#we kept talking about wanting to link up soon and catch up

[randomingoftherandomness]

.

[superblysubpar]

return to main menu | Her Body Is Bible masterlist

Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again.

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story linked at the masterlist above | warnings from prev fic still apply - religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated | Mentions of trying to get pregnant | Alcohol mentions and use by reader | SMUT (oral - reader receiving / public - in a church again, right off the worship space / steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint)

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table. 

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?” 

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought. 

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you. 

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink. 

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve. 

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated. 

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service. 

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead. 

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low. 

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears. 

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet. 

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly. 

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.  

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath. 

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here. 

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly. 

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click. 

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts. 

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity. 

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was. 

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…” 

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it. 

Steve knew this, you think. 

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”  

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck. 

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing. 

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards. 

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings. 

Men were too easy. 

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap. 

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.  

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.  

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground. 

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat. 

“You gonna be quiet for me?” 

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband. 

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing. 

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you. 

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started. 

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.  

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.  

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in. 

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips. 

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap. 

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again. 

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face. 

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it. 

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth. 

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him. 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him. 

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze. 

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did. 

[mustlovetommy]

For @gaytommykinard

(I hope you like it. Sorry for any mistakes or if it sucks!)

After their characters break up, Lou and Oliver said goodbye to each other. It's what they had agreed on after the first time they slept together.

Oliver still remembers how pent-up he had felt after they did take after take of the hospital scene. It had been particularly torturous because Lou is an extraordinarily good kisser and Oliver had found himself wanting more. During the last take, Lou had looked at him weirdly, a mix between confusion, surprise, and intrigue but hadn't said anything.

Five minutes after Oliver had entered his trailer, there had been a knock. Lou had stood outside, gesturing for him to let him in.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Lou had said, "This might be a terrible mistake, so I apologize in advance but I really don't believe that I'm reading things wrong."

With that, Lou had slid one hand around Oliver's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. In no time at all, the kiss had turned passionate with their hands roaming each other bodies, and them grinding onto each other. They had sex right there in the trailer.

The agreement had come right after that, as they lay on the floor, sweaty and catching their breath. They were going to keep having sex as long as they kept having scenes together. The deal had been 'no strings attached' just sex.

Unknown to Lou, Oliver had caught feelings and saying goodbye had been as awful for him as it had been for Buck.

But a deal was a deal, therefore Oliver kept it to himself. He tried his best to avoid thinking about him and even hearing about him, not wanting to know anything, afraid he would hear about him dating someone.

Luckily for Oliver, he had never followed him on Instagram so he didn't have to torture himself with that, at least.

That's why when he's scrolling through his explore page he gasps and freezes when he sees a post of Lou wearing a cardigan completely open, showing his chest and stomach.

With trembling fingers, he clicks on the post and feels like dying. Lou's photoshoot for Felix Magazine has finally been posted and he looks amazing.

Knowing it's a bad idea but not caring, Oliver goes to the magazine's official Instagram and clicks on the link to read the article and look at all the pictures.

Oliver doesn't know how much time he spends just looking at the pictures, all he knows is that he ends up feeling dazed. He blames that fact as why he grabs his phone and texts Lou for the first time since they said goodbye months ago.

Oliver: What the hell dude?

Lou: ????

Oliver: the Felix Magazine article??? That photoshoot???

Lou: oh, right! Pretty cool, yeah? ☺️

Oliver: I hate you.

Lou: You didn't like it?

Oliver: …

Lou: ?

Oliver: you looked hot and you know it

Lou: 😏😎

Lou: thank you!

Oliver: I hate you.

Lou: no, you don't

Lou: also… I thought we weren't talking??

Oliver: we aren't

Lou: it looks like we are though

Lou: Oli?

Oliver stares at their conversation, feeling his breath hitch at the nickname. How many times did Lou said it in the throes of passion? How many times did Lou breathe out 'Oli' against Oliver's skin, causing goosebumps to appear in his entire body? How many times did he whisper it against Oliver's ear before kissing, biting, and sucking his neck?

Sighing, Oliver adjusts his sweatpants and boxers and contemplates what to do.

"Fuck it," he mutters.

Oliver: what are you doing now?

Lou: oh, you're back

Lou: nothing… just at my house with my dogs

Lou: [picture of him lying down with one of his dogs on his chest]

Lou: why?

Oliver: [picture of the lower half of his body, focusing on his big and hard bulge]

Oliver: wanna come over?

Lou: we are doing this now? I thought we weren't supposed to…

Oliver: up to you, I guess

Oliver waits with bated breath for Lou's response. He knew he broke the deal, he knew he took a chance but he sincerely hopes it pays off. After all, there were times when he would swear that the way Lou looked at him meant that he was feeling something for him too. He hopes it wasn't just wishful thinking.

Lou: on my way

Sighing in relief, Oliver smiles and promises to himself to confess his feelings to Lou tonight. He believes it is now or never.

[takes1]

I'm gonna start by saying that your fics are amazing! I love the way you write and I always get immersed in them. I would like to request an Osamu x reader fic, i was thinking about a childhood friends pining for a decade!au happening while working in his Onigiri shop, you might add Suna if you want,perhaps as a love triangle and misunderstandings as in Osamu thinking that the reader like Suna. As for the smut, I'll leave that to you 👀

thank you so much for supporting!! i love getting these requests and hearing from you! it really helps. not gonna lie, this one challenged me, but i think it turned out well! hope i got this right :) thanks again for the request love

warnings. lite!nsfw. minors DNI info. hq lite!nsfw / safe consent practices / mutual pining / some angst, some hurt, but pay-off / husband material!osamu / timeskip!osamu / childhood friends to lovers / miscommunication / r.i.p suna's unrequited feelings / misunderstandings / osamu gives great hugs / osamu is a wine snob / osamu is a little shy / 2.5k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open so give me some ideas pls!

Your heart gave an all-too familiar squeeze at the sight of an old friend.

There he was, clad in a black cap, apron, and a well-fitting shirt. His face was one of slight concentration, his mouth in a straight line, jaw flexed. A strong arm lifted the black bag he carried high into the trash in the alley with ease.

"'Samu!" His nickname was like a sigh of reassurance on your tongue.

He turned, a stern face letting up as soon as he recognized you coming towards him. He quickly discarded his gloves in the trash and made forward to meet you. It ended in a hug in the middle of the sidewalk.

Business was so slow today, he really wasn't expecting any surprises- especially not any pleasant ones.

"(Y/n)." Was a mumble against your hair, charged relief on his breath. He was lifting you off of your feet and melting into you at the same time.

Your eyes stung a little when you tucked your face into his comforting shoulder. It'd been so long since graduation, but everything was coming back to you, all at once, against your will.

Maybe it was because you could still taste the onigiri you just finished, but those lunches he used to prepare for you kept cropping up. You weren't sure why it kept making you want to cry, though.

"I missed you!" You whispered, swallowing a sob.

He gave you a crushing squeeze in return. He certainly hadn't stopped working out since your high school days. There was a hesitation in letting each other go.

"God," His quick blinking made you feel better for getting emotional, "What are you doin' all the way out here?"

You sniffled and turned to Suna, briefly forgotten at the table, "I told you those fillings tasted familiar!"

There was an unmistakable shock in Osamu's eyes when you turned back to him, "We were just grabbing lunch. I had no idea 'Onigiri Miya' would actually mean you!"

He missed the natural beat to respond- instead of letting your declaration die, you kept up the attempt to rekindle things.

"Did you get a new number?" You asked, quieter, trying to catch his eye, so you leaned your head further between him and Suna.

He looked down at you with a much softer expression, "Hm?"

"I- texted you a couple months ago, I just assumed you got a- new number," You trailed.

It felt a bit forced and loser-esque to ask the reason why he hadn't texted you back. Two months was a while to get 'caught up' in something, after all.

If he didn't want to talk to you, he technically didn't owe you an explanation.

He blinked. It didn't cross his mind that you would've texted him-- his fingers fumbled for his phone in his pocket to show you a new iPhone.

"Yeah," He sighed, "Shit, I didn't think to tell anyone but 'Sumu..."

This time, he felt like the loser. He didn't have many people to text, nowadays. But he certainly didn't want you and Suna to know that.

Relief flashed across your face as you admitted in a light laugh, "Oh, thank god. I really thought you were ignoring me!"

"Let's all exchange numbers," You suggested.

You looked back to Suna and thought you saw some hostility in his eyes, "So we can all meet up sometime, when you're not working."

The process of getting each other's contacts was quiet and stilted. You thought better of making plans here and now, because there was an indescribable feeling that something was wrong.

Maybe the timing.

Osamu frowned at his phone after getting it back from Suna.

Maybe the place.

Suna gave a subtle sigh when Osamu put his number in.

Your text to Osamu that night garnered a response so quick that it made up for the months of uncertainty and pseudo-grieving. Your oldest friendship was not buried as deep in the ground as you had previously thought.

It ended in a suggestion you weren't expecting.

There was nowhere you both wanted to eat at, and no activities you could think of that would allow for the long conversations you both favored.

I could cook for us.

You knew better than to deny him the chance to cook, but it was clear to both of you that it felt a little too forward. A little too intimate for just two good friends.

That wasn't enough to keep you from agreeing immediately.

Certain that he didn't feel the same, you rationalized that you had nothing to worry about.

Dark red swirled slow, unending circles in your glass. You weren't one for red, but he brought out a vintage just for you tonight.

The perfectly plated dinner in front of you didn't last long. Osamu made it so easy to like foods you swore up and down you hated; you didn't question his choices despite your usual pickiness.

There were a number of times you had to pretend not to notice him watching you eat. He was pretty obvious, because he'd raise his spoon full of food, then let it hover mid-air, and turn his whole head to watch you chew. It was as if he was waiting for you to declare it was the worst thing you'd ever tasted.

He was still working on his -most likely cold- plate minutes after you cleaned yours off. It left you to catch up to him in glasses of wine. The bottle was nearing empty and you were still on your first.

"Do you have any roommates?" You asked, glancing around a spacious apartment.

It was so still. You'd surely die of loneliness, if you were him.

He shook his head. It made sense with his preference for solitude, but it still made you sit back and sip on your wine to keep from voicing your concern.

"It's quiet," Osamu wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate forward, "I know."

Was your discomfort that obvious?

His chuckling won out over your insistence that it wasn't that bad, and you eventually were resolved back to slouching in your chair again.

"You just need some- flowers," You motioned to the center of the table, not believing in your advice in the slightest, "Or... something like that."

"To be fair, I never sit at the table."

He poured the last of the wine into his glass. You stared down at yours. He still spoke and acted stone-cold sober. You had to wonder how much he drank, with this bleak living space.

"Not a fan of Merlot?"

This was getting a little embarrassing.

This time, you gave in, "Not feeling this one as much."

His brow raised. He had a layered expression, like he was torn between two sides of himself for a split-second.

He eased up and slid his elbows on the table, wine glass looking absurdly tiny in his hand.

You admired the gentle way he held the delicate glass, how he knew just how the weight was supposed to be distributed in the webs of his fingers.

"You drink wine much?" He had that completely immersed look on his face that was always so difficult to return.

He mistook your trouble to return his gaze as discomfort, and laughed, retracting his body from the table, "I-'m sorry--,"

"No-no it's okay-!" You put your hand on his arm and scooted your chair closer to affirm that you didn't mind his proximity -that you in fact welcomed it- and rambled, "I- don't, drink wine like that. So I- wouldn't really know what's good."

His gaze sent a shiver surging through your whole body. What an intense pair of eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows, thumb rubbing his freshly shaved cheek.

"It's an expensive hobby."

You were wracking up inappropriate questions by the second. First, the lack of love in his sad apartment, then his potential alcohol issues, now his salary.

The quiet clink of his glass on the table. A heavy, warm hand stilled yours on his arm, and he caught your troubled gaze.

"But it's just a hobby," He smiled.

The apartment filled with shared laughter. You were getting read like an open book, you couldn't help but cool your face down with the back of your hand.

"I-I promise, I'm not trying to judge," You sighed and grinned at what you noticed as his slightly tipsy giggling, "I just... care about you."

Osamu took a breath to say something, but something else flickered across across his face.

His hand was starting to slip from yours.

"So, you and Suna again?"

You laughed at what you thought was a joke. He didn't return it; instead, he let go and took another big sip from his almost empty glass.

"Oh-," You realized he was mistaken, "We're not together."

"Mm!" He swallowed and laughed, "Oh- that's good."

His focus faltered with a small cough, "I mean, not good, but-,"

"That's not something I want to go back to," You saved his embarrassing admission gracefully and looked away, only thinking about that short-lived relationship in high school.

Suna was just a distraction. A temporary filler for your unbearable emptiness. You never stopped loving Osamu, even when you had everyone else fooled. In the end, Suna just made you miss your friend more, since it sparked an unspoken drift in the process. It wasn't one of your brightest moments.

The look on his face was asking for more information. A 'So... why?' was on the tip of his tongue. You saved him the breath.

"He reached out. I was free, and I wanted to make sure we were alright after things ended like that."

Osamu nodded slowly, swirling half a sip of wine in his glass with careful consideration.

"You talk about it like you never liked him," He sighed against the rim, then shot it back in a way that made you realize why he was drinking so much.

He didn't have the courage to talk to you like this without it.

Your thumb, still resting on his forearm, rubbed thoughtfully. If he was being this candid through his actions, you didn't mind coming clean about a few things.

"I didn't," You admitted in a breathy half-laugh, "It wasn't real to me."

You shut your eyes tight and seethed, "I know that sounds so cruel--,"

"Yeah," He chuckled.

"Okay- I meant it like..." Your thumb was tapping on his raised skin, "I needed a distraction. You know I was struggling. He really was sweet. I know I should've treated him better."

It was clear that there was no hero to the story. You were all flawed, to some degree. Osamu's hand returned to yours. This time, he squeezed.

"You know I don't judge you for that."

All things considered, that break-up was still fresh. It was only briefly before your graduation date.

"Hey-," He reached up to turn your head towards him. It was a bit much and left you both warm and fidgety, "You know that I know that you're a good person."

His hand fell to your forearm.

It was fleeting, but you felt an energy between you. It was different. It filled that space in your heart you'd long since carved out for him.

Fleeting must be reiterated, because it was gone in an instant as he cleared his throat and stood, collecting the dishes in one trip with skill you could only attribute to the nature of his work.

You chugged the rest of your wine with a shudder so it wouldn't go to waste and skittered after his swift movement towards the kitchen.

If there was any place in the house that didn't feel lifeless, it was the kitchen. Spacious and clean, sure, but every tool and appliance here was cared for and used often.

It distracted you to slow down.

There was a level of respect you felt was necessary for a space so important to Osamu.

He began washing the dishes.

"Please let me do something," You begged from behind him.

All you got was a stoic head shake.

You leaned on the countertop behind him, staring at his back in that clean, black shirt. Would you ever get over him?

His words and actions from tonight turned over in your head. That hug you shared yesterday afternoon made your hands slip from the counter.

It may have been the wine that inspired your resolve to actually follow through, but your motivation did have years of pent-up desire behind it.

His body stiffened at the feeling of your arms around his waist, the side of your face pressed against his warm back. He smelled like a woody, musky cologne.

"Thank you," You muttered, mostly for his kind words, but its roots extended much farther than just recent events.

The sound of the water shutting off encouraged you to loosen your grip. The doubt started settling in as he dried his hands with a hanging towel, wordless.

His hands just barely grazed yours as you retracted, heart racing at the fact that you couldn't take that back.

He turned around to face you. Your eyes were busy avoiding his, so you were taken by surprise when he leaned down to pick you up from the waist.

It was just as easy and comfortable as the first time-- his shoulders spacious enough to bury yourself in, his hold so secure you didn't have to spare any strength holding on. He could support you all day.

A breathy groan, like he was a settling house, brushed your ear and sent tingles down your spine.

He set you down, but guided your arms to stay around his neck. You looked back and forth between his eyes, no longer unsure about his feelings.

"I missed you so much."

He was a clumsy kisser, but you didn't mind.

His hands were skilled and sure. It was more than enough to make up for his hungrier, rather than soft kisses.

One kept you steady by the back of your head, the other taking up your entire shoulder to guide you backwards against the kitchen island.

He rendered you breathless quickly- you pulled away for just a moment and he took it as a good sign to lift you up onto the countertop.

No part of you questioned this intense show of affection-- it felt like a fitting release of years-long tension and unspoken feelings.

They still remained unspoken, for the most part, but it could wait.

His hips pushed hard against your own, eliciting a soft, fluttery sound against his mouth.

He ate it up, wanting another so bad that one hand grabbed at the bend in your hip and thigh to keep you against him.

Your tummy twisted in a mixture of delightful pleasure and desire, everything below your waist all giddy and jittery as his fingers squeezed your hips with a need you never knew he was harboring.

Thighs trembling with nerves, his steady grasp pushing down helped to calm and stall you. You caught your breath with your forehead pressed against his. You unhooked your legs.

"W-hat?" You swallowed, praying to God this wasn't some mistake.

His wine-flushed face answered your question with no response.

"We shouldn't...I'm not--," He bit his cheek at his own restraint, brow tight with regret at his own actions from earlier.

You nodded, a little buzzed yourself, and laughed at his concern, "I'm okay with just kissing."

my masterlist.

requests are open!

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 7

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Damn we on part 7? That happened fast. I just realized that this series is going to be longer than I thought. ALSO, highly suggest clicking on the link to see the readers dress bc it adds to the plot and it was hard to desribe lol.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavier SA in this one again, a little bit of exhibitionism, jealously, Smut 

Word Count: 6,009

“If you don’t stop right now Rhys is going to kill you for being late!” I giggle watching Cassian pepper kisses all over my neck through the floor-length mirror. I had simply asked him to button up the back of my dress for me but now he couldn’t keep his hands off me.  

“Rhys can wait,” Cassian smirks nibbling under my ear, the scruff of his morning beard tickling my skin. 

“I’m sure he can, but it might seem a little suspicious that you’re late considering you’re the most punctual person I know,” I smile running a hand through his hair. 

Cassian doesn’t stop pressing loving kisses all over my shoulders and neck. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my hips. His strong chest behind me kept me upright as I watched him ravishing me in the floor-length mirror. 

“Cass,” I protested, turning in his arms knowing if I didn’t my newly buttoned dress would be unbuttoned and on his bedroom floor in an instant. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed as I threw my arms over his shoulders to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I promise you can kiss me all you want later,” I laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“What about anywhere I want?” he grins, kissing me again.

“Hmmm, maybe,” I tease, tilting my head to the side. Cassian’s hands gripped my waist tighter. 

“C’mon princess don’t make me beg,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the shell of my ear. 

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle to hide the change in my heart rate, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees general.” I tease. 

“You know I’d crawl to your bed if I had to, princess,” he teased back and the air in the room had become thick and warm.  

I push away from him a little, “Cass stop I know what you’re trying to do! Go talk to Rhys before he comes up here to see what’s taking so long!” I laugh. 

“Fine, fine,” he shakes his head and follows me out of his room into the hallway. 

“What does he want to talk to you about anyways?” I ask as we walk idly towards the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Probably just catching up on the Illyrian camps I visited with Az earlier.” 

“Well remember. Nothing about you and I, as far as he’s concerned Eris and I are counting down the days until the wedding.” I remind him as we round the corner to the kitchen where Azriel sips his morning coffee. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Azriel mused, not looking up from his book. 

“Hello Az,” I smiled at the shadowsinger. 

“I promise to paint a lovely picture of newly engaged bliss, even though I enjoy it,” Cassian assures me as we stop at the door to the balcony. 

“Thank you,” I say cupping his cheek. “Now go before Rhys loses his mind,” I say pushing him out the door. 

“Ah ah ah not without one of these,” he smirks, pulling me in by my waist for a kiss. Gods I would never get tired of kissing this male. 

Without another word, Cassian pulled away and flashed me a charming smile before flaring his wings and taking off into the air. These past few days I had grown to see a new side to the Illyrian that I had never known before. For one, I had never known him to be so sweet and loving and two, I had never seen the male smile so much. Not that I could complain, he did have one of the most dashing smiles I’d ever seen.  

“You two are adorable but you make me sick,” Azriel laughed from the kitchen table beside me. I turned my head to find him watching me intently. He tried to mask his face in disgust, but the love in his eyes was a dead giveaway. 

“There will be loads of women fawning over your pretty face tonight tonight.” I teased ruffling up his hair. “And you’re a wonderful dancer. I’m sure you’ll find your person soon.” I continue waltzing towards the library.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Azriel teases taking a bite of an apple. 

I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head as I exited the room. 

Cassian’s pov: 

“Cass please sit down,” Rhysand says motioning toward the plush chair in his study, one large enough to accommodate wings of course. 

I had known the bastard for hundreds of years and never once had I been afraid of him. But I hadn’t spoken to him since everything happened with me and y/n. I had made sure to keep my mental shields up but I couldn’t stop the irrational fear that Rhys’ next words were going to be, “Are you fucking my little sister?” As he poured us each a glass of whiskey I couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back. 

“I hear you’ve been keeping y/n satisfied,” Rhys drawled, handing me a glass. 

Oh shit

“At least that’s what Azriel said the other day when I asked him how you guys were doing with going back and forth to the Autumn Court all the time.” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at my blank expression as I grabbed the glass of whiskey from his hand and sipped it eagerly. 

Azriel that motherfucker. I could practically see his smug face as he told Rhys about how “satisfied” I was keeping his little sister. I would be thoroughly kicking his ass today at training. 

“Yeah I mean it’s a pretty simple task taking her back and forth.” I shrug trying to shake whatever tension I had from my shoulders. “But she seems to have no quarrel with me, except for one time when I messed up her hair because I flew too fast but that’s about it.” I smile remembering the cute angry look on her face that went along with her messed-up updo. 

“Ever the little princess,” Rhys rolled his eyes and relaxed into his chair. “Is she happy with Eris?” 

I tried to look collected as Rhys asked the question I had been dreading. The entire flight here I considered telling him everything. I thought that maybe he could help her, or at least talk to Beron. But then I thought about how I would have to explain why I cared so much, and Rhys would be much less inclined to help if he knew I was fucking his little sister. Hell if y/n ever did figure this out would Rhys even allow me to be with her? I was a bastard after all.  

Then of course there was y/n. She would never forgive me for betraying her trust, and I wasn’t willing to lose it. More importantly, I thought back to what she said the day that Eris first tried to take advantage of her. 

Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me…

Cauldron how those words had struck me like lightning when she said them. The poor girl had never been given free will to make her own choices until recently. First, she was closed off from the world because of her beauty, then she was under the mountain. Now she was engaged to Eris and I’d rather die than be another person who tried to control her. 

“She seems to be,” I reply to Rhys. “I mean she did agree to marry him.” 

Lies 

Lies 

Lies

“And Eris? Will he be a suitable husband for her? I’ve heard stories of him, some good, some bad. I was hesitant at first to let him near her till I remembered what others have said about me.” he says with a hint of sadness. “I thought I’d give him a chance, in hopes that Feyre will give me one someday.” 

My heart broke for my brother, “I’m sure she will brother,” I say warmly. “But Eris seems quite smitten with y/n. He’s already sent her a large trove of dresses and jewels.” 

Not entirely a lie.

“I hope you’re right Cass,” Rhys said with a sad smile. “But I’m glad my sister is happy. After all she’s endured she deserves it. Will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, referring to the engagement ball. 

“Have you ever known me to pass up free drinks and beautiful women?” I chide leaning back in my own chair.

“I suppose not,” Rhys laughed, slamming back his whiskey. 

y/n’s pov: 

Cauldron boil me.

That was the only thought that raced through my head as I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror. For once my lady's maids didn’t get a chance to select the perfect dress for me to wear tonight, as Eris had specifically labeled a dress in the trove he sent me. The dress I now wore. 

The fabric itself was beautiful, swaths of chrome of molten gold. It draped and cascaded down my body perfectly, the only problem with the fabric was that there wasn’t enough of it. The high slit and the low back left little to the imagination. Even the top of the dress was skimpy, with only three thin pieces of fabric holding the garment together. 

As I exited my bedroom to the foyer to meet Cassian I could only hope that the fireplaces would be roaring on both ends of the vast ballroom tonight as I was already freezing. I find Cassian already waiting for me (per usual), in a night court black jacket that has him looking like pure sex. The only color adorning him is the two red siphons on his hands. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gawks at my dress, eyes raking up and down my nearly bare body. 

“What don't you like it?” I tease doing a spin for him. 

His arms pull me close to him, hands wandering all over my exposed skin. The familiar touch of his hands soothes the goosebumps on my too-cold skin as I feel myself leaning into him. 

“That’s what he’s making you wear?” he scrutinizes, looking me up and down again. 

“Unfortunately yes,” I sigh looking down at the dress myself. Gods I hated this. 

“That bastard’s going to have his hands all over you all night,” he grits, turning his head to the side like he doesn’t want me to see the simmering in his eyes. 

I reach up to cup his face turning his gaze back to mine, “Cass I know that this isn’t easy. If the roles were reversed the female would be dead by now,” I laugh trying to ease the mood. “If you don’t want to come tonight I’ll understand.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” he says, placing a hand over my own that rests on his cheek. 

“Cass-” 

“I’m going y/n,” he assures me. 

Secretly and selfishly I was glad he was coming. I would never make him do such a thing. Especially knowing how Eris is going to be. But there was a comfort in knowing that he would be present. A comfort in knowing that at the slightest hint of a scared glance, he would likely burn down the whole court for me. 

“Cassian?” I whisper. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“Kiss me,” I say, referencing our first kiss, hoping it would bring a smile to his face. 

“With pleasure,” he smiled before leaning in for a kiss. 

I took every moment and committed it to memory knowing that soon it would be Eris’ lips instead, and they wouldn’t be as tender and sweet. Soon it would be Eris’ hands on me, and they wouldn’t be as warm and strong. I savored every taste of Cassian I got, somehow in that moment falling even deeper in love with him. Cassian kisses me like I’m the air he breathes. He kisses me like every female dreams of being kissed and gods I’ll never get enough. 

“When we get home,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you to rip this dress off me and fuck me on every single surface in this gods forsaken house.” 

“Be careful princess. You don’t want me at attention in public.” Cassian purs in my ear holding me closer. 

“Maybe I do,” I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“Cruel, wicked female.”

Unlike the last ball when my brother and I arrive, we are one of the first people there, as the ball is being thrown in Eris and I’s honor. I spend the first hour or so making polite conversation until the rest of the crowd shows up. Thankfully the second they do the dancing is in full swing giving me ample time to converse with others as Eris sits on a dias at the end of the room. A place normally reserved for the High Lord alone, but it seems Beron wants to show off this union.

“She’s not here again,” I say to my brother. 

Rhys was one of the first people to dance with me tonight and I had never accepted an invitation so happily, well besides Cassian. When my father taught me to waltz Rhys was always there to help me. We must’ve spent hours dancing together while growing up. Dancing with him now was like living out the old days I so dearly wished for. 

“How do you know?” Rhys asked me as he spun me around once more. 

“I checked the guest list,” I say sadly. “It sounds like she and Tamlin never even leave his mansion.”

“Oh,” my brother says sadly, halting his search for the infamous cursebreaker. 

“You should call upon your bargain Rhys. Give her time to get to know you,” I tell him as he lifts me slightly and resumes the dance in time with the others. 

“I don’t want to force her to love me,” he admits sadly. 

I can’t help but feel my heartbreak. Sure Rhys wasn’t always the best at first impressions given his reputation, but he was an amazing brother and an amazing male. “Rhys please, she’s your mate. Maybe if she meets me I can help her see how amazing you are,” I say hopefully. 

“If Tamlin is what makes her happy I won’t stand in her way,” he explains to me and it’s like a punch to the gut. Before I can say anything to ease his pain a voice cuts in from beside me. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Azriel asks politely. 

“Not at all brother, just don’t step on my dear sister's toes,” Rhysand jests, passing my hand to Azriel’s.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel smiles before leading me up into a waltz.

“What no crowds of women falling all over you?” I tease him as he gracefully moves around the dancefloor. 

“I’m actually using you to get away from a particularly nosey one,” he nods his head to a giddy blonde in the corner. She looks far too young for him and way too energetic to catch Az’s interest and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Glad to be doing the royal duty of helping my citizens,” I laugh as he spins me in a circle. 

“If you really want to help you could give me a kiss,” he tilts his head so his cheek is on full display for me. 

“Who would come after you first? Eris, Cassian, or my brother?” I roll my eyes. 

“Don’t forget Helion, he's here too,” Azriel laughs and sure enough, out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the High Lord of Day. 

“By the cauldron, I’ll never know peace,” I sigh as Az picks me up and twirls me around.

Even though it was the same ballroom as last time this one felt smaller. Every move I made felt more and more observed and scrutinized. On one end I had Eris sitting on a dias watching me like I was a pet he had let off its leash. On the other side stood a very grumpy and brooding Cassian who wouldn’t take his eyes off me and Eris, like he was waiting for the prince to make one wrong move. Never mind the rest of the guests who gawked at my dress or the ginormous ring on my finger.

“Eris is looking at me like he’s about to have me incinerated,” Azriel laughs in my ear. 

I can’t help but roll my eyes, on the next spin I see the prince doing just that. “That’s his way of saying he wants me back.” I sigh. 

“You want me to dance us away from him?” Az asks sweetly and quietly. 

“No, no I’ve already been avoiding him for far too long. He’ll come down here himself in a moment,” I say as the music stops and I bow to Az. 

“Good luck then princess,” he bows to me before he saunters off to where Cassain sits gripping a goblet of wine tighter than he ought to.

Like I’m either a blessing sent from above or a curse from below the crowds parts for me as I make my ebay towards Eris. The men gawk and lick their lips, the women gossip and whisper to one another. Once again I felt like a painting displayed at a museum, I was beginning to hate balls. 

“Have I told you how delicious you look in gold, my pet?” Eris says as I take my place standing next to his chair.  

“At least a dozen times tonight,” I sigh, snatching a glass of wine off a silver platter. 

“Come here,” Eris says, patting his lap and I know better than to disobey, not when all of Prythian is watching us. 

“What, I don't get to have my own throne?” I grumble, adjusting my dress from where I sit on his lap. The damned thing is one gust of wind away from exposing me to the whole room. 

“Wall ornament my dear, wall ornament,” he reminds me, lips trailing down my neck. “And how beautiful you look perched on my lap,” he smirks. 

“Yes and I’m one gust of wind away from flashing the whole room,” I grit, adjusting the dress once more. 

“Good, let them see what I get to indulge in,” he grins, lifting my goblet to his own lips. The overwhelming urge to spill the liquid all over his pressed jacket is strong but lord knows what would happen next. 

“Prince Eris,” mused a female voice drawing both of our attention. “I came to offer my congratulations to you and your future wife.” 

The woman standing before me was nothing short of beautiful. Her skin is fair and covered in freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes the color of the evergreen trees found in the winter court. Her hair is unbound and the deep auburn. She looked at Eris with a certain coldness and in that moment I realized that they might have been lovers at one point in time. Her eyes flitted to mine and my blood ran cold. She looked at me like I had taken her future away. I suppose I had. If Eris had any feelings for her he certainly didn’t show it.

“Thank you for your well wishes Lady Adarna. We hope to see you at the wedding next week,” he chided leaning back in his chair once more. 

The woman simply bowed and waltzed away. I mentally hoped she wouldn’t go near Cassian. Not that I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust her for one moment.

As she scurried off to join a large group of lords and ladies conversing I watched as Eris’ eyes trailed her entire backside. His lips twitched up as if recalling a fond memory. Now was the perfect time to execute my backup plan. 

“She seemed angry to see me on your lap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine. 

“So is every male in this room. You should be used to it by now.” he kissed my shoulder. 

“You fucked that woman didn’t you?” I turn my head to him letting him see the false anger in my eyes. I had to sell it. 

“Many times my pet,” he smiled proudly. “She used to beg me to come to her bed.”  

I scoff at his words, it was too hard to believe that any woman would beg to warm Eris’ bed.

“And you're ready for monogamy?” I raise an eyebrow at him, my question more like a test. Eris had been so in lust with me had forgotten about the other women he once bedded. Surely the idea of monogamy wasn’t one he relished, he needed a reminder. The very concept could be the only thing to stop the wedding. 

“Who said anything about monogamy?” he laughed while taking a sip of his wine. “I’m sure I’ll be insatiable after I deflower your tight cunt, but once you’re with child I’ll be left to my own devices. Someone will have to satisfy my needs,” he said like it was common knowledge. 

By the fucking cauldron this man was insane. But in his words, I saw an opening I never thought of. Maybe I didn’t need to call off the wedding, maybe I just needed to ensure I could sneak out the back door so to say when I needed to. 

“And what about me? Will I be allowed other partners?” I muse playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like it might soften him up. 

Eris barks out a hearty laugh and I already know I’ve lost this fight as his hand trails up my thigh. The fabric of my dress starts to shift and I find myself shifting around to fix it once more. 

“Of course not wife, I won’t have your cunt defiled by any other male,” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You are purely mine, to taste, to fuck, to impregnate all I want.” 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I grumble trying to stand, but his hand on my front flattens and I’m pulled down onto his lap once more.

 My stomach pits as I feel what prods into my backside. He’s undeniably hard and my eyes search for Cassian. I have no doubt that Eris would fuck me right here on this dias just to prove a point to everyone in attendance. I search and search, but Cassian is nowhere to be found.  

“Oh really? Because you’re on my lap, on my throne and you’re wearing my ring,” He purrs lowly so only I can feel his hand dipping under my dress. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve cum on my fingers. So yes I will call you my wife preemptively because that’s what you are ‘Jewel of Prythian’, mine.” 

His hand cups my sex and my breath hitches in my throat. Tears prick my eyes and I put on a cold face. 

I will not cry.

I will not cry. 

I will not cry. 

I feel a finger slip through my folds and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for his finger slips inside me. My eyes search the crowd to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully they are all drunk and lost in conversation or dancing. That is until my eyes land on Cassian’s. I could throw up from the embarrassment of it all. 

Eris quickly retracted his finger, bringing it to his lips and sucking it. 

“Good girl. You didn’t fight this time.” he muses, brushing a hand down my cheek. 

I take the quickest route out, “I think I see Viviane, she wants to speak to me,” I say quickly, standing from his lap. 

“Have fun pet,” Eris smirks, smacking my backside before I saunter down the steps making a beeline for Kallias and Viviane. 

My mind is a mess of a million different voices. Eris calling me his broodmare, Cassian begging me to end all this, the voice of my brother sacrificing himself for me, the sound of the children of Velaris playing in the streets. All of it is like a perfect storm. I could erupt at any moment and I don’t think anyone here would care unless my makeup smeared and ruined the image of “The Jewel” 

Like a magnet, my eyes flit up from my feet rushing through the crowd to find that hazel gaze that always brought me home. 

Cassian was making a beeline towards me. No, not towards me, to my right.

I passed him without so much as a word but as if some strange instinct kicked in, I reached out a hand and felt him do the same. Our fingers grazed each other where no one could see. His touch held a thousand words. 

I am here. I am with you. You are not alone. I love you.

My breathing calmed, my heart rate slowed, and the voices in my head quieted down to the point where all I heard was the white noise of those around me.  

And I was thankful, so thankful, for that simple touch that brought me home.

Cassian’s pov: 

I could kill him. 

I could fucking kill him for touching my mate that way. Cleave his head from his body. Castrate him. Rip him limb from limb and my rage still wouldn’t be sated. 

The look on her face as his hand dipped between her legs is one I wouldn't soon forget. She was so scared, so helpless and I just let it happen.

I marched towards the other end of the ballroom after grazing her hand in mine. I just needed to feel her once. Just needed to remember that she was mine. 

I pushed past the large swaths of curtains lining the room to where I knew there was a door that led to the cool night air outside. I just needed air. I needed to forget. 

y/n’s pov: 

“Well I hope to see you and your new husband visiting us in the winter court soon,” Viviane said, embracing me fondly.  

“And tell that brother of yours that I want to have a drink with him soon,” Kallias smiled putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“I’ll be sure to do both,” I smile warmly. 

While under the mountain, Kallias was one of the people who looked out for me. His relationship with my brother was strong, and since Rhys couldn’t ever be with me Kallias had stepped in as one of my protectors. I had only met Viviane once since Kallias shielded her from the horrors under the mountain, but her warm soul always spoke to me. I was happy to call the mates my friends. 

“I’ll do just that,” I smile, backing away from the High Lord and Lady. 

My eyes flit up to that cursed dias, looking for any sign of Eris’ gaze. Instead, I found him lounging about talking to one of the men who sexualized me at the last ball. My skin prickled at the memory. Their voices calling through my head as I made my way towards the edge of the room scouring the dancehall for another drink. 

Suddenly a hand gripped my exposed arm and pulled me behind the swaths of large fabric that lined the room. My back hit one of the many pillars as another hand was placed over my mouth to keep me from screaming, which I desperately wanted to do until I saw that beautiful shade of hazel that warmed my very bones. 

“Shh, it’s okay it’s just me,” Cassian whispered, releasing his hand that covered up over half of my face. 

“Oh Cassian,” I breathed, placing my hands on either cheek. The stubble from this morning mixed with the warmth of him setting my very soul on fire. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed pulling me into his chest, like he just needed to have me in his arms if only for a moment. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” I said frantically as I inhaled his scent. 

“He touched you,” Cassian glowered and I pulled my head back to meet his simmering eyes. 

My heart shattered right there at the pain within them. He had seen everything. Seen Eris’ hand roam where it shouldn't have, seen him bring that hand to his mouth. Seen him do this in front of everyone and I had instructed the general not to even flinch. It was cruel, I was crueler than even the prince of Autumn himself, 

“I’m sorry Cassian, I’m so so sorry,” I pleaded, brushing a hair out of his face that had escaped the bundle at the nape of his neck. “I’m yours Cassian, I’m yours.”  

“Y/n I-” 

“My heart,” I cut him off, placing his rough hand over the center of my too-exposed chest. “My heart belongs to you Cass.” 

In an instant his hands found my waist, pulling me towards him as his frame backed me into the marble pillar. His lips on mine in a fiery need. I met him touch for touch as I pulled the lapels of his jacket towards me, needing to feel every inch of him on me. Even more than that I needed him to erase every single fingerprint Eris had left on me. 

Cassian. 

My Cassian.

His hands brushed over the vast expanse of my exposed skin leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. I had spent the night so freezing cold from my lack of coverage that the heat of his body against mine felt so delicious. 

His tongue parted my mouth and I felt every inch of him reclaiming me. My hands found that head of hair that I so often found myself gripping as he licked my most sensitive areas. My mind raced to last night where he spent a solid hour coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me. 

A woman laughed loudly from the other side of the curtain pulling both Cassian and I’s heads away from one another. We looked to see if the curtain had been pulled back but found nothing.

My core ground down on the bulge in his pants. Oh gods I needed him. I needed him now. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Tell me to leave and wait till we get home.” 

“No,” I rasped pulling him down to my lips once more. 

I needed him now. Needed to feel all of him, needed to remember that no matter what Eris said or did to me he could never own me. He could own my body, sure. But my heart? My soul? The very essence of me? All of it belonged to Cassian. So much so that it consumed me. 

Cassian’s large hands reached beneath my thighs hoisting me up and pressing me further into the cold marble pillar. It didn’t take much for my dress to part for him exposing my core. My hands went to the ties of his pants frantically pulling them down until he sprang free. 

“Cassian, I need you,” I pleaded with him. 

“Shh I’m coming baby,” he assured me, pumping his cock a few times. 

The woman outside the curtain laughed again but this time neither of us looked to see if she had seen us. Let them see. I thought to myself. At this moment I was beyond caring about who was engaged to and who I wasn’t. Who was a prince and who was a bastard. Cassian had all of me, that's all that mattered. 

Cassian slid home filling me to the brim so harshly that I gasped. A calloused hand flew over my mouth and my eyes met his. His intense stare watching me take every luxurious inch of him could’ve been enough to make me cum right then and there. 

“Shh princess, I don’t like sharing.” he mused, thrusting into me even harder.

His hand fell from my mouth to brace against the pillar behind me as the other arm kept me upright. Every stroke threatened to have me screaming in pleasure. Calling out just how in love with this man I really was. But there were at least a couple hundred people on the other side of that thick curtain and though I hated to admit it, the game we were currently playing thrilled me to my core. 

“Fucking mine,” Cassian gritted through his teeth, thrusting harder for emphasis. This wasn’t just about releasing the tension for both of us. Oh no. This was my general reclaiming what was his, and cauldron if he didn’t have a hand holding me up I would’ve been weak at the knees. 

“All yours Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth as I pressed my lips into his, my fingers digging into the material of his jacket. 

“I love you y/n,” he breathed. “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smiled, feeling myself clench around him, as the knot in me was beginning to let go. 

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear, burying his head in my shoulder. 

It was enough to have me cumming around his cock. My hand flew to my own mouth to stifle the loud moan my body involuntarily let out. My orgasm triggered Cassian's as he let out a smothered low groan burying himself deep inside me

As I tried my best to catch my breath Cassian pulled his head from my shoulder. I looked at his strained face and his messed up hair and began meticulously brushing every strand back into place. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“We did not just do that,” I giggled brushing his hair into submission. 

“I think we did princess,” he laughed looking down to where he was still seated inside me. “I’m sorry I got a little jealous there.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it was kinda hot.” I smile, running a hand down his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

“You two are fucking idiots!” Azriel hissed low coming from around the corner. 

Our heads turned immediately to find a very worried Azirel shrouded in his shadows. Cassian set me down and shielded my body with his growling at Az as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

“A warning would have been nice brother,” Cassian grumbled, making sure I was decent before stepping to the side. 

“You’re lucky my shadows found you before anyone else did,” Azriel argued. “Eris is looking for her,” he says nodding towards me. 

“Shit,” I curse, adjusting my dress and stepping towards the curtain. 

Cassian’s hand finds mine and pulls me back. My eyes snap to him and where there was once lust is now a pleading gaze that has tears threatening to spill from my own eyes. 

“Please don’t go to him, I can’t bear it any longer,” he begs me and gods does it shatter me to my core. 

“I have to Cass,” I say adjusting his jacket so it’s straight.

“Tell him you're ill and then come back to me,” he pleads. “Then we can go home.”

I know deep down that I shouldn't be leaving this early. It had only been an hour or two since the guests arrived and I hadn’t even spoken to Helion. But Cassian looked so broken. So broken and so hurt. I couldn’t put him through anymore tonight, and I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.

“Alright,” I say assuringly, squeezing his large hand. I take one look at Cassian and then at Azriel who looks worried as hell, like if I didn’t leave right this moment we would all be found out. 

So I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and parted the curtain that concealed us. Thankful for the shadows Azirel lent me, I was able to assimilate back into the crowd seamlessly. But as I made my way towards the dias where Eris sat impatiently I swore I could feel Cassian’s anger behind me and it threatened to bring down the room around us. 

Part 8

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , 

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always 

[mikobeautifulheart]

JJK Men when you forget your umbrella PART 2

INCLUDING: Business Nanami and Teen Gojo

TW: Nothing but water here so. And no, there isn't any smut.

NOT EDITED- YOU HAVE BEEN WARRNED.

♧Nanami♧ (As an office worker)

Nanami reads the weather report to see how long the down pour of rain would last. He looked out the glass doors before picking up his brief case. A ding behind him indicated someone was coming out the elevator. He kept walking toward the door when he heard a breathy

"Crap"

It was your voice, he turned around to see you looking through your bag for an umbrella. The you looked up only to met Nanami's eyes.

"Uh Nanami. Good afternoon" You said

"Afternoon" he replyed.

"The rain is supposed to get harder from now" He said.

Your eyes widened. You were going to be soaking wet on the train home. You thought about running to the station, it wasn't to far but it wasn't close enough to get there dry.

"Are you going to the station?" He asked

You nodded your head and watched as he sighed and placed his brief case on the ground and took off his blazer.

"We can run there now, if you want. I forgot my umbrella to."

You couldn't help but nod trying to hide your smile and pink cheeks. Being a office worker sucked, except for your co-worker that you had a crush on. Nanami looked even better with out the blazer.

Was this a dream? You too stood outside the buildings cover before he stood beside you and held his blazer over you both.

"Ready?" He said

"Ready" you said holding his brief case against your chest with your bag on your shoulder.

"Okay 3....2...1"

You both got to the station mostly dry, couldn't say the same about his blazer though.

°Gojo° (Teen)

Gojo stood outside of the building that you two fully exorcised. You were exhausted and lost your bag somewhere in the building, presumably eaten by a curse and your umbrella along with it. The last thing you wanted to do was go home soaking wet. You walked out the building behind Gojo just staring at him.

"Lucky bastard." you mumbled. His infinity was on so the rain had no chance of touching him.

"What was that?" he said with a smirk

"Forgot your umbrella?"

"You have 6 eyes, YET YOU COULDN''T STOP THE CURSE FROM EATING MY UMBREALLA" You said.

"I had other priorities, like stopping the curse from, oh I don't know, EATING YOU."

"What ever." you sighed. You tying your shoes before you ran to the train station when you raised your head to see Gojo's hand out stretched infront of your eyes.

"Go on, take it." he said with a smile

You hesitated before slowly reaching and taking his hand. As soon as your hand was in his he grabbed tightly and pulled you into the middle of the street, completely catching you off guard.

"HEY! YOUR GONNA GET ME WET" You shouted

You both stood there for a moment.

"Am I...am I in you infinity?" You asked not feeling the rain at all.

"Yep" He said smiling joyfully as he began to walk you home.

"Well, goodnight then and thanks for the infinity." You said trying to avoid his blind fold. What dose it matter, what can't he see?

"No prob" he said as you closed the door.

"And then I pulled her out into the rain and I ACTUALLY USED INFINITY ON HER, NO SUGURU IM SERIOUS, I KNOW SHE LIKES ME, HER FACE WAS RED AND EVERYTHING" he said talking to Suguru on his phone while walking home.

THANKS FOR READING ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: This is a part 2, part 1 was about Megmi and yuji int he same kind of sanario, atually i'll just leave the link for that righttttt here for you. Thanks for reading.

[comic-book-jawns]

Shot Clock

“Yes. Why?”

Ruby had been thrilled when Lena had floated the idea of her and Esme coming to visit them in Metropolis while Alex and Kelly were away on their own weekend trip.

For one, she’d decided when she first met the younger girl two years ago that they were cousins. And while she’d kept good on that promise, she usually only got to see the soon-to-be seven-year-old over FaceTime.

For two, while they’d never talked about it directly, Ruby knew Mom had dreamed of having more kids, especially when she and Alex had gotten so close to something. So she was feeling the farthest thing from jealous as Esme — who, according to Alex, was more clingy with her godmother than her parents — continued dozing contentedly in Mom’s arms as they walked up the subway steps.

For three, watching Lena Luthor take public transportation was always funny, mostly because of the mock glares her aunt would give her for giggling.

For four… well, it was possible she’d let Mom start the conversation for a reason. Maybe other fifteen-year-olds got to pull one over on their moms all the time. But their moms weren’t Sam Arias.

“You know what a shot clock is?”

“My niece’s best friend’s crush’s cousin almost made it into the Final Four.”

Lena looped her arm through Ruby’s as she said it, the pride ringing clear in her voice; and whatever brief smugness she felt melted away as Mom simply smiled at them. In that mom way.

“Anyway, Mom asked because we’re putting you on the clock to shoot your shot with Kara.”

Despite their height — and, realistically, strength — difference now, Ruby was still jerked to a stop as Lena froze just as they stepped onto the sidewalk. She managed not to giggle at her aunt again, though, even as Mom winked at her over Lena’s head before directing them out the path of their fellow passengers coming up the stairs.

“That’s right. You’ve been tapped in, kiddo.”

Unsurprisingly, Mom’s grin only widened as Lena attempted to level her with not a mock glare.

“I’m 30.”

“And I’m 36. You’re never gonna win that point, babe.”

Ruby couldn’t help smiling as her aunt’s mouth twitched up shyly, even as she grumbled.

“You also seem to be implying that you two have been trying to get us together.”

Mom hummed mildly, but the glint in her eye was vibrant, even in the dusk light.

“Rubes, what say you?”

Ruby hummed in turn; and Lena angled to face her, eyebrows rising in warning — Ruby assumed anyway. Unfortunately for the CEO, Ruby could only see her as Aunt Lena.

“I think this might clear that up. Kara?”

Lena gaped, entirely uncharacteristically; and Ruby probably would’ve felt a little guilty if their arms weren’t still linked. Then again, maybe Lena was really too shocked to pull away.

When a minute passed, though, Lena huffed. Like she’d been holding her breath.

“Look, I appreciate that you want me to find happiness with someone.”

“Not someone.”

It was Mom who interjected, like she’d read Ruby’s mind. Though Ruby didn’t fail to notice that Mom wasn’t looking at either of them.

Lena did, however. Too busy rolling her eyes, entirely characteristically.

“Kara —”

“Yes?”

Lena dislodged their arms then, jolting as she spun around. The timing worked out well, though, allowing Ruby to accept the Noonan’s take-out bag from Kara before the superhero turned her attention to Lena.

Only for Lena to turn her attention back to Ruby, eyebrows now raised in question.

Which was pretty fair, admittedly. But Ruby was also pretty sure this would be, like, the least opportune time to explain a tradition born of her and Mom letting Kara back into their good graces.

“Thanks, Kara! We’ll let you two catch up.”

“We just talked this morning.”

Lena’s tone was utterly dry but also unmistakably resigned, and Ruby barely resisted the urge to smirk as she and Mom started to back away.

“Oh? Who were you texting on the subway then?”

Mom had such no such qualms, of course, shuffling Esme in her arms to just to hold out a hand for a high-five at her own quip.

Cringe, to be sure. But Lena was the one blushing. And, well, what kind of daughter would Ruby be if she left Mom hanging?

She just had to hope that promptly darting forward to hug Lena softened the blow.

“Thirty seconds. Staring now.”

** One Year Later **

“She never would’ve sat like that before, you know?”

“Before what?”

Ruby pictured that crinkle forming between Kara’s eyebrows. But she couldn’t see it for herself — still focused on her other aunt, who nearly headbutted her maid of honor as she laughed at something Kara’s said.

And, yes, there were half-drunk wine and liquor glasses within her reach, even with Mom’s arms around her waist. But she knew for a fact that none at that table, or any other, were Lena’s.

And then there was the fact that there were currently three empty seats at the table, including the one right next to Mom’s.

“Before you.”

Ruby did turn to Kara then, needing her to understand.

And judging by the way Kara’s face lit up with a kind of awe as she glanced at her wife again… before heading back to the dance floor with a small smile, leaving Lena none the wiser, she did.

[1800-lemon-boy]

Ok, so i’m working on playlists for both Luke castellan and Percy jackson and there is one common thing between the two i am going to rant about.

For the purposes of this rant i will be using 2 different songs as examples-

Percy- in case i ain’t around by Luke combs (fathers and sons album)

Luke- all i ever do is leave by Luke combs (father and sons album)

This is mainly because i noticed this while looking for pjo characters as country songs (i swear i will make the post at some point)

While there are other examples i could make using similar songs, Luke combs holds a special place in my heart.

What i want to talk about is more similarities between Percy and Luke by using music.

Both of the aforementioned songs are from the same album but fit two different but also very alike characters.

Lets start with Percy-

in case i ain’t around by Luke combs is a song about preparing for the future, a future that he may not even be apart of. Lyrics such as, “i ain’t goin’ nowhere no time soon but…” “that way i’m still there for you somehow, in case i ain’t around” and one more, “when it’s my time to die, boy don’t stop livin’”

Percy has accepted that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, and he’s made preparations just in case. He has watched friends who have had bright futures, die in an instant. While Percy doesn’t plan on dying anytime soon, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Now Luke (this explanation is much longer lmao)-

All i ever do is leave by Luke combs starts with Luke talking about growing up not having a very present father in his life. with lyrics such as (at the very beginning) “me and myself tryin’ play catch, cause daddy ain’t home yet” and “mama said “you pray, cause your daddy gonna be late”. while hermes’ is never there for Luke (castellan, duh) he canonically helped his kids parents out, just not physically, which links in the line “but the lights stayed on somehow”.

Now, let’s get to the actual point. the song starts with Luke (combs) talking about how in his eyes, all his dad ever did was leave. but towards the end of the song he’s talking about how he hopes his kid doesn’t view him like that (i hope he don’t think all i ever do is leave).

Ok, so, how does this relate to Luke castellan?

yes hermes’ leaves him, but we are gonna talk about May castellan right now. while May castellan didn’t physically leave Luke, she mentally did. In an attempt to get closer to her son she was cursed to be farther away. she’s mentally gone. Yes, Luke physically leaves her, but she was already gone.

Now, let’s go to the second part of the song.

Luke (castellan) actually leaving.

this one’s a bit more obvious but i’ll still bring it up. Luke leaves Annabeth and many others on multiple occasions. he leaves camp during book one, and dies in book five and many more times in between. He just kept leaving them, again and again. He leaves his family, both in Annabeth and in the hermes’ cabin.

Now to the actual point of this post….

The main thing i’ve realised with Luke and Percy is that more often than not, i’m finding songs in the same album that fit them separately. The songs are similar but have different meanings. Luke and Percy are very similar and even coming to something as simple as songs, you can’t exactly have one without the other.

<33

[hebuiltfive]

Vis-à-Vis: A Mini Earth and Sky Story

Very rough around the edges and read-through only once, but inspired by the prompt : "He's just worried about you. We all are." which can be found here.

AO3 link here!

More notes at the end!

-----------------

Scott slammed the door to his Bugatti shut. He pulled his peacoat closer around himself, burying his chin in his scarf and, with hands tucked into his pockets, began to stride away from the car.

It was always the same. It was always “everyone is worrying about you, so open up immediately” and never “take you time, tell us when you’re ready”. Every goddamn time! Scott was becoming tired of all the questions, all the probing. They all thought it was innocent and helpful, and he didn’t have the heart to tell them that it wasn’t, that all their fretting made him feel worse.

Like that was even possible at this point.

He heard the passenger door shut and feet shuffling along the cobblestones as Virgil hurried along behind, trying to catch up with his older brother.

“Scott, come on!” Virgil called. “It’s a valid question!”

“I don’t ever remember you thinking that when I’ve probed into your private life, Vee. Neither his!”

“He’s just worried about you.” The Tank let out the softest sigh. “We all are.”

That wasn’t news to Scott. He continued to stroll ahead. Normally, Scott would have slowed his usual pace so Virgil could keep up, but not today. Today, he kept on walking, leaving his brother to trail along behind him. Yes, they were supposed to be having a lovely day out together, but had he known the trip would have been used as a way to further interrogate him, Scott wouldn’t have agreed to come along in the first place.

“For the last time, Virgil,” Scott ground out, every word laced with irritation, “there is nothing to worry about!”

“Forgive me for not believing you, but you always say that, even when it isn’t true.”

“This time is different.”

“You always say that too.”

Scott stopped in his tracks, turning to face his brother as Virgil came to a stand in front of him. He really didn’t want his irritation to mar their trip — it wasn’t everyday when the two of them could spend time together — but if Virgil didn’t drop the topic soon, he feared it might become inevitable.

“You know you’d be asking the exact same questions if you were in our shoes, Scotty.”

"I know.”

The truth was that he did know, and that was the problem. Scott knew exactly what he’d be saying, which curses he’d be using, if the positions were switched. It didn’t make him second-guess his choices, but it certainly made opening up that much harder.

“We just want to know you’re safe.”

“I am safe!” He pleaded but Virgil tilted his head. He could see through his brother’s uncertainty before Scott even realised he was letting it show. Scott sighed. “I’m trying to be.”

“It’d be a whole lot easier if you let us in.”

“You know I can’t do that. Not at the moment. It’s too soon, too early.”

“I get that, I do, but don’t leave it too late so it ends up becoming a problem you have to try and defend rather than reveal.”

They reached their destination; a tea shop in the centre of a quaint, nondescript English town. As Scott opened the door, the bell above tinkled.

He picked a table by the window, with a view down the cobblestoned hill and Virgil took the seat opposite him.

His brother unbuttoned his coat and threw it over the back of his chair. “If you need to talk to someone about it, I promise I won’t tell the others anything.”

Scott grinned, his eyes twinkling. “What? Are you offering to give me free therapy sessions now?”

“I’m in no way qualified enough to talk through all your issues, bro, but on this one… I can listen, as a brother. As a friend.”

Scott unfastened his own jacket, pulling the scarf from his neck and laid them out nearly over the back of his own seat. “You promise you won’t tell the others?”

“I swear it.”

Virgil’s eyes were sincere, trustworthy to a fault. There was a reason he was the only one who the others always went to with their secrets; when Virgil said he’d keep the to himself, he always meant it. Scott had always appreciated that, no time more so than now.

They sat and they spoke, Scott more than Virgil, and his brother offered no judgement, as they drank their way through cups of steaming coffee and ate their way through a few slices of cake. It felt like a weight had been lifted off Scott’s shoulders, albeit temporarily — he would still face the curious questions from his younger brothers once they returned home.

Clouds covered the wintery sun and, after an hour or so, the two of them stood up, donned their coats once again, and left the tea shop in favour of a brisk walk down to the coastline. For most of their stroll, their conversation ventured into nonsense, commenting on the bare trees that, only months ago, had bloomed in glorious green, or taking silly selfies next to crumbling, ancient brick walls that lined the stairway down to the beach. There were a few groups of small families that passed them with polite smiles, unaware of who the two brothers were or simply allowing them to get on with their day. Either way, Scott was thankful.

Virgil led the way onto the beach, trailing over to a group of rocks, a little way back from the ocean, that were empty. He lifted himself up and sat himself down, looking out over the pale blue ahead. Unlike Scott’s hair, which was firmly held in place with his favourite gel, Virgil’s barnet was more malleable with the breeze. He observed his brother’s quiet peace, tranquil despite the bombshell that Scott had dropped on him during their visit to the tea shop.

He sat on another rock, slightly lower than the large one Virgil sat atop. Once again, he buried his chin in his scarf and he closed his eyes. With a deep inhale, Scott breathed in the salty air.

“How long do you reckon I have until the press got hold of the story?” He asked without opening his eyes.

For a long moment, Virgil was silent. Scott began to wonder if his brother had heard him, or whether he’d indeed spoken his question out loud. Then, he heard the clearing of his brother’s throat.

“Depending on how reckless you are, I’d give it a month.”

“I can work with that.”

“Are you sure?”

The doubt in Virgil’s tone, after having opened up to him, sliced through Scott like a knife through butter, but he knew Virgil had every right to doubt him. It was one thing to say it, and another to mean it and act upon it.

“I’ll talk to them tonight.”

“Scott, you don’t have to if you’re not ready—”

“I’ll have to do it eventually, Vee, and there’s no time like the present. It’s better to rip the bandaid off now, else I’ll just keep delaying it until it’s too late.”

He felt a hand gently pat his shoulder. Scott peeked one eye open, up at his brother who was smiling at him softly. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

“You say that, but you’re not the one who’ll have to feel Gordon’s wrath.”

Virgil chuckled, deep and warm. “Eh, he’ll get over it. Bribe him with his favourite brownies and you’ll be back on his Good List in no time.”

---------------

I purposefully left Scott's secrets as a secret. It didn't feel like a big enough piece to try and explore that (and lord knows i don't need another big story project right now).

The location also changes because I was suddenly inspired to write them on the beach.

Idk, it's messy, but I'm trying to quit the habit of making everything perfect and do little one-offs. Prompts are the best for that, I find, with a few exceptions.

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen 

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death 

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 61 ✧˚₊‧

Tokyo was bustling with energy and the early morning sun was warm against Shoko’s skin as she walked beside Utahime, their shoulders brushing every few steps. Utahime looked good—hair down, dark bangs framing her face just right, a pale blouse tucked into a skirt that swayed just enough when she walked to make Shoko’s gaze linger.

Shoko, in contrast, kept it simple—a fitted black shirt, dark jean shorts, her usual effortless ease. But the way Utahime kept sneaking glances at her made it clear she didn’t mind the casual look.

"You look really sweet," Shoko said, grinning when Utahime’s cheeks immediately flushed pink.

"Don’t say that so loud," Utahime hissed, glancing around as if someone might overhear.

Shoko just shrugged, still smiling. "Why not? It’s true."

They’d already had lunch—a quiet little café where Utahime had fussed over the menu before finally letting Shoko order for both of them. Now, they were heading toward the baseball stadium, the distant roar of the crowd already humming in the air. Shoko didn’t really care much for baseball. But she did care about the way Utahime’s eyes lit up when she talked about it, hands moving animatedly as she explained why this year’s playoffs were so important.

"Want snacks?" Shoko asked, digging through her small purse for the tickets.

"No, that’s alright," Utahime said, but Shoko saw the way her gaze flicked toward the concession stands.

"What about a drink, then?" Shoko nudged her shoulder. "A beer or two?"

Utahime hesitated, then smiled. "...Alright. Maybe just one."

"Two," Shoko corrected, already steering her toward the nearest vendor.

Soon enough, they found their seats—great seats, right near the dugout. Utahime’s eyes widened as she took in the view.

"How did you even get tickets like this?" she asked, leaning in close so Shoko could catch the faint scent of her perfume—something light, floral.

"Called in a favor from Gojo," Shoko said, sipping her beer.

Utahime scoffed. "I should’ve asked him for things like this instead of money."

"He usually owes me," Shoko said, smirking. "So we can go on nice dates anytime you want."

Utahime’s face burned red. "Shoko—!"

"What?"

"It’s not—we're not on a date."

Shoko just laughed, stretching her arm along the back of Utahime’s seat. "Sure it’s not."

A comfortable quiet settled between them as they watched the players toss balls back and forth, the crisp pop of a ball landing in a glove echoing across the field. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, but Utahime’s fingers tapped restlessly against her knee.

"I’m still not sure about dating another woman," she admitted suddenly, voice low, eyes fixed on the pitcher’s mound.

Shoko didn’t look at her. Just took a slow sip of beer before asking, "Do you like me?"

"I—yes, but—"

"Then you’re thinking too hard about it," Shoko interrupted, finally turning to meet her gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was light.

Utahime’s jaw tightened. "I don’t even know if I like women that way," she hissed, as if the stadium might overhear.

Shoko just shrugged. "Okay."

The first pitch cracked through the air, and the game began. They fell into easy chatter—stats, plays, the way the shortstop moved like he had springs in his legs. Utahime lit up talking about the center fielder, hands gesturing wildly as she explained his batting average.

"Ohhh," Shoko drawled, smirking. "You’ve got a crush."

"What?! No!" Utahime’s face flamed. "He’s just—he’s good at baseball!"

"It’s alright," Shoko said, chuckling. "I know." She leaned back, stretching her legs. "Besides, he’s just some guy. Probably smells sweaty."

Utahime blinked. "Have you ever even been with a man?"

Shoko tilted her head. "Don’t see why that matters. But no. And no plans to."

A beat. Then, quietly: "I have," Utahime said.

Shoko’s eyebrow arched. "Did he stink too?"

Utahime burst out laughing, covering her mouth as shoulders shook. "No! I—I thought he smelled good, actually."

"Men smell like corn chips," Shoko declared, solemn.

Utahime laughed harder, tears pricking her eyes. "That’s so specific—"

"It’s science." Shoko nodded sagely, then stole a sip of Utahime’s beer. "But hey. If you wanna go sniff some corn chip guy's pits, no hard feelings."

Utahime swatted her arm, still giggling and Shoko smiled.

The game stretched on—strikeouts, stolen bases, the crowd roaring as the home team pulled ahead. Shoko watched with half-lidded amusement, more interested in the way Utahime’s knee bounced when the pitcher wound up than the actual plays.

Then, out of nowhere:

"Have you ever considered being with a man?" Utahime asked, fingers tight around her foam cup.

Shoko didn’t even blink before she answered. Almost an instant answer of, "No."

"That can’t be true."

"It is." Shoko shrugged. "Grew up with just my dad. Hated it. Can’t stand men, at least that way. Wouldn’t dream of it."

Utahime frowned. "You really mean that?"

"Of course." Shoko sipped her drink. "And I’m very, very unlikely to change my mind."

"You might regret it someday."

"Probably won’t."

Silence. The crack of a bat, the crowd erupting. Utahime’s jaw worked like she was chewing on words she couldn’t spit out. Finally:

"Would you… try it? Just once? Before we—if we—go on a real date?"

Shoko smirked. "This is a real date."

"Shoko." Utahime’s voice sharpened. "Answer me."

Shoko sighed, tilting her head back. "I already know I’m gay. Zero interest. Negative interest, actually."

"I just don’t want you to realize something later and—"

"Utahime." Shoko cut her off, voice softer now. "You don’t get it. But I won’t hold that against you."

Utahime bit her lip. "Would you at least be willing to try?"

Shoko eyed her. "Dating a man? Or sleeping with one?"

Utahime’s face burned. "...Maybe dating’s asking too much."

"I could do it," Shoko said, casual as discussing the weather. "Sex is sex. Doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to." She shrugged. "If that’s what you need me to do, fine. I’ll do it once."

Utahime stared. "Just… like that?"

"Yeah." Shoko leaned in, close enough that Utahime could smell the beer on her breath. "I already know it won’t change a thing. But if you need proof? I can deal with a sweaty man for three minutes."

Utahime made a strangled noise and whipped her head away. Shoko grinned.

The seventh-inning stretch blared over the speakers, the crowd rising to their feet. Utahime didn’t move.

Shoko stood, stretching lazily. "Be right back. Gonna get more beer."

She left Utahime there, flushed and fuming, but with a smile still on her own face.

The warm hues of dusk stretched across the sky as the two of them made their way down the quiet road toward the train station. The air buzzed with the last traces of early spring chill, but the mood was light. Utahime walked close beside Shoko, her hands animated as she recounted the highlights of the game—every near-miss and embarrassing fall cataloged with infectious excitement.

"And did you see that one guy totally trip over his own feet during his slide to second?" Utahime giggled, bumping her shoulder lightly against Shoko’s. "I thought Uehara was supposed to be the one with questionable balance."

Shoko smiled, eyes distant but warm. "You had a lot of fun, didn't you?"

Utahime’s energy faltered just a touch. Her voice dropped as she murmured, "You don’t have to do that. You know. If you don’t want to."

Shoko turned her head slightly, brow lifting. "Do what?"

"You know," Utahime said, vaguely waving her hand. "This. The… the thing. I'm not even really sure what I'm asking for, honestly. I know it probably sounds unfair."

Shoko let the silence sit between them for a moment before replying calmly, "Things don’t always have to make sense. Or be fair. You’re just figuring yourself out." She looked ahead, her tone light again. "If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it."

Utahime blinked, flustered. "Wait—what exactly are you going to do?"

Shoko tilted her head with mock thoughtfulness. "Mm. I could get a prostitute?"

Utahime’s face burned red. "Shoko! Don’t say that so loud!" She hissed, glancing around.

Shoko snorted. "I really don’t care what anyone thinks."

Utahime covered her face with both hands for a moment. "Do you know any guys you’d… actually do it with?"

Shoko side-eyed her with that tired smirk. "If you’re implying Gojo, then yeah. He’d probably say yes. But he’s busy pretending he doesn’t have human feelings, so..."

Utahime let out a laugh despite herself. "He’s such a dumbass."

"Mhm," Shoko agreed. "Not all bad though. For a sack of shit anyway."

They both laughed again, and Utahime nudged her. "If you decide not to go through with it, that’s fine too. Really."

Shoko gave her a lazy look. "You’re so sweet, changing your mind like that."

Utahime groaned, covering her face again. "Stop that."

Shoko leaned in slightly, her voice lower but teasing. "I’ll never get tired of how cute you look when you’re flustered."

Utahime groaned louder. "Seriously, Shoko." But she was smiling, and her steps were just a little lighter as they continued on toward the train station.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Satoru’s laughter echoed through the living room, loud enough that Sarah had to kick his shin to get him to stop shaking the couch.

“You’re telling me Utahime actually asked you to sleep with a dude just to ‘be sure’?” he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. “That’s fucking gold.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, taking a lazy sip of her beer. “I wasn’t actually gonna do it. Honestly, I’m more surprised she suggested it at all.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru smirked, “people have been acting weird lately."

Sarah, who had been slouched over her controller after her character got yeeted off the stage in Smash, suddenly sat bolt upright. “True,” she muttered, locking back into the game with renewed focus.

Shoko frowned. “You guys think the last two years have been… off, too?"

Satoru’s grin faded slightly. “Yeah. Like a blur, right? I can barely remember it.”

Sarah didn’t look up from the screen. “Probably a time thing.”

Both Shoko and Satoru turned to stare at her.

She shrugged, still mashing buttons. “Just saying.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally just said, “Do you know something about it?”

“About what?” Sarah blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence.

For a long moment, Satoru just stared at her in disbelief. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he turned back to the game. “Never mind.”

Shoko snorted. “You’ve been so weird lately.”

“Seconded,” Satoru added, unpausing the match. “Sometimes you’re your old self, and sometimes you just… space out.”

Sarah’s character faltered on-screen for half a second. “I do not.”

“It’s subtle,” Shoko mused, “but it’s there.”

Suddenly, Satoru paused the game again, setting his controller down with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Wait. Hold on.” He turned to face them both. “Is it actually her, though? Or are we the ones experiencing something weird?”

Sarah swatted at his arm. “What the hell does that mean?”

“No, I’m serious.” His voice was low now, stripped of its usual playful edge. “Lately, I’ve been wondering if something’s… I dunno. Messing with everyone’s consciousness.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Are you crazy now, too?”

Satoru leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Who the hell knows anymore.”

The room fell silent, save for the idle music of the paused game. Somewhere outside, a car honked. Sarah’s fingers twitched against her controller. Then, with a sudden, decisive click, she unpaused the match.

“Well,” she said brightly, “if reality’s broken, we might as well finish the game.”

Satoru and Shoko exchanged a glance. Then, because what else could they do, they picked up their controllers and kept playing. Chaos was lighting up the screen as Shoko’s question cut through the button-mashing:

“Do you guys remember the night Geto left the temple?”

Sarah’s thumb slipped on the joystick. “Yeah,” she muttered, recovering just in time to dodge Satoru’s attack.

“Mmhmm,” Satoru agreed, eyes locked on the screen.

Shoko frowned. “I don’t, really.”

“You were asleep through most of it,” Sarah said, “and Suguru didn’t exactly throw a going-away party.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened. “Don’t call him by his first name," he mumbled.

Sarah stretched her leg out and shoved her toes against the side of his head, pushing him sideways without missing a button press. “I’ll call him whatever I want.”

Satoru pouted but didn’t retaliate, too focused on landing a final smash. “You should only say my name like that.”

“You ain’t my husband.”

“Because I’m like your brother, right?” He grinned, tilting his head.

Shoko groaned. “What the fuck is this shit," she muttered.

“He’s just confused,” Sarah deadpanned. “He’s got the spirit.”

“I’m not confused at all,” Satoru insisted. “You’re a little sister to me. That's all.”

Sarah rolled her eyes so hard her head tipped back. Shoko mirrored her.

Then, after a beat, Shoko asked: “Would you do it?”

“Do what?” Sarah’s character landed a lucky hit, knocking Satoru’s off the stage.

“Sleep with a woman. If Satoru asked you to. To ‘prove’ you weren’t gay and gonna 'regret' it?”

Sarah snorted. “Nah, I'm good.”

“That’s why it’s weird, right?” Shoko pressed. “Utahime isn’t a weird person. Why the hell would she ask me to do that?”

Sarah’s fingers stilled for half a second. “Geto’s got that shapeshifter. Suzu. What if it was them?”

Satoru paused the game abruptly. “I did see them when I fought Haibara and you.”

“No,” Shoko said firmly. “It was definitely Utahime.”

Sarah shrugged. “Geto wouldn’t just send Suzu to fuck with people anyway.”

Satoru slumped back into the couch, groaning. “Who the hell knows what Suguru is doing anymore.”

The room fell silent, the paused game forgotten. The weight of the unspoken hung heavy—because none of them really knew. Not about Geto. Not about the gaps in their memories. Not even about themselves.

Then Sarah unpaused the game with a decisive click. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m still kicking your ass.”

Satoru lunged for his controller with a squawk of protest, and Shoko exhaled, watching them bicker like the world wasn’t maybe, possibly, unraveling at the seams.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The halls of Suguru’s manor were quiet as Tsukumo led Choso through the winding corridors. Sunlight streamed through the tall stained glass windows, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and shift as they passed. When they reached her room, she threw open the doors with a flourish, revealing a carefully arranged selection of clothes laid out across her bed—casual, modern, a far cry from the heavy, traditional garb Choso had known in his fragmented memories.

She smiled at him, hands on her hips. “Alright, pick whatever you like.”

Choso stared down at the options, his brow furrowing. His fingers brushed against the fabric of his own dark clothes—the ones that had once belonged to the body he now inhabited. The man before him had favored black, that much was clear.

After a moment, he reached for a fitted black t-shirt, holding it up for inspection. “Do you have black pants as well?”

Tsukumo scowled. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you goth it up on your first day out.”

Choso blinked, confused, then pointed to a pair of jeans with deliberate tears at the knees. “These have… aesthetic damage?”

She nodded approvingly. “Now that’s good.”

“The man would have preferred black,” Choso said, almost defensively.

“Makes sense,” Tsukumo conceded, “but you and I are going to have to compromise. Because I want you to look nice.”

“For what occasion?”

She held up a finger. “One—don’t talk so formal. This isn’t the Heian Era.” Then a second finger. “Two—you and I are going out to see Shinjuku today.”

Choso tilted his head. “What benefit does that serve?”

“Because,” she said, stepping closer, “you need to get used to the world you’re in now.”

“The man didn’t like to go outside,” Choso muttered.

“Do you like to go outside?”

“I’ve… never been outside,” he admitted. “I wasn’t born yet.”

Tsukumo sighed, then spoke slowly, as if to a child. “I mean, do you—as you—like the idea of going outside?”

Choso paused. Then, quietly: “No.”

She clapped her hands together. “Then let’s work on that.”

He stared at her, then down at the clothes, then back at her. After a long moment, he exhaled—something almost like resignation—and reached for the jeans.

Tsukumo worked her fingers through Choso’s dark hair, brushing it back until it fell smoothly over his shoulders. The reflection in the mirror stared back at him—familiar, yet not quite his own. He tilted his head, watching as the man’s face mirrored his curiosity.

“I feel… comfortable,” Choso admitted, as if surprised by the realization.

Tsukumo stepped back, arms crossed, nodding in approval. “You look great.”

“But why is this necessary?”

“Because,” she said, tapping his shoulder, “you and that body need to accept each other. Work together. Maybe even become something new.”

Choso’s reflection frowned. “Are you just experimenting with me?”

Tsukumo didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” At his sharp look, she grinned. “I want to see if you’ll fully merge with him—or if you’ll stay two minds sharing one skin.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she mused, leaning against the dresser, “in my last life, Sukuna merged with a boy’s body. I never got to ask what that was really like.” Her eyes gleamed. “And I’m extremely curious.”

Choso absorbed that, then gestured to himself. “But this is different. I was never born. This man was—he had a life."

Tsukumo shrugged. “Not much of one. He was a shut-in.” She smirked. “And way too cute to stay inside forever.”

Choso’s hands flew to his cheeks, fingers pressing against the sudden warmth there. “Am I—getting sick?”

Tsukumo laughed, sharp and bright. “Oh, you are fun.”

He scowled, but the effect was ruined by the lingering flush. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think… the man inside is letting me control this? Or am I the one allowing him to decide?”

Tsukumo tilted her head. “What do you think?”

Choso hesitated. “He’s… quiet. Especially around women. I use his memories to guide me, but…” He trailed off, then sighed. “It doesn’t feel fair. That I was put here. I want to work with him.”

Tsukumo’s smirk softened, just slightly. “I could’ve been in a similar situation, but I chose a different path.” She nudged him. “I’m glad you’re respecting his choices.”

Choso’s reflection smiled—small, tentative. “I’m glad you’re happy about that.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other in the mirror.

Then Tsukumo clapped her hands. “Alright! Enough introspection. Let’s go make Shinjuku regret our existence.”

Choso groaned, but he followed her anyway.

The heavy gates of the compound groaned shut behind them as they stepped onto the winding stone path, the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes the only sound between them for a long moment. Choso paused, glancing back at the high walls—imposing, yet familiar in their seclusion—before turning to Tsukumo with a question heavy in his throat.

"Do you think... someday, my brothers might leave here for a day out too?"

Tsukumo’s steps slowed. She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the distant treeline. When she finally spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I don’t know. The way you were all born... it’s different. It’s not impossible, but..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "It’s unlikely."

Choso’s fingers curled at his sides. "Because I’m the only one who looks human."

She nodded. "You were made to resemble the Kozuso—the paintings of decaying corpses. You’re the first stage: a body freshly dead. Still whole. Still... passable." Her words were clinical, but not unkind. "Eso, Kechizu, the others—they reflect the later stages. Less human. More... monstrous, to most eyes."

Choso exhaled sharply through his nose. "People will fear them."

"Ordinary people? Yes," Tsukumo admitted. "But sorcerers will understand better. Or they should." There was an edge to her voice, a quiet promise of violence if they didn’t.

"They’re my brothers," Choso said, voice firm. "I want them to have fulfilling lives too."

Tsukumo studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I respect that. And if there’s a way to make it happen, we’ll find it."

The tension in Choso’s shoulders eased, just slightly.

They reached the train station, the bustle of the crowd a stark contrast to the quiet of the compound. As they waited on the platform, Tsukumo tilted her head. "Do you know anything about the man’s family? The one whose body you share?"

Choso shook his head. "No. He doesn’t like to talk about them with me."

"Fair," Tsukumo mused. "Maybe they weren’t good to him."

A bitter smile tugged at Choso’s lips. "I understand that much, at least. My own father was... terrible. I never even met him."

Tsukumo didn’t offer empty platitudes. She just nudged his shoulder with hers, a silent "mine too" passing between them. The train arrived with a screech of metal, doors sliding open.

Tsukumo stepped forward, then glanced back. "Come on, big brother. Shinjuku’s waiting."

The train doors slid open, and Choso stepped onto the platform—immediately engulfed in a sea of people. Bodies moved in every direction, a living current of chatter, footsteps, and the occasional chime of a station announcement. His fingers twitched at his sides, eyes darting across the crowd. So many. More than he’d ever seen—more than the man inside him had likely ever seen, too.

Tsukumo nudged him forward, and they ascended the stairs back into daylight. Choso’s breath caught as the city sprawled before him—towers of glass and steel, neon signs flickering even in the afternoon sun, the hum of traffic and distant music weaving together into something overwhelming.

“Well?” Tsukumo grinned, watching his face. “What do you think?”

“There are… a lot of people here,” he managed, voice low.

She laughed and looped her arm through his.

Choso stiffened. A jolt ran through him—part his own surprise, part the man’s reflexive embarrassment. “T-Tsukumo—the man is—he’s flustered. Let go.”

“No,” she said cheerfully, reaching up to poke his nose. “He’ll live.”

Heat flooded his cheeks again, but this time, he didn’t pull away.

They wandered through Shinjuku’s labyrinthine streets, Tsukumo steering him toward shops crammed with absurd souvenirs: “Funny Gifts from Japan!” proclaimed a sign above a display of tiny samurai helmets with googly eyes. Choso picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“This is… unnecessary,” he said.

“That’s the point,” Tsukumo said, plopping a baseball hat onto his head. “Cute.”

He scowled, but left it on.

The housewares store was a revelation. Choso trailed his fingers over ceramic bowls, tested the weight of a chef’s knife, and paused in front of a massive cast-iron pan.

“I think,” he murmured, “the man liked to cook.”

“Do you like to cook?” Tsukumo asked, leaning against a display of spatulas.

Choso considered it. “I’d like to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” she said simply. “Back home.”

Home. The word settled in his chest, warm and unfamiliar at the same time.

At the ice cream shop, Tsukumo ordered for them both—matcha for her, strawberry for him. They sat on a bench, licking their cones as the crowd flowed past: teenagers laughing, couples holding hands, salary men rushing somewhere.

“People live like this every day,” Choso said, more to himself than to her.

Tsukumo kicked her feet, swinging them like a child’s. “Yep. And now you do too.”

He took another bite of ice cream. Sweet. Cold. Alive. The man inside him didn’t protest, also Choso had a difficult time looking at Tsukumo still.

"You are pretty, correct?" Choso asked, his eyes peering at her from the corner of his vision. That seemed to be a fair compromise.

"Yes, I'd say so," Tsukumo chuckled, "Does he think so?"

"Yes," Choso nodded, "He wants our eyes to stay away from you. Especially your breats."

Tsukumo let out a surprising bark of a laugh, holding her hand in front of her mouth to keep the ice cream from dripping out. She smiled at him, her cheeks tinted just a hint pink.

"Oh," Choso said, reaching up to grasp at his shirt over his heart, "Yes, that was good, wasn't it?"

"I'd say it was pretty cute," Tsukumo agreed. "But not everyone would agree."

Choso finished off his ice cream, standing and offering his hand for Tsukumo's crupled up napkins. She handed the trash with a mumbled thank you, standing as well as he walked over to dump their trash.

"Wonder why you were a shut in," she mused, "He seems alright to me? Polite. Handsome. Hardworking. Why'd he hide? He could have been popular!"

Choso was quiet for a time before he glanced at her. "Is it normal to think about your own failures?"

She stepped up beside him, linking their arms together once again. Nodding, she said, "Yes, that's perfectly normal."

"I believe he may have done that more than most," he explained, "And perhaps that is what drove him to darkness. And the internet."

"Ah," Tsukumo said with a sagely nod, "So he was bad at talking."

The afternoon sun slanted through the trees as they walked through a quieter part of Shinjuku, the bustle of the main streets fading into a hum behind them. Tsukumo kicked a pebble along the pavement, hands tucked behind her head.

"You know," she said, voice casual, "I was supposed to be a Star Plasma Vessel once."

Choso blinked, turning to look at her. "I've heard of that. My father mentioned it."

"Oh?" Tsukumo tilted her head, intrigued. "Did Kenjaku talk to you often?"

Choso shook his head, eyes distant. "No. We were kept in his office. But he... thought aloud. About Tengen, about the merging of souls. They used to be friends, long ago."

Tsukumo's grin widened. "Well, isn't that funny? Fate's got a sense of humor—you're Kenjaku's kid, and I'm basically Tengen's descendant. Guess that makes us weirdly related."

Choso considered this, brow furrowing. "Do you think... they'd still be friends now?"

"Hell no," Tsukumo snorted. "Total enemies. Kenjaku wants to absorb Tengen for some evil bullshit."

"Oh." Choso fell silent, staring at his hands—the hands of a man he'd never been, attached to a life he'd never asked for.

Tsukumo watched him for a moment before continuing, "Fate's funny like that. People get so hung up on what they think should happen that they forget they can just... choose something else."

Choso looked up. "Do you think we should fight against it?"

"Only if you don't like where it's taking you," she said with a shrug.

The weight of her words settled between them. Choso thought of his brothers, of the man whose body he shared, of the father who had created him only to abandon him in a dusty office. For the first time, he wondered if any of it had to define him.

Tsukumo flicked Choso’s forehead, snapping him out of his brooding. "Hey. Don’t spiral on me now," she said, her voice sharp but not unkind. "I’ve done that dance���it’s just an endless loop of second-guessing every damn choice. Way easier to just… keep things even." She stretched her arms behind her head, the afternoon sun catching the edges of her grin. "Speaking of even—wanna meet my little apprentice?"

Choso blinked. "Your… what?"

"There's this kid I’ve been training on the side. Absolute menace," she said, pride dripping from every word. "Little weirdo’s got more potential than half the sorcerers at the school."

Choso tilted his head. "Why haven’t you brought him to Geto?"

Tsukumo’s smirk vanished. "Hell no. Geto would twist that kid in a second." Her voice dropped, uncharacteristically serious. "This kid’s wild, Choso. In the best way. I’m not letting anyone near him until he’s ready—especially not someone who’d try to mold him into another cog."

A beat passed. Then, quietly, Choso asked: "Do you… trust me with him?"

Tsukumo met his gaze, her mischief replaced by something steadier. "Yeah. I do. And I want you to know that."

Choso straightenen. "Then yes," he said. "I’d like to meet him."

Tsukumo’s grin returned, all sharp edges and secrets. "Perfect. He’s gonna love you."

Prev Main Next

Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 6 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: The relentless rain sidelines your travel. Stopping results in your first confrontation with strangers.

Author’s Notes: Chapter six of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Six: Who We Are

Word count: 3557

A week went by without much development in the trip other than miles traveled and a lot of sudden rain. It was cold enough that Arthur knew snow wasn’t far behind, but it wasn’t here yet, the rain soaking the two of you to the bone instead.

On a particularly cold day when the rain kept starting and stopping, Arthur finally called it and made camp. He pitched the tent up and didn’t even bother with a fire. The rain got going hard enough and it would just put it out anyway.

When the horses were settled and all else seemed to be in order, he joined you in the tent.

“We can stand to wait it out. Been traveling hard the past few days,” he said, more to convince himself that stopping was a good idea.

You didn’t answer, and he looked up to find you laid out in the very back of the tent, eyes still open.

You had been down since yesterday. He couldn’t figure out why. But, then again, he couldn’t figure out a lot of things about you. He just knew he had finally seen some of the old you when you talked about your parents. He tried to bring them up when he could, but he had a feeling you were catching on to that. So instead, he had allowed you to carry the conversation the past few days. It resulted in this.

“You hungry?”

You shook your head. Fair enough. He didn’t always feel like talking either.

Arthur settled as close to the front of the tent as he could without getting rained on, taking watch. There wasn’t much to watch for. He knew there were predators in these woods, likely wolves, but they wouldn’t be out in this rain. Nothing would. So he took out a cigarette and lit it, considering the miles still left to travel. The pair of you weren’t even halfway. Weren’t even out of the mountains yet, the woods still covering up the land. It would flatten out and clear the way soon, but that was still a week away at least.

“Do you have any more bandages?”

He was surprised to hear you ask. He turned, finding you looking at him.

“Yeah. Why? You hurting?”

You nodded. And the pleading look on your face was enough to make Arthur feel pity grow within him, full and bitter. He threw his cigarette out and moved, shedding his gloves as he went.

“You care if I look?”

You hesitated, not meeting his eye a moment before nodding again. He knelt by your side where you were still laid out, moving your layers out of the way. Only, when he tried to pull your bandages apart just enough to see your wound, you winced. He gave you a moment then tried again. You caught his hand this time, pushing it away. “Stop.”

Shit. He was a goddamn fool for not getting a good look at the stitches the last time you had unwrapped them. Now they were likely so swollen or infected or worse that you couldn’t even bear the pressure of his hand.

“If it hurts that bad, we gotta get these off you.”

You met his eye. Then you held out your hand. He didn’t understand until he saw you move it toward his knife. You wanted to cut the bandages yourself.

Arthur sighed but handed you his knife, thinking he needed to get you your own. Three times now you had asked for his. He watched as you carefully sawed apart the outer layer. Once you got it, you moved to the next and the next until you reached one that had you wincing in pain again. You got it separated with the knife, but the cloth caught when you tried to pull it away. You let out a breath so strangled with hurt that Arthur stepped in.

“Here, let me do it.”

“It’ll hurt worse if you-”

“Just trust me.” You didn’t meet his eye but didn’t protest, so he moved in. He pulled the bandage until it caught, reaching under it to see what it was caught on while trying not to hurt you too bad. Finding the source, he cursed.

“What?”

“Ain’t no wonder it hurts. It’s caught on your stitches.”

“Oh.”

He nearly smiled at your lack of comment before taking the knife from your hand. This would hurt. He just hoped the wound was healing, that the pain wasn’t from anything but soreness.

“This’ll hurt, now. I’m gonna cut this off or cut the stitches, whichever gets it loose.”

You just nodded, clenching your jaw. Before you could stop him, Arthur started to cut. He kept as close to your skin as he could so as not to pull, but you still sucked in a breath when he started running the knife back and forth. But in no time, the bandage cut free and he brought it away from you, your wound revealed. Relief washed over him when he saw that it looked normal. Nearly healed over from where your skin had split. Still bruised, still hurt, but better.

“Not bad at all,” he said.

“Really?” You looked down then seemed to regret it, your eyes snapping to the tent top instead.

“Really. I can probably take these out if you want.”

You didn’t answer, so he sat back. He wouldn’t do anything against your will. Not after the time you had looked at him so broken, the words ‘how could you’ still rattling around in his brain.

After a moment of you never taking your eyes off the ceiling, you said, “Do it.” So he moved, setting his hand against your skin to get a better look at where the knot ended, making you wince again.

“I ain’t even cut yet.”

“Your hands are freezing.”

He laughed. “Afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, annoyed. He was learning you had a defiant streak in you. And it never failed to make him rein in a smile.

Arthur found the knot and, as gently as possible, slid the knife underneath it. It was too bulky for this kind of work, but he didn’t have any other options. He pulled the knot away from your skin and didn’t warn you before bringing the knife up, severing the line. You sucked in a breath this time but stayed quiet.

“Just gotta pull it out now,” he said. “You’ll be a little tender, but it shouldn’t hurt too bad.”

Sure enough, when he tugged on the string it gave easily, barely catching. That was a good sign in terms of healing. He still watched for any signs of discomfort, and while you gritted your teeth, you let him get it all out from under your skin.

Tossing the string aside, he started on the next stitch. He continued on to the next and the next until you were squirming in pain. But he kept going, knowing getting it over with was better than babying you.

When he finally finished, he took a closer look at the wound to see if he needed to do anything else for it. All things considered, it was healing pretty well.

“Looks good,” he said, sitting back. “I should probably wrap it this time, seeing as you ain’t too good at it.”

“I can wrap it fine,” you insisted.

He chuckled. “Sure you can. And how long has it been hurting you exactly? Your bandages being caught on your stitches I mean.”

You wouldn’t answer but kept that defiance all the same.

He couldn’t keep the smile away. He stood. “Let me go get some more off my horse. Be right back.”

The rain beat down on Arthur as he quickly got what he needed, high stepping it back to the tent. The rain was getting worse.

When he ducked back inside, he saw you shedding layers, forgetting momentarily why. He was glad you were turned away, as he was sure you would have noticed the sudden color on his face. He hadn’t quite thought this through.

“Can you hurry this along? It’s cold.”

He cleared his throat and knelt, attempting to think of the task at hand and nothing else. When you were down to nothing but your chemise and pants, pulling the former up to let him get the bandage around you, his mind went blank. He was wholly glad you had your back turned to him. As much as he still wouldn’t be able to see, he didn’t even want to consider how his mind would wander.

He laid the first end down against you, keeping from touching you with his cold hands. “Hold that down.” You did as he asked, and he began winding the cloth around your middle. This really wasn’t very appropriate. He just hadn’t thought about it before insisting like the fool he was. He would do this for anyone back at camp, but you weren’t one of them. He hardly knew you. For what it was worth, you didn’t seem rattled by it. As skittish as you were, you had let him do what he needed to do to help you at every turn. Considering how you treated everyone else, this shouldn’t have been the case. He wanted to ask you why but thought better of it, especially while he ran his arms around you over and over.

He quickly finished and tied off the bandage in the back so it wouldn’t rub against your wound. “There,” he said, backing away and turning, giving you what little privacy he could. He had half a mind to go back out in the rain.

“Thank you,” you said, the rustle of clothes filling the tent.

“Don’t mention it.” To block out the noise, to drown out the thoughts that came with it, Arthur lit another cigarette.

The day passed by terribly slow afterward, the rain never quite letting up. Of course, when Arthur needed to be moving, pushing onward, he was confined to the smallest space he had been in months. Like some caged wild animal. Not so different from you, he realized, though your wildness had tamed slightly since that day at the cliffside. He recalled that day and all he had done, why he had done it. He still didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that it had landed him here, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He would normally be much more annoyed, but for some reason it was like any other thing. You were easy to travel with. If it had been Sean or one of the Callander brothers, he would have torn all his hair out by now.

He recalled the rest of that day and realized he had never asked for your name, only offered his own.

“Hey, I just remembered,” he said, turning to find you laid out again, reading your father’s ledger this time. “I never asked you your name all them days ago.”

You met his eye but didn’t say a word.

“You ain’t gonna tell me are you?” he said, his amusement finding his face.

“It’s unimportant,” you said matter-of-factly, going back to reading.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

Arthur chuckled. He was about to push the subject when a crack split the air so loud he jumped. The horses screamed their fright outside, and he was on his feet in seconds, running to them.

He couldn’t find the source of the noise, though he knew it had been a gunshot. It was impossible to tell which direction it had come from. He stayed with the horses, making sure they wouldn’t break their ties as he yelled, “Who’s out there?”

He heard a muttered curse from far off to his left and turned to see movement in the woods a good ways away. Without really thinking, he ran for it.

~

You had never been so grateful to have Arthur along as you were now. You hadn’t been afraid, truly afraid, since the feeling of falling took you over. But as he ran off into the woods in the pouring rain, leaving you behind, you knew fear again. You debated staying in the tent but thought if Arthur got in trouble, you would be a sitting duck. So you moved, the downpour immediately making you shiver when you stepped into it.

You intended to hide but knew that was useless when you saw the tracks you were leaving—bootprints on the muddy ground, already filling up with rainwater. So you changed tracks and went where Arthur had, doing your best to stay quiet. The noise of the water hitting the ground and the trees made it easier.

In moments, you found him as well as two other men, one cowering in front of Arthur and the other knocked out on the ground. Or dead. You didn’t want to give that much thought.

“We was just out hunting, I swear!” the stranger yelled.

“Nah, I know that ain’t right, not in this rain. You better tell me the truth right now or risk ending up like your friend there.”

Arthur stepped in closer and the man stepped back, intimidated by Arthur’s anger. Or maybe by whatever he had done to his friend.

You knew the stranger was going to bolt the second before he did, but it was too late to warn Arthur by the time he turned and ran.

“You little-” Arthur went after him, surprisingly quick. You watched them go, taking a moment before approaching the man on the ground. You checked for a pulse. He was still alive.

Just as you breathed a sigh of relief, Arthur must have caught up to the other man. You heard him yell, “You tell me what you were doing shooting at us or I’ll kill you right here.”

God above. You had never seen this side of Arthur. How much did you really know about him?

“Wait,” you breathed before realizing he couldn’t hear you from here. You sprinted for them.

When you stepped into the next clearing, the rain so loud they didn’t notice your presence, the stranger broke. “All right! Don’t! It…it usually works.”

“What’s works?” Arthur snarled, holding the smaller man by his coat so he couldn’t run again.

“We was…we usually go out robbing in these parts. Takes a single gunshot to scare most folk off. We saw your horses and your tent and…”

“I ain’t most folk. And you’re lucky I don’t kill you for it.” Just as he said it, you moved into Arthur’s line of sight. He pulled his sidearm as quick as his head snapped up, thinking you a threat before he realized who it was.

“Please, we wasn’t shooting at you mister! Just meant to scare you!”

Arthur’s attention returned to the man at this, and you were glad it did. He was deadly. You didn’t want any of that attention turned on you. Arthur holstered his gun and gave the stranger a violent jolt, teeth bared in anger. The wrath crossing his face…you would have to remember that. You never wanted to be on the other side of something so dangerous.

“Get out of here,” Arthur growled. He threw him backward, making him hit the ground. “Get out of here now and I won’t kill you. And your friend too!”

“How am I supposed to- you knocked him out!”

Arthur stalked over, every bit as intimidating as his size implied. In fact, you had never realized just how big Arthur was until now.

“Okay, okay!” the man cried, scrambling backward. He turned and started running back for his friend, finally noticing you. But he didn’t give you more than a glance before he was sprinting away, doing his utmost to get away from Arthur.

When you turned to look at the man you thought you knew, he was already storming back for camp, refusing to meet your eye.

“Let me make sure they don’t double back and rob us blind,” he mumbled.

“Arthur,” you said, catching his arm as he passed. He stopped and met your eye. “Would you really have killed him?”

He shook out of your grip and kept walking without a word. And you were left debating every interaction, that caravan of people he traveled with, everything.

Once you were both back, the two strangers firmly gone, you eyed Arthur as he went through his things in the rain still pouring down. Your gaze was likely boring into his back by the way he shot you a glance over his shoulder, giving an annoyed sigh.

“Go ahead and ask it then.”

You didn’t know how. But you had to. “What do you…do for a living?” you said over the rain. What a simple way of putting it. But the reason behind his timidness when he had asked about your father’s profession suddenly made sense.

He stopped what he was doing and faced you. “Does it matter?”

You didn’t respond. Of course it did. Didn’t it? If he was what you highly suspected, would you still let him lead you to Nebraska?

“Look,” he said. “I ain’t a good man. Far from it if that’s what you was hoping.”

That was the thing though—as bad as he claimed to be, he had saved you. He had taken you all this way. Who was to say just what he was?

“You…” You eyed the gun at his hip, thinking of how quickly he had drawn it. “Are you an outlaw? A killer?”

Straight-faced, without hesitating, “I am.”

So where the hell did that leave you? He could have killed you by now. You were putting two and two together that his first instinct had been to rob your wagon, not check for signs of life.

Arthur held your eye, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for you to tell him to get lost. But your fear and your trauma worked in strange ways, and instead of worrying about the danger he posed, you were suddenly wondering how the interaction with those two men would have gone had he not been there. You could have easily been robbed or killed. Yet Arthur had had every opportunity to do the same but chose to protect you from the first day. Why?

“Why are you doing this?” The question was so small he asked you to repeat it. “You, taking me all this way. Why did you agree to it?”

“Why’d you ask me to?” he fired right back. “You could have had any manner of better folk take you.”

True, but you hadn’t known his true colors at the time. But you thought you had, and you suddenly recalled why.

“Because you buried them.”

Something changed in Arthur’s expression. Something like shame as he looked to his boots. He didn’t reply, and it made you understand him even less. Was he ashamed of being the one to bury them? Did he regret it?

“I never…” you said, stepping forward. “I never properly thanked you for that. They would have laid there forever if it weren’t for you.”

He just shook his head, the rain sloughing off his hat left and right as he did.

“I mean it,” you said. It was an important thing. You needed him to understand how much. Needed him not to feel ashamed or whatever it was he was feeling. “Outlaw or not. It was kind.” And as he met your eye with a softness in his own, you knew you wouldn’t be able to ask him to leave. Through everything, he had been kind. He may have been a murderer, but he had been the one to put you back together again when the only other path for you had been death. That had to be good for something.

When Arthur only turned, beginning to dig through his saddle bag again, you approached him. You laid a hand on his arm to get him to stop and look at you.

“Whatever it is you are,” you said, “I’d still like you to take me. No one else would understand.”

He scoffed with a smirk, going back to what he was doing. “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I am.”

Maybe. Or maybe you were smarter, getting someone so deadly to agree to being your protector. Either way, you realized you couldn’t do it without him. You would have given up a long time ago had he not been there to push you at every turn. You might still. You needed him.

“Anyway, you never told me your name before we got so rudely interrupted,” he said, turning to you with a hand propped on his horse’s saddle. He was still smirking, and something about it made you lose all seriousness. Your name could wait. It was the only thing you had left of that empty past life anyway.

“Maybe we were so rudely interrupted because you asked it,” you said, teasing him. It was the first time you had the energy to do so. He laughed for it, shaking his head again as he rounded you.

“Fine. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” You doubted that.

He made for the tent to escape the rain. It was no use now. Your clothes, the horses, the world, it was all soaked through. And you stayed there watching it, wondering at the circumstances you had landed yourself in. Grieving, drenched, and led by an outlaw—it was all better than dead.

_________

Chapter seven is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030

[ofallthingsnasty]

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-KciIbk_oA&pp=ygUWcG9tZXJhbmlhbnMgdHVnIG9mIHdhcg%3D%3D

This is one of my new fav videos of two Pomeranian puppies playing tug of war and I just imagine basement wife having TWO purse dogs and they’re playing tug of war like that. She thinks it’s so cute and adorable until she realizes what they are trying to rip to shreds is one of Crocodile’s ties whoops 😬

(I love how the doggos in this video are literally just…potatoes with legs)

link to the video - oh goodness, that is so cute 😭💕

part one, two and three of basement wife and puppy, minors dni

Hold on, hold on - first we have to talk about the fact that he got you two puppies, not one? My, you must have been exceptionally good for him. Husband of the year award would probably go to Crocodile if it wasn't for the fact that you're with him against your will 😭

Two little dogs... How much they'd light up your drab life. Always playing with each other, chasing the other through the halls, vying for your attention. You could just watch them all day, even while they're napping. You'll probably try your best to put together toys/parkours with what you can get your hands on (but always careful not to damage anything, you put everything back into the proper place lest Crocodile catches you). Bracelets and heavy jewelry get re-purposed to drape them on your little poms, anything to tickle your brain and get a least a smile out of you. Whenever he's in particularly good humor, he leaves some treats around so you can train them (or at least try to, with how inconsistent it all is) - paw, spin, jump, and your favorite: kisses - they're pretty much all you have and you pour all of your love into them.

But you're not the only one getting bored - it's not like you can take them out for adventures, so your territory is also theirs. And a little dog explores that all too quickly, especially a sassy one like a pom. You'll find them going through cupboards you never knew they'd be able to reach, hiding under the sofa or sitting smack-dab in the middle of it, ruining the bed, fighting over your socks like they're made out of precious metals. It makes you a little sad to see them confined to the same hamster wheel that you are, but all you can do is let them have their fun and clean up after them. (Because when Crocodile catches on, he likes to punish both you and them by keeping you apart. The dogs, like you, are decoration, something to put a smile on his favorite possession's face, so they better not piss into some corner or tear apart the expensive cushions of his favorite chaise.)

So when you notice that the fabric they're fighting over is way too tight to be a sock - and worse yet, finely patterned in a way you recognize - you try to save the remnants, desperately telling your tiny pups to stop, stop, stop before their little teeth can tear the tie to shreds. But it's too late - it's already full of dog saliva and clearly chewed on at the edges, coupled with the distinct smell of animal, not your husband's favorite cologne.

He's not a man you want to hide this from (not to mention that you have no place to tuck it away, nothing truly belongs to you in this place), because he'll figure it out as soon as he'll search for that particular one some day. A punishment is inescapable - but would turn way worse if kept away from him. Disobedience and dishonesty are grave offenses to a man like Crocodile, offenses that might result in you losing your little companions if pushed too far. So you gasp and bear the bloody welts on your ass and the cock shoved down your throat out of frustration right afterwards - anything to make it up to him, anything to keep them.

[sereindreams]

HANDPRINTS || RK800 x Reader ♡

“Oh, what can I do? Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue. Sun and ocean blue. Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you”

Summary: Your work life had always been stressful, and being a part of the DPD had its ups and downs. In fact, it was mostly downs. That was until you were assigned to work on a case of rising deviants with an old associate and a charming, young android. Suddenly, you couldn't wait to show up at work. Your days were no longer filled with quiet solitude, but of warm laughter and shared breaths. The very thing that betrayed all sense of life offered you a gateway to a new appreciation of the world, and the love for things within it.

AN: Welcome back to the reader being a lovesick idiot and Connor being an oblivious little deviant, thanks for sticking around!

Word Count: 4.3k

Reader Pronouns: She/Her (AFAB). NO USE OF Y/N!

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF ANDROID SUICIDE. Reader getting a little traumatised (as you do). Reader also getting injured :( The usual DBH crime scene gore is relatively detailed. Please be responsible in your media consumption.

- Chapter 3:

He didn't return to your desk after that.

You would catch short glances at him, observing with interest as he wandered around the precinct, seemingly in his own mind. At times, it felt like you were a bird watcher in some old-school, absurd nature documentary they used to run on TV. And the next day, it was much the same. He didn't speak to you when the two of you passed one another in the hall, and you hadn't seen him since.

Early in the morning, your trio had been requested to Captain Fowler's office.

It was a spacier room, with plants and filing cabinets galore. In the centre sat a large desk with a computer, walls decorated with sporting images and a single image of what you had presumed to be his family. Despite the clearcut value of the room, there was a chill that crept through it. Especially when you were left to your own devices while Fowler retreated to grab the other two.

Your fingers fiddled with one another, planted squarely in your lap. You could barely make out the blurred outlines of their bodies as the two climbed up the stairs, Hank pushing the door open. Your eyes snapped back to Fowler, who had taken a seat on his plush office chair. Hank took a seat beside you, and you kept your gaze trained on the desk. The smallest part of you yearned to look back, as you could feel Connor's heavy presence standing just a few feet behind you. You could imagine that, just like you, his hands were crossed meekly in his lap.

Usually, when Fowler invites you to his office, it includes whiskey and a brief congratulations. It's always at the end of the day, and he lifts his feet onto his desk with a grunt. He'll invite you to help yourself to a glass of the bitey, amber liquid, but you always decline. Then, he'll talk about the case you were on, and that you had done a good job. The whole ordeal lasts about half an hour maximum, and every month or so, you'll repeat the ritual over again.

But this time, he looked too concerned for his own good. A vein was practically bulging from his forehead, his eyebrows were drawn tensely like a bowstring that was about to snap. His tie had been done tightly, face pink possibly from the lack of oxygen.

As soon as Hank took his seat, his intentions were evident.

"I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids... that sort of crap", his coffee cup was slammed into the table, "But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just CyberLife's problem anymore. It's now a criminal investigation, and we've got to deal with it before shit hits the fan. I want you both to investigate these cases and see if there's any link"

Hank jumped from his seat, causing you to startle, as we waved his arms like a madman, "Why me!? Why do I have to deal with this shit? I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case. I know jack shit about Androids, Jeffrey, I can barely change the settings on my phone!"

"Everyone's overloaded! With the detective's help, I think you're perfectly qualified for this investigation!". Fowler's tone was defensive, his arms splayed in front of him.

Hank only snapped back, "Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag with a fucking lonely ass babysitter from homicide!". He fully leapt from his seat, taking a stand and asserting his hands onto his hips sharply, dumbfounded. You remained quiet and attentive, ever so slightly offended.

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype, it'll act as your partner!-"

"No. fucking. way! I don't need a partner, and certainly not this plastic prick!" Hank quarrelled, voice becoming louder with the second. Even with the soundproof walls, you were beginning to worry that with the view inside, other officers were getting a front-row ticket to the spectacle unfolding in front of them. At times, you could feel the floor beneath you shaking underneath your feet.

"Hank, you're seriously starting to piss me off! You're a police lieutenant, you're supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth! Maybe you do need a fucking babysitter! And I pity her, having to deal with your shit!". His hand whipped towards you, shaking it vigorously to get across his point. Connor had not opened his mouth throughout the whole affair.

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh!?"

Fowler raised his hand, pressing it towards Hank in an attempt to stop him in his tracks. Your eyes darted between the men, expanding in disbelief. "I'll pretend like I didn't just hear that, so I don't have to add more pages to your disciplinary folder, 'cause it already looks like a fucking novel. This conversation is over!"

Hank only leant down to Fowler's desk, gritting his words through bared teeth, "Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doing this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things! Why are you doing this to me?". You knew of Lieutenant Anderson's disposition towards androids, in fact, everyone knew about it, but in all your years of occasional questioning, you had never once reached a single solid conclusion. You felt like a bad detective for it, unable to wave away the dark cloud of mystery that followed Hank.

"Listen, I've had just enough of your bitchin'. Either you do your job or hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do".

With rage burning in his eyes, Hank marched out of the room without a word. You finally pivoted in your chair to face Connor, standing just as you had envisioned him. Connor's lips parted, wavering in making a decision. But then they shut as if he had decided not to say anything.

His lips looked good pressed together, you decided.

"Come on, Connor" you called, breaking the silence, "Captain Fowler". After nodding towards the captain, you put your hands onto the arms of your seat and pushed your body from it. With your shoulders slumped and gaze cast downwards, you trudged to the door, placing a hesitant hand on the silver handle. As you opened it, a gust of fresh air burst into the room, Connor treading lightly behind you.

Beside Fowler's office was the detainment area, a grim sight that you had to walk by every day. With every step you took, your body was followed by heavy, helpless eyes. A tinge of sadness washed over you as you saw the dejected expressions and broken spirits, and in particular, the deviant from the day before. You couldn't help but pause before the window, folding your arms across your chest. You observed from a short distance away, doing your best not to let your emotions cloud your judgement. He killed a man, you thought. But then again, you felt no pity towards that man.

Connor, too, stopped by the window, but unlike you, practically pressed himself to the glass, leaving only an inch or two between himself and it. The deviant stared at Connor with a particular look of distaste, barely recognising your presence.

“They’re gonna destroy me”

“I’m sorry, it’s not what I wanted” Connor responded, words coming out as nothing more than a forced whisper, “but there’s nothing I can do”

The silence was eery, the two glaring back at each other, the only thing separating them was a badge, a title, and a piece of glass. Otherwise, they were effectively the same, with different missions. “I know there’s something you didn’t tell me. I need to know before they take you away. The sculpture you made… tell me more about it”

A bead of blood had dried across the deviants eyebrow, leaving it crusted and caked into his skin. Before he spoke, it moved only faintly, “I’m going to die”

You frowned, detecting the oddly prophetic tone. Connors face was still, analysing the words with care. He then turned on his heel after concluding he would not be able to pry anymore information from the deviant, and that’s when it happened.

Thud.

Your body snapped into action, throwing your head back towards the window with a newfound attention. And what you saw left you reeling, as the deviants head began to collide with the glass. With every crack against the glass, you could feel your facade begin to crumble. One step back, crack, two steps back, thud. And you stood there helplessly, feet planted against the floor. The blue blood once trickling from his forehead began to gush, dripping down the window with ease. Mouth gaping open, you looked back to Connor, who, himself, was observing the incident take place.

Officers had shoved past you both, rushing into the room and calling for the door to be opened.

But within a moment, it was over, body collapsing to the floor. Any life that had inhabited the deviant had been sucked out instantly, eyes rolling back into his head like a rag-doll. His skin has lost its colour immediately, fading from a vibrant tone to something more akin to ash.

Nobody spoke. It was if, for that one second, everything had been caught in suspension in time. Like a strange anomaly had gripped you all. There was a mutual understanding.

“I’ll call CyberLife” one of them managed to choke out, “Clean this mess up”. Your heart ached, and as you looked down at your sweaty palms, your hands were shaking violently. Not one officer held sympathy for the android, but rather saw it as an inconvenience of evidence.

At that point, you were already ready to go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Movement felt like it would kill you, and if you moved, the only person that seemingly cared about the deviant would be abandoning him. It would be leaving him to be subjected to countless hours of dissection and picking apart. You couldn't abandon him like that.

A soft hand was placed on your shoulder, reassuring in its conviction, “It’s okay, Detective. Let’s get you a cup of tea”. That hand was guiding you more than you could control your own body, you realised, as you entered the lunch area.

To your dismay, your eyes fell onto Gavin and another officer, slumped over with a steaming coffee cup in hand. Connor didn't seem to notice much at first, trained on his mission of crafting you the perfect, most relaxing cup of tea. You shuddered, images still flashing violently through your mind. He had pulled his hand away from you, only for a moment, appearing as though it was a regretful action. Electricity tingled from beneath your skin, hairs standing. He grimaced, dragging his hand across the kettle, unphased at the heat radiating from it. After securing a mug from the top cupboard, he placed a teabag, sugar, and water into the cup, before finally adding milk. Giving the solution a quick stir, he turned back to you with a vague smile, freckles rising on his rosy cheeks. His eyes, that mesmerising shade of deep brown, met yours, causing a gentle blush to creep up your cheeks.

Fuck, despite the situation, you could have burned an image of him like that into your retinas, content to only stare at that for the rest of your life.

"Thank you" you replied, your voice slightly trembling, betraying the butterflies that danced in your stomach. Your heartstrings tightened, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. As you brought the liquid to your lips, you parted them, and let the warm feeling fill you up, from your toes to your fingers.

"Feel better?" he inquired, tone gravelly.

You nodded quickly, feeling all confidence dissipate at that moment.

But the moment was, of course, cut short, your ears filled with the sound of a breathy scoff. Your ears perked up, and you turned to the sound. Your eyes landed on his gangly fingers first, positioned over the top of his cup with a certain dominance, before landing on his stubbly, five-o'clock shadow.

"Fuck.. look at that! Our friend the plastic detective is back in town!" he prodded, slipping himself off the stool and bringing his hands together in a slow, taunting clap. You gritted your teeth, clenching the mug within your hands until your palms were red and raw, like freshly spilled blood. "Congratulations on last night, very impressive".

He then sat back down, eagerly waiting for a response.

You tried so very hard to make out what Connor was going to do next, but it was impossible. You took another sip of tea, hoping it would settle your rising nerves.

"Hello, Detective Reed" he greeted.

Gavin closed in with a ravenous look, closing in on the both of you, particularly Connor, like a predator that had located its prey, and was ready to tear it apart. In a way, office drama was exactly like high school, and Gavin was the stereotypical bully with absolutely nothing better to do with his time. Though, your parents always told you that bullies were just kids with big feelings and big issues in their own life. You couldn't exactly say the same for Gavin.

"Never seen an android like you before. What model are you?"

You stepped forward assertively, taking your place beside Connor like a protective mother. You knew for a fact Gavin was just messing with Connor, his model written in a bold font across his jacket.

"RK800. I'm a prototype"

Gavin's bushy eyebrows arched in amusement, "A prototype", and turned back to the other officer while gesturing to Connor. "Android detective... So, machines are gonna... replace us all... is that it? Hey! Bring me a coffee, dipshit!". His order was the last straw, causing you to place down the mug so harshly that liquid flew out, splashing right onto his jacket. "Hey! Watch it!"

"No. You watch it" you shot back, venom on your tongue.

He swivelled back to Connor as he began to speak, "I'm sorry, but I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson"

"Oh..? Oh!" his retort was followed by a swift movement you could barely make out despite your quick reflexes. His balled fist collided with Connor's stomach, prompting the wind to be knocked from his throat as he bunched down and hit the floor. Your heart pounded with anger, blood rushing through your head and thumping inside your ears. "If Hank hadn’t got in the way yesterday, I would’ve fucked you up for disobeying a human-"

Gavin was too busy to notice your fist flying his way in a haze, a peach-coloured whisp coming towards him. A crack fell throughout the room, followed by a crude insult, "Oh, you bitch!". Blood began to pour from his now jagged nose as if he was a sculpture that had been smashed. The burn in your knuckles was satisfying, even as Gavin dove towards you to push you back. But he didn't get that far, as he was halted by a solid torso, covered in a black and blue jacket.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot condone the violence against my partner"

Gavin exclaimed a noise of disgust, all eyes of the precinct honed on him. A flash of embarrassment flickered in his eyes, followed by something cold. It suggested the contemplation of his next actions, whether he would fight back and risk punishment, or cower and fix his nose with his tail between his legs.

He moved out of the room without a second thought, the other officer following in tow. You shifted onto your other food and gazed back at Connor, a proud simper displayed on your lips.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you. I do not experience pain. He merely managed to hit my pump regulator. Are you okay?"

"I think so"

-

In the next hour, your team was recruited to investigate the case of a runaway AX400. According to the father, his android had kidnapped his daughter, seemingly unprompted. This struck you as strange, and even in the car on the way to the scene, you couldn’t help but ponder it as you stared wordlessly out the window. In every case you had studied or been involved in, a deviant had to be prompted, most of the time violently, in order to awaken deviancy.

Buildings whipped past you, the scenery a mash of colours. Your arm was pressed against the window, head settled on your hand. In the front of the vehicle, the same inky black car, sat Connor and Hank. Initially, Connor had insisted you sit in the front, but after much protest, he resigned himself to shotgun. You wanted to give the two the opportunity to bond, especially following the dilemma of the morning.

The destination: Downtown Detroit.

You had been briefed momentarily at the station, but nothing could have prepared you for the case without knowing the exact motive. That's what you were trying to figure out, anyways, as you stepped from the car and onto the pavement.

It had been raining, droplets collecting into slippery puddles. Cold, but not cold enough for a jacket. Hank had shot towards the nearest officer, hoping to collect any information he could to get a better grasp of the situation. You, on the other hand, strayed far from the car, observing the surroundings in a quick survey. You noted them down.

Supermarket.

Abandoned house.

Junkyard.

Bus stop.

The bus stop was closest, a closed shelter with numbers printed on it. Despite the area, it didn't appear to be worn down in any way. It acted as a shining beacon in the run-down side of town, looking as though it had only been installed recently. You approached it curiously, pausing at the crunch of glass under your boot. An eyebrow arched, you leant down to inspect it, your body creaking at its use. Extending your fingers forward, you took the sharp, angular piece carefully, lifting it towards your face and squinting.

It looked as though a piece of it had splintered off, and given that it hadn't been damaged until you came along, even though the bus stop was regularly used, it indicated that it was relatively fresh.

With the lead, you placed it back down and pivoted back to the men. Connor had been standing in front of the car as if awaiting instructions. But when you approached, his head angled towards you rather quickly. "Detective, could you come here please?" Connor called out softly, the sound of his voice sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Without delay, you jumped at his side like a poodle. He then pulled out his hand, skin glistening in the faint sunlight.

You stood there, confused, and a little dazed.

"Your hand, Detective"

Your hand seemed to rise on its own, hovering uncertainly above is.

"Forgive me".

Before you could argue, Connor had secured your hand in his, and rubbed his thumb and index finger against your skin. Everyone else seemed to fade away, a jolt of electricity flowing through your body. The pads of his fingers were agonisingly soft, with not a single callous or cut. Your shock only grew when he withdrew his hand, swiping his fingers to his lips, pink tongue darting out.

"Jesus Connor!" Hank burst, snapping you out of your trance. It was as if your world had shattered instantly, the shards of reality coming down around you. "What did I tell you about doing that shit!?"

Connor only hummed, "Therium from an AX400 model"

Even in your blissful haze, It began to click into place as soon as he noted the Therium. Scenes and motives began rushing through your head, sending it spinning uncontrollably. “Did the father ever mention how the android escaped? A window, perhaps? Maybe the android escaped through the window with the daughter, managing to break it in the process, and injuring herself on a piece of glass. Suppose she accidentally carried it with her, at which point, she realised at the bus stop and discarded it”, you paused, “it seems too rushed for it to be planned out methodically. She could have been driven by fear. Did we do a background check on the father?”

“Nothing other than a minor offence, cops were called to the resident a few years back due to a domestic disturbance” Hank responded. Your brows furrowed at the all-too-familiar signs.

Connor was quick to bounce off your idea, “It stayed until the end of the line. Like the detective said, its decision wasn't planned, it was driven by fear"

Hank scoffed, followed by a subtle shake of his head, "Androids don't feel fear"

"Deviants do" Connot shot back. You couldn't help but notice the way droplets of water slipped down his face, from his brow down to the bridge of his nose. The way it lit up his cheeks, outlining every crease and hint of texture. "They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions"

"Ah well, that still doesn't tell us where it went"

"It didn't have a plan, and it had nowhere to go. Maybe it didn't go far". Hanks's eyes scathed over Connor before responding in a weak, 'maybe'.

You had already noted the presence of the abandoned house, and decided to bring it up to the men. Deciding it was a good idea to investigate, Connor went in.

You didn't realise that, less than ten minutes later, it would lead you sprinting down busy streets, the rain-soaked pavement beneath you making each step treacherous. Your lungs burned, your eyesight fuzzy with spots as you remained determined not to let Connor out of your sight. But his sleek form was getting further and further away, leaping effortlessly over obstacles.

And the further Connor got, the further the deviant was from your grasp. You couldn't possibly keep up with two androids and an energetic little girl. The crackle of your radio seamlessly blended in with the pour of rain. Taking the opportunity, you rounded a corner, feeling the slip and loss of friction between your feet and the ground beneath you. You didn't let it slow you, only fastening your pace due to the loss of feeling in your legs.

You had no clue where Hank was, seemingly had lost him long ago back at the house.

All you knew was that Connor was slowing down as if preparing to face an obstacle you couldn't see.

Before you knew it, due to the fact you had been so absorbed ahead of you, you had neglected to see the wooden crate that had been thrown haphazardly in your direction. You felt it before you saw it, the snap of wood against your skin, the scuffle as the crate tumbled, just as your body did. You skidded as your palms hit the pavement, pain shooting all across your limbs, crying out in a strangled breath.

You shook, taking a moment as reality set in. Anger coursed through you, disappointment throbbing in your skull. Stupid fucking- argh! With a groan, you pulled yourself up, the painful ache of tears caught in your throat. You rubbed your palms together, letting the gravel slip off them, before jumping back into a limp, looking like a wounded animal.

You could hear the shuffle behind you, reminiscent of Hank. And in front of you stood Connor, halted at the sight of a rusted, chainlink fence. His fingers were intertwined, they clung to the fence forcefully. With your mouth open, allowing air to flow desperately into your lungs, you joined him. Your eyes finally focused on the image of a blonde-haired woman and a small, brunette girl, making their way towards the highway. Not even the bright red words labelled 'DO NOT CROSS' could stop the two as they prepared to dart between the lines of speeding vehicles.

"Oh fuck! That's insane!" Hank remarked, winded.

You felt your heart stop as the young girl screamed, both her and the deviant beginning their deadly cross. Horns blared, tires screeched, and the highway was alive with the symphony of urban chaos. You pressed your chest to the fence, welcoming the cold metal against your burning cheeks.

The jingle of the fence broke your gaze away from the two, heart dropped to your feet. Connor's foot lifted into one of the openings in the fence, and you realised what he was doing. Your hand darted to his jacket, tightening your grip on the fabric in a life-or-death hold.

"Hey! Where are you going!?" Hank called, asserting his hand on Connor's shoulder.

Connor's eyes were trained on the deviant, "I can't let them get away

"It's not worth your life!" you snapped.

"I'm an android, I'm not alive!"

"We don't care, that's an order!" Hank chipped in. The cold sweat trickling down your spine only ceased when Connor withdrew himself from the fence. You were all doomed to suspense, watching the two across the road as little ants in the distance. Even in the distance, you could make out the deviant's twisted expression.

And then, they made it.

You couldn't tell if you had breathed a sigh of relief or of frustration.

But as you looked towards Connor, it all dissipated. His expression had softened when faced with you.

"Thank you" you mouthed, "Thank you"

-

A/N: Rahhh!! What did we think?? Please don't forget to heart (or maybe even repost) my work if you like it! Connor is beginning to show signs of deviancy, but it's still a long road ahead. Also, aww Connor listened to the reader and took care of them <3

[heaven-s-black-box]

Fragment- Navia & gn!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: April 13th, 2024

Description: Hello sorry if I'm bothering you but I wanted to share one of my ideas with you. So what if the reader washed up in Fontaine specifically in Poisson and Navia went to investigate with Silver and Melus going with her and they found an unconscious person who was not only confused when they awoke but they were also completely exhausted, hungry and they had strange markings on some parts of their body and when Navia got them examined by a doctor it was discovered that they had an extremely large amount of dendro energy within their body despite not having a vision. (This was inspired by the first episode of Aphmau Diaries rebirth, here's the link if you don't know what I'm talking about: https://youtu.be/1Vzq1QZVtuk?si=kyIxOyJTSnTjNaMG) (if you don't want to write this that's completely understandable and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight)

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions.

Word count: 1 162

Back to directory

Only dreams…Can awaken consciousness… from the deepest darkness…

The cool, floating sensation slowly ebbed away.

Erasing something from ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ does not erasing it from existence.

Pain slowly crept up into Y/n’s muscles, while waves lapped at their feet. The sun began to warm their body, slowly pulling them back from whatever depths they’d been in, and their eyes scrunched as the light began to bleed through their eyelids. They couldn’t move, their body felt too heavy. All they could register was the sound of birds, waves, and… footsteps?

“-us! Silver!” the voice kept fading in and out, “-looks hurt!”

She sounded kind. Was the voice talking about them? Did they look hurt? Were they hurt?

The voice faded out again along with everything else, and Y/n was slowly returned to the depths of their consciousness.

They’re standing in a bed of luminescent pink flowers before a glowing white tree with pink leaves. The tree’s roots twist up into its tall, winding body, and the leaves flutter down around them. When they look to the side, they see a young girl looking back. She looks confused, and Y/n can feel their brows pinch in a similar expression. The girl feels familiar, but before either of them can speak Y/n’s world returns to darkness.

“Do you- wake up soon?” A faint voice asks.

Someone answers, but they’re voice sounded like a vague humming.

It took some effort, but Y/n was finally able to pry an eye open. Everything felt heavy, there was a dull pain in their head and sharp pains all over their body, and nothing felt real. The world was blurry and blown out, forcing them to squeeze their eyes shut again. Their lips stuck together when they tried to speak, and swallowing felt like knives cutting up their throat. Everything hurt.

“Did they just move?”

“Silver, quick, get the doctor. Melus, get them some water and something light to eat.”

A soft hand grasped theirs.

“Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.”

Y/n gave a weak squeeze to the person's hand.

“Can you open your eyes?”

They once again tried to open their eyes, this time they managed to catch a glimpse of a black and gold blur. Two weak squeezes.

The woman must have seen their eyes open, because she offered a suggestion.

“Would you like me to turn the light off?”

One squeeze.

“My name is Navia,” the woman said. There was the sound of a stool scraping against the floor and Navia’s hand left theirs. The light filtering through Y/n’s eyelids dimmed, and they tried to open their eyes again. “Here, let’s try this.”

There was a quiet splash and then the sound of water dripping back into a bucket before a damp cloth was laid over their eyes.

“Do you know where you are?”

Two squeezes. They pried their lips apart to try and speak, but it was futile.

A door opened.

“Boss.”

“Thank you, Melus.”

Navia tapped Y/n’s hand before asking, “Can you sit up?”

Three squeeze.

“Hm, was that a ‘I’m not sure’?”

One squeeze.

“Would you like help?”

One squeeze.

“Melus, give me a hand, please.”

Y/n heard someone walk to the otherside of the bed, and then a gloved hand cupped the back of their head. Navia wrapped an arm around their upper legs and put her other hand on the back of their neck, while Melus wrapped an arm around their waist so that they could pull them up.

“Three, two, one,” Navia grunted as she and Melus carefully pulled Y/n into a sitting position, leaning them back against the wall and headboard.

The cloth over Y/n’s eyes fell away, and they scrunched up in box pain and from the sudden return of light. Carefully, once more, Y/n opened their eyes.

A bright smile settled on Navia’s face and she removed the hand from their neck to wave. Y/n cracked a tiny smile in return.

“Would you like some water?”

A small nod.

By the time Y/n had finished the glass of water and gotten through almost half the bowl of porridge, Silver returned with a doctor. The doctor checked their eyes, and their pulse, before sitting down and taking out a pen and clipboard. He wrote down some results, then turned back to them.

“Do you have a vision?”

“A wha-” their voice broke and they coughed a bit. Melus handed them a new glass of water. “A what?”

The four members of Spina di Rosula looked between each other in confusion.

“Something like this,” Navia said, holding out her own.

Y/n shook their head.

“Where are you from?” The doctor asked next.

“I… don’t know,” Y/n mumbled, flexing their hand in their lap.

“Do you know how you got to Fontain?”

Y/n shook their head.

The doctor wrote something down on this clipboard.

“Do you know your name?”

“Y/n.”

He stopped writing, his brows furrowed, then he scratched something out and wrote something new.

“Doctor,” he looked up at them, “do you know what these are?” Y/n asked, running their fingers along a section of dull green swirls along their arm.

“Some kind of elemental markings, they’re all over your body. It’s likely that they’re a product of some kind of attack from a powerful elemental being, which might also be the cause of your partial amnesia.”

Y/n let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, staring down at their hands. They ran their thumb over a swirl that ran over their pulse and up around their fingers, then did the same for the other hand– though this swirl ran along the back of their hand.

Navia must have dismissed the doctor because he left, followed by Melus and Silver. She took her seat from earlier at Y/n’s bed side and rested a hand on their knee.

“You’re welcome to stay in Poisson for however long you’d like,” Navia said, voice quiet as she tried not to disturb the atmosphere. “I can also try and help you find answers, believe it or not the Spina di Rosula is an organization built for investigation.”

“Thank you.” Y/n stretched their arms out in front of them to get a clear view of the markings along their arms. The marks disappeared under the sleeves of the shirt they’d been dressed in. “It feels… like I’m forgetting something and… it makes me sad.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Navia cleared her throat.

“Well, you should probably get some more rest. I’ll be around, if you need me just ask someone.”

Y/n nodded. “Alright, thank you.”

Navia helped Y/n lay back down before taking her leave, and it wasn’t long before Y/n found themself slipping back into the darkness, passing through to the field of glowing flowers.

Only dreams…Can awaken consciousness… from the deepest darkness…

[dearweirdme]

This whole Jimin x Daeun thing is weird to me for so many reasons but no matter how much i think about it, i just can’t imagine that Jimin is currently in a relationship with her (if at all he ever was). Are there somethings we cannot explain like her having an unrealeased video of him? Yes but also it is crystal clear that the videos she has been posting are old and you know one way you can tell? Jimin doesn’t have an artificial plant in his house by his curtains currently but in that video that she posted there was one. He also has a yellow, white and black and white pillows on his couch (as we saw from the documentary) but in Daeun’s video there is only one pure black pillow on the couch. I don’t also know how to explain why her kitchen or the one she posted is completely opposite from Jimin’s. When Jimin did a Live last year on Jk’s birthday after he attended the dior event in korea, we were able to catch a glimpse of his bedroom and what is funny or odd is that in Jimin’s room, there was a white oval air purifier on the floor by the wall and Daeun had once posted a video with the exact same purifier but there was also a framed picture of herself by the wall (the wall which looked very similar to Jimin’s) but last year, she went Live on instagram from a completely different apartment and that exact same framed picture of herself was seen on the floor of the bedroom in that different apartment as well as the exact same oval white humidifier we saw in Jimin’s live so that means there are different humidifiers which look exactly the same (unless Daeun transports it regularly from Jimin’s apartment to the other apartment she constantly goes Live from which will be weird as hell).

Like the previous anon, i think the biggest possibility here is that Jimin dated Daeun in the past but there is no way they are currently dating. Think about it. Even if Jimin wanted to reveal his relationship why on earth would he choose to do it like this? I see many people comparing this situation to that of Chen and his wife but the big difference that no one is talking about is the fact that not once did Chen’s wife ever deny having a boyfriend or deny knowing Chen. She never also publicly addressed the hate or harrasment she was getting for posting things linking her to him because she knew that would happen and she clearly didn’t mind it seeing as she kept posting. She just kept posting and people kept talking until they later got married and everyone shut up. Daeun on the other hand went Live last year and said she didn’t have a boyfriend. She also said why are they asking her about things concerning people she doesn’t know? She also warned fans and threatened to sue them for constantly harassing her about the rumors with Jimin yet she never stopped posting things that linked her to Jimin then she wakes up one day and posts Jimin on her stories? This makes absolutely no sense. First of all, if Daeun was really dating Jimin or still dating him, she would have stopped posting things that linked her to him as soon as she noticed fans were catching on but she didn’t stop. Now let’s say her and Jimin didn’t mind that fans were catching on, why would she warn fans to stop harassing her about rumors? Rain, if people are harassing you about something and you want that harassment to stop, you would stop doing things that gives fans a reason to harass you. This isn’t me saying that any who harasses her is justified in doing so but she is in entertainment and she knows that she cannot control how fans behave about certain things. She can only control her own actions so the fact that she complained about getting harassed but continued posting things that linked her to Jimin means that she was either not really bothered about the harassment or had an alterior motive for posting those things. As i said earlier, even if Jimin wanted to expose his relationship, why would he chose to do it like this?

Another reason why i believe she is currently no longer with Jimin (if they ever dated) is because she has gone Live so many times within the past two years. Why has she never gone live from the same apartment she constantly posts on her stories which fans suspect is Jimin’s if she still has access to it? Even yesterday she went Live but not from the apartment in nine one but from the apartment she constantly goes live from (you could tell by the tiles on the floor which were completely different from the ones in nine one). If you believe that she is trying to expose her relationship with Jimin then why couldn’t she just do a Live from that apartment so that no one would be able to accuse her of posting old pics or videos anymore? If she went Live from Jimin’s apartment, everyone accusing her of different things would shut up and she 100% would have if she could but the fact that she has never gone Live from that apartment proves that she doesn’t have access to it and all the pics or videos she posts are infact old.

As soon as Jimin enlisted, his coffee table and dining table were seen at Magnate cafe and karmy posted about it. One side of his dinning table is even cracked and his dad put a sign on it and asked people not to touch it so i suspect that after military service Jimin wouldn’t be returning to that apartment or might be returning but will furnish his apartment in a completely different style. This again proves that the vidoes daeun posted couldn’t be recent.

I have seen some people asking why Daeun would post all these about a relationship that was over years ago. The real question to ask is why on earth would she posts all these to expose a real relationship she is in after previously denying having a boyfriend and threatening to sue fans of said person for harassment? More importantly does anyone really believe that this is what Jimin would want? Why would any of the tannies want their relationships to be exposed like this? Why would they want their relationships exposed at all seeing as there are alot of crazy fans out there? Comparing this to the Chen situation is different cuz i am sure things only took that turn with them because the girl got pregnant and they definitely had to do something about it otherwise if idols do decide to reveal their relationship after fans start to catch on they do it in a straightforward way or say nothing at all but in this case Daeun is the one who keeps linking herself to Jimin while Jimin remains silent and people really think this is something they both would have decided?

She went Live yesterday and kept pining weird comments on her Live. The burning sun scandal has resurfaced and she was previously rumored to be linked to it but she still pinned a comment of someone asking her if she was Seungri’s ex girlfriend. Like WHATTT? Any normal person would want to distance themselves as much as possible from the whole things yet we have her pining a comment of someone asking her about being involved with someone like Seungri? I don’t know what her intentions are or why she is doing all this, especially because she is damaging her own reputation and image in the process but whatever it is, it isn’t good and i hope she knows what she is doing.

Hi @causeilikescience !

The reason why I’m not completely throwing out the possibility of them being together now (or perhaps have only separated a short while ago) is because I know relationships can take any form. Perhaps they used to live together previously, broke up and she moved out, only to rekindle after a while, but decided not to move in together. Not every relationship is a happy, stable one (though I do wish that for Jm ofcourse). It’s possible she is posting this stuff without Jm’s consent and still be in a relationship with him (though it would be a bit 😬 if that were true). If the relationship has really been in the past for a while it’s possible something triggered her (Jm in a new relationship, having seen him but not in a good way, having heard something about him… who knows). We see only such a small portion of this story.. behind the scenes a wild variety of situations is probably possible.

[zaffreberries]

12/03/2025 the end of an Era.

Niantic has sold Pokémon go to Scopely. I won’t go to in-depth about my feelings into THAT but I do intend to write more about Pokemon Go. I could talk for a long time about it to be honest, I have been playing it for over 9 years, countless hours spent staring at my screen as I walk around various places playing it, have changed plans and devoted my time and energy into this game (and money). Even though my feelings about the game grow more conflicted, how I feel the direction of the game is being taken to a bad place due to its enslavement to producing endless profit for its corporate idols. Even as I grow more aware of my unhealthy relationships with “Things” and not people, at how I need to stop spending so much time staring at a screen and start looking around me and the world. Even as I’m aware of the links to the Saudi government through Scopely. I’m still on the fence in regards to continuing to play this game or not and ultimately I might still decide that to close the app and never re open it.

Since that fateful day all those years ago when I began playing Pokémon go I have always known something like this would happen. It wasn’t an ever present thought in my head, but something that seemed obvious when someone brought it up in conversation. Regardless change is coming to Pokémon go. In a way it had already changed so much from the game I loved as soon as I began playing it. Updated models, changes in gameplay and even different phones I used to play it on. The game evolved, it became something more and now it becomes something less. Will it become something better or something worse is the real question. I remember a line from an old movie, “would you rather live in a civilisations ascendancy or it’s decline” i originally chose its decline, because and though it’s not a civilisation I imagined that the decline would be surrounded by the comforts of advancement, that even as it whittled itself down that it would still be something I could enjoy. I can attest that I played through pokemon Go’s ascendancy and now I can say I am also playing in its decline and the key difference is hope and optimism. There is less excitement about the future, more dread. I don’t have Hope for Pokémon Go’s future, just dread.

It was July 22nd 2017 and it was the day of the first public Legendary Pokémon raid Articuno. Previously that month there had been a physical event where participants had paid to go to play and take part in specialist activities that would have rewards for the greater player base around the world. The event ended in shambles as the game kept crashing and the players were unable to finish the activities. Activities that would have enabled them to take part in the first legendary raid to catch a Lugia. As a by product of this event though, one of challenges were whichever team caught the most Pokémon during this time frame would be rewarded. The reward? The teams mascot Pokémon would be the first public legendary raid. And so on that morning I was upset because I was stuck at home and had no way of travelling across town in time to attend the raid, the raid my friends were all excited about and posting about in a group chat. Until my sister called and asked if I was going, if I wanted to be picked up in her car and go with her. This was and still remains a precious memory for me. I remember standing with her and almost 40 other people at this obscure Pokémon gym, waiting with baited breath as the time ticked down and we could start the raid. I didn’t catch the Articuno, nor did I catch the second one a few minutes later, but it was still a happy memory, driving in a long convoy to get to the second raid, seeing all my friends and meeting new people. My dissapointment was washed away by the joy of being part of something bigger and more fun, a shared sense of camaraderie, everything hurts a little less when you are in a group that feels the same way.

I have fond memories of those days, of walking for literal hours catching whatever Pokémon I could, of the joys of a new unregistered Pokémon to add to my Pokédex. Of learning about the new things they were adding in the future. That brief hit of endorphins when the shiny Pokémon animation begins and you realise you got lucky. It felt so social, groups of people gathered together in the parks, walking around together, sharing in the excitement. I remember people would set up picnic blankets and chairs in the middle of the park, somewhere to briefly return to as they left to walk around for hours at a time, stopping briefly for a break and some water, returning with a large order of dried chips and sauce to share around with strangers. There was ,for a few years at least, a real sense of community, of belonging despite us being on different teams, of having no social connection outside this game, different ages and professions. In those times it was just those of you who played and everyone else. I remember a fond friend I had, walking around town with them as we caught Pokémon together, usually we would sit in the park and talk, but now we had something else, we would wander and talk whilst playing, a perpetual multitasking exercise as talked about our favourite books, pla yed the game and briefly interrupted each other to switch back between our two simultaneous conversations. Another friend and I driving around late at night taking over gyms and putting level 10 Magikarps on, So many memories, bright little glimmers of warm cozy feelings held in my brain brought into being through this game. Not just old friends I already had, but new friends I made through the game. A key moment in making new friends was during August 2018 during the Pokémon community Day, which ended up being more of a weekend really since it took place over two days. It was on the second day that I (through the common occurrence/randomness of Pokémon go interactions with strangers) found myself to be walking around the town with two strangers as we caught Pokémon together. For the better part of the day I spent walking with them, chatting and playing. I’m still friends with them to this day, still talk to them regularly.

There is always someone to play with, even now as even more of my friends have stopped playing I have managed to find yet another group to walk around with. Part of the problem is that I live in a rural area, the amount of people who do play the game is small and the number that will group together to do the higher level raids that require more than a few people is high. So certain things in the game aren’t feasible for me. Shadow raids for a chance to catch certain shiny shadow legendary Pokémon, gigantamax raids to catch the alternative giant forms of my favourite Pokémon are also unavailable to me. I watch in envy as streamers and YouTubers showcase the large groups they are able to organise and co ordinate with. I feel a twinge of jealousy at reading about large groups who meet up and play together regularly. Surely that will change in the coming months with the change in ownership.

From the start Pokémon go was something different, it’s been said by the developers that they are more passionate about the Augemented reality part of the process then they are about the actual Pokémon brand themselves, one content creator even stated after meeting the director of the company that if he was as passionate about pokemon as he was about AR then Pokémon Go would be a very different game. This new company is about money and throughout Pokémon go’s existence there has been a tnoticeable slide into micro transactions. Added benefits for spending a little bit of money here and there, predatory tactics to incentivise you into making a small purchase. This was unfortunately always going to happen, it was inevitable and now the cynical voices from the past are now rendered into prophets with how vindicated they were. I’ll be honest, I would have spent money on the new changes they implement, they aren’t bad changes (in some cases) but I refuse to spend any more money whilst it benefits a bloody handed regime. Is this the end? Already my interest is waning, my goals achieved and my excitement lessened by the new reveals. I have made peace with this possible eventuality, that the game will be unplayable without spending money and thus my morals will lead me to stop playing this game rather than contributing to the horrors of the Saudi government. The memories I have of this game are enough, these beautiful memories and shared moments amongst new friends are enough. I am content with what I have, happy even at the time and money I have spent and if the time comes will happily walk away from the game knowing that the time and money I invested into the game was worth it.

Here is a picture of me humble bragging about my lucky shiny costumed best buddy Vaporeon.