feel like it's not going to be a fast talk roll, actually, to make this guy feel like this is NOT a dangerous ask? So I'm gonna go with persuade instead. [GM] Are you going with the tack that you were concerned parties from the event? [Joey] I think, concerned party, perhaps leaning towards the notion that they hit it off well at the party, and -- I'm just turning it into a fast talk, [Joey] *trying again* I think Joey is leaning more into an idea that they are freshly met, but have similar interests? Or... possibly leaning into he's ...a friend of a friend and we're looking into it for that friend? [Sammy] Joey trying NOT to lie is really funny. "Oh well obviously I'll just say -- oh, I guess that's not true; I'll just -- WELL, that's not technically true either," [Joey] ADMITTEDLY, if this does turn into a fast talk roll, using the same roll it's now a BETTER SUCCESS, so, [Sammy] Just really funny how hard it is for Joey to just, HONESTLY REASSURE someone without inventing a whole narrative [Joey] I'M GOOD AT COMING UP WITH STORIES!! I'm not good at... fact-checking them first...

[Joey] Please, if you hear from him, or get any more information, please reach out to us as soon as possible, because the sooner we can prevent this, the better off he'll be -- y'know, that whole thing! [Joey] Do the most heartfelt, emotional connection he can... it's a little gay, but... [Sammy] I fully believe in Joey's ability to extoll the virtues of this man he's never met.

[Sammy] We can just check with Norman, have him peek out the window and see if it looks weird, [Joey] "Hey Norman, is your house in the right location?" [Jack] "Dunno why you called me outside just to tell me that you moved my house!"

[GM] Norman answers the door, and gives you guys a quizzical look. [Henry, out of character] :D Hey, did your house move? [Sammy, in-character] >:/ Did your house move?

[Sammy] Sammy will point out things Jack noticed as being different, as if he also noticed them. [GM] He'll turn back to you, and just kind of observe in a blase sort of way that he's apparently moved. [Jack] I love Norman,,,, [Joey] I love Norman's 89% Sanity score that never gets hit, apparently! [Jack] His sense of humour is actually an indefinite insanity. [Sammy] A constant coping mechanism, [Jack] Can't go insane when you already are!!

[Jack] Jack is, not happy about this, [GM, as Norman] He wonders if you'd like to come in for a housewarming, then.

[Sammy] Sammy's going to just catch her up on, the guy we're looking for read the play, [Sammy] Also, might be a guy that Sammy saw in New Orleans, and that might be why he knew the music?? [Sammy] ALSO, WEIRD THING with his clarinet, he doesn't have the E flat extension that you'd EXPECT HIM TO HAVE? [GM] I think Susie knows enough that she would say that's weird if he's playing seriously. [Jack] I was about to ask if this meant anything to these two-- [Joey] Norman is regaining sanity by watching Sammy rattle on about all this. [GM] He's probably chiming in opinions, too, that are completely not based in any actual musical knowledge -- [Henry] Norman just like "He's missing the E extension? Next he's gonna lose the, the F Shortener!" [GM] "What's the world coming to!" [Sammy] Sammy's giving him the most unamused look, and this is all Norman wanted. [GM] Yeah, yeah, this is how he keeps his sanity high. [Sammy] Just annoy Sammy Lawrence. That's the secret.

[Jack] Good to make sure things aren't going weirder over here-- which, uhhh, [Sammy] Which they are!!

[Sammy] That's smart, but that's also really spooky. Like okay, cool! The whole world has re-written this! Cool cool cool cool cool. [GM] He doesn't seem PLEASED about it, but he seems about normal. [Henry] He seems Norman about it. [Jack] Yeah, Normal Polk. [Jack] *cracking up* He shows up at work the next day and he's called "Normal Ponk." That's his name now.

[Jack] Reality's rewriting itself, wanna kiss about it? [Henry] Ah, Jack's okay again.

[Jack] If this was Fowler, then WHO WAS PHONE????

[GM] Well, okay, first things first, does Joey have Peter's number memorised? [Joey] HM. [Joey] ...I feel like he wouldn't admit it, but yes.

[Joey] Joey says he's going to call Peter back in a minute. And hangs up. [GM] You cut him off in the middle of some sort of response-- [Joey] Cool.

[Joey] He managed to break into a safe once by doing this! [Henry] "Break into" is... a bit of a strong phrasing. [GM] *mumbling* "Get locked inside of,"

[Joey] The main thing is, Do Not Go Alone, because if something happens to Peter... we have no way of tracking down the information that he has! We, we lose, all of his evidence! [Jack] .....and that's the ONLY thing, [Joey] Yup! [Henry] We ALSO lose his, HIM, [Joey] *mumbling* No, no that doesn't matter as much, as evidence, [Joey] It's clearly just, the fact that they lose all the benefits of having a reporter with ghost powers on their side, and NOT Peter himself, that is the issue! [Jack] iTS NOT LIKE HE CARES ABOUT YOU OR ANYTHING!!!

[Jack] *spongebob meme* You like Peter Sunstram, don't you, Joey?

[Joey] Both Henry and Sammy are the best able to get themselves out of a tough, fight-y situation, [Sammy] We can both punch, and Henry has magical power if something supernatural happens... [Joey] Also! Also, neither Joey nor Jack are there to be taken hostage and used against them! [Sammy] ... I think you're actually right. I hate to admit it, but I think you're right. [Jack] I can't wait for Jack to be kidnapped at the magic shop, you guys!

[Henry] I can't believe we're sending the two least talky boys off together to talk to the mob, [Joey] LISTEN. Henry and Sammy can go to the restaurant! Henry likes food! There we go! [GM] I can't believe Joey's just making sure Henry gets a nice meal after his shake-up earlier... [Sammy] I dunno, maybe Peter should come with us, just in ghost form. Henry can see him, potentially, [Jack] So Pete's body can... Not be where he left it when he gets back to it! [Sammy] ....hm, [Joey] *startled laughter* [Sammy] ....okay, nevermind,... [Jack] Just leave him in the car, what could go wrong! That's not disappeared MULITPLE TIMES!

[GM] Johnny Nero is of average height and build, with dark, slicked back hair, and a neatly trimmed moustache -- so not like any of the other people that you know! [GM] Wears expensive tailored suits, though. [Jack & Joey] *snickering* So, not like, any of the people you know-- [GM] It narrows it down a bit!! [Sammy] Alright, alright; bargain bin Joey Drew, got it.

[GM] You guys do get an offer to have food, while you're waiting. [Sammy] Yeah.... why not..... [Henry] Henry will, not,,, [Joey] *shocked* NO????? [Joey] *absolutely flabbergasted* FOOD!!!!! [Sammy] Gangsters don't usually poison you, they usually give you nice food and then they knock you out and throw you in the river. [Henry] WELL HENRY DOESNT KNOW THAT! [GM] He hasn't done speakeasies like Sammy has!!

[Sammy] I'm noticing that this guy actually looks really nervous, and isn't taking charge of the situation, [GM] He DOES have something that's probably a firearm in his pocket. [Sammy] Yeah, yeah, but, [Jack] It's his emotional support firearm!

[Sammy] Actually... Sammy WILL ask him if he saw it. [GM] Uh, [Sammy] Because he was RIGHT THERE looking at him. And I feel like, once you've seen it, and it does the weird thing where it gets in your head, you're not going to be confused what somebody's talking about if they ask you if you saw the yellow sign. You're going to know what that means. [GM] [GM] Are you going to say the thing...? [Sammy] Have You Seen The Yellow Sign?

[Henry] Henry is half-considering... [Sammy] *manically excited* DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THE THORN OUT OF THIS LION'S PAW, HENRY???

[Henry] You haven't been able to think straight since, have you? [GM] He kind of squints at you, because he's a gangster and he doesn't want to be like "D: YEAH, ITS BEEN REALLY ROUGH :(" [Joey] *laughs* Henry IMMEDIATELY knows this look, because Joey does this as well!

[Sammy] Push the roll!! Push push push! [Henry] *nervous* I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO PUSH IT,,, [Sammy] WE'RE ALREADY KIDNAPPED! WHAT ELSE CAN GO WRONG!

[Henry] We didn't get kidnapped, so it's you guys' turn! [Joey] We have the kidnapping charm with us, also known as "Jack Fain"! [Sammy] Oh I thought it was Peter Sunstram. [Sammy] [Sammy] DO THEY STACK?

[Jack] I can't wait for us to get to these spooky occult magic shops, and it's just like, "here's a bunch of overpriced tumbled gemstones and some incense!" [GM] The first one you go to is kind of that style. [Jack] Ideal! I hope they have a really tacky fake skull. [Joey] Joey is judging the whole place.

[Joey] WAIT, wait, they took you from the bar to the restaurant, and then you got the heckin' sign out of Nero's head, and he's not even gonna offer you a ride back to the bar?!? [Henry] I think what we got out of it is "not being kidnapped". [GM] JOEY is the one with the history of talking kidnappers into giving him rides, [Sammy] I do think it would be classier if he gave us a ride. I'm with Boo on this, it would be a classy gangster move. [Sammy] With that guy they kidnapped to do music for whoever's birthday party, they dropped him back off later, but, you know, it's fine, [Joey] Show your heckin' appreciation! *exasperated* THIS IS HOW WE CAN TELL HE'S AVERAGE!! [GM] Uh, lemme roll a quick like............. etiquette roll, [Sammy] Gangster Classiness, [GM] *rolls terribly* Yeah, I think he's frazzled enough -- this is gonna reflect poorly on him later. [Joey] Wow.

[Jack] Normal success for Jack! How many terrible tacky skulls do I see? [GM] Just SO many. [Sammy] This place won't help you, buddy. [Jack] I dunno, if you buy enough tacky skulls, maybe the guy won't wanna get near you. [Henry] Just throw tacky skulls at him! [Jack] A tacky skull a day keeps the pallid mask away!!

[GM] A more discerning occult collection than the other one. [Jack] The kind of place that has the more occult things like, in a locked cabinet instead of in a heap on the counter. [Sammy] In the bargain bin, [Jack] "Box of assorted random magic junk"? Yeah, I wanna rummage my hand in that, I'm not gonna get five curses, [Jack] *laughs* I'm not even AT the other place anymore and I'm still dunking on it! [Sammy] Jack's just saying these things to Joey to like, keep his spirits up. [Joey] It would be working,

[Sammy] I am curious if the restaurant is at the same address that we remember it being on. [GM] It is the same address! The name is different. [Jack] What's the new name? [GM] Lombardi's! It was Leon's. [Henry] ... some dude got his whole name changed, [Jack] Oh man, when do they do that to me, I want a legal name change! [Jack] Bringing the Yellow King into the world to get a free transition, [Sammy] No! Don't do it! He won't transition you into a human, it'll be..... something else,

[Henry] We're gonna run over the Pallid Mask. Vroom vroom motherfucker.

[GM] You do bump into something that is unyielding. [Jack] Oh no, Jack's car! [Jack] ... and also, whatever he hit, I guess!

[Joey] Joey is immediately flipping around to grab his cane; if the guy tries to get in the car, he's going to bash him in the face! and say GET OUT!! [Sammy] Well, it worked really well for Nero, so [Henry] The guy just got hit by a car and didn't move! I don't think the cane's gonna do much! [Jack] Especially not with Joey's weak noodle arms! [Joey] Yeah but he's upset!! That this guy is trying to get in the car! He was not invited in! [GM] ...make a CON roll. [Joey] [Joey] oKEY DOKEY,,,

[Sammy] Peter now is NOT the time to astral project [GM] Luckily he doesn't have that insanity currently, or he'd already be gone! [Jack] The car stops and Pete's ghost just flies through the windshield,

[Jack] I'm losing my mind... [GM] You are! 1d6 of it!

[GM] This is kind of wild magic zone, so you get some creative license. [Joey] Hmm. Hmm! Hmmmmmm... [Sammy] Oh no, you've given Joey Drew creative license,

[Joey] But when I picked out Jack's car, it's the first car that has full safety glass in it!! [Jack] [Jack] SO EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE TO REPLACE!!!

[i-luvsang]

a heart to warm — jung wooyoung

pairing : wooyoung x gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : major fluff, established relationship ➖⟢ cw : suggestive at first, my god so so many kisses ➖⟢ wc : 1.4K. @nebulousbrainsoup sweet orion ! tis i, one of your secret santas <33 i hope that you will enjoy this lots and may feel much warmth throughout the season! never forget that you are very much loved <33

if he could kiss you harder, he would, but he can taste the cider you drank a few minutes ago on your tongue and his hands have already slipped under your maroon sweater, so there's not anything to do about that except try and pull you impossibly closer. his hands on your bare skin are cold, a testament to the broken heating unit in your shared apartment. but you don’t care much, his lips on yours are all you could ask for in the moment.

he whines a little when you tug at his hair at the base of his neck. you know him all too well, realizing that he won’t be able to stop if you keep going like this. normally, you wouldn’t want to stop for even a moment, but the practically freezing air around you is holding you back.

you pull back just a bit and you feel the pout on his lips before you speak. “wooyoung,” you chide.

“what? baby, i wanna kiss you,” he practically complains.

“it’s too cold to get naked right now,” you explain. he laughs at your blunt choice of words, though he’d probably be more crass himself if he was the one saying it.

“so?” he teases.

“so, can we please just kiss and cuddle under the blankets? i’ll freeze if you get too horny and can’t help yourself,” you tease back.

“first of all, i can always help myself if it’s not what you want, no matter how horny i am,” his voice is light-hearted, but sincere as he reminds you that your consent always comes first to him. then, of course, his voice becomes suggestive and humorous all at once again. “also, there’s ways to take care of my horniness without you taking off your clothes.”

you laugh aloud at that, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “that’s true.”

“but of course we can stick to kissing and cuddles, specifically ones that happen under the blankets and keep us warm.” he rubs the tip of his nose against yours with a sweet smile. “we really need to get this fixed,” he says for maybe the seventh time in the past few hours as he pulls the covers up from the bed and lays down with you beside him.

you giggle. “correct! just like you have been every other time you’ve said that.”

“you’re the one complaining! i’m saying it for your sake,” he jokes, pressing a long kiss to your lips to prevent you from biting back.

you do anyways when his lips leave yours, of course. “i’m not even complaining! i’m just looking for ways to stay as warm as possible while we wait for random maintenance people to come fix it for us. you’re the one being impatient.”

this time he doesn’t even retort with words, just his lips back on yours. when you realize he has no intention of moving away from you any time soon, you let your eyes flutter closed and your lips move slowly against his. even though you technically were complaining about the cold, you still don’t care when the chill skin of his fingertips brush over your cheeks and push a few strands of hair away so he can cup your face sweetly.

it’s hard to think straight when he kisses you like this, soft like he’s so in love with you that he could melt right into your embrace. but you’re still able to think about how goddamn lucky you are to have wooyoung, wooyoung who wants to taste the hot apple cider on your tongue, hold you under the blankets when the heat is broken, and just kiss you sweetly if that’s what you want. 

as you thread your hands through his dark hair, you realize that he smells a bit like peppermint, probably due to the candy cane and chocolate chip cookies he tried to bake for you in the morning. they weren’t bad, but he burnt them because he’s still not quite used to the oven in this apartment.

it's only been a week or two since you two have fully settled into your first apartment together, and you both had to laugh and groan about already having issues when the heating broke a few hours ago. but of course, that didn’t stop him from kissing you hard in the kitchen until you found yourself pressed against him on the bed.

and now he’s kissing you with that sweetness to rival any holiday cookie and maybe you’re thinking that you want him until the day you die, and every moment after that. so you have to break away for a moment, and tell him just that.

something about seeing the grin on his face this close up is absolutely divine. 

“me too,” he whispers, “i want you, forever and ever.”

you grin back, “that’s good.” this time, you’re the one to close the gap between the two of you and kiss him soft, but full of conviction. there’s no second-guessing; you’re the one for him and he’s the one for you.

you’re not sure how long it is before you finally pull apart, but you certainly had to stop for breath more than once. now, with your head against his chest and the beating of his heart in your ear, there’s such peace that it fills you with a kind of warmth you’re not sure you could describe with words.

that is, until, no longer distracted from all else by his lips, you realize just how cold your toes are, even with two pairs of socks and thick blankets to cover you. you look up at wooyoung and notice the tip of his nose is beginning to turn pink.

“my god,” you laugh. “it’s way too cold here, even with the blankets. can we please crash at yeosang’s? you know he’s too nice to say no.”

wooyoung lets out a laugh of his own. “sweetest, it’s not nice to take advantage of people for their kindness.” 

you scoff, “says you? you’re the worst of us all. besides, i can tell you’re cold, too.”

his laugh is soft this time, and he doesn’t continue making fun for once. “i’ll call him. you’re right, i think we’d freeze to death in our sleep.”

“thank you, love. i’ll start packing us a bag.” you hate to leave the comfort of all the blankets, but are happy to know you’ll be back in a heated home soon. you can hear wooyoung’s voice on the phone from the bathroom and smile to yourself when you hear him laugh at something yeosang’s said.

once outside and waiting for a taxi, wooyoung keeps one of your hands in his pocket, always intent on holding you to him in some way or another. he looks at you in your winter coat and favorite hat, your breath fogging up in the air as you look down the road. when you catch him staring, he doesn’t look away and you could almost cry because you can see it all. you can see the adoration in his eyes as he holds your gaze and smile that teases at his lips and the way that he loves you more than anything at all. and as thick snowflakes begin to fall from the sky, he leans in close because he just can’t help it and presses a long kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, just barely, there’s snow in his hair and he looks so beautiful like that.

“i love you, you know that, right?” he asks, voice soft and quiet, just for you. of course he knows that you know. but sometimes he just has he hear you say it. he needs to be reassured that you know you are loved to the ends of the endless universe and back, by him. that you know you’re irreplaceable and he could never love someone more than he loves you.

you nod first, holding his gaze, hoping he can see the love in your eyes too. “i know. and i love you, so so so much.”

“i know,” he grins. and because he has to, he really, truly has to, he presses one more kiss to your lips, then pulls you close with his free arm, holding you there until the taxi arrives. 

how lucky are you to have a heart kept warm and comforted even in the cold of an apartment with broken heating or the open air of a snowy city. how lucky are you to have another’s heart to warm, too.

[katshelluvacritic]

So…. Glitz and Glam huh… y’know what that means my fellow artists and critics…

REDESIGN TIME!!!! + (A bit of critics/opinions on the characters and the og design :-] )

To start it out a lil’ positive, If I gotta be honest I actually kinda liked these two characters from the mid-season special, even though they were just the bitchy woman character your supposed to hate (as if we needed any more of those characters than we already got viv), they were still really fun as characters in my opinion!

I feel like bitchy esc kind of character very much works for these two coupled with them being very competitive towards fizz in the episode, I feel like those two things were like the bread and butter for these characters and if I wanna be honest… I kinda wanna see these two again but wouldn’t be surprised if that didn’t happened bc c’mon this helluva boss we’re talking about after all!

The only thing I would have to say negatively about these two is that they literally got crushed by a rock in the end, like I get it viv hates writing characters who are woman but COME ONNN, you had these two characters that seem really interesting and the only climax you could’a think for them in the ep was to crush them with a rock? That’s literally lame.

But other than that, I think overall these characters were alright! At least writing wise….

Now for the redesign + critic thing on the og designs

I decided to change her outfit bc although I loved the character’s personality, the outfit viv gave them not fit them at all. The jester esc outfit personally I think doesn’t really work for these two because 1. The jester theme Fizzarolli’s thing and 2. It doesn’t really work well with their personality, the song they sang in my opinion shows that.

So I thought I’d base their outfits off of the bratz outfits and also any outfits similar to that, to try to fit their characters more!

That and I’m just getting real sick and tired of the jester/clown theming that’s going on in hb because oh my god it feels so out of place, especially with the theme of greed ring being a trashy polluted city. And even if, EVEN IF viv wanted to give them clown esc themed outfits, I feel like it would’ve made more sense if she gave them outfit that were similar to mimes because technically those guys are like elegant clowns! While jesters aren’t even the same as clowns at all.

I also kept the green ish’ tones while also giving them a bit off red and purple colors to compliment the identical twin duo thing they have going on! Because like… do I even have to say why I did it? Their colors are literally just black and the same exact hues of green, it was literally hard to focus on them when watching the episode because of much they blended in with the background.

I also took inspiration from this fish when designing them because from as far as I can tell (and do correct if I’m wrong), they’re supposed to be fish demons??? So I tried to add more fish motifs for them!

I also made them half succubus from the horns looking similar to that and also because I thought it’d be fitting for them!

I also made their hair look like fish fins because oh my god their hair in the canon design was probably the worst part about their designs, not only did it have too many details that it was too distracting when I was trying to pay attention to the characters but also I just trying to figure out how the hair works in general, because it honestly their hair kinda looked like paper instead of fish fins or even actual hair.

But other than that uhh…

TLDR: I love these guys sm, they deserved much better and uhhh I love women /hj