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finniestoncrane · 11 months

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Therapy Pet

Capullo!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 2k commission: eddie's partner is used as a little therapy pet for him when he's too stressed (changed from trans-masc reader to gn!reader) 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: pet play, sub/dom dynamics

From outside in the hall, you could hear Edward’s frustrated grunting. It was no way to conduct a business call, and you doubted very much that things were going his way. He could get away with a lot, but even the powerful needed to schmooze. At least before they ruled the world. And Edward wasn’t quite there yet, though he was hurtling towards levels of domination that were almost comical, if they weren’t attributable to someone as threatening and deranged as you knew he could be. Give it a month or so, and you were sure his plan would be complete. And then you’d have him all to yourself again.

A loud thud signalled the end of the call, Eddie’s hands slammed down onto the desk in resignation and disappointment in whatever poor soul’s services he was attempting to render. You were quick to attention, ready to take your place by his side at the desk, but not quick enough that he wasn’t yelling for you, impatient as ever.

“And where is my precious little pet?”

Stepping through the door, shuffling, more accurately, you sheepishly made your way to him, eyes deigning to gaze up through your eyelashes at him, wide and pleading, the way he liked you. And when you were close enough to him, he reached his hand out cupping your chin, placing pressure on it with his fingers and thumb and gently shaking your head. You tilted your head back, allowing him to let his fingers drift to your chin, tilting it up and tickling under it as he cooed at you. But, true as ever to his slight distancing of you from any emotional depth, he let your head fall with a sharp slump as he withdrew his hand. Tenting his fingers in front of him, he tutted as you stood still, soft pout on your lips, confused at his sudden withdrawal of affection.

“Oh, don’t pout my sweet, little thing. You know why I did that.”

Tilting your head, you offered him a quizzical stare, opening your mouth only slightly, about to ask him to clarify before realising that he would surely enjoy the opportunity to over explain things to you in his own time. And, leaning back in his chair, he offered you a hint.

“Adorable, sure. But you’re the worst fucking therapy animal I’ve ever had. I know your job title says ‘Assistant’ but you and I both know exactly how I need your assistance.”

Suddenly very aware of his exact desires, you let yourself fall gracefully to your knees at his feet. Edward hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped with his chin atop them.

“Very good! Now can you speak for me?”

“Yes, Eddie. Yes, sir.”

His smile was wide, appreciation tinged with cruel mischief as he leaned ever further forward, his face in yours, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the coffee on his breath, the product that kept his hair slicked back.

“What a good trick. Let’s see if you know any others, shall we?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes widened, a sparkle of excitement lighting them up as you waited obligingly for his command.

“Beg for me, little pet. Beg for me to reward you.”

Placing your hands on the ground, you lowered yourself to the floor, chest flush with it as you lifted your head to gaze at him.

“Please, Eddie.”

He balanced your chin on the side of his crooked finger.

“Nope. Try again. That was absolutely pathetic.”

He spat the word with such vitriol that droplets of his saliva flecked your cheeks, which blushed instantly. Raising yourself up again, you straightened your back, puffed out your chest, clasped your hands in front of you, and licked at your lips before parting them for your pleading words.

“Please, sir. I’m desperate for you. I want to show you how good I am. I want you to give me what you think I deserve.”

Eddie let his fingers spread through your hair on either side of your temples, brushing stray strands behind your ears before cupping your cheeks and pressing them tight. He smiled at the pout he had forced your mouth into, placing a soft kiss against it and resting his head gently on your forehead as he whispered his next command.

“Bend over the desk.”

As soon as you had positioned yourself, you could feel Eddie behind you. His palms gripped at your hips as he thudded into you, the bulge at the front of his pants so obvious now that it was pressed tight to your ass cheeks. He stayed there, grinding against you as he moaned, infuriated at the limitations he had placed on himself, dry humping you to drive himself crazy.

He slid his hand up your spine, lifting your shirt slightly as he went, and let it settle on your scalp, his fingers tugging at your hair, pulling you up, causing your back to arch as he slammed his abdomen into your rear. He was making himself crazy, desperate. A slight wet patch formed on the front of his trousers, the fabric turning a dark green from the precum that oozed excitedly from his thick and twitching cock. From his lips, a small pool of drool collected and dribbled from the corner as he tried to remember your taste on his tongue, how he felt when he was inside of you.

It was becoming too much. If he didn’t stop now, he’d be cumming in his pants and not in you, and what a waste that would be. So, with a rough shove, he let you fall back to the table, slowing his grinding to a halt before he turned his attention to your ass. A sharp crack rang out as his palm made contact with your cheek, still clothed, but the pain seared through anyway. A delightful sting that made you bite your lip, still whining even though you were trying to stifle the sounds.

He followed in succession with four more spanks, each one followed by his gentle cooing as he reassured you that this was part of your reward and not a punishment.

“You’re far too well-behaved to be punished, hm?”

When he realised that you were nodding still, despite your position and despite how weak you were with arousal, he grabbed your hips and pulled you to him once more, raising his hands to your chest and standing you up. Once he had turned you around to face him, he winked at you, relishing in the way you blushed at the small gesture.

“I want more. I need more.”

Eddie snapped his fingers, the digits following through the motion to point to the floor. Obedient, excited, you fell to your knees and whimpered with excitement as he joined you. Pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, you could feel his hands around your back, laying you down flat on the floor. Following the sides of your body, he brought his fingers to the front of your pants, pulling at them as you rushed to help remove them from you. Laying there, exposed in front of him, you watched as he inspected you, parting your legs slightly to get a better look at your hole, licking his lips as you throbbed in pleasure, pulsing as you waited for his touch.

Still kneeling, he unzipped the front of his chartreuse pants and freed his cock, palming at it and letting it bounce before he spat on his hand and lubed himself up. He popped two fingers into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl over them, coating them in his saliva, before he pressed them to your entrance, collecting your own slick and soaking you completely. Warm, wet and ready for him, he pushed his tip to you and entered you, his breath hissing in pleasure as you scratched for purchase on the carpet below you. After a few minutes of pumping steadily, his forehead was sweating and his hair messy as he leant over you, rutting against you and into you.

“Can you lift your legs for me? I want to get deeper.”

He grinned wide as he stared at you, doing exactly as you were told. Bent in half, spread open wide for him.

“That’s my good pet.”

You lay there, back pressed flat against the floor, as Eddie knelt on either side of your rear. His knees helped keep your thighs in place, his hands and fingers pressed into them tight enough to create small red dents. Stretched to your limits, you held your legs up and folded, your own hands under your knees to assist the position. And with his cock buried deeper inside of you than you thought possible, he began pumping once more. Each brutal shift, the pummelling your desperate cunt received, brought you closer and closer to your own orgasm, the arrival of which was only made sooner as Eddie let go of one of your thighs to run his fingers over you.

“Do you like it when I touch you? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it Eddie, I love it.”

With a finger and thumb on either side of the protruding, sensitive member, he rubbed his digits up and down, jerking you until you were shuddering under him and begging him for more through your wailing and panting.

“Good pet, not long now. Keep moaning for me.”

It was impossible not to, the way he filled you up completely, stretching you out in the position you were in, held there by his brute force, his slender but powerful body balanced almost completely atop your own.

“I’m going to… fill you up… heh… with a little litter… would you like that?”

Biting your lip, all you could do was nod. No words would come. You were being fucked to the point of stupidity. Just an object for him to use at that moment.

“Of course… urgh… you would! Because you’re… mine… Whose pet are you?”

“Y-yours… Eddie…”

“Who… who do you… belong to?”

“You, Eddie… you!”

With a final push, Eddie buried his cock within you, holding himself there as he grunted, letting out a deep growl and an animalistic screech as he came. You could feel it, hot, thick, coating your insides. Long after you had felt the last spurt of his seed being deposited, he stayed there, making sure not a drop was wasted. And when he finally pulled out with a sloppy pop, you could feel his cum dribbling out over you as your body relaxed.

Eddie collapsed onto his back, taking a moment to allow both of you to catch your breath before he rolled you onto your side and curled in behind you. Taking you in his arms, he nuzzled his face into your neck. As true to himself as ever, though, his words were less than romantic, his praise tinted with eroticism, and punctuated by soft nibbles against your skin and lewd laps of his tongue.

“Such a good little pup for me. You always take me so well.”

His fingers followed the shape of your side as he lightly dragged them up and down, the tips of them just grazing over your skin, a sweet, tickling sensation that you could feel bolstering your arousal, building it up again like only he knew how. Preparing you for round two when he’d barely just finished with you.

“You’re very impressive, not as impressive as me, obviously, but close. Enough that you might bruise my ego if you’re not careful.”

He meant it, and the vague threat that came with it. But the way his hands held you on your front, fingers stroking up and down, you were soothed and comforted, rewarded for your efforts, for your good behaviour, and confident that you were far too much of a pleasure for him to ever get rid of you. After all, you were his pet.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #zero year riddler #zero year!riddler #capullo riddler #capullo!riddler #riddler smut

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a-luran · 11 months

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3, 5, 15, 18, 21, 44 for Alasdair if you fancy! I love hearing your opinions on him *please sir I want some more* 🥺🤲

phil!! ♡ yes of course.

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

For canon AUs, I don't envision parental figures and I lean a lot more strongly on chosen family over blood. That being said I think that Alasdair has always made himself useful under leadership and that would ingratiate him to authority figures early in his history. He is a capable hunter, and a craftsman. Sparse with his words. I think that as he grew older his short temper and headstrong nature would spell a lot of conflict and chaffing against authority. A bad father would not live long with a son like Alasdair. A good father would recognise the strength of him. Any father would be proud, but be quick to resent him. I think that Alasdair would never know how to tell a father that he loves him and he would never hear it back.

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Not his wallet.

I think he'd be the kind of person to carry a handful of change, lint, keys, one (1) splinter glove tucked into the back pocket, sometimes his phone. If he ever has a bag with him it's like a magic trick, he has anything you could think of in there.

Not his wallet though.

15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

He would say he isn't but he absolutely is. He places a lot of value on craftsmanship and labour so he would be the kind of person to insist on paying the true cost of things. There is nothing that he would hate more than something cheaply made and absurdly marked up. I think he would also be hard pressed to buy something that he could make himself, and as skilled as he sometimes he might get a little too ambitious with it. A have a soft spot for the thought that as someone who is industrious to a fault he'd have a soft spot for things made for him, no matter the level of skill. He would wear the awful, misshapen socks Daffyd made him one winter until they were beyond repair. He'd scrape the last drags of jam from him plate because Arthur made it. He'll hum a song for a century because Sean wrote it, even long after the words fade from his memory.

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

This one was difficult to answer. I think if pressed he would say wisdom but in a lot of ways he admires ambition instinctively. He is still a strategist at heart.

21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

Out of all the characters I write i think that Alasdair probably has the most straightforward relationship with guilt and he's more interesting for it. He would not be quick to blame or bear undue guilt, but where he does find guilt he would go at it like a beast. Ruthless. I think earning his forgiveness, when he finds you unforgivable, would be impossible. And if he ever found fault with himself he would be the same. He would not find guilt debilitating or paralysing the ways others might, and especially on a surface level it would appear that he is quick to turn guilt into something productive but whatever he did, or failed to do? It would haunt him forever.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

He could not say it without meaning it and he uses it very sparsely. He also does not care to hear it which makes him a hypocrite and also speaks to a bit of arrogance on his part. On the one hand, his love language leans heavy on acts of service so for him to speak love aloud would take a lot. A part of him, the arrogant bit, does not believe that others place as much importance on the words 'I love you' as he does. And that is a fault. It is something that he just can't come to terms with, the idea that people can say 'I love you' again and again and mean it every time. This would cause a lot less strife with someone like Arthur but would definitely put him at odds with Francis. If not at odds then at least uneasy, he would have a hard time accepting it. It is not that Alasdair is careless with other people's hearts, but for all his skill he still has clumsy hands and a mean streak when he feels cornered or patronised.

#freagradh #hws scotland #am i implying that alasdair would kill his father #maybe i am

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thenewfuture · 2 months

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Ah, don't worry. She's just going.... what do human women like to do around guests again? Strip dance? Or was it randomly bursting into song?

I can do that. I've got a jaunty little number I think you're allll going to enjoy!~

A-Ahem!

Ohhhh-

*SWIPE!*

ENOUGH!

The Remnants of Despair. Tell us where they are. Right! This! Second!

Or what? You gonna kill us, like your crazy boss?

What was that you little brat?

You heard me.

We will not ask again. The Remnants. Where are they!

Um, you see... The thing about that is...

They ain't here, asshats!

What?!

There not here, you dumbasses. So sorry to waste your time like this. Except I'm not.

This....This is treason! When Kyosuke finds out about this, you'll-

Did not one of you find it weeeeird that your super psychotic boss asked you to come here and kill them when Makoto Naegi is supposed to be on trial for this sort of thing? Huuuuuh??? Or were you all too busy kissing his and the Foundation's ass to notice?

Either way, you're outta luck. Too bad, so sad!~

......Is this true?

I wouldn't have put it so bluntly but uh....

Yeah. Sorry~

......These two are under arrest for obstruction of justice. Klaus, deal with these two. Hiroji, Yasufumi; search the skies. The rest of you, search around and find any traces you can pull up!

Ultimate Elite Task Force: Yes, sir!

I'm really sorry it's come to this ladies. Would any of you like to see a magic trick, real quick?

...?

Presto-

-Chains-O!

*Rattle, rattle*

...!?

*Klaus throws a cloth over both Kanon and Hiroko's hands. And with a swirl of his hands, when he takes the cloth off, Hiroko and Kanon are cuffed*

Oh ho ho ho!~ Another satisfied customer.

#asks #anonymous #danganronpa #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa ultra despair girls #hiroko hagakure #kanon nakajima #ultimate elite task force #saki hara #rikiya ishijima #azusa fukura #ginji fujiki #eizo beppu #klaus fossmann #the new future #future foundation arc

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itsalwayswellattheworldsend · 1 year

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Chapter 16 - Ralph Rideth the Wood Perilous Again

Text Audio

Synopsis:

Ralph is angry with Roger, but Roger has one more trick up his sleeve: the offer to introduce him to the person he most wants to see in the world.

Summary:

"And this master," said Ralph, "is he of the Dry Tree?" Said Roger: "I scarce know how to answer thee without lying: but this I say, that whether he be or not, this is true; amongst those men I have friends and amongst them foes; but fate bindeth me to them for a while."

Roger led a strong, reddish horse to Ralph, well-equipped for fighting, and he had a good grey horse of his own. The two of them mounted at once, and Ralph rode slowly away through the wood, letting his horse take the lead, for he was thinking about all that had happened to him, and wondering what would happen next. Meanwhile, the others of that group did not wait around, but immediately got on their horses and left by a different direction.

No one said anything for a while until Roger came up close to him and said: “Where are we going, fair lord? Do you have an idea of which direction your errand lies?”

Ralph took this as mockery, and he answered sharply: “I don’t know; you’ll take me wherever you want to go, the same as you brought me here with lies and stories. I suppose you will take me by some roundabout path to the stronghold of the Dry Tree. It doesn’t matter, since you wouldn’t dare take me back to the Burg. Although, now it seems to me that it is bad to be left alone with a proven traitor and liar, and I might have been better off going with the whole group.

“No, no,” said Roger, “You’re angry and that doesn’t surprise me, but let go of that, if you can. In truth, what I have told you of myself and my struggles was not just lies. Nor was it a lie that you were in danger in the Burg, you being strong, cheeky, and—I think—raised to hate cruel deeds and injustice. They cannot abide such freedom in their ranks, and you would soon find yourself in trouble with them. And further, it’s not bad to have left those others, who might still have some rough work to do before they make it home. I won’t take you to Hampton under Scaur if you don’t want to go there; but I will certainly take you someplace you have not asked me to yet, where I say you would be both safe and at ease. Now lastly I say this: whatever I have done, I have done it for good and not evil, and there is also another one, whom I will not say the name of to you, who wishes even more good for you than I, because of the two you killed in the Wood Perilous the day before yesterday.

When Ralph heard those last words, such a strong and sweet hope to see that woman of the Crossroads of the Wood Perilous awoke in him that he forget everything else, except that he must not alienate Roger, lest they separate and he should lose the assistance of one who might bring him to see the one he had unwittingly become so enthralled by; so he spoke to Roger quietly and humbly: “Well, my fellow traveler, you see how I am still young and have stumbled into dangerous situations, which are beyond my strength to overcome alone, at least until I get close enough to look them in the eye and strike them down, if they are my enemy. So I ask you to guide me, and if you betray me then that’s on you. In truth, since I don’t know these woods and might get lost and wind up back at the Burg—whom you’ve now made my enemies—I will take you at your word and assume the best of you, and not ask anything except you where you to go.”

“Fair sir,” said Roger, “we must at least get away from here, as we are still too close to the Burg to be safe; but as to where else we might go, we can talk about it as we ride.”

Then he heeled his horse forward at a quick trot, for the horses were fresh and the woods around them mostly of beech trees and clear of underbrush; and Roger seemed to know the way, and he went on without hesitation.

Some four hours later, the wood thinned and the beech trees were left behind and they came into a quiet, rugged area of low hills, stony earth, and scraggy thorn bushes.

The Roger said: “Here I think we’re out of danger with the Burg; if they follow our trail all the way to where we split with the other group, they won’t notice us two going off alone compared to all the others. So we can rest the horses a bit, though there’s nothing for them to eat around here. In that regard, we’re somewhat better off: look, I have food and drink in my saddlebags.”

So they got down and let their horses graze while they ate and drank, during which Ralph again asked Roger where they were going. Roger said: “I’m taking you to a safe place, and a noble house of one my masters, where you can stay if you’d like, peacefully.”

“And this master,” said Ralph, “is he of the Dry Tree?”

“I don’t really know how to answer that; I’ll say this: that whether or not he is, I have friends and enemies among them, but fate binds me to them for a time.”

Said Ralph, reddening: “Are there women among them?”

“Yes, yes,” said Roger, smiling a little. “You can bet on that.”

“And that Lady of the Dry Tree,” Ralph continued, reddening more but not hiding his face, “that woman that the folk of the Burg spoke so bitterly of, threatening her with torture and death if they could just get their hands on her, what will you tell me about her?”

“Very little,” said Roger, “except that you want to see her, and that you may do so if you let me guide you.”

Ralph listened as if he hardly heard what Roger was saying, but soon he got up and paced a little with his brows furrowed like someone considering something difficult. He said nothing, and Roger seemed to not pay him any mind, though in truth he looked at him discreetly from time to time, until at last Ralph came back and sat by Roger and after a while said: “I don’t know why you people of the Dry Tree want me, or what you will do with me, but I would leave right now—whatever the danger—except for one thing.”

Roger said: “You’ll learn later on, and find that it’s really very simple; but meanwhile I tell you again that it is for your good. So ride away if you want, who will stop you? Certainly not me.”

“No,” said Ralph, “I will first go to you to that fair house, and afterwards we shall see what happens.

“Yes,” said Roger, “then let’s get to riding, so that even if we can’t get there before dark, we’ll get there before morning, for it’s still far away.”

Notes:

From my memory, this is sort of the end of Part 1 of Book 1. I guess I said something similar when we met Roger and left the crossroads of the Wood Perilous—which was also true—but now we’ve wholly moved on from the setup and passed our first adventure, and soon we will be getting into the heart of The Road unto Love; That is to say, the Love portion of it.

This is where time and direction begin to get weird. So far we know Ralph traveled south from Upmeads to the Burg, and that Hampton under Scaur was east of the crossroads, but Ralph’s escape from the Burg leaves things in a weird place. He exits by a postern between the East and South Gates, but we don’t know which direction that door was facing. He estimates that they are traveling through the Wood Perilous south of the Burg, so I assume they went more or less south from there (although it seems like the Fellowship of the Dry Tree would trend more north-east. When Ralph and Roger split from the larger group, we’re not given any sort of guidance as to which direction they’re going. Presumably, it’s towards Roger’s Master’s house the whole time (not just after they have their discussion) but even that is supposition. I’m hoping that the next chapter gives some indication of direction, or else I have no idea where to put the Hall of Abundance (their next destination). In my first reading, I imagined them approaching from the south, but now I’m thinking more from the north-west, not that I really have any evidence for that yet. Hopefully we get some sort of landmark to orient ourselves by.

I’m going to start marking on the map wherever Ralph spends the night, to help track the days (for as long as possible). So far, each day has been described, but coming up we’ll get to longer periods of time that are glossed over, and may have to guess at things. Morris does keep us informed about the seasons, which is nice, and may mention specific months again later. If I remember correctly, the whole journey lasts a year (likely where Tolkien got the idea from), but I could be conflating things.

Map:

#the well at the world's end #william morris #The Well - Book 1 Chapter 16

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gradible · 2 years

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the truth - team 2 gold round

For a moment, there is peace. A humbling quiet falls over the ragtag group of heroes, and they are given the rare opportunity for personal reflection. In the vastness of a black void, what else is there to do? Perhaps they are being shown a small comfort to make their upcoming struggle worse, or perhaps it simply takes the universe a second or two to generate the next dream for them. Whatever the case may be, Sirius looks at his allies from the safety of his mask. All of them stand with him in this strange plane, the aura of their lances now emanating from their entire bodies. He is merely a traveler: homebound and unwilling to anchor himself to the academy’s personnel. But this group, despite its general lack of conversation, has shown character through action.

That’s the kind of language he can get used to.

The scene changes again, this time filling their void with a thick fog before they’re allowed the gift of light. They stand in a square shaped arena, its floor a red-and-blue checkerboard with some kind of strange emblem decorating its center. Metal pillars sprawl up and away from their box, trailing into the infinite expanse of fog until they can no longer be seen. Stairs and ladders, too, seem to lead into this unending yellow abyss, but what they’re connected to is anyone’s guess.

Sirius’ first instinct is to touch his face, and doing so reveals that his mask has manifested as a pair of tinted shades this time. They let him see through the fog, if only just what’s in front of him. They’ll be good enough for close-quarters combat.

For lack of a shining Harmony Lance, he has been gifted something extra special: the divine Gradivus. Holding it in his hands almost makes him feel like he’s hallucinating, but its grip is indeed the one he’d familiarized himself with long ago. “We meet again, old friend,” he whispers, just low enough that the others can barely hear it. With this lance, he is all but invincible.

His steed, too, has been returned to him, though now it sports a pair of wings. If it is anything like the sturdy mares of Grust or the swift mounts of Rigel, he should have no trouble maneuvering himself this fight.

But to fight, one requires a foe. And at first glance, one does not present itself. Rather than creating a sense of security in the knight, it breeds unease, for there is always a great beast to battle in these dreams, and the lack of one only means it could be hiding.

...

“...In the fog!” He’s spotted the enemy, and this time it appears as a lion wreathed in shadow. Its movements blend in well with the heavy cloud blotting the air around them, but squinting closer reveals four stalking paws circling round its prey. Sirius takes to the skies, quick to deliver the first, revealing blow,

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 11, hit! -7 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 8/15 HP

His thrust is strong and true, piercing through cloud and darkness to strike the enemy in the heart. But as he pulls Gravidus’ shining point from the warped body it stabbed, the umbra coalesces around him and assault him in the same way he did it; a Shadow Gravidus is formed from the beast’s midsection to harm him back,

Reflect activates! -7 HP; Sirius 5/12 HP

Shadow Self 1: Chosen uses Mauling Strike! Roll 1d20 = 19, crit! -4 HP; Sirius 1/12 HP

Sirius is inflicted with -2 def for one round!

The stygian point of his spear’s counterpart also strikes strong and true, forcing the Grustian to reel back and gasp. Blood spills onto his saddle, and before he can grab hold of it to steady himself on his mount, the monster follows up, enlarging one of its claws to bat both pegasus and rider.

Each fall to the colored floor with a loud thud, their bodies hanging on by a thread. Sirius winces as he remounts, and looks again to the battlefield. He knows his allies have not caught up or seen the shadow yet, knows they may fall victim to its trick if they are not warned. And the beast moves closer, and though it has no eyes, Sirius can tell it intends to take him down before its secret is spilled. So he turns away from them, not daring to utter another word. With the holy lance in his hands, only he has the power to end this fight before it even begins.

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 23, crit! -24 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 0/15 HP

Reflect activates! -24 HP; Sirius 0/15 HP

“May this battle be your last!” And again, he charges straight into the action. There is a wordless agreement sown between him and his mount, that should they miss, or should his heavy spear not pierce the enemy far enough or spill all of its black blood, they would surely die on retaliation. And they’re both okay with that. A death as a proud knight beats a life lived in solitude; if they can give their allies the upper hand with their sacrifice, then so be it.

The lion’s head is cleaved from its body when Sirius puts all of his power into his last slash. His eyes go wide, sure that they’ve done it and earned themselves survival, but again he is stuck. Tendrils emerge from the decapitated shadow and assault his torso, bringing him once more to his knees.

Only this time, he has been robbed of the strength to stand.

The world he had only just been introduced to starts to go black. He knows it is not the enemy covering his eyes. Consciousness is fading--a sensation he’s already met with before. Perhaps it is fate that he would end his dream like this. But he would not change if it he could. He watches as the enemy melts into a puddle of black, and they fall together. “Tatiana...” he whispers, and “Nyna...” and then, everything is void again. It’s cold, almost like the sea. He’s been swept from this battle by a force beyond human comprehension, his cobbled form made into a mere pebble to be washed by the tide. But surely they’ve won... Right?

Wrong.

The puddle stands again, this time a crude reconstruction of Sirius’ body. It sports wings--the same wings his mount had--and uses them to ascend to the center of the arena. “I am a shadow... The true self,” it says in a harrowing version of the knight’s voice, “...What a shame. As long as I have Gradivus, I will not fall... You are out of luck; give it up.”

To round out its introduction, it immediately starts charging an attack. It holds its vile imitation of Sirius’ lance in front of its body, and its wings begin to fold in on themselves. Then it glows, a thrum of black almost like a heartbeat. A dark power starts to build up at its core... Ready to be unleashed!

UP NEXT: @diadic @estians @lualamina

#IC #EVENT THREAD (THE TRUTH)#DIADIC #ESTIANS #LUALAMINA #toaarena2022winter #//welcome to my Sirius Fucking Dies post

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wanderlustknightofmagic · 6 days

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“Sir Rainald?” She called out within the dungeon, the light on her staff illuminating enough that one could mistake it for day time inside that cold, dark place. Finally she caught sight of his redhead of hair and knelt on one knee in front of him “It's me, Valeria. I’m here- I’m here, now. Rest easy. I will get you out of here.” (@arcane-torrent)

Sir Rainald?

Rain hasn't been called that in such a long time... it almost felt like he was dreaming and if he just opened his eyes... everything would be okay again. Even then, when he did open them, all he could see past the blindfold was a bright light. Then... it dawned on him. "...V..." He didn't want to finish his statement, he almost refused to believe it and have hope that this was the case. "Valeria...?" He couldn't tell if he was crying or if the water that had been thrown at him was still cascading down his face. So many thoughts were racing in his mind, so many questions, he almost felt like this was all just some cruel trick by his torturers to break him fully... but how could they know that he shared a small bond with her?

His feet moved in his shackles that kept him to the seat. He was trying to adjust himself, a mix of relief and worry as he was unsure of so much. "P-Please... Please before my hands... take this blindfold off. It's... it's not the worst... but all the mental and emotional damage it's caused... I want it off... I need it off..." He was tugging on his restraints that kept his arms behind his back. From what she could see, his torture was about to increase in pain in all aspects very soon. On the floor there were unused torture tools, yet, on his arms, his chest, and his legs... so many new scars. They damaged him, then healed him, over and over. Some scars were nearly overlapping others, though perhaps the worst was the scar that went around his left elbow. How they managed to fix that is more than likely a story Rain would never want to tell...

"Be quick... please... I-I'm sorry... But... I don't know how many of them there are anymore... I don't want you hurt... I can't have you hurt... If... If you were to... No... No I can't dwell on that. Just... just be safe! Even if it means abandoning me, I'll survive, but if it looks dangerous please just do your best to stay safe!" He'd plead, the chair and his body shaking as he started breathing heavily. "They are monsters, true monsters in this place. What I've seen and what I've faced in my past pale in comparison... an hour with these... these... I don't even want to call them humans... but an hour alone was enough to make me rethink my stance on even bandits... At least they can be talked too..." He'd admit while leaning over, now letting Valeria see his back which was worse than the rest of his body. It had more scars and even some wounds which were still healing. A cruel 'joke' they had left on his back were the collection of scars made to look like wings and the knife-carved 'Angel Boy' beneath it.

#(catastrophe au) eternal wanderer #arcane torrent #//Forgive me if ya meant this for normal Rain #//I'm assuming ya read the tags which is why I kept it for Catastrophe #//Cause that's how the angst gremlin in my heart demands this to be #//Just in case #tw: torture

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legendsofthewitchlight · 1 year

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Anastasia Concordia Denathria was the younger of the King's children, fair and black haired like her brother, Victor, yet stronger than he. She was generally well liked, an artist in her heart and a wonderful friend for the young ladies in waiting who accompanied her through gardens of her home. A free spirit, she found herself near her brother often, learning to fight as he did, and through that, getting to know her brother's dearest friend, Marius. What started as a childhood crush grew into something more mutual, teenagers pining after one another. Yet, Marius never made a move, never claimed Tasia as his or took her favor, even when she offered it before war. She was too young to promise anything to him, especially with her future ahead of her.

When he and her brother returned from war, they were eighteen and she sixteen, and her brother was soon crowned king. Tasia hoped that after Marius was accepted as a knight, he would ask Victor for a pardon to break the vow of chastity and take a wife, hoping he would ask her to marry him.

He didn't. Sir Marius knelt before his sovereign's sister, the blessed Princess Anastasia, and kissed her hand. It was as good as a goodbye, even if they spent most days together.

As she turned eighteen, her brother had to make good on the marriage arrangement made for Tasia by their father. She was married to the Baron Borges, seventeen years her senior, made a Baroness to keep hold of a principality to their west. She parted from her brother sadly, though he promised to visit often. Marius did not promise the same, though she could see the sadness in his eyes as they parted and she was sent to the cold western shores.

In her new home at her husband's keep, Tasia had all she could wish for. She still had the sumptuous life of a princess and endless time to play instruments and sing and dance. ...so long as that didn't get into her husband's work. Baron Borges didn't much care for his wife's spirited self, and he surely didn't like it flaunted around him. It didn't take long for him to become abusive to her, hitting her and even getting to bad that bones would break. He threatened to get an annulment to shame her, claim she hadn't been a virgin on their wedding night because she'd already been deflowered by a certain knight. Not true, but considering how close she'd been to Marius, it would've almost worked. So she kept quiet, despite herself.

Years later, Marius finally came back into her life. He seemed different in many ways–– paler, more gaunt, unhappy ––but as she rushed to hug him, he was quick to melt into her, and ever quicker to to show his concern for her when she gave a wince of pain and he saw how injured she was. Tasia confided in him the truth of her marriage, her fear for her future. Over the next few days where he stayed with her, her husband gone for long swaths of time, their love blossomed once more, and they found themselves kissing, then in bed. She saw the shame in him after they made love, and he did not hesitate to confess to his broken oath, to how the Duchess tricked him. He wondered if a further broken vow of chastity would take him further from his god... but he couldn't stay away from her any more. He'd tasted the forbidden fruit, and he wanted more. The affair continued some time, acting tender but not overtly romantic when Tasia came to court, yet still stealing away moments for their passionate declarations and lovemaking.

The Duchess figured out soon enough, though, and she was jealous of the new idol in Marius' heart. She owned him, and she did not want anyone else taking what was hers. So, while Anastasia slept, she was taken, bitten into, force fed the blood from her chalice... and she turned and stolen away further. All the Baron Borges woke up to was bloodied bedsheets, and it was assumed Tasia was dead.

In reality, she was taken to a castle far away, now to work as a servant to the Duchess, as revenge for her attempting to steal from the Duchess. Tasia has grown angry and cold to many, but she still holds love for her brother and Marius. They are her shining stars in a horrible world, and she will find them again somehow.

#((she's a dhampir college of swords bard/clockwork soul sorcerer))#((also at some point I endeavor to write a fan fiction here of Tasia and Marius falling into bed after him learning about her husband))#muse: Tasia Denathria #cheating tw #abuse tw #kidnapping tw

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midnightsunnyday · 3 years

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The Brothers Go To Bath & Body Works

A/N: because I was bored and like headcanons where the brothers are in ordinary situations doing ordinary things, yet because of their nature and ignorance of human culture, get in all types of trouble. Definitely counts as a crack post.

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

Lucifer: for horrid's sake it's like Asmodeus and Mammon's bathrooms exploded.

Satan: for once I have to agree with you. This place is a bit...assaulting.

Leviathan: ugh. This is just like that anime I watched: My Partner Tricked Me Into Going Shopping And Now I'm Stuck Watching Them Make Horrible Financial Decisions!

MC: that sounds way too contrived to be a real show.

Satan: furthermore, are we really about to spend an hour shopping for candles?

MC: no, I'm about to spend an hour shopping for candles. You all can wait outside *sighs* At least Asmo gets it.

Asmodeus: such splendor! Such rapture! I mean just look at it: the colors! The scents! The mini hand sanitizers! Oooh, and is that a sale? Buy three get two free, you say?

Lucifer, scanning the shelves: and what is this absurdity? Pumpkin pecan, pumpkin apple, vanilla pumpkin, pumpkin clove, cinnamon pumpkin, caramel pumpkin...just what is it with you humans and your obsession with pumpkins?

MC: hey, don't judge my culture. Pumpkin scented and flavored products are an annual mortal tradition.

Lucifer: a tradition that should be banned, clearly.

Mammon: humans sure are strange though. I mean, why have an entire store dedicated to something so lame?

Satan: well, candles can be used for many purposes, but for most humans they're not only therapeutic, but romantic. In fact, it's customary for human lovers to light a multitude of candles around their dwelling to draw in their mate.

Mammon: to draw in their mate, huh? Ya don't say...

*loud clanging noises*

MC: Mammon...why are you scooping an entire row of candles into your shopping bag?

Mammon: oi, what are ya the candle police? Don't worry about it.

Salesperson: just so you know, all our three wick candles are--

Mammon: --buy three get two free. Yeah, yeah, we read the sign!

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

Belphegor: hey, which scent do you think smells better on me?

MC: *sniffs* ooh, I really like the lavender one.

Belphegor: good, then that's the one I'll buy. That way, when we finish taking our naps together, you'll smell me all over your sheets. And your clothes. And your pillows. And the rest of your room.

MC: sounds very...Pavlovian. Just no leashes or collars, please.

Belphegor: I think you might have me confused with Lucifer...and possibly Satan.

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

Asmodeus: Satan dear, please tell me you aren't going to buy that just because it has a cat on it?

Satan, blushing: of course not. I was just...looking, is all.

Leviathan: you know, you're kinda behaving like an otaku who wants to buy all the latest merch of their favorite character.

Asmodeus: so like you, then?

Leviathan: hey! Otaku are a proud people who fuel their hobbies with the upmost passion and dedication. There's no shame in it.

Asmodeus: whatever you say, brother ~

Salesperson: just so you know, that's our limited edition Halloween scent, which is only around for the holidays.

Satan: hmm...

Salesperson, wearing a cheeky grin: we also have cat shaped plug ins.

Satan: where?

Asmodeus: now wait just a--

Salesperson: --did I also mention that we're having a sale on all our bath products?

Asmodeus: on all the bath products, you say?

Leviathan, rolling his eyes: normies.

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

Salesperson: excuse me, sir?

Lucifer, sighing: if you're attempting to sell me something, then I rather hear the quick version.

Salesperson: it's just that you seem a bit...tense. Do you happen to suffer from stress? If so, I can show you a few items in our aromatherapy collection.

*Lucifer, gazing over at Leviathan and Mammon*

Mammon: ok, ok, on the count of three. One, two...three!

*Leviathan and Mammon shrieking in pain as they spritz body mist into each other's eyes*

Lucifer: ...I'm listening.

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

Belphegor: hey guys, I don't think it was a good idea to bring Beel in here.

Lucifer: meaning....

Beelzebub, holding two candles and mumbling to himself: this one says banana walnut muffin and this one says warm apple pie, but it's not a muffin and that's not a pie, but it smells like one, but I can't eat it, but it's named after food, but it's not food...*falls to his knees* it's not food.

Leviathan: uh...

Beelzebub, in a trance like state: it's not food. It's not food. It's not food.

Satan: well, this doesn't look good.

Mammon, placing a hand on Beelzebub's shoulder: hey, little bro. You ok?

Beelzebub: so...the time for retribution has come? Such an ironic fate, being made to roam this chamber which torments me with scents familiar, yet unable to satiate. For centuries I've scourged the lands, devouring flesh to still the pain that naws at my being. Cursed to eat without gain. Without joy. Forever crowned as the sin of gluttony, a crown in which I sometimes find too heavy to bear. For some, I was once a god, for others a mere pest. Even so, I find myself in a hell not of my own creation, but one in which I rightfully deserve.

MC: um, Beel? I love you, but you're freaking everyone out.

Beelzebub, looking up at MC with empty eyes: ah, the mortal to whom I am bound. Tell me, are you here to guide me towards salvation? Or are you too like these wondering souls, searching for nourishment in that which is fleeting? However, I advise you make your decision with haste, as soon I will no longer be able to tell friend from prey.

*silence*

MC: ...we really need to get him some food.

Mammon, helping Beelzebub to his feet: ok, time to go, buddy.

Asmodeus: how about we get you some McDonald's. Do you like McDonald's, Beel?

Beelzebub: immortality is a curse. The only true salvation lies in oblivion.

Asmodeus: ...he wants McDonald's.

*at the food court*

Asmodeus: still, I can't believe I ended up purchasing several bags worth of lotions, candles, and body sprays *shivers* such an insidious place. I love it!

Lucifer: admittedly, this pillow mist is very soothing. Though may I suggest that next time we go somewhere less...traumatizing?

Satan, staring down into his bag full of cat shaped plug ins: *sighs* agreed.

Mammon and Leviathan, holding a cup of ice to their eyes: definitely.

MC: I just wanted us all to go shopping. How was I suppose to know scented candles would make Beel suffer an existential breakdown?

Lucifer: speaking of which, how are you feeling, Beel?

Beelzebub, stuffing his face: cheeseburgers and nuggets are my favorite food from McDonald's.

Lucifer: that's nice Beel.

Leviathan: well, that problem solved itself.

Mammon: but man, what a day. All this shopping sure gave me quite the workout *stretches his arm over MC* I think I'm just gonna head home, light a bunch of candles around my dwelling, let MC walk in and ya know...see what happens.

MC: *sighs* This is exactly the reason why I shop online.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me luficer #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #midnightsunnyday #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me crack

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ladyelissarose · 2 years

Text

Warnings: mentions of past traumatic events, panic attacks, lots of angst in this one, things just fall apart sometimes.

”The Secrets of Gotham-Unmasked”

Chp.26

Batman’s POV

After hearing the news from Gordon it crushed Batman’s heart to know that they had come to a decision to ‘bury her’ and completely make her dead to the city. With Gordon’s words running through his mind it began to make him think that she was actually dead, that him bringing her back to life was all just a dream in his head,

‘Why does it sound like it’s true.. like if she’s actually dead and not around.. did I save her? Wait.. no my mind is playing tricks on me I know I saved her.. and she’s safe.. yeah, she has to be, but she was so cold, blue, limp in my arms... oh God.’

He had held some hope that there would be a chance to get Maroni’s business down forever, but now there was no way as it seemed. All he wanted to do was go and make sure his haunting thoughts weren’t true, he wanted to crawl into Y/n’s arms and relish in her comfort, he had to remind himself that she wasn’t dead or drowned at the bottom of the river, that night still terrified him sometimes. So once he left the signal he planned to go with Y/n instead of home, the night was almost over anyways, and Y/b/n should be safe at the Manor by now. So he sent Alfred a quick message stating that he’d be at the safe house soon, so that for him to stay with Y/b/n at the Manor through the night.

Alfred’s POV

Upon receiving the message time hit ‘2:37’ as Alfred checked his ticking watch, sighing he contemplated with Saunders,

“I think we have to call it a night.. Bruce just gave me a heads up that he’s coming to check up on her right now-“

“You see that’s the thing I don’t understand Al, why doesn’t he just stay the entire night? What does he do during that time when he’s not here?”

“Don’t ask me... Master Bruce is always doing his own things that I don’t get into.. all I know is his schedule. And she needs to be here before he arrives, and I need to go to the Manor to make sure it’s in tact while he’s gone.”

“Very well Al, let me let this kid know,”

Turning on the mic Saunders called out to Y/n,

“Hey kid it’s time to clock out, it’s almost 3 and your boyfriend will be here soon. Tomorrow you can try again,”

He could hear Y/n sighing frustratedly as she said,

‘This dumbass didn’t even show up.. I wonder why.. everyone else was here. But yeah, I’m definitely coming back tomorrow. Or until he shows up, all the guys there seemed pretty desperate as they awaited his arrival which never came, I think they’re planning something big, but they said they would only talk it through until Mackenzie showed up.’

“Damn it, all those guys usually have something big planned out, who’s knows what’s up with that crackhead, just come home please, take a taxi and get dropped off at least a couple of blocks away remember?”

‘Yeah I remember Uncle, I’m already heading out the door.’

“Good, I’ll see you soon.”

Y/n’s POV

Y/n could feel the wad of cash she was carrying in her bag from the tips she got, but she refused to keep any of the money, so turning the corner of the building she saw a homeless man going through the trash for food,

‘He could use some cash.’

“Sir? Here,take this.”

Looking up at her with fear that she was probably a burglar or something he tried to cower away, but when he saw her gleaming eyes and soft smile with the cash in her hands, he approached her slowly as he heard Y/n explain,

“Get yourself something to eat yeah? Have a good night.”

Without saying a word he took the money and stuffed it in his jacket and sent her a curt nod of appreciation, she smiled at him one more time before calling out of the taxi that was passing by.

Getting into the taxi Y/n made her way home in a few minutes, after tipping the taxi she got off of it and waited for it to leave before she made a beeline to the safe house on her heels.

Alfred’s POV

Alfred was standing by the door waiting for Y/n to come closer, he then opened the door for her and let her in,

“Get in the shower immediately you smell like that place.”

“Right.”

But before she could run he grabbed her wrist,

“Wait but before you go, where did you leave the money you got?”

“I gave it to a homeless person, I didn’t keep any of it.”

‘Oh... that’s better than what I thought.’

Showing his proudness for her good deed Alfred said,

“That’s very good, I’m sure he needed it, listen put everything in its place and put some cream on that back of yours dear, please.”

“I will Alfred, I’m still disappointed that I got nothing-“

Saunders entered the conversation as he put forth,

“Y/n/n it took your father and I a long while to get as close as we got, just take it a day at a time and get used to your surroundings as you go too. You did well

though, I promise. At least you know something is up, now go do what Alfred told you to do,”

“Of course,”

Giving Alfred an embrace she bid him goodbye,

“See you later Alfred, thank you again, Goodnight.”

“Goodnight dear,”

Y/n’s POV

After 20 minutes Y/n heard a door open from the outside of her restroom who’s door was slightly opened, she stood outside of her shower drying off,

‘That must be Bruce.. at least I put everything away first before getting in.. if not that’d be a disaster.’

“baby?”

Hearing Bruce’s soft little voice call out to her made Y/n’s heart swoon,

“I’m in the restroom baby, I’m coming out of the shower-“

Peering his head through the half closed door Bruce pouted,

“I was hoping you’d wait for me.. I didn’t take one-“

‘Aw my sweet baby...’

“Well come in, I haven’t gotten dressed yet, I can shower again with you.”

Opening the door wide to let himself in he closed it and began to undress,

“thanks baby... why aren’t you asleep and showering at 3 anyways?”

“Just couldn’t sleep and felt like taking one, I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

“I wasn’t but I changed my mind, I wanted to see you.”

Seeing his eyes drop more than usual made Y/n see something that was bothering him, placing his face in her palms she asked him sweetly,

“Are you ok?”

“Hmm hmm.. let’s get in.”

As they led each other into the shower that was when Bruce saw the large bruise on Y/n’s back, he spun her to face him as he questioned with worry,

“Y/n what happened to your back, this looks fresh?”

‘Oh shit.. forgot about that.’

“I fell earlier today on the stairs, and my back landed on the steps, but I’ll be ok-“

“Are you sure, it looks.. bad.”

“I’ll be fine baby, believe me, and I promise to be more careful.”

Y/n batted her eyes at him hoping her story was believable, which it was when he didn’t push it any further,

“Ok... come on.”

Once in Y/n turned the bar up to start letting out the warm water. Bruce wrapped his arms around Y/n while resting his cheek against her temple. Letting the water run over them Y/n began to relax and relished the feeling of his bare wet skin against hers.

Y/n then asked,

“Do you want me to wash your hair now or not yet?”

Bruce moves his head and let his eyes connect with hers as he shook his head no, he kept his gaze on Y/n pretty steadily as if trying to convince himself that she was actually there with him, and soon his baby blues began to water, she could tell as his eyes turned red quickly and his lip quivered,

‘oh no baby don’t cry..’

“oh honey don’t cry, what’s the matter?”

Refusing to talk he pulled her in for a deep harsh kiss, his breathing grew rapid as his hands touched her all over, trying to convince himself even more that she was real under his hands, that she was really warm and not blue and cold, that the water that was covering them was warm and in her home and not the freezing water at the river, that the purpose of his lips on hers weren’t for CPR or to help her back to life but because he was demonstrating his love through a kiss. The sounds he made during the kiss could’ve been mistaken for soft groans but Y/n identified them as crying whimpers that were leaving his lips. Y/n immediately caught on to what was going on, as she heard him grow more desperate trying to catch his breath,

‘he’s having a panic attack!’

Separating herself from him she grabbed his face and made him face her to pay attention,

“Talk to me baby what’s going on?”

Shaking his head no he grabbed her hips and tried to pull her flush against him, as he choked on air trying to compose his haunting thoughts, but she stood her ground and called for him,

“Bruce, baby, breathe, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. Ok? Look at me, I’m alive and with you-“

“No, they said you’re dead and gone a-and that they’re having your funeral.”

“Bruce-“

“They’ve made it official with the feds Y-Y/n, you can’t come back-“

“Thats not true and it doesn’t matter-“

“But I watched you die-“

“And you watched me come back to life Bruce... I’m alive, I’m not at the river, we’re not there right now, give me your hands.”

Shaking tremendously Bruce gave his hands to Y/n and she placed them on her bare chest, right over her beating heart.

“Baby, can you feel that?”

“yeah.. yeah I can.”

“Ok... and what does that tell you?”

“t-that.. that you’re ok?”

“yes baby, I’m ok.. I’m ok.”

Bruce’s POV

‘She’s ok.. she’s breathing.. this isn’t a dream it’s real. Y/n’s real, the warm water is real.. just cause she’s dead to the city it doesn’t mean that she’s really dead, she’s safe in my arms.. and alive. Ok Bruce.. it’s ok.. breathe..’

“ok.. I think I’m ok now.. I’m sorry-“

“Bruce never be sorry, that’s what I’m here for, to catch you and remind you that we’re going to be ok, no matter what’s going on outside these walls ok?”

“ok.. thank you.”

Bending down to catch her in a softer kiss Bruce could feel her wrap her arms around his neck as she smiled through the kiss. Breaking the kiss Y/n pecked his nose and began to wash him down completely, from head to toe, whispering sweet nothings in his ear or on every fading bruise she passed by while cleaning him thoroughly.

Y/n’s POV

Sense she had already showered she wasn’t going to do her own, so soon they were wrapped in warm soft towels standing in Y/n’s bedroom as she searched through her drawers to pull out Bruce’s boxers, she was going to give them each jumpers for the night but Bruce protested with his small voice,

“Can we just sleep like this.. l-like- like”

‘He needs sense of touch.’

“Do you want me in just my panties and you in your boxers?”

Shaking his head shyly he signaled yes, his cheeks burned a light pink shade at the thought of how sensitive he was being. For Gods sake he was Vengeance and the freaking Batman, as well as the Prince of Gotham, someone who was unapproachable and insensitive as hell according to outsiders, but here with Y/n, he was melting and dying to be on her skin and feel her warm breath touch his skin, making him feel loved and safe to be just himself, which only she could do that.

Tangling their legs together under the covers Bruce was facing Y/n as they laid on their sides, but putting Bruce in his favorite place, Y/n made sure to rest his head on her bare chest, so that her calm beating heart could lure him to sleep.

He had wrapped his arms tightly around Y/n pulling her impossibly close, but soon as his body drifted to sleep, Y/n could feel his arms loosen slightly, until his body went limp and soft snores began to come out of his pretty lips.

Y/b/n’s POV

He had just gotten out of the shower and walked downstairs when Alfred came into appearance greeting him,

“Jason.”

“You can call me Y/b/n... I mean either is fine.”

“Alright then Y/b/n, how was your first night with Bruce?”

Sitting down at the kitchen table accepting the bowl of fruit Alfred had prepared for him Y/b/n answered,

“It went alright, he asked me to look around within the outskirts of Gotham... he said he’s looking for lost information?”

Alfred adjusted his glasses as he sat there confused,

“What information? Did he tell you specifically?”

“He actually did, he said it’s was something about our father, for the case he was working on. But we came out dry we couldn’t find anything anywhere.”

“Hm... maybe in the morning I’ll speak with him and help you two out.”

“Sounds productive, thanks.”

“Of course,”

Alfred’s POV

After finishing his fruit Alfred and Y/b/n walked together up the stairs into their rooms, but that’s when Y/b/n noticed the opened door leading to a room that looked different, it caught his attention.

“Um, Alfred?”

“Yes Y/b/n.”

Pointing to the room as he walked to it he asked,

“You all have guests? Or did I miss something?”

‘Oh that’s Danny’s room.. oh should I tell him-‘

“Looks like a kids room.. what is this Alfred?”

Turning to look at him directly Alfred said honestly,

“Bruce and Y/n are planning to adopt Danny.”

Alfred watched Y/b/n’s jaw drop with a hint of hurt in his eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor Y/b/n said,

“You all were just going to replace me huh?”

‘Oh no, never.’

Placing his hand on Y/b/n’s shoulder Alfred corrected,

“Y/b/n we could never replace you-“

“Then why are you guys planning on bringing Danny in? Was it because you thought I died and needed to fill the gap?”

“No Y/b/n, your sister saw that Danny needed a home, and she knew he would stay with her, only because he knew her the most, they’ve had a connection sense the beginning-“

“Danny already had a home at the shelter, she didn’t need to bring him in.”

“It’s called mercy Y/b/n.”

Looking up at Alfred as he dropped his hand off his shoulder Y/b/n said coldly,

“I knew I was right, I could never be accepted again, for the new me-“

“Y/b/n stop-“

“No Alfred! She wants to adopt him because it reminds her of innocence, happiness, a new, fresh beginning, if I ever come back into the picture it will only bring back bad memories and pain, because that’s all I ever caused. I can’t be here if you’re planning on keeping him-“

Alfred stood firmly as he spoke,

“Y/b/n you are more than welcome to stay, we promised we could help you-“

“I don’t want your help, I’m a lost cause and it’s clear to me that you all have moved on, or are working to move on, when I still can’t. I’m still stuck in the daze of wanting to kill the people that have hurt me-“

By this point rage grew in Y/b/n’s eyes as he began to step closer to Alfred huffing his anger out through his words as he continued,

“They broke me more than anything in this world, they took away my life and who I was. Beating me and drilling into my head that I was nothing and a whole other person, a monster-“

Alfred had begun to take small steps back as Y/b/n got closer and closer,

“Alfred I don’t fit here. I’ve tried to, you know be different, change a little, but its all too soon, I’m not finished yet. I’m not a hero or a anything like that, I’m a murderer, I’m broken and lost, all I crave to do is ruin the lives of every single person that ruined mine. Trying to become better isn’t going to change anything, what’s happened happened, and there’s no going back. I know you love me and want to help me, but I don’t need your help, because I don’t deserve it-“

Finally coming face to face with him Alfred could see the forming tears of anger in Y/b/n’s eyes as he lastly said,

“Goodbye Alfred.”

He took off his watch and comms and began to walk down the stairs, Alfred ran to the top of the stairs attempting to go after him, but Y/b/n stopped him as he was midway down,

“Don’t Alfred.. it’s over. I only wouldn’t be hurting Y/n or you and Bruce more, but it’d hurt Danny to know that I’m alive and what I’ve become, I can’t let him see me like this. He looked up to me because he saw that I was good, and I’m not good anymore.”

And with that Y/b/n left through the front door with the promise of never returning. Leaving Alfred at the verge of tears. Alfred thought Y/b/n would be happy, thinking maybe it would help him out with composing himself again, but instead he took it the wrong way.

‘Now what are we going to do... he’s gone, and might go back to his old ways.. we never replaced him.. we just wanted the family to grow, we wanted to give Danny a home. When is this all going to be better.. will it ever get better?’

RedHood’s POV

Walking away from the Manor RedHood put on his mask as anger and sadness raged and boiled his blood, he slightly felt bad for Alfred, he knew that Alfred had good intentions, but his mind and heart went against his sister once again,

‘Of course she would replace me...she can’t lie to me. I’ll never be her son again, or ‘their’ son, why ‘their’ son though? Is Bruce marrying her? That doesn’t matter anymore, all I know is that I really fucking hate myself.. I just wish it was all gone or that it had never happened, but they are really going to see what kind of person they made out of me.. who’s the real Jason Todd, the RedHood..just watch.’

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part III

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, brief mentions of blackmail and prostitution, all characters are adults.

Words: 1135.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

___________

Bewildered by Steve’s words, you froze, still hoping it was all a joke. He had literally made a schedule for you. What then? Were they going to assign each other roles or something? Make a play out of it?

“Of course, I will finish working on a set of rules soon. I need a couple more days, I think.” Rogers said, and Bucky’s eyes rolled skyward.

“Steve, please. Don’t you think it’s too much?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his face, others staring at his best friend with the same expression of disinterest.

“I’m not going to set some draconian rules to make your life more difficult. But we need to know when most students leave the main building, when it's safe to be in the library, and so on. That’s what I’ll be working on.”

Well, that didn’t sound too bad, but you thought that Steve, someone who was used to being a leader, could also get used to giving orders to all of you. You certainly did want it to happen because now it looked more and more like some police operation rather than a school play you thought of first.

“Anyway, it’s getting late.” Loki got up the sofa, and you stared at his well-cut black jacket and pants that fit him perfectly - no doubt, they were made specially for him by a tailor. “Since it’s Tuesday, I guess it’s my turn to walk the lady back to the dorm.”

He sounded very sarcastic, and you shivered, not very eager to stay alone with him, but others were already getting up, intending to leave. Dammit. Out of them all Loki seemed the least harmless, and you dreaded walking the empty corridors with him. Why nobody objected to him being in this protection squad?

“Don’t try anything stupid.” Bucky snorted as he passed by the guy who was supposed to be your personal guard for this evening, and Loki sent him a sly smile as if he definitely wanted to try something others wouldn’t like.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

Nodding, you left the student council room and tried to keep your distance - you hoped he wouldn’t curl his arm around your waist or touch you anyhow because the thought made your stomach churn. Loki definitely saw it in your face, and his smirk got wider.

Keeping quiet, you were walking together until you left the main building. Out of all people, why did he agreed to something like that? Maybe you could understand why Peter got involved, but Loki? He seemed the misanthropic kind who wanted to do nothing with people. Judging by the way he looked, talked, and moved, he was brought up in a wealthy family. Loki had an air of superiority around him the way Steve had, but he was different: while Steve seemed to be carrying a burden, Loki enjoyed the effect he had on people.

Why somebody like him was getting involved in your mess? For the sheer sense of control?

“No need to be so afraid.” He said nonchalantly, and you pursed your lips like you’d been chewing a lemon rind. Yes, it was definitely for the sense of control.

“I’m not afraid. Not of you, at least.” You sighed. “You don’t look like a person who’d be walking around stealing girls’ lingerie.”

“What if I am?”

Scoffing, you raised your head to look him in the eyes - Loki was rather tall, and you were forced to look up at him.

“If you ever needed a girl’s underwear, I bet you’d just go and ask for it. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend or something.”

Funny enough, now his attitude was making you act way braver than in the student council room just a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, just his expression alone was making you want to stand up to him, despite the fact Loki didn’t say anything offensive to you. You didn’t feel scared at all as if all fear vanished once you left the room.

“Can’t say you’re wrong. Although I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, I could take a taxi to the city right now, go to a club and pay some girl to do whatever I want.” The naked truth made you frown, but Loki carried on as if nothing had happened. “But it's getting... old.”

Was he so rich to the point he would do this? Was it something so casual to him he spoke of it freely? You thought you’d never really met a person who openly admitted they paid to a prostitute. Well, obviously, Loki couldn’t care less about opinions of others, you included.

“This doesn’t explain why you agreed to help me. I don’t think you’d come just because Steve asked you to.”

“True. I just thought it would be entertaining.”

Watching the dormitory building growing bigger in front of you with your every step, you bit down on your lower lip. It was exactly as you thought, Loki simply wanted an entertainment while having someone under his control to please his ego.

Although it didn’t look nice, at least he wasn’t among those creeps who had been following you and stealing your things. If any of them were to disturb you, you had a feeling Loki would me most displeased - if you were to be in his care, somebody messing with you would probably make him feel like he's not in control, and it would make him furious, you thought.

“Listen, I’m being serious. I know what effect I have on people, and I’m not surprised you don’t like me.” He suddenly said, and you tensed again. “But I’m not the one you have to be worrying about. I’m not here to trick you into thinking I’m your knight in shining armor. You better be careful around the others. They’ll do whatever it takes to gain your favors.”

Suddenly stopping before you two could enter the dorm, he asked you for your phone number and gave you a quick call to ensure you would have his contact details when you might need him.

Perplexed by his words to the point you lost your vigor, you wanted to ask him who exactly he was talking about, but then you thought Loki meant all of them, all other four guys who seemed more or less harmless to you. Did he say that because he wanted to gain your favors? Or was it because he knew something about them you didn't?

____________

"Just don't act like a silly little sheep around them. I know you got a sharp tongue, so you better remember it when they'll try to force you do something they want. Steve's right about one thing: people need to know you can protect yourself. Those four have to remember it, too."

Part IV

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden @goodgodimaweirdperson

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

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cowboy-canoodler · 3 years

Text

Can’t Teach The Mad Dog New Tricks, Chapter 1 (Majima Goro x GN! Reader) SMUT

This work is for 18+ readers only, minors DNI ! ! !

You’re the captain to The Majima Family of The Tojo Clan of Kamurocho, a diligent worker who balances out Majima’s own brand of crazy.

You trust him and he trusts you, but does that trust go deeper?

Are there feelings you previously hadn’t thought about?

And just how far are both of you willing to go so the other may survive?

Tags: TW: Blood, knives, stab wounds, bullet wounds, doctors, fighting, smoking, “c-word use” Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Smut, blowjob (giving), dry humping, whining, bottom Majima, praise kink, edging, throat fucking, almoat public fingering/handjob, possessive sex, dirty talking, private fingering/anal fingering

Notes:

“Seiko” is a nickname for the reader, not an OC or a specific gender, it’s a moniker like Hawke or Shepherd in their respective games.

Set during the year off in Yakuza 3-4

Also:

When the reader is having sexual things done to them I have included separate vagina and penis versions just read the one that accommodates you. Chest and body descriptions are left gender neutral; it's only genitalia that’s different. If you’re unfamiliar with the way I write I try my best to be as inclusive as I can for the reader. This includes writing separate paragraphs for each genitalia (penis and vagina) while also including non-descript hair, skin, chest, and body sizes. If you feel that I haven’t done a very good job at that in particular parts of this fic please let me know and I will alter it to the best of my ability.Slowly working on this while balancing life.

Also this chapter has no smut but the rest of the work does

“We all know what you and Majima-san get up to you behind the closed doors” the lieutenant of a small family said out loud as you collectively waited patiently for the officers meeting to be finished.

You were there with a calm, level headed, expression. Your eyes fixed on the painting on the other side of the hallway as you stood by for Majima to either be told to leave or for him to walk out on his own terms when it got too boring.

“It’s no wonder a newbie was able to be promoted so quickly in their family,” another snide comment from a different lieutenant, once again from a smaller family but a family that was getting too big for its britches, “sleep with the patriarch and you’re sure to move up in the world.” A couple of them laughed as you took a deep breath in, your calm composure falling ever so slightly as a sensitive topic was touched upon.

It was true that you had moved up quickly within the ranks of The Majima family but you hadn’t gotten to where you are now by sleeping with Majima himself. He had always seen how diligently you had worked, sticking to The Yakuza ideals and always keeping a level head when doing your work. Right now, however, you did not have to work, there was no reason to keep these low-level lieutenants happy with you, or the family you belonged to, as you thought of that your hand slowly slipped into the back of your suit and grasped the dagger that was tucked away, ‘always for safe keeping’ Majima would say to you. This, however, did not mean to keep it safe, but to keep you safe, always.

“Gotta admit” the one who had spoken up first walked towards you, a cocky smirk on his face as he strode towards where you were patiently stood, hidden dagger in hand. “Someone who’s so good at keeping level headed does suit Majima-san the most, like that Nishida guy, gotta keep someone calm to balance out the craaaazyyy” his last few words had been drawn out in a mocking manner, a hand raised to his right temple and jokingly twirling in the air to represent his words.

As the other men laughed you pulled out your dagger, grabbed his hand, and turned the tides, pinning his face down against the wall where you had previously stood while twisting his arm and pressing the dagger against his neck. “Mock me all you like,” you whispered into his ear as the other men gasped, “but mock Majima-sama and we have serious problems,” you pushed the dagger further into his skin, a slither of blood dripping down the blade as he swallowed his pride, along with his saliva, “I don’t think your family would survive against ours, would they?” Your tone was one of feigned ignorance, calm and inquisitive as you asked the quivering coward simple questions. “Perhaps you should think before picking a fight with someone you can’t handle, particularly me and Majima-sama, hm?”

Before your victim could reply the door swung open and Majima came into view, his brow furrowed and an angry glare emanating from his good eye. Immediately you stood back, placed your hands firmly at your sides and bowed to greet him.

“Sir! I wasn’t-“

“It’s nothing Seiko-kun, musta deserved it. What’d he do?” A small grin made its way to Majima’s lips as he admired your devotion, he knew you only got that way when someone had insulted him, or the family, personally.

“Nothing that concerns you, Majima-sama , believe me-“ you glared over at the guy and held up your dagger to him once more, “it’s not worth your precious time” you placed the dagger back into its sheath and hid it behind your back once more

“No sir!” The lieutenants bowed as an apology before Majima shrugged and began walking down the hall.

“If ya say so, let’s go Seiko-kun” Majima began walking away and you followed closely behind, your eyes upfront and calm as you made your way out of Tojo HQ and into the car, you in the driver's seat and Majima behind.

A couple of minutes had passed in silence, both of you enjoying the calm of each other's company as you focused on the road and Majima focused on you. His eye bore a hole into the back of your head and you saw it every time you checked behind the car in the mirror, but you chose to say nothing. He was obviously in a bad mood from the meeting, him escaping partway through with a scowl was enough to tell you that, but usually there was chatter in the car as you rode back to the office.

“So what happened?” Majima broke the silence after a couple minutes of staring out of the window, he must have grown bored with the passing cars.

“They said things I didn’t agree with”

“Like?"

“Do you really need to know?”

“Now,” Majima tutted as a smile made its way back to his face, a finger pointed up and waving side to side, “is that any way to treat your boss?”

“Tch-“ you looked back in the mirror and saw his smirk before moving your eyes back to the road, you hated how he knew your weaknesses, “they said we were sleeping together, and that was the only reason I had been so successful, and so quick, with my promotions in the family”

“Ohh, no wonder you were so harsh on ‘em, I woulda been, too” Majima leaned back and looked out of the window as he crossed his leg, his right ankle on his left knee and his lightly hands resting on the inner of his thighs. “Having your achievements pinned on something you didn’t do that woulda been a lot easier, sure as shit ain’t nice to hear- ah- I didn’t mean it like that-“

Knowing Majima had your back always brought a smile to your, usually calm, face. A small display of emotion that was usually kept hidden, on show just for him. “I know what you mean, don’t worry about it, to be honest, I would have slept with you if I could but you were always so damn busy”

“Oh? You woulda?” Majima’s gaunt cheeks reddened a little as he looked over at you, smirking and staring at him in the mirror, “oh- you’re joking” he rolled his eyes and sighed looking back to the window at the passing cars.

“You got really happy at that Majima-sama, something you wanna tell me?”

“Eat shit”

You sat there staring at each other through the mirror as the car sat at a red light before bursting into fits of laughter

The light turned green and you drove off towards the office once again, the last few minutes sat in a happy silence between you both, appreciating the content atmosphere you had cultivated with Majima. Your eyes often wandered back to the mirror to watch him in his small and comfortable world, one of the few places he could let his guard down a little before heading back into his role as Patriarch and Senpai to the family, plus his jacket did nothing to cover himself and you did so enjoy watching him breathe.

“We're here, sir” you said before stepping out of the car and opening his door for him, once more bowing as he exited.

“Thanks Seiko-kun” Majima smiled at you before walking to the doors, hands in pockets and his guard back up once more in the characteristic sway of his hips. You stood and watched him walk away amongst his family members who were all bowed with their head low to greet their patriarch, and you. Another member ran up to you and bowed as you stood aside to let him take over the car and park it in The Family’s usual spot.

The feeling of walking amongst your peers as their captain was still a strange one, while you had filled in the role easily and commanded their respect it was still very alien to you being their commander. Listening to the shallow breathing of the men at your side as you walked past calm and collected, sticking to the Yakuza code and showing them the amount of respect you were supposed to, was rough and something you had never fully agreed with. These men were willing to die for Majima and the family, the same way you would, and probably will, and not being able to show all of them what that means to both you and Majima was insulting. A code that doesn’t value the people who uphold it, not just the top brass who are in charge but those grunts who do the hard work, is a code that will die. It was inevitable.

As you came to the doors you looked back at the men, still bowing low and waiting for you to enter the building, and then down at the pin on your lapel. A familiar, warm feeling spread through your chest as you felt the comfort of your found family before turning back around and proceeding into the offices.

Majima usually took time to himself after a meeting he didn't agree with, usually they were asking him to do something he didn’t wish to do or demanding The Majima family lay their lives down for some bullshit cause. Everytime a Patriarch dies, or a family has to disband Majima, more often than not, would get up to 200 hundred new recruits into his own, making it the biggest of The Tojo Clan so he’s always asked to lay down his men's lives for the sake of Daigo or the greater good. It’s really one of his biggest peeves about being tied down into the Tojo Clan, while he was, ultimately, in charge of his family he had to obey Daigo’s orders no matter what. Yakuza code to uphold and all, and Majima always upholds his moral codes even at the cost of his dignity, freedom, or life.

A couple of hours passed and you had kept yourself occupied looking over paperwork concerning the finances of The Family, sorting out spending, repair work for damages made to Majima family turf, and collection payments from said turf. This was the work that you liked, the filing and organisation of it all, keeping things behind the scenes running smoothly. It was what you were good at, the best in the family if your title was anything to go by, and you often felt proud of the work you did, and how little you made mistakes.

Of course there were others who handled the wages and every day frivolities, you were there to check any major problems or spare work whenever you had a moment to breathe away from Majima… but you hadn’t heard from him, not a hair or even a whisper of what he was doing right now.

“Hmm...” you hummed, quietly putting your documents down and looking out of the window, “he’s been too quiet tonight… maybe I should check in on him” the statement seemed to be questioning but you had already placed your documents into the drawer before speedily heading to the door.

The halls of Millennium Tower were always so quiet, the slightest cough or sneeze ringing and echoing through the walls of your floor. Just like the footsteps you were making that erupted through the desolate silence. As you walked down you nodded to the guards, men were stationed at each door, 2 at yours and Majima’s, and 1 at the lieutenants along with their respective groupies inside the rooms when needed.

Your footsteps continued to echo through the halls as you passed various doors, the guards bowing in respect as menial mumbling chatter rang through the cracks of each room until you came to Majima’s corridor, you walked up and signalled his men to move further down the hall. Still on guard but with a little more privacy. You took a moment to yourself before knocking lightly and waiting for a response.

“Who‘s banging at my door this fuckin’ late?”

“It’s Seiko, sir”

“Oh… justa sec-“

A pause before you heard something heavy drop behind the door and Majima exclaiming painfully.

“Majima-sama? Are you okay?” More groans of pain made your heart quicken in worry, the beating echoing into your ears overpowered your, usually, calm composure, “I’m coming in!” Hastily you opened the door and saw Majima sat on his couch clutching his foot, and a bowling ball on the floor slowly rolling towards you.

“Ah,” you chuckled to yourself, “I think I see what happened”

“Just tryna have a happy memory and it’s gotta do that shit to me?!” Majima sighed and leaned back, legs apart and knees spread wide with his arms stretched out along the back of the seat. You smiled and closed the door behind you before picking up the ball and walking over to him, bowing for respect, and placing the ball back into the open bag on the coffee table, his eye following you every step of the way.

“Are you hurt Majima-san?”

“Naw- well... my pride maybe? Having you see me like this sure is a kick in the dick” he rolled his eye and looked away from you, sending his pout out of the window.

“Better than an actual kick in the dick though, right?” His response was nothing more than a click of his tongue and a sigh as he rolled his head, and his eye, back, “I hadn’t heard from you tonight so I thought I’d check in. After today’s meeting you seemed preoccupied, maybe even a little stressed-“

“I ain’t stressed Seiko-kun” his tone was short and guarded as he raised his head to meet your gaze.

“With all due respect Majima-sama, you are. I know you very well, better than most, and I know something happened in that meeting today” you sighed at his silence and sat in an adjacent chair, placing your chin on your fist and staring at him with bored eyes. He looked at you and scowled before averting his eye back to the window, but you continued to stare and crossed your legs.

“Tch- it’s just- it’s shit The Chairman’s got me doing, now that he’s healed and able to lead again, plus losing Mine and shit, everything’s just gone to fuck and I’m the one who has to put it together again”

You could see how annoyed it made him to be tied down like this, he just wants to do his own thing with people he trusts surrounding him but every time something happened in The Clan Majima was usually the one who had to clean up the mess and with every mess he got tied down even more.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t like in 2006 when you were able to just break away and start on Kamurocho Hills… although-“ he looked back over to you, eye soft and pleading behind his dagger-like glare, “-technically there’s not much stopping you from doing the same right now, if that’s what you choose to do, sir”

“Nothing but a promise”

“To whom?”

“Kiryu Kazama"

You both sat in silence for a moment, the muffled sounds of Kamurocho below echoing into the dimly lit room. The silence was suffocating, unsaid feelings and context ripping the two of you apart before you gathered the courage to break it.

“I see, you do hate breaking promises, sir"

“You really do think you know me don’t you Seiko-chan? Huh?!” Majima stood up and balled up his fists, the soft squelch of leather rubbing against itself filling the angry atmosphere. You sat there and stared at him silently, your eyes telling him you weren’t buying this façade he was putting up. “Ain’t nothing worse n’ a guy who can’t even keep his word. It’s too much that we let Yakuza get this fuckin’ soft all this time, only caring about makin’ money and being on top. Ain't shit without the strength to back it up.”

Majima turned around and sighed before walking over to the window, he placed his elbow above his head and stared down at Kamurocho like a lion watching and guarding over his pride.

“Is this about Makoto Tateyama-san?”

Once again, silence.

You could hear Majima’s breathing getting heavier as he thought about how he wanted to approach this with you and you sat there ready to take it all, he needed to get his emotions out and into the open. Carrying a torch for someone for 21 years wasn’t exactly healthy and the only way Majima knew how to take his mind from it was filling his days with menial tasks, or finding people to fight to prove to himself

“It’s been 4 years since she left the country with her family” you could see Majima’s fist tightening and the scowl on his face getting even angrier as he continued to stare out of the window.

His voice was low, almost a growl, and nothing like his usual scratchy tone “you should know when to shut up and to keep her name outta your mouth”

“I can tell you how she’s doing if you wish, I have people checking on her and her family often to make sure she’s safe”

Majima’s breath hitched in his throat and he looked over to you, his eyebrows still knitted together but now in a combined look of anger, curiosity, and affection. “Why? I never ask’d ya to do that, how’d ya even know?!” He took a step towards you, his arm falling down to his hip and hands still balled into fists. You stood up and clasped your hands behind your back keeping eye contact with him.

“When I joined the family I had my sights fixed on becoming your captain as fast as I could so I dug into your past. The things that happened with Shimano-san and Saejima-san, Yuki-chan and Makoto-san.” He stopped and stared at you, eye wide with awe and mouth slightly agape along with his still knitted brow, “I’ve made it my goal to make sure no loose ends come and bite you in the ass in the future, and that the people you care about are taken care of no matter what. I had hoped to keep your mind at ease.”

“At ease?” Majima’s voice was barely a whisper, the words only just crawling their way to your ears as you stood your ground. “Finding out one of the only people I trust is going behind my back to get info on me, that’s supposed’ta put my mind at ease? Huh?!” Majima’s voice rolled into a roar as he took a step towards you, the anger radiating off of him and his mad eye shaking around as he bore a hole into your skull with glare alone.

“Yes.”

Your reply was short and abrupt, the final tipping point before Majima ran towards you and grabbed your collar pushing you back into the wall. You both grunted at the impact as books fell off of his shelves. Your hands came up and gripped his arms in a futile effort to keep him at bay, there was no way you’d be able to take The Mad Dog in any kind of fight, not that you’d want to but you had to try to calm him down somehow.

“The fuck you think you are?! Huh?!”

“The one person who’s always on your side no matter what Majima-san!” He didn’t budge, “I didn’t do it for blackmail or for any kind of leverage, if I wanted that I wouldn’t have worked so fucking hard to get to where I am now. Here! Right by your fucking side where I plan to stay!”

Tears blinded your vision as you poured your heart out to him, the things you admire most about Majima flashing through your mind as his grip on your collar loosened.

The way he never backed down from fights.

His loyalty to the people close to him, especially his family.

The promises he never breaks no matter how hard it is to get to the result.

How hard he fights when he lets loose, especially when he fights Kiryu.

His smile.

His laugh.

His nose.

His lips.

Him…

“Sei- no… (Y/N)-kun…” him saying your name made your heart skip a beat and the breath in your lungs disappear. His hands lay on your chest, slightly smoothing down the fabric of your creased shirt and he averted his gaze, almost sheepishly, as he realised what he had done.

“Unless you throw me out yourself I don’t ever plan on leaving you, Majima-san. Not for all the Yen in Japan, not even to start my own family-“

“You’d be a great patriarch, y’know”

You smiled and lightly sighed, “not nearly as great as you.”

A small gasp made it’s way past his lips once more before his gaze made its way back to your own, eye slightly watering as you studied him making sure to remember every little detail you could. Only now could you feel how close he had gotten, Majima’s breath a small breeze upon your lips, both of you breathing in eachothers air.

All the blood in your body became intimately known to you as well as where it was rushing to. The heat rising in your cheeks and the small, rushed, beating of your heart echoing into your eardrums.

Majimas voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned his head forward, eye now focused solely on his gloved hand smoothing down your shirt. “Seiko I…” he let out a breathy sigh before a small smile made its way into his lips, Kansai accent slipping from his words, “I haven’t felt this comfortable alone with someone in years, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel… not anymore”

“I know” you were in no position to give him advice about how to feel when your own emotions were hardly ever in check, “I’ll be here whenever you need to feel comfortable. No matter how far away I am, even if another family has me locked up. I’ll fight my way to you with every fibre of my being, nothing will keep me from you Majima. Our world has no enemy I won’t kill to make my way back to you.”

He leaned his head down slightly, eye closing as he became more and more vulnerable the closer he got to you, and you felt the same about him. Your breath became shakier as your heart continued to beat out of turn, you leaned your head forward and pressed your forehead against his, feeling how hot his body was, your noses barely touching and your hand resting on his bicep.

Kamurocho stopped in those few seconds, no sounds, no lights, no traffic, just the two of you alone on this earth.

Majima was the first to move, his hand creeping up to the side of your neck and his head tilting to the right as he brought your lips closer together, your breath trapped in your lungs as you anticipated his lips upon yours. Your eyes had been focused on anything but his gaze until now, you looked up and he had already been studying you. Just as your lips were about to touch there was a knock at the door, both of you jumped and parted before someone walked in and bowed, looking like he had bad news.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a phone call from The Chairman, he says it’s urgent”

Majima sighed and turned away from you, the lingering heat from his hand on your chest slowly fading away as you averted your gaze. All of the trapped air in your lungs made its way out and you stood there out of breath and embarrassed.

“You should get that! I’ll leave you alone. Thank you for seeing me Majima-sama, have a good night.” You bowed and Majima opened his mouth to protest but before he could you quickly made your way out of the door and down the hall to the elevator, face red and still short of breath.

Once the elevator doors closed, and you were alone, everything hit you and you couldn’t stop yourself falling onto the wall for support, the cool metal of the lift. All breath left your lungs as the emotions took over, arms wrapping around yourself and eyes fixed on the floor as you tried everything you could to calm down the thoughts in your head and the thoughts in your heart.

You remained that way until the elevator came to the floor of your office. You stepped out, having regained your calm persona, and walked down the halls with your hands firmly by your side, the right one almost burning as you remembered the feeling of Majima’s bicep in your grip. Your chest aflame with his handprint as you continued trying to keep your composure, determined not to let any of The Family see you like this.

You spent the remainder of your night awake and alone in your office, laying down on your couch with a pillow for company and the Kamurocho sounds, and rain, for ambience. Each thought was of him, how close the two of you had gotten, and how much closer you were about to get before you were interrupted.

#majima goro x reader #majima goro #yakuza #gender neutral reader #N/S/F/W #bal writes #yakuza writing #series

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 5:

qιαи кυи

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @unknown5tar @whathamelon @curieouscapt @silent-potato

warnings: use of the nickname sir (once I think), power play, slight choking, creampie, office sex, pure filth.

“Crap.” You murmured, your figure engulfed by the darkness of the big office.

The power had gone off, all the work you’d done probably lost now. A pair of black Oxfords clicked on the marble floor, echoing through the walls.

“Y/n?” You recognized the voice of your boss, who usually kept you company when you stayed extra hours. “Are you alright?”

“I might jump out of the window if my report got deleted.” He giggled, extending his hands to avoid crashing onto something. “Now I’ll have to stay longer.” You groaned in frustration, jolting when a pair of hands squeezed your shoulders.

“Let’s go to my office, I have a few candles and a chess board to pass time.” As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you started being able to see his face. That handsome face that had anyone down on their knees in a matter of seconds. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” But the rumors spreading around the office said otherwise. People around you would literally call him a sex god, but only very few were able to experience his abilities and none of them for more than once.

“Sure, Mr. Qian.” With your phone’s flashlight, you followed him back to the wide office, which was probably the size of your apartment.

He’d already set the chessboard, two glasses of red wine on each side of it. The candles surrounding it gave the atmosphere a warmer tone, more sensual you daresay.

“Have a seat.” The leather couch was soft, like sitting on a cloud. “I’ll play with the black ones.” You nodded, eyes staring at the glass and wondering if it would be correct to take a sip. “Go ahead, it’s all yours.” He said as if he’d listened to your thoughts.

“Thank you.” The game started, you moving your pawns first and surprisingly getting a hold of some of his pieces.

You were quick to take control of most of the board, almost all of your pieces still standing. Maybe you weren’t that bad at chess after all.

“Check mate!” You clapped your hands excitedly, sipping the last drops of wine from your glass.

“I want a rematch.”

You played a couple more matches, easily winning each and every one of them as you drank glass after glass, Kun looking at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I love wine.” And you had a great alcohol resistance.

“This is getting a little boring.” You nodded, not knowing the true intentions behind his words. “What if we give this game a little twist?”

“What kind of twist?” You raised an eyebrow, your elegant fingers grabbing the base of the glass.

“For every match one of us loses, the other one picks a piece of clothing they take off.”

“Huh?” So that’s what this was all about, he was trying to get into your pants. Thank god he sucked at the game. “Well, I’m only going to accept because you’re such a terrible player.” You weren’t planing on asking him to take off his shirt or something, maybe a sock or his tie would do.

“Ouch.” He pretended to have a chest pain, proceeding to flash a dimpled smile in your direction.

Oh if only you knew.

“How?” You stared at the board, as if the answer would suddenly appear carved on it.

“Luck, I guess.” Your brain was quick to pick up on things.

“Luck my ass, you tricked me!” For a moment you forgot it was your boss who you were talking to, but he didn’t seem to mind, more like he was actually enjoying himself.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He stood up from the couch, taking out a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cabinet beside his desk. He poured the ámbar liquid inside while taking a seat. “Now...” he took a sip, his eyes seductively looking at you. “Where should we start?” He evaluated his options, scanning your body from head to toes. “Take of your bra.”

“H-Huh?” You weren’t expecting him to be so direct, and yet, his words had you core dripping already.

“Take of your bra.” He repeated. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, in which case, you’re free to leave.” But he perfectly knew you had no intentions of leaving, a cocky grin adorning his plump lips as you lifted your shirt slightly, unclasping the piece of lingerie and pulling it out through your sleeve, something you usually did as soon as you arrive home.

The silky material of your blouse caressed your soft buds. Your piece of clothing was a little see through, giving Kun a peak at your hardened nipples.

“Shall we move on to the next round?”

In less than an hour, you were sitting almost completely naked in front of him, your panties being the last piece of clothing covering you (if you didn’t count the high heels he’d insisted you kept on). But they wouldn’t stay on for longer, for your king was trapped with not much pieces left to cover him. Your forearm covered your breasts as well as you could, your hands fidgeting with the wooden piece.

“There’s no way I can win this, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” Without an ounce of embarrassment left, you slipped down the final piece of clothing, kicking it to the side and releasing your mounds from their confinement. “Look at you, all pretty and naked for your boss.”

“What comes next?” Perhaps another round of chess, you thought. Instead of putting the pieces back in place, he walked over to you, lifting your chin so your eyes were directly facing his.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

You somehow ended up laying down on his desk, all of the stuff in it now scattered around the floor as he rammed himself inside of you. He kept eye contact at all times, that cocky grin making its appearance as he held your knees against your chest.

“God, y/n. You know how long I’ve waited to do this?” Blonde strands of hair were sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat shimmering under the dim light of the candles. “Even when I was fucking someone else, all my mind could think about, was you. How well you’d take me, how much of a good girl you’d be for me...”

“S-sir.” You were clenching around him, seconds away from your high.

“You’re my pretty little fuck doll, aren’t you?” His hands let go of your knees, wrapping around your neck instead. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You whimpered, your air supply running short.

“Good girl.” His hands loosened around your neck, but still not letting go of it. “I want you to take all of my cum, not a single drop of it should be wasted, alright?” You nodded, eyes shut as your toes curled in pleasure.

One final thrust sent you over the edge, consequently causing his seed to paint your walls. He pulled out, watching you desperately try not to spill his fluids.

“So obedient.” He walked back to the small living room, grabbing your discarded clothes to dress you up. “Just so you know, I usually never do this.” He clasped your beige bra, his fingers pad brushing your flushed skin.

“Then why are you doing it now?” By now, his cum was sliding down from your thighs into the desk, but he didn’t mind, at least you tried.

“Because it’s you.”

“I’m honored, Mr. Qian.”

“Don’t get cocky. Raise your butt.”

“Wait!” He had already slid your panties up, smearing them with yours and his fluids. “Kun!”

“Calling me by my name? Naughty girl.” He flicked your forehead, not completely sure if giving the red spot a kiss would be appropriate. “It doesn’t seem like the power’s gonna come back soon, you should head home.”

“But then you’ll be alone.”

“Are you worried about me?” The thought of the recent events not being more than a one-time thing, made your heart drop.

“N-no. Never mind, I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.” You adjusted your dressing pants before hoping off the desk.

“Wear a skirt tomorrow.” He said right before you crossed the door. “And no panties, I want you ready for me.”

It was definitely not gonna be a one-time thing, and the thought of it alone, had you drenched. Maybe working extra hours wasn’t so bad after all.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv smut

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tt0bu · 3 years

Text

Periwinkles

Originally posted at AO3

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: GiyuuTan

The first time Kamado Tanjirou met Tomioka Giyuu, he was eight years old.

His Ma and Pa came out of the back door, away from their old oven where the last batch of the shokupan was left to sit, maybe to burn, since little Tanjirou thought something must be wrong. There was haste in his father’s steps, hurried and careful. His mother’s strides were stiff, nervous, unsure. Nezuko, his little sister, was pulling on the grass where she sat, streaks of bright sunlight bouncing off her giggling face.

Tanjirou watched his parents trek up to the end of the street on that little hill in the middle of a city they call home.

He saw every adult from the neighborhood walk the same path, disappearing behind the gates of Nishida-san’s house.

Except for one unfamiliar uncle.

The said uncle, who looked too western, who looked like those uncles from foreigner spy movies his father loved watching, stood unmoving under the waiting shed just across the Kamados’ home. He was looking towards the end of the street too, where all the adults had disappeared, but made no move to follow. He was holding a black book close to his chest, and little Tanjirou couldn’t see anything aside from three blue lines on the cover of it.

New neighbor? “Uncle!” he called out to the man, jumping on his feet and waving his little palm enthusiastically. His young mind wouldn’t have noticed, but whenever Tanjirou would look back to this moment, he finds it weird how everything just disappeared – no adult to reprimand him because he was talking to a stranger, no chirping of the sparrows perched on the wisteria tree behind their fence, no sound from the nearby train station.

Maybe he dislikes being called uncle? The unfamiliar man with raven black hair and pale skin didn’t heed his call, not sparing a glance at the curious boy trying to catch his attention. Tanjirou took the man’s cold demeanor as a sign of discomfort, probably because he may be new to the neighbourhood. But it did not stop him from crossing the street, diligently looking to his left and right, twice to be absolutely sure, just like how his Pa taught him.

“Uncle,” his tiny hands pulled at the hem of the coat the pale man wore.

Tanjirou saw how the most beautiful pair of eyes, blue like the noon skies and the periwinkles he picks behind the hill where the Hashibiras live, looked down on his little self with disbelief. The man continued to gawk on him, gaping and frozen in his place. He clutched the thick book closer to his chest, tightening his grasp on its spine. The blue lines seemed to shimmer, a quick flash of shine running through the three lines, but Tanjirou thought nothing of it. After all, it’s almost naptime, his eyes may be playing tricks on him at the moment.

“You-“ the pale man with the clothes of a spy and the eyes of the sky swallowed, eyeing little Tanjirou with hesitation. “-you can see me?”

“Uhhh,” Tanjirou looked around, but neither his parents nor the neighbor uncles and aunts were in sight. “Am I not supposed to? Are you hiding from anyone?”

“How, how is this possible?” the boy heard the pale man whispered, his own burgundy eyes examining the leather shoes he wore. Those are pretty shoes, but he never saw his father wear one. Maybe, when he gets a little bigger, he will get the same pair for his Pa. “You never saw me before. Not even once, not even when you d-“ the man with blue eyes bit his bottom lips and stopped muttering to himself. “What’s the difference this time?”

“Uh-oh, no,” Tanjirou shook his head, the hanafuda card earrings swaying along his movement. “Are you new here, Uncle? Are you lost? My Ma and Pa went to Nishida-san’s house but if you’re hungry I can get you these anpans my Pa made! They sell out really, really fast and I’m lucky Ma keeps some for me and my little sister before taking them to the store-“

By the time Tanjirou realised the lost uncle was never really listening to him in the first place, he could already hear the faint wailing and sobbing from the house at the end of the street. However, before he could ask, he heard the lost uncle take a shaky breath, pinching the base of his nose in annoyance, Tanjirou wasn’t sure, before carefully opening his book to a certain page. The pale uncle traced what the little burgundy-haired boy could only imagine were words, before softly uttering the name he knew very well.

“Nishida Sora. 58. Lung disease.”

“Oh!” Tanjirou bounced on his feet at the idea. “You know Nishida-san? Are you here for him? If you don’t know where he lives, just walk to the end of the street. You’ll see a really huge wooden gate with crow carvings. That’s where he lives!”

The pale, blue-eyed uncle didn’t even acknowledge his words.

“If you want, I can walk with you. I just need to take Nezuko with-“

The lost uncle gently tugged on his collar to stop him from running back to their home. “I know where it is, tiny human.”

“Owwkay, big human!” The man visibly grimaced at his words, yet Tanjirou beamed. “Are you his doctor?”

The big human seemed to be ignoring him again.

“Sensei?”

“Uncle?”

“Sir?”

“Grandpa?”

“Grandpa? Do I look that old?” Blue eyes met tiny burgundy ones again, offended, making Tanjirou giggle on the back of his hand. The little boy just shrugged, rocking back and forth on the heel of his feet. He saw the uncle sighed once more before shaking his head. “Cheeky tiny human.”

Tanjirou pretended to know what cheeky meant, tilting his head to the side to get a proper look at the man who was ignoring him a minute ago. “Are you Nishidan-san’s relative? I can introduce you if you want?”

“No. I am here to collect.”

“Collect? Collect what? Stones? Bugs? Ohhh! I know a great spot to catch emperor beetles! Inosuke-chan always catches the biggest ones though and Zenitsu-chan’s just a scaredy cat so we don’t have to worry-“

“No, not that. Not beetles. Look-” This time, the man crouched to the little boy’s eye level, and with the close up view of his blue eyes, Tanjirou thought he was staring at the sky itself. “You shouldn’t be seeing me. You shouldn’t be talking to me.”

“I can see you though. I have eyes, Uncle. Ma said they’re very pretty.”

“That’s true – uhum.” The big human coughed to his fist, hiding his face. Tanjirou wanted to ask if he was alright and should he fetch this uncle a glass of water? But the man faced him again, gone was his coughing fit. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?”

“They did.”

“And?”

Little Tanjirou tapped his finger against his chin, pursing his lips, deep in his childish thoughts. “You seem lonely, and Ma said if one of my classmates smelled lonely, I should do something to cheer them up!” He tugged on the hand of the pale uncle, jumping slightly at how cold his palm felt. “What’s your name? I’m Tanjirou!”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Boo! Don’t be silly!” Tanjirou giggled like a child on a swing flying into the air. “Everybody has a name!”

“Not me.”

“But I told you mine!” Tanjirou stomped his little feet on the concrete pavement of the empty street, throwing a tantrum. His father would give him a good scolding, maybe a little spanking, should he see the burgundy-haired boy giving others troubles. Remembering his father’s words, Tanjirou decided to attack from a different angle.

“Hey, hey – hey, oh, come on.” The blue-eyed man crouched again, meeting teary, burgundy orbs and blushing cheeks. “What now? Why are you crying?”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me your name!” Tanjirou wailed louder, acting like a spoiled little kid which is nothing like him, all because he wanted to befriend this uncle who has the bluest eyes, who looked like a spy.

The big human exhaled, evidently troubled, while Tanjirou beamed. “Fine. You can call me Yuu.”

“Yuu-chan!”

“Not Yuu-chan. Yuu. Yuu.”

“Yuu-chan!”

“Why am I even trying,” Yuu-chan whispered mostly to himself, and Tanjirou’s grin grew wider. “I need to go. Nishida Sora will be here any moment. Is that your house?”

Tanjirou followed where his Yuu-chan was pointing. Red, wooden gates, unlit house lanterns, an old service truck with Kamado Bakery hand painted on its back. Yep. That’s their house. “Yes, Yuu-chan! I live there!”

“Come.” The little burgundy-haired boy tilted his head slightly to the side, confused. Uncle Yuu-chan seemed to understand his unspoken question. “I’ll walk you back to your home.”

Years later, when Tanjirou would look back to that moment, he would laugh at the memory of what he would always fondly call as his first brush with death. But his little self wouldn’t realize that, enjoying the coldness of Yuzu-chan’s palm against his own, celebrating his newfound friendship. He wouldn’t catch how Nezuko, as young as she was, got confused about him laughing on his own, hand raised in the air like he was holding something invisible.

Later that night, delirious from a high fever, Tanjirou dreamt of blue skies and periwinkles and spies invading Japan in crisp suits.

“I heard you spoke to humans today, Giyuu.”

“Human. A tiny human, Shinobu. So what of it?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“He has the gift of Sight!”

“Just be careful, Giyuu. They may let this slip up pass, but we both know consequences are harsh. There’s a reason we never interact with living, breathing humans.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Tanjirou would always look out of his room’s window, ceremoniously, watching each and every adult passing on their street. He was lucky enough to have his room on the upper floor, albeit slightly hating the room during summertime when the sun would burn through the roof. But it was the perfect place, for he can spot Yuu-chan from the crossing.

He mentioned Yuu-chan one evening at dinner, and even when his Ma and Pa was glad he made the new neighbor feel welcomed, they expressed their interest in getting to know the blue-eyed man. He even overheard them talking about it when he went for a pee and his parents were in the living room watching old spy movies again.

“Tanjirou said he’s a new neighbor. But we didn’t hear anyone moving here.”

His father’s kind voice cut through his mother’s worried one. “I’m sure he’s just a passerby.”

“But what if...”

“Don’t worry, if anything, he may be talking about an imaginary friend. Yuu-chan seemed harmless.”

Imaginary? He’s pretty sure Yuu-chan is real! But even if he wanted to defend his ‘not-imaginary’ friend, he would hear his Ma’s voice reminding him to never eavesdrop at adult conversations, Tanjirou. So he let them be, did his business, and went back to sleep. He decided between dreams that he would invite Yuu-chan to his home one day.

But Yuu-chan never showed up at his street again for a long time.

It was snowing when Tanjirou saw him once more. Not the harsh, unpleasant winter, but enough to color the world white. He was clothed from head to toe, layers over layers of protective shirts, mittens and socks. His Ma had always been careful, reminding him that it would be awful to catch a cold during Christmastime.

He was permitted to accompany his Ma on her trip to the local hospital to drop their freshly baked breads and pastries, a Kamado tradition during the holidays. His parents would wake up really early to prepare for it, kneading doughs and cooking fillings because it would mean the world for the health workers if they can get savoury curry pans or their bestselling anpans in between shifts.

Tanjirou watched as his mother dropped the box on the counter, the hospital guard behind her bringing the second one. From the corner of his eyes, on the far-end of the long, white, empty corridor, stood a man who seemed too familiar to him. Before he could even think, Tanjirou let go of his mother’s dress, walking hastily to catch up, sprinting into a full run when the figure headed for the door.

Yuu-chan?

Tanjirou really did his best to catch up, but his tiny legs could only do so much, the stranger who bore resemblance to Yuu-chan got further away even when he pushed against the floor with all his strength. He did not hear his mother’s faint cry, calling his name, wondering where on earth would his first born go and who he was chasing after. But Tanjirou only had one thing in his mind.

“Yuu-chan!” He pushed the heavy glass door open with his little hands, no guard to hold it for him since the man helped his Ma haul the box of pastries inside. But the stranger, with the same black hair cascading below his shoulders in a loose bun, the same crisp gray suit, the same lonely, closed off scent, didn’t acknowledge the pet name. So he tried, hoping to get a reaction, his young heart clenching in sadness because why wouldn’t Yuu-chan want to talk to him? How did his collection go? Would he know if Nishida-san was really gone? “Yuu!”

The man continued walking, past the gates, leaving no chance for the boy to catch up. Tanjirou watched as Yuu-chan turned right to the sidewalk, disappearing behind the brick wall. He wanted to run and give chase even when his lungs felt like it was shrinking in exhaustion, his legs numb from the sprint, his head aching from the lack of oxygen. But before he could move, a gentle yet firm hand grabbed him by his left shoulder, spun him around and before he even realized, his Ma’s comforting and worried scent enveloped him.

“Don’t you dare do that again, my boy.” His Ma whispered in his hair, running her palm up and down Tanjirou’s back to let him know he wasn’t in trouble. “You scared me Tanjirou. What was that about?”

“Sorry Ma,” he was suddenly sobbing, partly because Yuu-chan ignored him like he was a stranger, but mainly because his Ma’s scent was so distressed, anguished, and he never wanted to make his Ma feel that way again. “I-“ a hiccup. “I saw Yuu-chan and I wanted to say hi but-“ another hiccup, and he reached up to wipe the snot dribbling from his nose with the back of his hand. “-but maybe he didn’t like to be my friend anymore.”

“Oh Tanjirou,” his Ma cooed, embracing him tightly against her chest, occasionally wiping his son’s face with her handkerchief. If she noticed that there were no fresh footprints on the snow, no signs of another human being around, she never said a word. Even when she saw his son calling out Yuu-chan to an empty corridor, running after a formless person, she never mentioned a thing. His son doesn’t need anymore heartbreaks on Christmastime, and doesn’t need to hear about how this Yuu-chan is only a fragment of his imagination.

Year: 1945

Month: April

Day: 26

Battle of Okinawa

Giyuu stood in the middle of the dense foliage, on the isolated island of Okinawa, as he watched soldier after soldier fall to their death at the hand of the enemy. Bombs would go off in the distance, their detonation shaking the earth. But he stood unmoving, completely in displeased awe, because this was a scene he had witnessed numerous times before.

“I will never understand humans and their obsession with war.” Makomo stepped quietly to the ground beside Giyuu, and he knew his fellow collector shared his facial expression. They were tired of humans killing each other, hurting each other, to satisfy their greed and hunger. “It hurts Them, these pointless endeavour of humans to best each other.”

“How many have you got?” He chose to ask instead, because even if they wanted to do something, they’re merely collectors. Humans and their dumb ways of dying were out of their duty; they were just sent to collect their due.

“Considering the numbers of soldiers on this island and the guarantee that not even a fourth will come out alive?” Makomo opened her book, flipping several pages. “A lot. You?”

“Thinking about the cups of tea I have to prepare for Choosing already wore me out.”

“Don’t worry, Giyuu. Kyojurou, Mitsuri, and Tengen are here too. Who knows, maybe the numbers are off and we won’t have to collect these much considering the collectors present?”

“When was the book ever wrong, Makomo?”

“Don’t ruin my optimism!”

Their little banter to pass time came to an end when a young, bleeding soldier ran towards their way, a group of foreign forces hot on his trail. He hid behind the trunk of a fallen tree, crying and clutching his jammed rifle to his chest. Giyuu only saw a part of his hair, black like his own, peeking under the helmet he wore on his head. Soot and mud dirtied his young face, but what caught the blue-eyed collector’s interest was his fierce, burgundy eye.

Eye, because his right was shut close, blood covering the half of his face.

“This is what I hate the most.” Makomo opened her book again, tracing the names under her watch. Once she located what she needed, she clicked her tongue in frustration. “Beautiful, innocent souls like him who get dragged to a war he did not wish for. Do you think he cries because he knows he’ll never see his family again? Or perhaps, because he killed another human even when he didn’t even want to fight this war?”

“I think he’s praying.”

“Should we listen to his words?”

“What? No, that’s private.” Giyuu looked at his companion with slight horror in his expression. “He prays to Them, and we can’t disrespect this young soldier’s last minute on this land.”

“I’m just kidding!” Makomo poked him on his cheek, but immediately turned when footstep grew nearer. When they saw the group of soldiers who gave chase surround the praying man, Makomo tucked her book in her arms and whispered. “It’s almost time, little soldier. I’m sorry your family will never see your beautiful eyes again.”

Giyuu decided to leave and do his part of the job too. He gave one last glance at the praying soldier, only to see one of the enemy hammer the heel of his rifle down to the wounded soldier’s forehead. Said soldier slumped against the trunk, but Giyuu thought he saw enough and turned around in haste.

A blunt force like that would likely scar, and he hoped it won’t seep through the soul. But it had been a traumatic experience for the young soldier with burgundy eyes, spending his last minutes alive surrounded by unfriendly faces. That wound would be a birthmark in most cases, but Giyuu hoped this soldier wouldn’t carry the wound to his next life should he choose to be reborn.

Tanjirou reached for the towel as he straightened his back, wiping away the droplets of water on his face. He absentmindedly traced the birth mark on his forehead as he brushed his teeth, his mind going over his plans for the day. He will meet Inosuke and Zenitsu at the latter’s grandpa’s house for a group study in preparation for their high school entrance exam. On his way back, he has to buy cough drops for his Pa who refused to see a doctor and will always counter their arguments with all I need is a good night sleep and plenty of water.

There’s nothing much to do for the day but to study, he figured, so he stuffed all his textbooks and notes into his bag and rode his bike to the Hashibiras to collect his friend. Inosuke thrashed like a bug lying on its back, complaining about why he always gets to sit and not pedal. He said he bets he’s a much better rider than Gonpachiro.

“It’s my bike, Inosuke. That’s why.”

“You’re just afraid I’m better at bikes than you, Monjirou.”

Zenitsu once told him, back when they were young, that Inosuke would actually get their name right after seven tries. I counted, his blond friend would say, because he kept yelling at me and shoving worms and beetles and acorn nuts in my face. Tanjirou tried to keep track the first few months after knowing the dumb fact, but eventually grew tired counting the wrong names before he could hear the right one.

The burgundy-haired teenager squeezed on the breaks, the rubber tires squeaking against the asphalt. He then got off, and gestured for Inosuke to take the handlebar grip. “Pedal away, Inosuke-sama.”

“Ha!” His loud friend thumped his back, with the aggressiveness that would match his excessive energy. Tanjirou had to step a foot forward to stop himself from toppling over. “I knew choosing you as my favorite friend was the right decision!”

Tanjirou shook his head with a little laugh. “Oh, what an honor!”

“Stop daydreaming and get on already! I can’t wait to run Monitsu over!”

“Don’t do that Inosuke.” Tanjirou transferred his backpack to his front, facing the opposite direction, watching the hills roll as his friend pedalled vigorously downhill. He only realised his mistake when they zoomed past the gate of Zenitsu’s home. “Inosuke, stop! Don’t go too fast –“ Tanjirou looked back to see his blond friend getting smaller and smaller until he was just a tiny dot of yellow. “ – we’ve passed by Zenitsu’s house! Turned around!” He shouted over his shoulder, closer to his friend’s ear. “Inosuke! TURN AROUND!”

Without a warning, Inosuke swiveled a hundred and eighty degrees, not knowing he had almost threw Tanjirou off. The burgundy-haired miserable back rider yelped in surprise and fear for his life. But before he could complain, Inosuke started pedalling again with the same intensity, Tanjirou thought he would die on the ride back to where Zenitsu’s home is. Good thing his friend waved and jumped, catching Inosuke’s attention, and the boy squeezed on the break so hard they almost did a cartwheel with the bike.

Never again, Tanjirou thought, as he combed back his hair. I refuse to ride a bike with Inosuke ever again.

“Wow,” Zenitsu stared at the two of them from head to toe. “I’m surprised you didn’t get into an accident.”

“He’s a walking accident.” Tanjirou pointed at his friend who wore his favorite boar shirt. “I am not getting on a bike with you again.”

“Just admit I’m better than you!”

Zenitsu pushed the two of them inside before their pointless discussion lengthened, the three greeting grandpa Jigoro along the way. Soon they fell into a series of question and answer, index cards and flashcards flying across the room. Inosuke would constantly complain about math and why did he have to learn such useless things. Zenitsu would also complain about Inosuke’s complaints, but would snatch away the problem, solve it for the boy, and explain how he got 12 as the value of X.

“Uhhhh,” Tanjirou stretched his arms, arching his back to pop the joints as he stood from their table. “I’m going for a quick konbini run. Anything you guys want?”

“Didn’t you bring any snacks from the bakery?”

“We didn’t open today. Pa’s sick.”

“Onigiri and Nissin for me, Tontaro!”

“Same, but I want tamago sando instead of onigiri.”

“Then it’s not the same, stupid butter head!”

“Bold of you to call me stupid when you’re the walking definition of the word!”

Tanjirou didn’t want to witness the inevitable wrestling match to which Inosuke would mercilessly hug Zenitsu from the back to squeeze out his oxygen, so he excused himself without saying a word. He checked for his wallet before mounting his bike. He didn’t spot any konbini on the way, so he decided to try the opposite street so see if there’s a nearby store. To his luck, he saw the green and red signboard a couple of streets away.

He parked his bike on the sidewalk as he repeated his friends’ choice of snack over and over again to make sure he wouldn’t forget. He opted for a katsu sando and a bag of potato chips, carrying all the food he picked to the counter. Just as the girl behind the register dropped the change to his open hands, he caught a hauntingly familiar figure, through the glass walls of the konbini, with the identical black book held against his chest.

No way.

Yuu-chan?

He quickly grabbed the brown paper bag after throwing a hurried sankyu to the cashier , pushing the doors with his shoulder. He then left the bag on the basket of his bike, before taking off to run after his Yuu-chan. Why didn’t he take the bike instead, Tanjirou could no longer think rationally because he couldn’t believe he’s about to see Yuu’s after all these years.

Was his eyes playing tricks on him again?

Because there’s just no way the person he was made to believe wasn’t real and was just a part of his childhood imagination was actually there. He looked exactly the same; charcoal gray three piece suit, light blue dress shirt, and a navy blue necktie. Just like the spies from his Pa’s old movies he often dreamt about.

“Yuu-chan!” He could no longer contain his excitement, jumping on the back of the man when he was an arm length away. But Yuu quickly turned around, reached for his wrist, effortlessly twisting it in a quick, practiced movement. Tanjirou didn’t manage to introduce himself because his wrist hurt and was twisted in a very awkward way, he thought he might snap it any second. “Ow, ow, ow, ow! It’s me, Yuu-chan! It’s me! Ow!”

As quick as Yuu grabbed him, the man immediately let him go once recognition dawned on his face. “Tiny human?”

“Wow, you remembered me!” Tanjirou beamed, the same wide smile he wore the first time he met Yuu. He almost forgot about those periwinkle eyes and snow white skin as he tried to bury the memory of the day when Nishida-san succumbed to lung cancer. “I almost thought you weren’t real, like a story of make believe I came up with in a desperate attempt to make friends.” Yuu-chan looked away, and Tanjirou wished he could read whatever was on the man’s mind. “It’s been seven years, Yuu-chan.”

“I owe you no explanation, tiny human.” Yuu-chan continued to look away, his blue eyes never meeting Tanjirou’s burgundy ones. “I never agreed to being friends.”

“But you remembered me, big human.”

Yuu-chan flinched. “My work involves a lot of names, and a mistake would result in grave consequences.” The man tucked his book in his arm again, turning around to walk away. “Go home and stop following me.”

“You sound like you’re just making excuses!” Tanjirou continued to annoy the man, hoping to make him talk more because his voice was somehow calming. He didn’t know where the boldness came from, but before he could think, he reached for Yuu’s hands, cold as ever, and pulled him towards the empty bus stop across the street. It should have been strange, with the absence of people on the street and the silence in the air, but Tanjirou didn’t notice. “Come with me! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“What are you doing?” Yuu-chan gently freed his arm from Tanjirou, keeping it inside the pockets of his pants this time. “This is dangerous. Please keep your distance.”

“Why do you talk so formally, Yuu-chan? Come sit beside me!”

Tanjirou watched as the man glared at the innocent bench, burning holes in it as he considered his options. All the while Tanjirou’s wide grin never wavered, choosing to observe quietly as Yuu-chan argues with himself. The man looked like he never aged at all, like the past seven years were merely a week for him.

“You won’t stop until I indulge you, would you?”

“Nope!” Tanjirou bounced in his seat, grinning triumphantly.

“Fine.” Yuu-chan finally took a seat, a meter away from him. “But you shall not cross this distance.”

“What? Why? I’m not sick!” Tanjirou whined but immediately shut his mouth when Yuu glared at him. There was no hostility, but Yuu-chan has the ability to disappear from his sight, like how he did the past years, so Tanjirou chose not to push his luck further and truly anger the man. “Alright, no need to kill me with you eyes. Very pretty eyes I must say.”

Tanjirou’s throat tightened, and if he was standing, his knees would have buckled from the intensity of Yuu’s eyes. At first he thought the man didn’t like praises, didn’t like talking to him, but he continued staring. Tanjirou, unsure on what to do, chose not to meet Yuu’s eyes as he tried his best not to crumble because the weight of his stare makes the burgundy-haired boy melt.

To his surprise, Yuu, who was so adamant to observe distance, pushed against the metal bench and stood in front of him. Tanjirou raised his head to look at him, but Yuu-chan’s cold fingers brushed against his forehead. Chilly wind blew past them, causing strands of burgundy hairs to fall, but the cold fingers were there to brush them back up. Tanjirou couldn’t help but shiver, due to the wind or the cold skin, he couldn’t tell.

“Is there something wrong?” He managed to ask even when the chill he felt crept up from his lungs to his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

“This,” Yuu ran the pad of his thumb over the mark, twice, before tracing the outlines. “Was this always here? I didn’t – “ He stammered, as if he couldn’t make a sentence out of his train of thought. “ – seven years ago – “

“Oh, this?” Tanjirou instinctively reached up, not expecting a cold hand meeting his own where his sturdy forehead should be. “It had been there as far as I can remember. It just got bigger as I grew older. Seven years ago, it was just this tiiiiiiny thing, you could have mistaken it for a scar.”

He heard the blue-eyed man, who was acting so strange that day, mumbled something under his breath. It was so soft, Tanjirou could have heard three different languages, because even when there were no cars, no people around, he still didn’t understand the incoherence mumbling. Tough luck, for he has lost his gift of keen nose after turning ten, so he has absolutely no idea what this strangeness was all about.

“Does it hurt?” he heard Yuu-chan ask as he pulled his cold fingers away. But he didn’t step back to create a meter of distance again, much to Tanjirou’s delight. “Does it bother you?”

“Not really, no,” he bit his lip, recalling a stupid myth Zenitsu recounted once when they were nine. “They said birthmarks were signs of how a person died in his past life, but that just sounds silly to me.”

Tanjirou looked up, hoping to see Yuu share his opinion about the absurdity of the myth. But he only saw anxious eyes which couldn’t meet his, lips flattened into a straight line, brows furrowed. “Sometimes, old stories passed down with words of mouth would hide a truth or two.”

“Are you telling me - ” Tanjirou’s voice climbed a pitch higher, trying to suppress his laughter after considering that he had a life before this. “ – that I died from a blunt force trauma to the head in my past life? Was I murdered?”

“Don’t be silly,” Tanjirou wanted to scoff because Yuu-chan dared call him silly when he was just spouting nonsense about old stories and hidden truths a minute ago. “Besides, is that your only birthmark?”

Immediately Tanjirou crossed arms over his chest, balling the shirt he wore with his hidden palms. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t spooked at Yuu-chan’s question, because he sounded like an honestly curious man, but his instinct pushed him to cross his arms over his chest where a different set of marks hide. “How did you know about that?”

“Know about what?” Yuu asked back, and Tanjirou couldn’t determine if he was feigning ignorance. “I was just asking.”

Tanjirou gulped the knot on his throat, suddenly feeling stupid about his fascination with his own birthmarks. Science has explanations for these, there must be, so he shouldn’t be bothered by Yuu-chan’s vagueness or Zenitsu’s old stories. He was about to ask the man where he went and why he didn’t see him again, but Yuu was suddenly flipping a page of the book he was carrying over and over again. “What are you doing, Yuu-chan? Looking for something?” Tanjirou tried to peek at the pages, but Yuu-chan pivoted his body around to keep the book out of his sight. “I can help?”

“This is strange.” Yuu flipped the page again like he was trying to see if flipping back and forth would make a change to what was already written in the book. Tanjirou wanted to laugh at Yuu-chan’s endless turning of the page, but the man seemed troubled. “How did this happen?”

“How did what happen?” He was never proud of his nosiness, but it was harmless, he thought. He just wanted to help and stop Yuu-chan from tearing the poor page out of the book. The same book, with three blue lines spreading out horizontally, he was carrying back then.

“I was here to collect, ” Yuu shut the book close, tucking it under his arm once again. “But it seemed I was mistaken. I need to go.”

Collect? Like Nishida-san? Tanjirou wanted to ask, but such things weren’t easy to explain, and he wasn’t even sure he was ready to accept Yuu-chan’s secret, if there is one. He chose not to define who Yuu is, all that matters is that he was there again, talking to him, no longer ignoring him.

Tanjirou knew Yuu was going to disappear again. To where, he had no idea, but at least now, he was sure Yuu wasn’t just a part of his imagination. He felt him, his cold touch, his intense stare. Yet he couldn’t help but feel lonely for no reason at all. “Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps,” was Yuu-chan’s answer which offered no comfort to the boy. Perhaps could mean another seven years, or never again. Perhaps isn’t a guaranteed yes, sounding more like a gentle no. “These meetings wouldn’t benefit the both of us, and could put you in danger. Think of it as breaking the law, tiny human.”

Because more spies will be watching. This he knew, after seeing crisps suits blending in the crowds, peach hair and platinum, purple and aqua eyes. Yet he pulled Yuu to an embrace, burying his face on the folds of his three piece suit. “I stopped dreaming about you. For reasons unknown to me, I kept seeing you in my dreams when I’m running a fever. But when you disappeared, the dreams went away too.”

Yuu removed his arms around his waist, Tanjirou already missing the coldness that seemed to come from every part of Yuu’s skin. He couldn’t read his expression again, but he didn’t expect anything more from the strange man. He speaks vaguely, dresses the same, never aged, so his expressionless face was the least of Tanjirou’s concerns.

“Stay healthy, tiny human.”

Tanjirou snorted at Yuu’s choice of response, turning back to where he left his bike at the konbini. He didn’t want to say goodbye, even when he knew that perhaps he wouldn’t see Yuu-chan again. So he continued walking even when he didn’t hear the man move from his place, because he has his hungry friends waiting for him.

He looked back, hoping to see Yuu watching him leave and walk away.

But like how he disappeared seven years ago, the man was suddenly gone, like he wasn’t even there a minute ago.

He rode his bike back to Zenitsu’s home in a bleary state. Thanks to the numerous trips he made to his blond friend’s house, he found his way even when he didn’t even remember pedalling. He couldn’t feel his legs, his head buzzed, his fingers numb. He recalled grandpa Jigoro asking him what’s wrong and why he looked so pale, before seeing Inosuke’s worried face rushing to him as he slumped against the nearest wall.

He black out a moment after that.

I kept seeing you in my dreams when I’m running a fever.

“That’s not it,” Giyuu sighed, finding it hard to breathe as he watched Tanjirou stumble out of his bike, pushing the gate of his friend’s house with all his strength. That was his fault, for he couldn’t help himself, even when he promised not to bring harm to the beautiful soul again. “It was the other way around. You get fevers because of your dreams.”

“Who are you talking to?” came a voice behind him, but Giyuu didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Instead, he walked towards the gate of Kuwajima Jigoro’s humble home. He pushed it open, stepping into the other side where his office was. Sabito came in after him, shutting the metal door. “You were supposed to collect a soul today, Giyuu.”

“Who are you, my assistant? So what’s my next schedule?” Giyuu dragged a chair to the table in the middle of the wide room, the only furniture present. His office, much like the others in his line of work, was a high-ceiling room, with a tiled countertop where he prepares teas, coffees, sometimes even sodas, for the souls he brings to the Choosing.

Sabito hauled a tea bag at him, hitting Giyuu on his head, flakes of the dried leaves scattering in his suit. “I wish your brain was sharper than your tongue!”

Giyuu clicked said tongue, wanting to agree because he admits his earlier actions were not well thought out. How could he let a human touch him? How could he not say no, only because those burgundy eyes kept haunting him?

“Kuwajima Jigoro should have died today.” Giyuu pressed his fingers between his eyes, already feeling the early signs of migraine, still wondering what and how it happened because he wasn’t mistaken; he never made mistakes in his job. “I saw his name. It was cardiac arrest.”

“Were you on time?”

He shouldn’t be answering such silly questions. “You know I was never late, Sabito.”

“Were you,” His peach-haired friend sipped on the tea he brewed, holding Giyuu’s periwinkle eyes in an intense stare. “on time, Giyuu?”

Okay, so there was no use lying, and he sincerely believed the slight delay couldn’t hinder death that was already written in the book. He would be guilty if Kuwajima Jigoro’s name was there and that death had simply taken a detour due to his tardiness, but the name was completely gone. Erased, with no sign that it was there before Giyuu left his office, which it definitely was. “I may have been late by a couple of minutes. But it shouldn’t matter because the time of death is absolute even when no collector is present to – “

Sudden realization dawned on Sabito’s face that he was momentarily stuck with his jaw dropping to the floor, and a look of complete disbelief in his eyes. “You talked to a human again, did you? What were you thinking? Were you even using your head like you’re supposed to?”

“He jumped on me from behind! He recognized me-“

“Oh no,” Sabito took the chair opposite him, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He catches his head in his hand, murmuring curses at Giyuu’s stupidity. “It was the same human back then. The human with the gift of Sight. Oh no.”

Giyuu nodded, feeling incredibly frustrated with his inability to follow the rules. “Seven years ago.”

“That was already seven years ago? Yet he still remembered you?”

Giyuu nodded once again, not finding the words to defend himself from Sabito’s unabashed judgment. He couldn’t blame his friend and fellow collector for reacting the way he did, because they weren’t Divines with blessed holiness, nor humans with free will. They were just reapers, tasked to guide souls to the afterlife where they could exercise their freedom to choose one last time and help them decide what they want their fate to be.

He wasn’t human, therefore he doesn’t have the same freedom.

Even if he wanted to see Burgundy Eyes again, not only on the times he was dying, he simply couldn’t choose to do what he wanted.

The clanking of the Sabito’s teacup on the saucer shook Giyuu out of his silent dilemma. His peach-haired friend frowned, the scar on his face more prominent as he pursed his lips in frustration. He once asked the man about his facial scar, which they both agreed seemed to be a birthmark, but Sabito couldn’t recall how and when he acquired it.

“You can’t keep doing this, Giyuu.” Sabito sighed, tracing the patterned yellow and green lines of his own book sitting on the table. “We didn’t know, we may never know, how our presence affects living souls. I’m sure you’ve heard of the myths.”

“I have, but they’re just myths.” Like those about birthmarks, and Giyuu suddenly found himself with the realization that if the myths of men were real, then there’s a chance the myths of the reapers of the old were real too. “No,” he hunched over the table, burying his face in his folded arms. “I messed up. What if – “ Giyuu raised his head, the frantic look in those periwinkle eyes making Sabito flinched. “What if Kuwajima Jigoro’s death took a turn and – “

Sabito reached for his head, shaking it vigorously in an attempt to rattle his brain. Giyuu groaned at the harshness, but was thankful for the distraction. “Don’t think too much of it, Giyuu. If something was indeed wrong, you should have heard from Yorichii-san by now.”

“I swear the name was there!” Giyuu flipped his book open again, trying so hard to prove he was simply mistaken so he could step out of his door to collect the soul. But he couldn’t find the name, couldn’t find the reason why it would just disappear when death was something no one could hinder. Not even the Divines could defy death if They deemed it to be the right time to take back the gift of life They bestowed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tan – “

“Don’t speak of his name!” Sabito abruptly stood, his chair tripping over. His booming shriek effectively stopped Giyuu’s string of apologies. “Don’t make another mistake, Giyuu. Remember who we are, and what we bring. Don’t.”

Giyuu understood, for there is a reason souls should only see them after passing.

There is a reason he should never let Tanjirou see him again.

For he brings nothing but death.

Tanjirou should have known.

He tried to whisper, sometimes in his pillow before he sleeps, a wish to see Yuu in his dreams again. But he never had bad fevers again, never got the chance to see the man turn his nightmares into sweet stupor.

He tried to whisper, against the glass pane of the train as it whirred and swayed, words of intercession and petition, begging for a chance to see Yuu once again.

He tried to whisper his name, trying to call for him to come and explain, to let him know that he doesn’t care what he is, to finally understand why he can’t get Yuu out of his system, even after trying to make himself believe the man with the sky in his eyes isn’t real. He wanted to ask him why it felt like Yuu knew him longer than he should have, the same way he felt strangely familiar even when he only met him twice.

Tanjirou should have known that perhaps meant an empty promise, a parting word disguised as an assurance that he will see Yuu again.

For after he touched him with his cold fingers and reached for the scars he was born with, he never saw Yuu again.

#giyuutan #kny fanfic #grim reaper au #reincarnation au #demon slayer #tomioka giyuu #kamado tanjirou

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call.

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men.

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?”

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.”

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.”

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.”

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?”

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative.

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say.

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled.

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.”

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.”

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?”

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.”

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself.

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.”

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!”

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.”

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it.

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.”

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources.

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter.

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!”

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder.

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.”

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen.

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.”

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.”

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