#& for a man who hasn't been cared for for the person he is pretty much his entire life bc him being The Bit was always prioritised. well

[windupaidoneus]

also i think they got together post zaki death because before that it was complicated & messy but not in a like toxic way or anything it was just like obligations & sides & whatever like. zaki having been ssg for so long & his loyalty remaining to kondo first & foremost despite everything even as he worked in zura's joui faction. i do think everyone in the ssg got character assassinated when zaki died BUT rolling along with it means that the only person who saw it for what it is (as in. someone dying & the actual gravity of it) is the one guy who was committed to. this bit. this guy. the bit guy. the guy who is a bit. do you HEAR ME am i alone in here am i sensible hello

[corkinavoid]

I'm pretty sure this has been done before (and several times), but brain going brrr, so

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids

Bruce doesn't even get to say anything when the door to his study opens with a slam against the wall, and before he knows it, he gets an armful of kids. As in, a bouquet of them.

"I'm so done," John Constantine breathes out, raspy and exhausted, looking like a trainwreck incarnate. Granted, the man always looked like one, but right now, the effect has been greatly worsened. The dark circles under John's eyes are, in fact, black, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in at least a week.

Bruce looks down to the small gaggle of children in his lap that he caught in his hands by sheer reflex.

All three of them look up at him with identical, sky blue eyes. They could be twins if it was not for their obviously different ages - the girl looks no older than three, while the boys are probably around five and six.

The older boy scrunches his nose. The girl pouts, but it looks directed at Constantine rather than at him.

Bruce looks back to John, a silent question in his eyes.

"They are- Well, not mine, for starters," the man begins, placing his hands on the table right over the sheets and documents, and leans on it, hanging his head down. Then, he raises one hand up and waves it in the air, "Not yours either, thank the Gods for that." He takes a deep breath.

Bruce's eyebrows raise all the way up to his hairline. The girl starts trying to wiggle out of his hands, but the middle boy holds her back, keeping her in Bruce's lap. She pouts harder.

"And you've brought them here why?" Bruce breaks the stretched out silence, gently repositioning the kids into a more comfortable hold. John raises his head up at him, and the magician's eyes look straight up pleading.

"You're the only person I know of who is, one, a parent, two, acquainted with supernatural, three, a man of great patience, and four, owes me a favor." Constantine lists off reasons that don't really make sense all together, especially regarding kids. Then he thinks for a moment and adds, "Five, owes a shitton of liquor."

"John, what-"

"Listen, I've been dealing with them for a week, I'm at my limit," Constantine interrupts him, desperate and close to whining, "I haven't slept in more than three consecutive hours for days. I don't remember the last time I ate. Or took a shower."

Yes, Bruce can see that. Or, rather, smell it. But that answers none of his questions as to who, why, and how.

"I would kill for a bath," John admits, like it's some sort of a secret. The middle boy opens his mouth, but Constantine points an accusing finger at him, "No, the puddle of melted ghost ice does not count for a bath. And don't come at me with your death puns."

The child rolls his eyes but closes his mouth back and slumps. Bruce resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only because he is holding three kids. His hands are full, quite literally.

"John, I need you to explain," he asks, somewhere between a demand and a careful inquiry. Because, really, the man looks on the brink of losing his sanity, that much is evident. Bruce might not like the man, but he can at least partially sympathize with dealing with kids.

His bare minimum of sympathy - and isn't it a bizarre thought, emotionally sympathizing with John Constantine of all people - does not ease his growing worry and irritation. The girl starts trying to get out of his hold again.

John takes a very deep breath, holds it, and then-

"I stole them," he says, looking Bruce dead in the eye, with a sense of resigned, if a bit unhinged, determination. And, before Bruce is able to ask literally anything else, he keeps going, "Their parents are shit, a branch of government is out for their guts - as in, literal guts - there was- there is a backdoor to the afterlife in their basement, and also they are dead and because of some Realms fuckery and their spiritual granddad being a huge pain in the ass, they are all wrong ages."

Bruce blinks. Then blinks again. Processing that sentence turns out to be a lot harder than he estimated.

The oldest kid in his lap gives John a middle finger, nearly sneering. The girl starts snickering, somehow making it soundless.

"Oh, and they are under a silence charm because if I hear one more references to fucking Ghostbusters I will shoot myself," Constantine finishes matter-of-factly.

Distantly, Bruce wonders if John can make that spell into some sort of an amulet. God knows, Dick really needs one sometimes. Steph does, too. And Jason. Actually, all of them need one.

He looks over the kids again. They don't seem scared or unsettled, neither by the fact they are sitting in a lap of a stranger nor by Constantine's bullet point version of a summary to their lives. They mostly just look annoyed and grumpy, and a bit embarrassed in case of the middle boy.

Bruce sighs and decides to start somewhere.

"Do they have names?"

[part 2 ->]

[sweetpupii]

So um just a thought

Caitlyn going to a brothel in the undercity becuse she wants to find a person deserving of a hate fuck so she can get her anger out. Que very nice reader who hasn't been working as a sex worker very long and is kinda intimidated by Caitlyn. Caitlyn fucks you good and proper, a little too much degration compared to what your used to and maybe a bit too much choking but... It was still a good fuck. Now you don't expect her to stay but to be honest your in tears by the time your both done. It was so intense and angry on her side that you feel weirdly emotional and subspace-y. Caitlyn feels really guilty because you didn't deserve her being so rough and mean so she stays and takes care of you a bit.

cw - hair pulling, choking, degradation, slapping once, oral sex ( r! giving ), reader swallows sorry not sorry, awfully written comfort at the end, mean sex !! 2.5k words, damn.

the brothel was busy as usual

smoke, sometimes shimmer, giggles, and moans in every corner. the typical sounds could be heard from the rooms with curtain doors nearest the entrance—the cheapest and most accessible option.

near the entrance it was, unsurprisingly, louder. a man was being dragged out by two burly security guards, his drunken protests echoing through the main hall. “I paid for my time!” he slurred, struggling against their grip. the guards didn’t falter, one muttering sharp threats while the other shoved him toward the door.

he didn't, in fact, pay for his time.

It was loud, messy, and entirely ordinary. scenes like this played out almost nightly, barely earning a glance from anyone else in the building.

clients tended to go with the more well-known workers, the ones with reputations built on experience and reliability. there was comfort in familiarity, a kind of assurance that the night would go as planned. the rookies, on the other hand, rarely drew such attention unless they had something particularly striking to offer.

so, it wasn’t a surprise that you found yourself at the edge of the room, sitting on one of the couches apart from the ‘seasoned’ workers. hands brushing over your skimpy outfit as you tried to get rid of boredom, fixing the mask that covered most of your face.

another quiet night it seemed.

it shouldn't be so shocking to find an enforcer uniform with a gas mask entering the brothel, it was quite common actually, but the fact it was a way fancier uniform and she seemed more tense than most was kinda off…

it was almost scary to see her without the mask; furrowed eyebrows, cold gaze, dark blue hair framing her face as she walked in.

“how much?”

your train of thought interrupted by her sudden words, blinking a bit to look back at her, getting up from the couch to greet her with a smile.

“hi, that depends on what you're looking for. we got the bubble baths, the massages, the lap—”

“just me and you for a few hours.” her tone firm as she dropped a bag of money on the glass coffee table. It looked pretty full and definitely heavy. maybe enough to get through a week without having to see any other client…

anywho.

there wasn't much time to respond because she was already making her way towards the other rooms, looking around to not get lost and find an empty one; not even bothered to see if you were following.

clients were meant to follow the workers so they wouldn't do anything dumb and dangerous. your quick steps could be heard across the corridor as you approached her, walking a bit faster to stay ahead before knocking on one of the doors.

available.

you barely had time to process as caitlyn shoved the door shut with her heel, the sound echoing in the cramped, dimly lit room. the faint glow of a red bulb overhead cast harsh shadows across her sharp features. her intensity was palpable, an oppressive force pressing against your chest before her hands ever made contact.

she didn’t ask. she took.

her gloved hand found your throat—not enough to choke, not yet, but enough to make your breath hitch. the cold material of the wooden door contrasted sharply with the warmth blooming beneath your skin. sadly, you weren’t new to rough clients, but this was different. It wasn’t playful, and it wasn’t calculated. It was raw and brimming with something darker than lust.

“wait, wait—we gotta talk first!” you managed to say while trying ( and failing ) to push her face away.

you see, you can't just come into a brothel and immediately fuck a girl; there are rules to follow:

⠀1. you gotta talk with babbette or any worker ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ available. be polite.

⠀2. you choose one ( or a few if you're feeling fancy ) of ⠀ ⠀ the services.

⠀3. talk about your boundaries as well as the ⠀ ⠀⠀ worker's.

⠀4. you pick a time limit.

⠀5. you talk with the worker you chose and see if ⠀⠀ it's going to be a fun time or just awkward.

⠀6. you pay.

⠀7. in some cases, depending on the girl, kissing is ⠀ not allowed since…well, it feels way too ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ intimate.

⠀8. the worker's mask has to stay on.

⠀9. etc, etc, etc...

caitlyn has only followed two rules so far.

“I do not care about your name,” her free hand is already discarding your mask and throwing it somewhere else. “or whatever it is that you want to talk about.”

she seemed way too serious and…pissed? it's not like you in particular had done anything to her but feels like she's capable of slapping your mouth shut if you tried something.

so better safe than sorry, I guess?

“take it off,” she demanded, nodding toward the thin excuse for a top you wore. her voice was cold steel, no room for negotiation. her eyes bore into yours, daring you to disobey.

with trembling hands, you obeyed, peeling the fabric away to expose yourself to her. she watched every movement, unblinking.

when you finally freed yourself from the skimpy uniform, she wasted no time. her hands—one bare, one gloved—gripped your waist with bruising intensity and pushed you back against the nearest surface. the table behind you creaked under the sudden weight, the edge digging uncomfortably into the back of your thighs.

caitlyn's breath hot against your neck as her knee forced its way between your legs. you gasped, unprepared for the firm pressure against your cunt, even through the thin cover of your underwear. her lips were on your neck now, trailing rough kisses up to your jawline. there was no tenderness, only a desperate, consuming need.

her hand returned to your throat, this time squeezing just enough to send your vision blurring at the edges. “you are here just to take it, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice low and biting. “it’s all you are good for.”

the words hit harder than her grip.

shame mingled with a strange, reluctant heat that spread through your body, leaving you unsure whether to protest or submit. her knee pressed harder, grinding against you in a rhythm that stole your breath, and your body betrayed you with a faint, uncontrollable whimper.

“pathetic,” she spat, “look at you. barely touched, and already falling apart.”

every touch was firm, calculated to remind you of her control. her bare fingers found the skin of your chest, teasing and tugging at the sensitive nipple in a way that drew sharp breaths from you despite yourself.

you should say something—maybe beg her to slow down or remind her of the brothel's rules—but the words wouldn’t come. your throat felt raw, constricted not only by her hand but by the intensity of the moment. It was overwhelming, in every sense of the word.

she moved faster, her gloved hand sliding down to your hips, yanking the last barrier of fabric away with little care. there was no hesitation, no checking to see if you were ready. she just... took. the rough friction left you breathless, your body caught in a relentless rhythm that gave you no time to adjust.

her lips found yours briefly—rough and unyielding—but she pulled back just as quickly, her blue eyes boring into yours. “don’t think you’re special,” she muttered, her voice harsh but faltering slightly, as though she didn’t entirely believe her own words. her hand returned to your throat, squeezing harder this time, enough to make your head spin.

she took ( dragged ) you to the bed surrounded by fake plants and cheap, kind of intoxicating scents of the candles placed on each nightstand.

your back met the mattress as she took off her own uniform, giving you a brief moment to breathe and just stare at the ceiling. it’s gonna be a looooong night, that's for sure.

she forced your legs open to spit right on your pussy as if it wasn't already soaked—index and middle finger smearing the cool, viscous liquid across your warm, sticky skin.

the way cait pushed your knees up to your chest was rough, absolutely unbothered by the possibility that the position might be uncomfortable for you. all she cared about was the feeling of sitting on you, rubbing—no, thrusting her hips against yours in a rather aggressive pace.

poor bed, poor wall...

you didn't mean to get so loud, you really didn't, but the movements practically forced the sounds out of you! like being punched in the gut hard and holding back the painful whimper, it wasn't humanly possible.

a scoff could be heard from her as one of her hands moved from your ankle to your face, giving it a firm slap to stop you from looking away. “stop acting all shy, pretending like you aren't a strumpet.”

so what if your legs were numb, chin glistening with your own drool, bed sheets soaked and your makeup ruined by tears? you can handle another orgasm. caitlyn is not leaving this brothel until she's fully satisfied.

it was too much, and yet somehow not enough. her anger was palpable, pouring into every touch, every thrust, every bruising grip on your skin. she wasn’t just using you to satiate her lust; she was pouring her frustration, her bitterness, her everything into you, leaving you trembling under the weight of it.

when she does stop her torturing thrusts it feels like you've reached heaven for a second—not in the happy way, more in the questioning-if-i’m-alive way—your body trembled, boneless and heavy. chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm, feeling like a dog in the middle of a heat wave. trying to close your legs was painful.

“open.”

jesus, this woman has stamina for days. ( total show-off by the way )

the thought flickers and dies as quickly as it came because she’s already there—knees on each side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, tugging just hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. you don’t even have the energy to complain or ask for a break; you just obey, your lips parting instinctively as she guides you closer.

it's so messy: wet, slurping sounds echoing with every movement, muffled whimpers vibrating against her sensitive clit. the sharp sting of her grip on your hair pulls you deeper, forcing you to follow the rhythm of her grinding hips. everything about her—her scent, her taste, her intensity—is overwhelming.

It’s a blur of sensations. your jaw aches, there's not enough room to breathe something other than her, all you can hear are her groans and your own movements, your tongue is slowing down, and your body feels like it’s on fire, but you can’t stop. heavy-lidded eyes threaten to close completely, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks.

her movements become erratic, her breath hitching with each thrust of her hips. she doesn’t stop until your lips and tongue are coated in a creamy, milky white stickiness. she pulls back only enough to press her hand under your chin, forcing your mouth shut, her other fingers trailing to your throat as she murmurs, “swallow.”

you do. every single drop.

by the time she finally slowed, deciding four rounds was enough, your body was an oversensitive mess. tears streaked your cheeks, hot and silent, and your breath came in ragged panting.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her disheveled hair. her gaze flicked to you, lingering on the tears and makeup staining your face.

the silence after everything was deafening. you couldn’t stop shaking, your chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as tears streaked down your face. the mattress beneath you felt too soft, like it would swallow you whole if you sank any further.

caitlyn sat on the edge of the bed, her back to you at first, her head in her hands. her breathing had steadied, but her hands trembled faintly, betraying the storm raging in her mind.

she hadn’t meant for it to go this far. the anger, the heat of the moment—it had consumed her, driven her to treat you like a target for her rage instead of a person. she knew better. she wasn’t supposed to let her emotions control her.

and yet, here you were.

when she finally turned to look at you, the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling frame hit her like a physical blow. you weren’t just a distraction or an outlet—you were human, and she’d crossed every line imaginable.

“shit,” she muttered, rubbing a hand down her face before hesitantly moving closer. her shadow fell over you as she sat next to you. “hey...” she said softly, the word awkward and unfamiliar on her tongue.

you didn’t respond, barely blinking as you stared up at the dim ceiling light. more vulnerable, and fragile than what you had been prepared for.

caitlyn’s chest tightened as she watched you. she didn’t know how to fix this—her guilt felt too big, her own emotions still tangled—but she had to try.

slowly, carefully, she reached for your hand, her touch tentative, as if you might flinch away. when you didn’t, she wrapped her fingers around yours, her grip firm but gentle. “I shouldn’t have been that rough,” she said, her voice low but steady. “it was not about you. it was about me, and you didn’t deserve that.”

tears welled up again, spilling silently as you tried to focus on the sensation of her hand in yours rather than everything else. never in a million years you would've expected to be comforted by a client.

“I’ll make it right,” caitlyn murmured, almost to herself. she shifted, sitting on the bed beside you, and pulled the sheet up to clean your body a little, her touch deliberate and careful.

her fingers moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face, her thumb lingering on your temple in slow, soothing circles. “you are trembling like a leaf,” she sighed gently, her blue eyes softening as they met yours.

your vision blurry, but the tenderness in her voice and touch started to anchor you. your breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in time with her quiet encouragement.

the idea of taking a week long nap seemed really good right now.

when your trembling eased slightly, caitlyn leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. for everything.” she paused, her throat tightening. “you are more than... whatever I treated you as tonight. not a punching bag.”

god, she was the head of the nobel house kiramman but took care of her rage like a teenager out of control.

“you don’t have to stay...”

no one does because that's the whole point of paying for sex; quick with no strings attached. touch-and-go.

but the shaky tone in your feels like a stab to the heart for cait. “yes, I do. you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

she adjusted her position, pulling you gently closer against her bare chest. as careful as if she was approaching a scared cat. the warmth of her embrace was startling after the coldness of her earlier actions. “I will stay, alright?” she promised quietly, her hand running soothingly along your back.

and she did.

leaving a tip that would definitely make the other workers gossip about how good your service might be.

( even if cait did most of the job. )

masterlist

[hydrobunny]

everyone thinks that they know us

tags: confessions, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: written from the idea made by the amazing @yangx2isawhore :3

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

it's exactly 11:34pm when the ringing of your phone wakes you up.

jolting up from your bed, you blearily glare at your phone screen. the contact name of SHIDOU‼️ burns into your eyes.

you hang up.

a second later, it rings again.

"what."

"y/n!" as always, shidou's voice is just a little too loud for it to be acceptable. "how mad would you be if i killed rin right now?"

you pause. you look at the time. you consider the probability of him telling the truth.

"pretty mad."

"great!" and you can hear the grin in shidou's voice as he recites out an address. "you can come save him then."

although you were the one that had tried so hard to befriend rin itoshi, you were pretty certain that you hadn't signed up for whatever the hell this was.

you pull up at the address at a sharp 12:02 am, annoyance already settling in underneath your eyes.

the address is a mansion (why would you ever expect anything else), and the recognizable bass of party music blasts through the windows. at least a dozen different colored sports cars (you consider how much one would sell for) are parked outside of it.

you debate turning around. unfortunately, you think shidou might actually be serious about killing your best friend.

best friend. how did you get to this point? friend. didn't matter that you might have been in love with him- rin could never see you as anything more.

you knock on the door.

a man you might be able to recognize if you cared enough answers. his dual-colored eyes flit over you with interest.

"hey there, pretty," he says, and his voice is slurring with the unmistakeable touch of alcohol. "don't think you're on the invite list, but i can make an exception."

you scowl. "no thank you. shidou called me to come?"

he cocks his head. "what could someone like you possibly have anything to do with that psycho?"

"he-"

the psycho in question slams into two-eye's side, whooping. "took you long enough!"

you sigh.

shidou ryusei grins at you, positively buzzing with energy. the smell of cheap (why cheap? genuinely, why did he buy cheap alcohol?) beer lingers around his face.

"did you kill rin yet?"

the grin immediately wipes itself from his face. "getting there."

he whirls around, a warm hand latching around your own- and then he's pulling you through the hallways of this too-big house.

the music hasn't stopped for a second since you've got here. in many of the rooms, you can spot groups of vaguely recognizable people, all of them in various states of buzzed-to-plastered.

you wonder how professional athletes weren't any better than the frat boys that threw weekend parties. (well, the age range was pretty much the same)

"where are we?" you manage to shout into shidou's ear, as he pulls you further away from the heart of the party.

"sae's house!" he yells back.

"what?"

the two of you slam into another room- shidou shuts the door with too much force - and the music fades away into background noise.

rin's head snaps up at your entrance.

"rinrin!" shidou crows. "brought you another babysitter!"

rin stares at you with genuine confusion. his eyes are hazed over, his cheeks a light red. "what? y/n?" a red solo cup, ominously empty, sits by his hand.

"yes, yes," shidou replies, pushing you forward. "the only person who can somehow tolerate your presence is here!"

you slip out of shidou's grip. "what the hell is happening?"

he rolls his obnoxiously bright eyes at your question. "little itoshi's weirdly drunk and incoherent. which means big itoshi has to pretend like he cares. which means i can't force big itoshi to drink an enormous amount of alcohol! so now you have to watch this idiot!"

"i am not drunk," rin snarls towards shidou. "and i don't need a babysitter."

he attempts to get up from the counter he's perched on, and immediately wobbles. you debate whether it would be worth laughing.

before you can make a decision, another side door opens.

and sae itoshi meets your gaze with bored indifference.

"what- you!"

he raises an eyebrow. you're not sure how you got into this situation.

you wonder how you're supposed to react to meeting the one and only brother you've heard rin talk so much about.

some inner part of you immediately doesn't like him. the other part immediately notices how similar they look, and curse their sheer attractiveness.

either way, sae loses the little interest he had in you immediately, turning towards shidou. "is this-" he waves a hand towards you. "her?

shidou nods furiously. "junior is perfectly cared for now. now let's get out of here!"

rin glares at all three of you.

sae sighs. for someone who's supposed to be the host, he doesn't look thrilled at the prospect of socializing.

the elder itoshi turns his attention onto the younger. "you're fine with her?"

rin's eyes narrow further. he doesn't respond.

shidou takes that as his cue. his hands place themselves on sae's shoulders. "good talk, everyone!"

and with another slammed door, you are left alone with rin. it's more than a little awkward.

you open your mouth- he shoots you a glare. you can take a hint. (even if it breaks your heart.)

out of a bored curiosity, and maybe a little spite, you start opening cabinets. they're mostly empty (you wonder what kind of life sae lives).

rin's gaze follows you the entire way. it's intense enough to give you goosebumps.

eventually, you come across a pot of gold- a wine bottle, its cork untapped. there's a ribbon attached to its neck; you spy the JFU logo placed on top.

"he won't mind, right?" you ask.

silence follows.

you open the bottle. if you're going to be stuck here anyways, why let it go to waste?

surprisingly, it's rin that talks first. "why'd you come?" he mumbles out, stumbling over a syllable.

you shrug, taking another mouthful of the wine. (it's good. too good. damn rich people.) "shidou said he was gonna kill you."

“shidou has your number? you responded? why'd you care?" he blurts out in a tsunami of words. immediately after, he looks away with reddening ears.

you eye him with slowly growing amusement. there's a buzzing in your stomach that's slowly stripping your self control away. "yes. and yes. and because we're friends."

rin tch's, still refusing to meet your eyes. you think he'll keep talking, but he doesn't.

so you take another swig of the wine bottle. maybe rin can be the one to reach out for once.

but- like always- you're the first to crack. after a possible fifteen minutes of brooding silence, you sigh.

"what's going on with sae?"

rin's gaze snaps to your face. "what about him?"

you raise your brows. (you think you meant to raise only one. you can't really tell.) "i thought he didn't fuck with you."

rin's face scrunches at your words. "what?"

you groan, sliding down from your perch onto the floor. "you know? i thought- well, he looks like he cares."

he stands up. "he doesn't."

"sure."

he stares at you with a complicated expression, and then makes his way over to you. you blink up at him.

"i don't like you talking to him," rin says, seemingly more lucid than before.

"wasn't really my choice." you shoot him a smile, raising a hand. he lifts you up to standing with it.

from how close you now are, the two of you are almost touching. if you weren't as delirious on wine as you are now, this would be much more distressing.

even now, it takes all of your will to maintain eye contact with him.

"you don't like me talking to him?" you mumble out.

rin tilts his head. "no."

"can i ask why you came here then? or why you got plastered off cheap booze?"

he opens his mouth, then stops. and then- "you're not doing much better."

you clear your throat. more than the wine, it's rin who's clouding your thoughts. his faint cologne- so much more evident at this distance- intoxicates you.

"that didn't answer my question."

his eyes narrow. "i felt like it."

you frown. "what situation are you in that made you want to get drunk with shidou?"

and his eyes flicker down. to your lips.

"what do you think?"

you stumble; rin's hand places itself in the small of your back. signature itoshi teal burns.

you're both drunk. you're in his brother's house. and yet-

and yet, you're both here, and rin itoshi is leaning down into you.

his lips meet yours desperately, his breath catching over and over again. your hands tangle into his hair- he groans wordlessly.

you separate with a gasp.

"are you- what?" you manage, face ablaze.

rin looks just as disheveled. "y/n."

"rin."

he steps back, eyes roving from wall to wall. "fuck. fuck, im sorry. i thought-"

that's not the right words you wanted to hear. you step forward, the wine bottle long forgotten behind.

"you thought right," you blurt.

rin stares at you. a flush sits over his face.

"i thought you wanted to just be friends. that- that you didn't want me." you say.

surprise, and horror, flicks in his eyes. "what?"

you cough out a laugh. "not very smart off the field, are you?"

rin's mouth opens and closes, much like a fish. you think he's going to speak-

he closes the gap between you two, and his lips meet yours again.

between gasps, he mumbles a "i could never not want you." into your form.

and you sigh out your own declaration of love

somewhere in the house, a door slams. someone whoops in exhilaration.

but in this room, it's just you and rin. alcohol tinges both of your breaths. you're both drunk on something bigger.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Soulmate! Au ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 043 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'm willing to bind myself to you] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo had always been curious about the little red string attached to his finger. He had this way before his regression. His mother always told him that he is lucky that he can see his red string, it meant that he would find his lover faster than anybody else would.

Does he, a man who really could care less about fantasy romance— Find this whole thing cheesy? Definitely.

While others would certainly start flipping rocks just to find their 'one true love'; Jinwoo did none of that.

He had priorities to deal with.

Such as suddenly becoming the patriarch of the family due to his father going missing, trying to provide care to his mother who has come down into a coma, and taking care of his dear baby sister on top of that.

Jinwoo probably got into debt in the process of trying to shoulder all the financial problems.

Would you really think he had some time for romantic relationships and much less go hunting for a needle in a haystack?

However... He did have some small chemistry with Hae-in, though, it felt more shallow than anything. After all, they only met a few times and decided to roll with it just because.

It felt... Empty so to speak.

They say that romance feels like a tidal wave, once it comes— It overwhelms you with such force you'd have nothing more choice than to kneel before it and surrender yourself to it's mercy.

But Jinwoo couldn't feel any of that with Hae-in.

Don't get him wrong, she is a wonderful person. Kind, pretty, all that and whatnot.

But what can he do if a heart does not want what it wants?

His red string wouldn't be reacting neither. Not a glow, not a tug, no nothing.

Jinwoo would eventually find himself just ignoring the little red string until the time he regresses.

Heck, he even forgot about it even if it's literally tied to his very own finger.

And as he traversed the long hallways of his school, hands shoved in his pockets while listening to his friends banter around him— He felt a soft tug on his finger.

"H-hey! Knock it off, I wanna pull for Aventurine myself!" A voice would erupt his bewilderment as a sharp tug at his finger pulls again. "Iseol!"

He looks back to see your figure running after your friend who had taken your phone.

"Huh..." Jinwoo hums, shaking his head and turning away.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo felt entirely restless after that little meeting. It's not like he caught a proper glimpse at you, your back was turned the entire time.

And yet he finds himself completely fidgety. His sister even rants that he had been pacing for hours if she wouldn't snap him out of his little trance.

Has he lost his mind over a girl he hasn't properly seen? Definitely.

Is it the effects of the red string? Not impossible.

"Goddamnit!" Jinwoo sighs, ruffling his head and flopping onto the bed.

"My liege..." Beru's small voice calls out. "My lord, you are... Anxious."

"Tell me about it" Jinwoo scoffs, groaning through his pillow.

"...My liege, I have her scent, do you wish to track he—"

"You do?!" Jinwoo perks up, staring intensely at his soldier before mentally slapping himself. "Ack... No, don't make me a creep"

He felt frustrated, why would he do that? Why should he? He might as well spend his time in jail for even trying to entertain the idea of stalking you.

Jinwoo's gaze would then absentmindedly drift towards the red string on his ring fingerz nothing how much vibrant it's color is now compared to before.

Was it your doing? Maybe.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

He told himself not to be a creep and yet found himself somewhat lingering around you. All the little things about you, he started taking note of.

From memorizing the frequent pastries you buy from the cafeteria, to the drinks you often buy from the vending machine, and even trying to overhear the games you play on your phone.

It was really just curiousity.

After all, he can't help but find it cute on the way your eyes would perk up as you ramble on to your friends about some lore or complaining about some game mechanics because of how hard it was.

Jinwoo was just about to leave you to your own devices until your voice ripped through the air—

"AVENTURINE!!!!" You cheer, standing up immediately and pacing back and forth. "HE'S HOME, AFTER SACRIFICING 30 DOLLARS FOR THIS DAMN BASTARD HE'S HOM—!!!!"

Your heart dropped immediately as your shoe got caught over on a crack— And for sure you were going to land but instead a hand would reach out to hold your shoulder and keep you steady.

"Easy there," Jinwoo says, helping you stand straight.

"!!!!" You panic, pulling away with your face entirely flushed. "I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!..."

"Wait, calm down—...." Jinwoo wasn't even given a second any longer to speak as you dashed away in a frenzy.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Your heart is beating out of your chest, your lungs are barely catching any breath as you coughed, the noises you made akin to whistles while trying to gasp out for air.

It's tight.

Painful.

Your hands are sweating, trembling as if it's suffering from frostbite.

Is it fear?

No.

It's just how you react after being way too dangerously close to the person you adored so much.

His eyes.

God those grey eyes.

Long lashes, a high nose bridge, thin peach lips, and that agonizingly relaxing scent on him— Gods.

Not to mention his height, he was like a tower. And those broad shoulders underneath his baggy clothing that hid the muscular form underneath—

Sung JInwoo will be the death of you.

You had been avoiding him ever since coming here.

How long has it been?... Ah... It's been 3 years since you arrived in this world.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It was supposed to be your doctor's appointment. Since you have arrived an hour earlier from your check-up, you decided to stroll around the mall first.

Okay, you weren't really taking a stroll.

Your strides are purposeful and hurried, the goal is clear:

Get to the bookstore.

As you recalled, it should be at the other end of the mall.

It didn't matter how long you're going to walk, you needed to see if it's there. Nothing is more important than that.

Taking the elevator down and nearly having a heart attack from the sound of it creaking as it took you to the lower level; you stepped out and dashed immediately to the entrance.

Glancing around like a madman, you scoured the large and intimidating place before deciding to enter completely and attempt to look for the section you needed to be in.

Passing by interesting books wasn't the goal, and after almost 3 minutes of going in circles you finally saw the section you needed to be in.

As soon as your eyes landed on the cover of the book you have been searching for— You had to swallow your squeals.

Your hands however? They were shaking so bad.

You paced back and forth for a bit before finally deciding to reach out on the book and take it out of it's shelf cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pry open the thing and feel your heart flutter.

"Jinwoo-ah...." You mumble, giggling quietly as your eyes dilate into heart shapes at the sight of the precious man you cannot stop obsessing over.

Carding your digits carefully on the fine paper, your stroke Jinwoo's face on the page delicately like you were handling the most fragile little thing ever.

You can't help but admire him all the more as you silently freak out like a madman in the aisle.

He was so handsome.

And now that you can physically run your fingers across the pages while crushing on him felt a whole lot different.

You had about a decent amount of money on you, it should be fine. As you reach for your little bag, you hear some crackling above your head.

The next thing you knew? You were suddenly shrouded in darkness.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You assume you must have died that day while shopping for your first ever solo leveling purchase. After all, you suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar apartment.

It tooka while to get used to it, but apparently you're in seoul living alone in a decent apartment with a black card containing a lot of money.

Complaints? Nowhere.

— Except that Solo Leveling doesn't exist in this world.

Did you have a literal mental breakdown over it? He yeah.

Big tears, pathetic sniffles and nasty snot. All that.

You cried like a toddler just because you cant do your monthly ritual of rereading solo leveling and admiration of Jinwoo anymore.

So with salty tears you grab a pencil and paper to start sketching him down. If you can't read, mind as well draw the image of him when it's still fresh.

It took 3 weeks to recover, and in youur room, your desk is full of Jinwoo's sketches. It isn't the same as the manhwa but it's the best you could do.

It took another 2 to finally come to terms with your new reality.

You're rich, mind as well live life, right?

You even enrolled to a highschool. After all, k-dramas are always centered around that part of life. Why not experience it yourself?

After successfully buying all of your school materials, you glance down at your ring finger and notice a delicately tied red string.

Huh...

That wasn't there yesterday.

Picking at it and attempting to take it off didn't work. So after an hour of struggling, you gave in and let it be.

Maybe the string was proof that you had died.

And maybe it was a sign that this is your purgatory. Or not, everything is way too normal except for no Jinwoo.

So heh....

But ah, it wasn't part of your plans to see a figure... Way too familiar.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Three words and you associate it with only one person.

Amidst the crowd of students lined up on the grounds your eyes zeroed in instantly on a single boy who stood out amongst everyone.

No way... Right?

That piercing gaze, the fluffy hoodie, and a glove on his left hand.

That was Jinwoo's appearance when he regressed in time and went into highschool.

Shit.

Isn't your uniform similar to Jinah's?

You should've realized in the first place.

Wait no, you're not really mad it's just!... Jinwoo... Seeing him on the crowd, the probability of meeting him in the hallways isn't zero.

How are you going to survive? Is this why there isn't solo leveling in this world?

Because this world is where the protagonist lives?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

And that is the story of how you arrived here in this world. During the 2 months of being in school, you occasionally passed by Jinwoo, and in each fleeting moment you had to hide in the washroom to try and calm yourself from your panic. Your heart would beat as if it's going to explode, your breathing would be erratic each time that you cant really take a breath.

You always knew that meeting him will quite take a toll on you because you loved him so much, but you didn't think it would be this bad that you look like you're having a panic attack.

Stay Calm.

You need to stay calm. If you pass out from fangirling over your precious idol it'll be embarassing as hell.

Calm down.

You need to calm down.

It's not like he actually saw you, it'll be fine.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

No, it wasn't fine.

Somehow, crossing paths with Jinwoo became more uncharacteristically frequent. It's to the point that you needed to actively avoid his usual walking routes.

Is it stupid to hide from someone who has the ability to locate anyone at any given moment? Yes.

Will you still keep doing it? Yes.

You don't hate Jinwoo, you just cant handle being around him knowing how much adoration you hold inside your heart and knowing that he will never be yours.

It should be around this season when Jinwoo asks Chae Hae-in out and kisses her under the falling snow.

It isn't december 24th yet but... Does it matter?

She's so lucky, having someone like him to admire her.

The only thing you have with you is a lonely life with money.

As well as this stupid red string wrapped around your finger.

What is it meant to represent anyway? A lover?

Surely not.

Who would love you?

The sad, pathetic, lonely, and broken you who doesn't belong in this world.

Just like your previous life and this one, you feel an awful sense of alienation that is unpleasant. The kind of loneliness that eats at your heart every single day.

"Ah, you're here?" A voice from behind you makes you jump and instantly whip your head around.

"A-ah..." You panic, recognizing the familiar grey eyes.

"Now, don't even run away." Jinwoo simply says, smiling.

It made you gulp honestly, something about that grin made you feel like he's willing to pull you into the land of eternal rest if you do.

"U-uhm..." You sputter, fidgeting.

"Not even wearing gloves in this weather?" He inquires, pulling the gloves off of his hands and gently taking yours.

"..."

The red string on your finger tingled, glowing softly as the broken ends binded itself to the strings on Jinwoo's finger.

"How cute" Jinwoo interrupts the silence. "Even if you run away now, these strings will keep us binded."

"W-wait!" You panic, utterly confused as you look up at him.

"I won't force myself on you," He says, his gaze moving from the strings to your eyes. "But I do want to court you properly,... If you'll let me."

"....."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That's the story of how me and your daddy got together," You hum softly, caressing your fingers softly against your stomach that is now holding a four month old growing baby.

"What a cute bedtime story," Jinwoo chuckles, approaching from the door and pecking your forehead. "Now, shouldn't you be asleep, hm? My pretty wife needs a lot of rest since you're carrying our little ball of sunshine"

"I just couldn't help it..." You pout at him, and he only pinches your cheek before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

"Mhm, I can tell" He shakes his head while gently pulling the blanket over you. "Go to sleep, jagiya. I still need to shower after a long day at the office"

"Please hurry..." You ask softly, tugging at his sleeve.

"I will" Jinwoo promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead again. "So go to sleep."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Sorry for the inactiveness ahhh... I'm quite burnt out as of late and I've been doing some commissions as well as running errands www. I'll postpone the cai requests for a bit longer ahhh... I have to make assassin au too ejshrgshs. Oh well, here's to praying I figure out wth I want to do with assassin au ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[aritsukemo]

Your 25th Birthday | Multiple Characters

Characters: Obanai Iguro, Mitsuri Kanroji, Shinobu Kocho, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Kyojuro Rengoku, Zenitsu Agatsuma, and Kanae Kocho

Warnings: Angsty themes ahead! Takes place after the canonical events of Demon Slayer but in an au where the characters who died survive! Reader is crippled in a few of these ( Kyojuro's s/o especially has been through hell and is heavily implied to be paralyzed from the waist down. There are also implications that she's been burned, cut up, etc. ) so read at your own risk!

Summary: It's the night before their marked!s/o's 25th birthday! How do they spend it with them? 🤔

A/N: I wrote this scenario over on Wattpad for a special and I really liked how it came out so I wanted to share some of my favorite parts over here on Tumblr! Hope you enjoy it! 😁

"Do you think we'll meet each other in every life?" The question was whispered out in the dead of night as you sat on the engawa of your estate. Obanai sat next to you, being used for both support and a source of comfort. You watched the stars twinkle in the sky, a forgone look in your eyes that he's never seen before. It was unnerving to him since it felt like he was staring at a breathing corpse..

 "Of course. If that's what you want, I'll find you in every life," He answered to which you hummed, your expression unchanging from the one of unsettling contentment.

 "What if something happens to prevent us from being together?" You muttered grimly despite the smile painted on your face. Obanai was quicker answering this time around, "Nothing would prevent me from being with you. Nothing."

 "Even if I'm a total jerk?" You questioned. He answers, "Even if you're a total jerk."

 "Even if we're on opposite sides of the world?" You continued. He answers, "Even if we're on opposite sides of the world."

 "Even if I turned into a man-eating demon and tried to eat you?" And then he pauses. You giggle at him despite the bad taste the lack of answer gives you and mutter out a soft, "Sorry. That was mean of me to ask. Forget—"

 "Even.." This time, you pause. Your head bobbing back to look up at him and those marvelous mismatched eyes of his. He's already looking at you by that time. He's been doing so the entire time, never once glancing at the night sky since the two of you sat down.

He continues, "..Even if you turned into a man-eating demon and tried to eat me," He says, "I can't promise that we would be together in that life, but in the afterlife, I'd do everything in my power to make you the happiest person in the world."

You hadn't realized it until he moved his hand from your waist and started rubbing at your cheeks that you had started crying. Even when you did realize it, you didn't do anything besides let the tears fall because even if you wanted to wipe away the tears, you had long lost feeling in your arms to do so.

In the end, you smother your face into his haori, not caring that you suddenly felt the cool scales of Kaburamaru as he wrapped himself snugly—but not too tightly—around your neck.

 "Thank you.." You sniveled as your tears wet his shoulder, "Thank you so much for loving me, Obanai.." 

 "Thank you for allowing me to love you, Y/n," He said back as he let you stain his shoulder with your tears.

"Awh, don't cry, pretty girl.. Not over me," You cooed as your fingers ran through the pink of Mitsuri's hair. She was hunched over on the bedside, face in your lap and her fat, wet tears dripping down her stained cheeks—passing the moles under her eyes that you love to kiss—and splashing onto your kimono.

She had worked so hard trying to mentally prepare herself for tonight, but when she entered the room and saw your tired, smiling face staring back at her, she broke down.

There was still so much she wanted to do with you! So many dates she wanted to take you on! So many foods she wanted to cook and try with you! So many firsts she still hasn't been able to take from you and so many firsts you haven't had the time to take from her! So many memories she still wanted to make with you!

Why can't she be given just a little more time with her sweetheart? She gets that this sacrifice was a necessary one and she wouldn't be here otherwise if it weren't for you pushing yourself the extra mile and saving her, but she can't help the sinking feeling of regret that drags her heart down to her stomach by a chain of sorrow at the thought of you leaving..

 "I- I'm..so sorry.." She managed to say between sobs, "I'm.. I'm sorry...I.."

 "Sorry for what, honey?' You asked her in a tender tone, "You haven't done anything wrong."

 "I.. I.." She takes a moment, unable to form a proper sentence without choking on her own sobs, "I'm sorry for being such a horrible wife!" Now, you certainly weren't expecting that out of all things..

Your brows furrow as your hand stills in her hair, "You aren't a bad wife, honey," You said, trying your best to sound firm despite the slight tremor in your voice from exhaustion.

 "Yes, I am!" She wailed, "I haven't been able to do anything for you! You.. You were always the one caring for me and I haven't been able to fulfill any of your needs or do anything you should be proud of!"

 "Hey, hey, hey," You shushed, "Look at me..please," And she listens immediately like a puppy at your beck and call. She lifts her head, her big green eyes puffy and filled to the brim with tears despite the constant stream that flows down her pink, warmed cheeks.

 "You are an amazing wife, alright? Marrying you was the best thing to ever happen to me," You told her, putting a slight pause between each word to better emphasize your statement. You used your fingers to urge her to come closer and she complies, inching closer until she's close enough so that you could cup her face.

 "You simply waking up and smiling at me everyday is enough for me. Seeing you happy and healthy is enough for me, do you understand me?" You asked, the shake in your voice getting worse, "You've done everything to satisfy me. If anything, I should apologize to you for not granting your wishes."

What are you talking about? There's no way you seriously think that, right?

 "No! Don't apologize!" Suddenly pushing herself up with her arms, her face suddenly got so close to yours that you had to move your had back so that you two didn't accidentally bump heads, "My wish was to marry someone who'd love me for me.. Wh-.. Who'd love my freakish strength and my weird hair color and my abnormal appetite and you've done that better than anyone ever could!" As she talks, her cool tears drip onto your warm hands and scatter upon contact, "You've made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world and you've spoiled me at every turn! You've made my life feel like it was worth living, so please—!" She moves forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and putting her tearful face into your shoulder, "Don't downplay your hard work! I can't bear you doing that after you've given so much to me!"

And with that, she crumbles all over again on your shoulder, and to your surprise, you do too. As her grip loosens and she slides down your body, ending with her head at your lap once again and bawling into it, you felt your eyes welling up with tears.

 "Mitsuri.." Your throat began to ache from trying to keep your voice steady as your bottom lip began tremble. You tried to control yourself further by slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle a sob that threatened to slip from your lips, but your tears rolled from your eyes without your permission and down your hand, dripping onto your beloved before you could catch them with your other hand..

In the end, a particularly loud hiccup sounded your defeat and you bowed your head. Your hands sliding over your face as you cried with the former Love Hashira who you are grateful to call your spouse in this life. 

"It's been a while since I've seen that expression on your face," You said as you gazed up at the prettiest woman you've ever laid your eyes on. Her thin brows dipped and wrinkling her smooth, porcelain-like skin just like the thin line she made with her lips, which you notice twitch just a tad at your comment.

She doesn't say anything to retort what you said. Not a witty remark or sarcastic, irritated utterance or a flowery deflection leaving her pink-painted lips. She simply gazes down in silence, her polished thumb rubbing lines into the back skin of your hand in a steady motion. It causes your eyes to frown and otherwise droop as you realize that your simple attempt at relieving the tense atmosphere in the room has failed.

 "Shinobu," You call, "Can you smile for me?" And she listens, her brows lifting just like her lips as they form into that perfect smile that took her years to perfect. Just the sight of it makes you frown.

 "Not like that. I want to see a genuine smile.." You mutter and just like that, her smile drops and her brows knit together once again. This time, though, it's all brought together by the vein flexing on her forehead.

 "How am I suppose to do that when my wife is dying in front of me?" She asks, voice quiet and complimented by a vexed tone. In the past, you always hated when she got mad at you. Seeing her so visibly irked was frightening, even more so when it was directed at you..

But right now, hearing her angry tone and seeing her infuriated expression brought you nothing but comfort and caused your smile to return. She notices it and it pushes her to ask you in an exasperated tone, "How can you do that?"

You blink, confused "Do what?"

 "Smile," She tells you, "You of all people know what's about to happen, but you still smile at me.."

 "What's wrong with that? Can't I smile at the woman I fell head over heels for until I stop breathing?" You egg on and that little nudge is all she needs to be pushed over the edge and for her to explode and for tears of pure frustration to fill her eyes.

 "Stop joking around!" Her voice comes out raised and aggressive, like an angry dog ready to attack someone. She must've realized that, because she grits her teeth and sucks in a breath. Taking a few seconds to collect herself a little before continuing. Her voice was still brimming with anger, but sounding more controlled.

 "You're going to die any minute now. Don't you understand that? You're going to pass away and leave everything behind..you're going to leave me alone here.. You know all of that, yet you still smile at me without a hint of regret or sadness, and I'm sorry, but I can't stand looking at you like that!"

 "Why would I have regrets?" You ask, "I achieved all my goals and did everything I wanted to do in this lifetime. Kibutsuji is dead. There are no more demons terrorizing the innocent. And, I was able to live the rest of my years surrounded by the ones I love and cherish. I even got the bonus of becoming a Kocho and marrying the woman of my dreams," You say, rubbing at your finger as the ring on it flashes in the moonlight that shines down through the singular window in the room, "What's there to regret?"

 "What about the fact that everything is coming to an end? You won't be here to make memories with me or any of your friends or family?" As the tears fall down her cheeks, Shinobu finds herself balling her hands into fists. She despised crying, especially when in the presence of others, but she couldn't control herself. Like an immature little kid, she couldn't control her emotions and her blood boiled all the more because of it.

 "I'll always be here, even if it's not physically," You told her softly and she starts matching your tone, although the agitation in hers is still so apparent.

 "Be serious for one second, Y/n," She snapped, only for you to follow up with, "I've been serious this entire time, love."

 Then her tone raises again, "No, you haven't!" And then it falls again as she lets out an embarrassing choke, "T- There's..no way you have. How could you possibly be fine with this?"

 "Because I know that as long as the people I love are still here to remember me and value that time I spent with them, I'll never truly die.. At least..not in their eyes," You tell her, ignoring the fact that Shinobu is starting to become harder and harder to see by the second.

Shinobu sobs and chokes die down after a while. By that time, your eyelids started feeling like paper weights; unbearably heavy. You tried to play it off by blinking slowly, but your wife caught on quickly. She could tell you were hitting your limit and you thought that'd it make her anger spike again or cause her another breakdown, but neither happened. Instead she surprised you by curling her lips upwards. Her eyes were red from crying and you couldn't see it well, but the corner of her brows twitched. Her cheeks was also stained pink, likely from embarrassment of having broke down in front of someone, even if that someone was her own wife.

To put it frankly, she was a mess with a smile painted over it. But it was genuine and from the heart and that was enough to satisfy you.

The afternoon glow of the sky shone down on you as you stuck your hand, which had a handful of rice in it, out to a dog. Sanemi watched, looking like a little kid experiencing their first crush, as the dog barely hesitated to come closer and begin liking at your hand.

The scene was like a painting come to life. You were all dressed up in an expensive kimono he bought you. Your hair was styled in a way to match your attire and to frame your face, which was powdered in elegant, nice-looking makeup. And, you had a smile on your face as you gave the dog a similar look a mother would give her child while rocking them to sleep in her arms.

That thought reminded him of how he could never bring himself to make you a mother. How he feared that he wouldn't be able to bear the sight of your child, who'd undoubtedly resemble you in some kind of way, after your passing. Or, how he feared he'd accidentally end up just like his monstrous, asshole of a father and you'd stare at him with the same fright in your eyes as his mother did to his father.

He's not cut out to be a dad. Never was. And it's a shame because Sanemi knows you'd make an excellent mother. Thinking about it puts a bad taste in his mouth and in an attempt to rid himself of those thoughts, he huffs out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. He can't risk thinking of something so disheartening and make himself sad. You proposed taking a walk around to clear his head of such thoughts after all and he doesn't want your efforts to go to waste.

 "Sanemi," He blinks. How long were you calling his name? He stares at you once again and this time, you're turned and staring over your shoulder at him, who's sat on the steps, your hand now running through the dog's fur. Your smile is still there, but your eyes are dimmed with concern. The sight makes him feel guilty as it dawns on him that he probably worried you.

 "Are you alright?" You asked and he responds to you quickly, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Maybe it was because of how fast he answered you, but you didn't seem convinced. You kept staring at him with a woeful, skeptical look and it broke him, so he rephrases his previous statement, "I was just..thinking about stuff."

 "What kind of stuff?" You asked, your hand leaving the dog's at last and getting up from your crouched position in front of the dog, "Want to talk about it?"

 "No," He replied, but you walked up to him and sat beside him on the steps anyways and he sighs and says, "I promise it's nothing. Today is your day, so let's do something that focuses on you."

He sees your smile widen, and he finds himself unable to keep eye contact with a work of art such as yourself. He looks away from you, the tips of his ears beginning to burn. He then hears that addicting laugh of yours and he feels his heart thrumming in his chest. Gosh, you were going to be the death of him..

 "You're such a sweetheart," No he isn't, was what he wanted to say but decided against it to spare both of you an unnecessary argument. It's a known fact that he's the farthest thing from sweet. That said, when he's in your presence, he can't help but be overly gentle with you. He can't help but touch and caress you as if you were made of priceless gemstones. He can't help but pamper you like you're some kind of princess. That's probably why your perception of him is so skewed compared to others.

You are the only person alive who has that perception of him. You are the only person alive who can set his skin ablaze with something as simple as a poke of your finger. You are the only person alive who'd devote your limited time on making him feel the way you have. You are the only person alive who still saw him a kind light while whispering endearments and kissing him and feeling him years ago when many people around him saw him as a monster.

..And someone so kind, so caring, so compassionate..will no longer be in this world soon. You, who always looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world will soon perish because you disregarded your own wellbeing during the war and gave your all to bring an end to that abomination named Muzan Kibutsuji.

 "Y/n.." He calls, still not looking at you. You hum, waiting on him to continue. Certainly not expecting him to ask, "Would you be willing to waste another lifetime loving me?"

A silence grew between you two and Sanemi would be lying if he said that it didn't hurt not hearing a response from you. He expected it though.

 "I don't have much to offer you in this life and I wouldn't be surprised if the same goes for the next. I also can't promise I'll act any better. ..Tch, there's a better chance that I'll be more of a prick in my next life—"

 "I would," He grows silent, finally turning his head towards you so that he could look you in the eyes. So that he could scan your facial expression. So that he could find proof that you were lying in your statement just now. But, he doesn't find anything of the sorts and it makes him feel sick—repulsed—at how giddy he feels at the realization that you're dead serious.

 "Although, I don't think it'd be a waste of a life," You continued as an afterthought, taking mind to the way he wraps his fingers around the hand that you are leaning on and being as delicate as always as he peels it away from the ground so that he could hold it in his hand.

 "If you act even a little like you do now in your next life, I wouldn't mind spend all of eternity with you," He brings your hand up to his face, planting a kiss to the back of your hand before he presses the back of your hand to his forehead and tells you..

 "..Thank you for being kind enough..to choose me again."

"You look radiating," He told you. It didn't make your frown turn upside down or even budge as you stared at yourself, sat in a wheelchair; a thick, flowery blanket draped over your legs to keep them warm—not that you could really feel the warmth. Sometime after your 23rd birthday, you stopped feeling the lower half of your body.

 "I used to look radiating," You muttered dryly, your only functional eye moving to scrutinize every little scar and wrinkle that ruined your skin. Looking at them made your frown deepened as well as huff out a loud, long, breathy sigh; one that sounded just as tired as you looked in the mirror..

 "I don't know why you still wanted me after the war. Look at me.."

 "Okay!" Kyojuro said from behind you and just like he's told, his golden, fiery eyes give you a good, long look through the mirror. As the seconds turn into minutes, you find your face heating up. You were ashamed of yourself. Your once smooth skin was littered in painfully permanent cracks, bruises, and blemishes that were caused by mistakes against powerful demons. Your face had more wrinkles than a grandmother despite the fact that you were only in your mid-twenties. Your lips had scars so deep and dark that even the brightest-colored lipstick couldn't hide them.

To put it in simple terms, the sight of yourself made you want to barf.

 "I've did what you wanted," He finally says, "Do you know what I see?"

 "An ugly, disgusting hag?" You finish for him and you hear a gentle, warm laugh from behind you. It makes a wave of embarrassment ride through the ocean of your stomach. You were being laughed at by your husband. It was humiliating, but you didn't blame him. I mean, you were hideous in your eyes. You probably looked a thousand times worse to other people..

 "I see a woman with beautiful eyes that shine like the sun whenever she's happy or proud or upset. A woman who's personality makes me laugh and feel loved and proud. A woman with lips softer than the clouds in the sky even though the words that come out of them usually aren't nearly as fluffy. A woman who's body I always fantasize holding and protecting no matter the attire that covers it. The woman who'd kick me on my butt during a spar and then fret for hours over me getting a tiny cut from chopping vegetables.."

 "Y/n, I know that we don't see the same thing, but if I could give you my sight, I know that even you would grow flush from how absolutely breathtaking you are in my eyes."

 "Stop," You snap, your head hung low, "Stop," You repeat, but your voice sounds more fragile; like glass cracking bit by bit.

 "Stop what?" He crouches down and then slides over so that he's on his knees by your side. His smile is as bright as it was when you first met him all those years ago, "Stop praising my wife?"

 "Yes because your wife looks like a freak of nature! A- A demon! A—!"

 "—A woman who worked hard and gave her all and pushed past her limits so that me, my family, my friends, and the rest of the world could live in peace," He finishes and then continues, "A woman who sacrificed so much to make sure that no one has to suffer by the hands of a demon ever again.." As he spoke, admiration drips into his voice like sweet honey, "A woman I am honored to call my wife; you."

 "Shut up!" You said as you shattered completely, tears filling your eyes without your permission, "Shut up.. Shut up.." You wept.

 "I.. I'm not.." And in that moment, something else broke inside of you and you couldn't utter another word. Tears, snot—everything rolled violently down your face and in a pathetic attempt to hide that sight from the world, both of your hands come up to cover your face. And without missing a beat, Kyojuro, smiling from ear to ear, wraps his big, warm arms around you and encases your frail, upper half..

 "I love you, Y/n. It truly was, and is, an honor to be your husband."

"What am I going to do, Y/n?" He found himself asking as he gazed up at you from where he laid in your lap. He had been, understandably, anxious and upset all day and to prevent him from wallowing in that sadness until your inevitable demise, you asked him to lay his head down in your lap and allow you to stroke his hair.

 "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. My life was a pathetic mess before I met you.." He shamelessly admits, "I'm nothing without you.."

 "I'm positive that you'll be okay," You reassure, or at least, you try to. The look he gives you after you say that makes it clear that your words didn't make him feel better at all.

 "Zenitsu, you may find it hard to believe, but you're a strong person. Why else do you think I'm so calm right now?" You ask, and he doesn't say anything as he's unable to find the right words to refute you. It's a step in the right direction, you think.

 "I think my husband is more than able to fill my place when I'm gone. I know whatever decision he'll make without me will be from the best intentions. He'll be able to keep our family afloat, protected, and feeling loved and that's all I wish for," You continued, hoping to really drive your words into his head and ease his spirit. Alas, you should've known that Zenitsu will always find a way to be pessimistic whenever it came to himself.

 "You overestimate me. I could never replace you," He mumbles, "Compared to you, I'm- Ow!" He sucks in a sharp wince through his teeth and his hand comes up to cover the top of his head which was now in pain. You had landed a firm flick to the center top of his head and to say that it hurt like a bitch would be an understatement.

 "You underestimate yourself," You retort. Your hands peeling his away so that you could gently comb your fingers through that area of his scalp as if to nonverbally apologize. He accepts the apology quickly and his hands go back to fiddling with each other atop his stomach.

 "I just..don't get what you see in me.." He finally confesses, "I'm overjoyed that you were willing to marry me and even have my kids. It's just..I don't see why you'd do that.." And you sigh at him and he sees you shake your head.

 "Hopefully you will eventually.." You say as you lean down. Zenitsu eyes fall close involuntarily and after a moment, he feels you brush aside his hair and press your lips to his forehead. Even when you part from him, he could still feel tingles..

As you straighten your position and gaze down at your husband once again, you can't help but chuckle at the sight of him looking up at you with his face sparkling in a strawberry blush and his pupils glowing with his love for you. There's also the silly look of his bangs being pushed away to reveal the big red kiss-shaped stain in the center that really pulls the sight together.

He looked like an idiot in love, which I guess isn't too far from the truth.

 "My wish is that one day, you'll be able to look in the mirror and see what I've seen for almost an entire decade; a tough, talented, stunning man with a personality like no one I've ever seen and a heart of gold to boot."

 "How are you feeling?" Kanae asked, sitting at your bedside. The question earns a grin from you.

 "However one is supposed to feel when they're about to die," You replied and you notice your girlfriend's expression change to one of realization to a more abashed look.

 "I'm sorry, that was a pointless question.." She mumbled and your shoulders shook a little from you trying to control your laughter.

 "No, no. It's okay, love. You were just trying to make sure I was comfortable," You said before patting the bed, "Now, c'mon. I wanna lay with you one last time."

Her smile drops completely at that. One last time..right. This will be the last time you two will be able to do this..or do anything together. Her teeth grits behind her lips at the thought. She won't be able to spend anymore time with you. No more dates or little walks or tending to the garden together. When you're gone, that'll be the end of all of that..

It's hard to accept, but not accepting it would be immature and that's the last thing she is. And so, although reluctant, she gets up, crawls into bed, and lays by your side. You waste no time in pulling her closer until her chest hits yours and you're able to lean your head into her shoulder.

There's a silence for a while as you simply take the time to breathe in her scent. She always smelled so nice, like the flowers she grows in the garden. It's light, not too potent, but addictively sweet.

 "Man, this sucks," You murmur, "Dying just before the big battle.. How unlucky is that?" She seriously couldn't believe you and she couldn't help but show it on her face for a moment. You were about to die and what you're upset about..is not being able to fight against Kibutsuji? It leaves a bad taste in her mouth knowing that in the end, you're thinking of someone like him instead of..

No. Perish the thought, Kanae. Thoughts like that are selfish and infantile. As a demon slayer, you of all people should understand that feeling of discontentment.

 "Forgive me for saying this, but I'm actually glad that you'll have to opt out of this fight," She says and you hum as your interest is peaked, "And why is that? Because you don't want me to get hurt?" You ask and she nods against you.

 "Of course," She says and you huff at how dumb your question was. You then mumble out, "Right.."

Silence envelopes the room once again like an awkward hug. Neither of you knew what to say. There were things you could say, but since you were both trying to avoid sobbing into each others' arms for the rest of the night, neither of you said them aloud. On the other hand, trying to force this half-assed casual conversation doesn't feel the best..

And so, you let out a shaky breath in an attempt to quell your nerves as you whisper to her, "I'm scared, Kanae.. I don't want to die.."

And her grip around you tightens as she whispers back, "I'm scared too. But, it's okay if we're both scared because that means we can comfort each other for the rest of the night,"

You can feel her hands trembling on your thigh and you crane your neck so that you can get a full glance at her smile which poorly covered her nervous expression in the darkness. Seeing it kind of felt like a breath of fresh air..

 "I'd like that.." You said in the end, "I'd like that a lot.."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[zephrunsimperium]

Ford is a jerk to Fiddleford McGucket in Journal 3. Let's talk about that.

First I want to preface this post by saying that I adore Ford. He is a wonderful character who has influenced my life in countless ways for the better. All of the things he does in this list a) stem from his own insecurities that he's projecting b) are symptoms of Ford's narcissistic defense mechanisms c) or come from Bill's influence on him. However, just because there are reasons for his actions doesn't excuse them, especially considering just how many there are.

Here's the list of things he does, I'll analyze at the end of the post.

Let's get the petty things out of the way first.

The cubic's cube: I think it is just straight up an absolute jerk move to scramble this thing that's clearly a comfort to him and think it's funny.

Being in shape: It's obvious his comments here are from his own insecurity but on a deeper level it just speaks to how Ford sees him, I think.

Not telling Fidds about Bill: Obviously Bill was feeding him a lot of paranoia but it's the reasoning that he writes down that gets me. It's so condescending.

The Gremloblin & The Shapeshifter

Something I think that's worth taking note of is the way Ford illustrates both of these instances. He brushes off Fiddleford's concerns multiple times and then Fiddleford pays the price and Ford sees himself as some kind of hero and Fiddleford this helpless victim. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And then afterwards the way he handles not just Fiddleford's anxiety but the genuine trauma he went through. I know he's an old man, I know that's how he was treated, but Fiddleford is supposed to be his friend.

The Portal Test

Specifically their interaction at the diner and Ford's reaction to Fiddleford quitting the project. Fiddleford SELFLESSLY spends untold hours on this thesis for Ford because he cares about him and sees him burning out, even though Ford hasn't been great to him and Fidds has been going through his own hard things - not just with the gremloblin and the Shapeshifter, but things with his family as well. Ford does not match that selfless devotion at all. In fact, he sees it as an insult.

Analysis

The reason I've been thinking about this is because of Book of Bill and how that's influenced the shipping atmosphere. There's this weird notion that FiddAuthor is a less toxic ship but I think that's absurd. Besides their hug at Weirdmageddon, these journal entries are pretty much all we see of Ford's relationship with Fiddleford and it doesn't paint a pretty picture. Yes Ford is excited to have Fiddleford come to see him, yes Ford has that sweet conversation with him under the stars, but I don't think it's a stretch to say that all the above evidence outweighs hat. At the very least it shouldn't be ignored.

That doesn't mean Ford is a terrible person and we should hate him. I believe strongly in nuance and Ford is a character that requires nuance. I don't think he's an evil person, but I also don't think he should be babied as this perfect wittle guy who can do no wrong either. Both readings do a disservice to him.

Ford clearly had a hard childhood. He's isolated himself his whole life and he's been severely traumatized by Bill. But that doesn't mean that he deserves Fiddleford's forgiveness - Ford wasn't really that kind to him and his actions inadvertently led to the memory gun/Fidds' exposure to Bill. Ultimately it's Fiddleford's choice to make; I wouldn't fault him if he didn't want to ever see Ford again, but I think it's a testament to his goodness that he still cares for Ford as much as he does.

So what do I personally think? Man. I'm just sad we don't know more about Fiddleford McGucket than we do. He's so essential to Bill's defeat and to Ford's past and he's such a cool character but we know so little about him. I want to know what his childhood was like, I want to know how he ended up in Backupsmore, I want to know why he cares about Ford as much as he does, I want to know why things ended so poorly with EmmaMay. But we may never know those things for certain. So with the things we're left... Yeah, I think FiddAuthor is a compelling reading, one that I certainly enjoy. I just worry about the fandom babying Ford.

[harumasa-wifey]

Omgomg i love your writing sm 😭‼️

Since you're open for request, can I request a doctor!reader with Harumasa? Imagine he is going to infirmary just to see reader 😔 maybe he pretend to be sick as an excuse just to see reader

➹Just Because I Like You a Lot

✖Asaba HarumasaxFem!doctor Reader

Warning: none just some fluff, not proofread

Note: yea i almost died last week/srs but only my left hand is injured so it's fine. Thank you for waiting i also have another similar request for doctor Reader and I am currently working on it.

The moonlight falls on the papers placed upon your office desk as you go on reading while sipping on your cup of tea with more papers in the piles beside your desk.

You weren't expecting any patients at this hour as you were checking some reports before ending your shift but as the saying goes, Expect the unexpected. So there he was entering your office with a pout on his lips looking beat up.

Your instant response was putting down your cup as you stood up, several thoughts running in your head. Did he get these injuries in a Hollow? Or worse fighting some high level ethereal.

“Who hurt you?” The worried look on your face was obvious as you asked him to sit down to take a look.

“Chief”

.....

“Huh?”

The worried expression was now replaced by confusion. Why would miyabi do that? Of course she should have a reason, those thoughts ended as he spoke up again.

“Well well isn't this embarrassing, the chief and I had a sparring session and now I look like this”

“Man she wasn't playing this time” he murmured under his breath which was pretty audible in the peaceful office. A light giggle broke out your lips as you came to the conclusion on why this had happened.

“Really Miss doc? I came up looking this injured in the night and you are laughing,Won't you at least treat me with care?”

“Pfft, it's just some minor injuries you been through worse asaba but don't worry I'll ask a nurse to fix your bandages”

You were about to make your way to your desk to call upon a nurse when he pulled you back hugging you from the back, his breath fanning over your ears as he mumbled.

“I didn't come all this way for you to push me out, you know how much i hate travelling long distances”

It's true he is lazy like that and it's not like he cannot do this by himself yet he is here asking for your help when he could be home sleeping.

You held his hand which was interlocked around your waist as you faced him.

“Alright, sit back down I'll do it”

He smiled like a kid winning a prize and sat back on the bed watching you move around the office gathering the first aid kit, you came back with the kit and several bandages in your hand placing them on the desk.

“Okay, show me the wounds that have been reopened”

“Do I really need to do all that doc? You already know where it is, can't I just sit here all pretty for you?”

He said as he gave you a teasing smile clearly stating his intentions once again.

You sigh as your hands hover above his his tie first then the shirt buttons undoing them one by one as he quietly indulges you taking it off him with a satisfied smile resting on his until you pulled off his waist and stomach, he lets out a low grunt trying to make it look like it hurt while you just stared at him unamused.

“Can you please be gentle with me doc? I am a really fragile person”

“I am sure no fragile person can charge into hollows like it's nothing but whatever you want”

You checked around his wound and it hasn't been opened which was good. You just need to change the dressing, as you were thinking of changing the dressing your fingers were hovering around his abs, and how could he miss out on a chance like this.

“You like what you see doc? It took a lot of effort so i would like you to parise me more if you wanna” he asked with a slight smirk adorning his lips. You quickly take your hand back tearing your gaze away from him to the box besides.

“Ahem, i was checking the wound” even though what you said was true he surely doesn't mind you checking something else out on him.

You slowly but carefully wrapped the bandages around him and put the box aside giving him space to dress up but it seemed like he didn't want to do that either.

“won't you help me with this doc?” you wish you could dig yourself a hole, his advances were getting too much for you to act nonchalant even though the blush on your face is quite obvious to him and he is enjoying every second of it.

You help him put on his shirt and tie back, whispering quietly under your breath which was clearly audible to him.

“You cannot keep getting away with this” before leaning in to give him a final kiss as you ward him out of your office to pack your stuff to leave with him, you know he is standing outside and he won't go anywhere without you.

[llamagoddessofficial]

hello llama

i have been thinking and headcanoning about vampire bad sanses lately, so i was curious if you have any thoughts about or interest in vampires of the nightmare and crew variety? (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

"do i have interest in vampires", he asks

ok, i will share my extensive vampire brainrot. but in return..... you have to write that vampire fic.... oooOOooO look into my eyes you know you want to write it ooOoOooo 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I very much like the idea of Nightmare's castle being Castlevania-style. Lots of spooky architecture, lots of ancient magical passages that haven't been seen in centuries.

Horror can be summed up in one word. Bloodlust. There's a constant hunger inside him he can't ever seem to fill, driving him almost to the point of madness. He is more beast than man. When he smells or tastes blood, he loses control of himself, becoming little more than a starving wild animal - his capability for slaughter is limited only by his appetite. So unless Nightmare requires it, he generally abstains from blood. He doesn't like losing himself so entirely.

Something about you makes him forget his hunger. Is it your voice? Your scent? He has no idea, but oh, it feels good to feel whole. When you're around it's as if he'll never be hungry again... he follows you like a dog, grinning intensely every time you look at him. This is one hound that can't be shaken.

Despite his 'condition', he finds a lot of solace in cooking. Nothing will give him the same drug-like rush as blood but human food is nonetheless warm and filling and distracts him momentarily from the emptiness. He enjoys the process of making it, too, doing something with his hands. Let him cook for you, please? Watching you eat brings him vicarious joy.

Dust's backstory is one of legend. Something resembling a story can be spun from the loose whispers. A vampire invaded his peaceful isolated village hundreds of years ago, intending to turn the helpless populace into enslaved vampires. Dust, the first to be bitten, turned and slaughtered them all himself - and despite being a vampire for barely a week, the equivalent of a stumbling newborn, he killed the centuries-old invading vampire in single combat.

No one's quite sure why he's joined Nightmare. Perhaps Nightmare was keen to take this uniquely violent creature under his wing, and Dust just didn't really care where the wind took him. Or perhaps he has some other motive, hidden beneath that silent face. Who knows.

... Dust might be quiet, but it's obvious he's fixated on you. Which is a big deal. This is a creature who hasn't mustered a second thought for anything but blood for decades; but somehow, you've excited him. He's very clearly interested in you, silently watching your every move, listening intently to every word you say. Too bad he's not much for conversation.

Killer's backstory, on the other hand, is shrouded entirely in mystery. No one knows where he came from, who he is, or what he's done. He simply appeared one day - right within the coveted inner circle of Nightmare himself. He's the Night King's most trusted weapon, and the closest thing he has to a friend.

Killer seems very clear about what he wants. He thinks you're adorable, and he says you'd make such a pretty vampire. He talks (at length) about how much he wants to bite you, and how if it were up to him you'd already be one of them. A lot of his flirting involves calling you things like sweet treat and honeyblood. However... despite all the taunting, all the talk of seeing you as food, Killer is the one in the castle who treats you with the most respect. The others seem to see you as an object, a cute toy, something to squish and own. Killer talks to you like you're a real person. You can't help but like him for it.

Nightmare's inferiority complex has driven him to declare himself the king of the vampires. No one contests - Nightmare is royalty by blood, and vampires place a lot of emphasis on blood. But even if he wasn't, Nightmare frequently murders those who won't bend the knee. Plenty of powerful vampires have fallen embarrassingly fast at his hand.

... Nightmare's goal is to make you agree to be his spouse. A pretty little human partner would be excellent for his image. It would not only demonstrate his incredible self control as such an ancient vampire (not to mention his control over his warriors), but it would also show that his power is so great he doesn't need to strike a political marriage with another powerful vampire. It might also convince some of the pesky rebellious human groups to settle down.

His pride means that he won't force you. Not yet, at least. He likes to think he can seduce you. He's a royal vampire, after all, and you're just a simple human - isn't it only a matter of time?

... But it seems like, as time goes on... he's the one falling.

[apricot-blossomss]

Okokokok hear me out right

The reader is friends with hermes (God or moral reader, your choice!) And they asked hermes to deliver a love letter for them! Days, even weeks go by and Hermes still hasn't delivered it. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want the reader to be directing their attention at anything but him. Maybe this love interest will get tired of waiting! Maybe he should just hold onto it forever. Maybe he should just read the letter himself and decide if this person is good enough for the reader?

And then he reads it and its says something like "hermes I knew you couldn't stop yourself from reading this, I love you, you bastard"

Just an idea <3

☛ hermes steals f!bff!mortal!reader's love letter

☛ sfw; cw: a little suggestive; I got covid so I have some time on my hands

When you asked him for a favor, Hermes couldn't have imagined a world in which he wouldn't fulfill it. Up until now. Staring down at the pink envelope in his hands, he felt his chest constrict with a feeling that could be perfectly encapsulated in the word 'shit'.

"Hermes?"

"Huh?" He looked up into your eyes and kept staring as you laughed about his dumbfounded expression. Your lovely laugh didn't make the situation any better for him, though it usually did. Now, it only added to the growing whirlwind in his stomach, clawing at his insides, screaming at him 'too late, you're too late, idiot'.

"Can you deliver this for me?" you repeated the question. "It's for someone very important to me."

Why not him? Why weren't you sending it to him? He was important to you, he had to be more important to you than whatever douche this letter was for. Hermes had to swallow down the urge to rip the stupid thing to shreds. But it looked like you had put a lot of care into the letter. It even smelled of sweet citrus, which really pissed him off, because the smell was so utterly you and he didn't want any other man associated with it.

"Yeah, sure," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. Gods, it hurt. The worst of it was the way your smile brightened, your eyes so kind and happy when you gleamed up at him. This wasn't right, you only smiled at him like that. Right?

Without turning the letter to look at the addressee, Hermes stuffed it into his bag that was already filled to the brim without much care. Maybe the bag could accidentally slip over the ocean and spill all the letters. Or he could throw it into Hestia's fire and pretend it was an accident. Or maybe he could deliver the letter but hide it somewhere the guy would never find it. Then he would have delivered the letter, technically.

Over pondering this conundrum, his attentive eyes missed the nervous twitching of your fingers and your excited little glances, as well as the way you practically shoved him outside the door with some rushed goodbyes to run into your bedroom and scream into your pillow.

Hermes stood in front of the closed door and had been standing there for a good minute, but he couldn't get his quick feet to move. On the other side of that door was you. You, with the gentle eyes, the dazzling smile and the understanding heart. You, who was his solace after a long day, his joy, his best friend. Right. His best friend he should not have these thoughts about.

Oh, but how dearly he wished to break down these doors, walk up to you and kiss you. How he dreamt of coming home to you, not just in his head and heart but also in reality. Like he already did, he would knock in your window and you'd let him in as if he were a stray pigeon, laughing at his jokes and winks and flirtatious comments. But in his fantasy, it didn't stop there. No, you would kiss him and tell him how much you missed him, he'd surprise you with a romantic picknick and spend the night with you and fall asleep in your warm arms.

Blinking, Hermes snapped out of his daydreams and cursed himself. He was a leecher, thinking about his damn pretty best friend like that. Sighing, he pulled his hat deeper into his face, obscuring his eyes, and set off for his job with flying feet. Knowing damn well he would not be able to concentrate on a single thing today.

🪽

Hermes had never messed up so many deliveries as in the last two weeks- and it wasn't even on purpose. Unlike his father suspected, ever since he had accidentally opened Aphrodite's sex toy delivery. The smacking down still made him wince, even a good five days later. And Hermes tried to concentrate , he really did, but it was hard when the damn letter, still safely stored in his bag, lay heavily on his mind. Stupid, flimsy little thing.

Hermes didn't want to deliver it. He didn't want anyone to get it, and though the guilt ate him up from the inside, he couldn't deny it: he wanted you all to himself. Selfishly, greedily, he didn't want you to give your attention to any man but him- at least not in that way. And, hey, maybe if he procrastinated it long enough, the guy would get tired of waiting and you would just forget him. Maybe he should just hold onto the letter forever.

"Hermes?" you poked his cheek and the god snapped out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Sitting on your couch, he realized you had stood up before him. Your concerned eyes hovered over him and he had to gulp down the urge to pull you down into his lap so he could study them more closely. "Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"I'm fine, baby," he smiled, glancing up at you sheepishly. "I'm not myself tonight." Your forgiving smile was too much for him as he let his upper body slump forward. His head, luckily hat-less as always around you, weighed against your upper body and when it vibrated with your little laugh, Hermes savored the comforting feeling. Choosing to tempt fate and test his luck, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down into his lap, eliciting the most adorable squeak from you. He had to suppress the urge to bite you- you were just too cute.

Your friendship with Hermes had always been very affectionate. Lots of hugging, sitting halfway in each others laps, even sleeping next to each other sometimes, too which you would always wake up to an arm wrapped around your waist and a face in your neck. This open display of affection had you wonder first wether Hermes might see you as more than a friend, when his hand always dipped a little farther down, gripped a little tighter than necessary, when he buried his face in your neck and hugged you as if he never wanted to let go again.

Apart from the fact that having a literal god cling to you like a koala bear was a major ego boost, you really liked Hermes, in more ways than the platonic love you two shared. For weeks you had pondered how to do it and finally worked out a plan: you would give Hermes a love letter with a false address. If he delivered it, no one would read it, but if he liked you back and would try to read it...

"Where are we, like, in the plot?" Hermes muffled into your neck and you felt a light shiver run down your spine- you hoped he didn't notice, but you felt his signature grin form against your skin, and his hands departing from their grip on your hips with fingers like spiders up your sides. Squirming, you swatted them away and the god laughed, still holding you close.

"She slept with both of them and now she hates herself," you answered quickly to shut him up. Managing to get a hold of his hands, you pressed them down onto his lap with little resistance and squeezed them under your thighs to block their means of escape. A choking sound left Hermes' and the god coughed, slipping his hands away and placing you next to him on the couch.

Ouch.

What you didn't know was the war for self-control raging inside your best friend the minute you placed your thighs so deliciously and grabbable over his hands. When his daydreams had, up to now, consisted of confessing your love to each other and innocent kissing, he now felt the overwhelming urge to grab you by the thighs, flip you over on your little couch and have you scream out his name- and his name only. For that one, Hermes gave himself a mental beating and gave you a little smile to conceal his red cheeks- and the fact that you would get wind of his predicament if you only looked down into his lap.

"Sounds great!" Honestly, he didn't even remember your answer to his question, and his overly enthusiastic reaction had you giggling. And that was really all he needed to be happy. Why did he want more? Why was he so insatiable?

The movie was pretty boring, and you seemed to think so too, because your gaze wandered frequently and you caught his incessant staring multiple times. But neither of you turned it off, because really, it was fine. Sitting next to to each other, your head coming to rest on your shoulder at some point, his hand slipping into yours in a completely platonic way.

“Hermes?” you asked when the love interest on screen started to have an intense melodramatic meltdown (Hermes did feel seen).

“Hm?”

"Have you... delivered that letter yet?" You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, but Hermes' stomach dropped down to his feet at least. Shit.

"What letter?" Hermes could have punched himself in the face.

"The love letter I gave to you," you explained carefully. "It's just... I never got an answer so I thought maybe you lost it or..." Your voice droned off and you bit down on your lip nervously. Was Hermes purposefully avoiding the topic? Had he read the letter and now wanted to ignore it out of existence because he didn't feel the same way? You had been so sure there was more to it. At least he wasn't making fun of you, but it was still humiliating, thinking he had read those lines and-

"Ah, that one!" Hermes exclaimed and you flinched at his loud tone. A nervous chuckle left his lips. "Uh yeah, I'm so sorry, baby, I must have forgotten about that one, I forget things sometimes, lots of stuff to deliver and sometimes letters get left behind and..." His rambling droned off and he bit down on his lip like a child caught in a lie, looking up at you.

Your understanding smile nearly killed him. It would have, if it could have. Hermes felt like the biggest asshole when you sighed relieved. "Ah, good, I was a little worried." Fittingly, the lady on screen screamed loudly about how much she hated herself and Hermes pondered over how he could relate to every single one of these over-the-top characters.

🪽

"Good night," you smiled as Hermes exited the door and turned around to you. You were dressed all oversized and cuddly with those warm winter socks and looked just about irresistible. Especially with the way the stars reflected in your wide, slightly tired eyes.

Following a shy impulse, he didn't give you a hug, as usual, but pressed a kiss to your warm cheek. When he pulled away, he did feel satisfaction at the way your face had heated up visibly, even in the dim light. "G'night, baby," he grinned with new fervor and a dreadful feeling in his stomach.

When he turned to leave and pushed himself off the ground to fly up into the air, his decision was made. He would deliver the damn letter. No longer would he be in the way of your happiness. If this guy really was who you wanted...

But, Hermes pondered as the houses of your neighborhood shrunk down to little lights, like the sky but below him, and one of the stars was you. But he should make sure this person was good enough for you. And have an address in case they weren't.

Stopping mid-air, Hermes pulled out the dreaded pink envelope. Not recognizing the address, he decided to look for clues in the letter itself. If you were to ask him, the envelope just kind of ... slipped open and the letter just sort of slipped out of there. When he pulled it out, the familiar smell hit him. After two weeks in his bag, the envelope had lost your smell, but it still stuck to the letter it self. With slightly trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, surprised to find only a few lines written in your handwriting.

Hermes, I knew you wouldn't able to stop yourself from reading this. The address is fake, this letter is for you. I love you, you idiot.

Below that, you had given him three options to pick: () don't ever come near me again, () let's ignore this ever happened because you are the shrek to my donkey, () I love you too. Your messy handwriting on that part had him smile, because he could picture you writing the letter, becoming unsure of yourself and scribbling three options down.

Hermes didn't even bother ticking off option three. He had no time to waste. Within seconds, he was bolting down to earth with the speed of a meteor, the wind howling in his ears, the letter firmly in his hand. You were completely right. He was an idiot. But an idiot who was about to make all your time of waiting up to you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[ghouldtime]

OK. We know what König is willing to do for reader, but what can reader do for König that will melt his heart? How would he be if reader was romantic towards him ??

Love your characterizations! Excited to see what you have in store for anyone you write for!

This is a man who hasn't really experienced romantic love, he's been deprived of it. So, near anything as long as it's genuine and done with care

As is, if you show GENUINE, earnest interest in him as a person, you've already got him on the hook and have piqued his curiosity. Because most people don't usually ask specifics about him in a caring way, much less with such enthusiasm.

And if you remember??? Like if you mention something about the chickens he had growing up and how you'd like some of your own one day, or you even just got a picture of a cute dog because you knew he liked dogs - that's what really has his heart starting to flutter.

It seems really simple and it's realistically like the bare minimum but he hasn't even had that.

Taking time to show you care and appreciate him back, no matter how small, will have him blushing. Even if it's a fraction of the things he does for you. But you'll have his heart in a vice grip if you actually make something for him. It doesn't have to be pretty, it doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be some wonky cookies or a little friendship bracelet - but when you make something back, put in your time and effort into something JUST for him, he's smitten.

If you mirror his actions and take your time with him, he'll be head over heels. His love language is versatile. Spending time with him? Loves it. Giving gifts? Loves it. Acts of service? Ditto. Words of affirmation? Try not to give him a heart attack with that one, he's usually not the best at taking compliments off the field. The only thing he's iffy on is physical touch, but he'll warm up with time. It's just a matter of letting you get close and accepting such things from another person. He's quite unused to it in a romantic way and may shy away, but he'll come around when he realizes you're genuinely not going to hurt him and only want to express your affection.

And he'll always flush, no matter how long its been or what route you're taking. He's never that great at handling it and expressing himself with words, but he does appreciate it. Even if he's squirming on the spot, tugging at the collar of his shirt, and forgetting how to speak English - that's the biggest compliment you can get. Trust me, he just needs a factory reset. He'll get better with time but being romantic with him will always soften him up and warm the spot in his heart that's only for you.

(💚💚💚 Thank you, anon :D ! I'm very glad you like them!!)

[iz-star]

About Zayne's loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder what an angry Zayne looks like? I mean, NOT angry at MC/you but maybe angry at Astra and/or his fate for putting him in such difficult and unfair situations.

Zayne loves MC deeply, with his whole being, but loving her makes him be 'selfish', to want something for himself, to seek his own happiness alongside MC when it seems that his fate was always to serve others before looking after himself.

It's like he himself said in Master of Fate's Myth: "When emotions and desires are involved, selfishness is bound to exist".

In Master of Fate, he's deemed as a Siming which in Chinese mythology, is a kind of deity in charge to allocate humans' life spans, and according to Wikipedia:

"Siming's special concern (and power) is the balancing of yin and yang (Hawkes 2011 (1985), 109). Of particular relevance here is the relation between yin and yang balance and human health, and the importance to individual human health of such balance, as articulated in traditional Chinese medicine. Siming has the power to balance or unbalance yin and yang, and thus to lengthen or shorten human lifespans, or to provide health or prolong illness".

Siming could decide to provide health to a person or to prolong illness, in that way, having an important role into deciding people's life spans. It's interesting cause Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker pretty much do the same.

Dr Zayne does his best to cure and take care of people, thus stretching out their life span, while Dawnbreaker gives them a merciful death to avoid them to live as walking corpses, thus shortening their life span.

Unlike Master of Fate or Foreseer, at first glance it could look like Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker have no God-like power, thus have no control over destiny or fate, yet they still do.

It's actually Foreseer the one who lacks some kind of jurisdiction about people's lifes and fates; he could still glimpse at their destiny, being aware of what awaits people but wasn't allowed to intervene in any sense and most of all, he wasn't allowed to glimpse at his own fate.

In any case, until now, all Zayne's lifes have always been about taking care of other's destiny but what about him? When describing gods, Zayne is actually quite humble, saying that gods maybe are just like humans, except that they had the chance to do a bit more.

Zayne is quite selfless. He's not the kind of man who would blame his destiny for all the things that have happened to him and yet... They're still unfair.

Foreseer once said: "My destiny is to disappear from the annals of history... For someone who wants to remember me, it certainly feels wonderful".

At some point, Zayne's duty isolated him in every life time. He lived alone and caged in a Tower in Foreseer's Myth, he lived alone in the Mountains as Master of Fate, and he lived totally alone as Dawnbreaker. His only companions were Jas/Bai but no other human being.

Dr Zayne is actually the only one whose duty has brought him some kind of recognition, admiration and appreciation (and well deserved, of course), and hasn't isolated him from society, but funnily enough, he has this condition with his evol that sometimes turns him into a treath, which makes him keep others at arms length, especially MC. As for Master of Fate? Foreseer? Dawnbreaker? They all have to move the threads behind backstage in a lonely duty, being Foreseer the most severe case. It doesn't help that in the Foreseer timeline, Zayne is even explictly prohibited to be with MC.

Zayne's fate was always to look after other people's fate but like I've said before, MC was always the exception of every rule in his book because she was the one who made him yearn for human warmth and closeness with someone else and because of that, he'd break the rules to ensure she lives a long happy and safe life, even if is not at his side... Unironically.

In Foreseer's Myth, it is said that Astra prohibited him of being with MC in this and his other lifes because Zayne was a tool. At first, Astra's severity at punishing Zayne looked more like a senseless tantrum of a prepotent god and while that might be true, it seems that Zayne not being able to be with MC in every life time is simply because she would never allow him to fullfil 'his destiny' and to make matters worse, she's a "variant" (We don't know exactly what this entails, we just know that is something threatening, I have some assumptions about it but let's keep it like this for now) . That's why, unlike Rafayel and the other LIs, it seems that he doesn't keep memories of his previous lifes or previous experiences with MC, yet he said once that if souls truly existed, then he was sure that his soul recognized MC before his memory did. MC is this person that always reminds him that he's not just a "tool", a means to an end, but an individual being that is also deserving of something better.

Zayne's love for MC often reminds me of that Córtazar quote: "You were always my mirror, what I'm trying to say is that, in order to see me, I had to see you"

I wonder if there's one life time where Zayne will be allowed to have happiness and company without having to pay a high price for it.

[meggtheegg]

FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[cevansbrat0007]

Indecent Exposure Pt. III: Poolside Promises

Summary: You convince Ari to finally let you have a little fun this summer. But at what cost? Check out Part One!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Dad's Best Friend Themes, Older Men/Younger Women Themes, Brief Allusion to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Please heed all warnings. Part of my Indecent Exposure Series. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Almost Two Weeks After Your Father's Departure...

You glide through the water effortlessly, seeking a brief relief from the summer heat. While the news had promised you and everyone else that today’s weather would be one for the books, the warnings still hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the heat that assailed you the moment you’d stepped out the back door. 

However, it’s not until you allow your head to break through the surface that you realize you were no longer alone. You had company. And he was also staring at you.

Again. It was something he had a habit of doing.

“Can I help you?” It’s a flatly delivered question. 

The man only shrugs, dragging a hand through his shaggy, chestnut brown locks. Frankly, he looked so much like his brother you were almost surprised that you’d never really noticed just how many similarities they actually shared.

Same striking blue eyes. Same massive build. Same chiseled jaw that looked great with or without a beard. But where Steve always possessed an aura or control, Ari emanated something a little more raw and untamed. 

You found found that it sometimes did funny things to those annoying butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in your belly these days.

“Did you need something?” You try as you continue to tread water in the middle of the pool.

“Nothing you're quite prepared to give, sweet Clover.” Ari responds cryptically, his head cocking to the side as he continues to survey you. 

“Then why the hell do you keep staring at me?”

That was another thing you’d recently come to learn about Ari over the last couple of days. He didn’t seem to care whenever you decided to take a spicy tone with him – a fact you’d discovered when you’d found him sitting in your father’s study just the other morning.

You’d been so happy until that moment, especially since you’d previously been granted three days free of Bucky, Steve, and Andy. Your time alone had been glorious, even if it had proved to be short lived. 

You watch the older man closely, fascinated by the increasingly pronounced tick in his jaw. Hell, if he was allowed to stare then so would you. However, the question was, who would blink first?

Turns out, that award belonged to Ari. 

Humming a tune under his breath, he proceeds to grab a lawn chair before pulling it closer to the edge of the pool. Neither one of you says a word as he takes a seat, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing beneath the thin fabric of his light gray t-shirt. 

“Just came out here to check on you.” He reaches up to scratch at his beard. “See how you were managing in this heat.”

“I’m managing by planning to spend all afternoon in the pool, like any other sane person would.”

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure Bucky and the boys made it clear that they don’t appreciate your little penchant for snark.” He muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  

Probably. You inwardly concede. It definitely hasn't been winning you any favors. Which is why you often preferred to play the part of a mute. Whenever they allowed you to, that is.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.” You respond honestly before closing your eyes and flipping your body so that you can float on your back, giving Ari a glimpse of your peaches and cream-colored bikini.

“That’s cuz’ not too much bothers me. I don’t allow it.” 

“Hmm…” You spread your arms, silently wishing you could simply float away from this conversation entirely. “Maybe you should talk to the others about that. Seems like I find a new way to piss them off every time I open my mouth.” 

“Nah.” Ari shrugs away your words as he continues to appear unbothered by the heat. “Something tells me they don’t quite know just what to do with a pretty little thing like you.” 

“Oh. And you do?” Well, you could safely say that you hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“I’d certainly like to think so.” 

His statement hangs in the air as you both fall silent. While you weren’t quite sure what your would-be caretaker was talking about, it was definitely enough to make you think. And it’s at that moment that you decide to change tactics. Instead of floating here annoyed, perhaps it was time to use Ari’s seemingly indulgent personality to your benefit. 

A friend of yours was throwing a party tonight. And you wanted to go. 

When you’d previously brought it up to Bucky and Steve, they’d both hemmed and hawed over the subject – asking you all kinds of questions and refusing to give you anything more than a non-committal “we’ll have to see” or "we'll have to sit down and talk about it". And when you’d tried to play the ultimate trump card by calling your father, he’d sided with them. 

“I’m not there, pumpkin.” Your Dad had said while you’d been holed-up pouting in your room. “I asked your Uncles to watch over you, which means I’m gonna have to defer to them in situations like this one."

And, as luck would have it, you hadn’t been able to get your answer before they’d just up and disappeared on you like the overbearing assholes they were proving themselves to be.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I trust the judgment of anyone who’s crazy enough to sit out here in this heat and roast – not when there’s a perfectly good pool, like, right in front of them.”

“Not sure that pool of yours is big enough for the both of us.” Ari mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Although you get the feeling he’s talking more to himself than you. 

“It’s plenty big.” You eagerly reassure him, adjusting your position so that you can float closer to where your pseudo-guardian is sitting. “See? There’s aaall this space.”

For a second Ari appears unsure. And the closer you get, there’s no denying the fact that he was finally showing signs of feeling the heat. It’s hard to miss the thin line of sweat dotting along his brow.

“C’mon…” You urge, playfully splashing him. “Don’t be such a hard ass, Uncle Ari.” You decide to tack on the last bit for his benefit, all the while trying hard to keep the edge out of your tone. But if he notices, he thankfully doesn’t comment.

“Fine. Melt.” You heave an exasperated sigh when he still doesn’t move. Climbing onto a nearby pool raft, you turn your attention back to your companion. “Jesus, you guys are always so serious, like all of the time. I mean, what’s wrong with having a little fun?”

“Alright.” That’s all you get before he reaches to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted body hiding beneath.

You scarcely have the chance to appreciate the sight before you’re treated to the sound of a splash. You let out a squeal as water goes splashing everywhere, rewetting your already rapidly drying body. Seconds later, Ari’s head breaks through the water.

“Happy now, princess?” He disappears again, only to reappear closer to where you’re currently lounging. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” He asks, seemingly content to tread water alongside you. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t at least admit that the man was kind of attractive.

Or, as your friends had put it, sexy as hell. Yeah, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about that one.

“Well…” You hedge, giggling when he splashes you to encourage you to hurry up.

“Out with it, Clover. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.” Or fucked. He silently adds.

“There’s this party I kinda wanted to go to tonight. All my friends will be there and I haven't really had the chance to celebrate my birthday with them yet.” You finish, your teeth going to worry your bottom lip. 

Ari studies you for a moment as he tries to figure out the best way to respond. “What did Uncle Steve and the others say?” He already knew that you'd asked them, and he wanted to make it clear that he’s not one to be so easily manipulated. “I’m assuming you asked them first.”

“They said “maybe”. Well, two of them did anyway. But then they left without ever giving me a real answer.” 

“I see.” He offers you a cheeky grin while pausing to swat at a wayward fly. “Maybe we should call them. See if they’ve finally made up their minds–.” 

“No!” You shoot straight up on your perch, accidently flipping the raft and sending you tumbling back into the icy cool water. You come up sputtering and coughing, and while you can’t quite tell, you’re also fairly certain that Ari is laughing at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah.” You gag, hating the taste of chlorine. 

Ari nods before moving to retrieve your float. He’s even kind enough to hold it still long enough for you to climb back on it again. Only once he’s satisfied that you’re secure does he seem interested in continuing the conversation. 

“So…it sounds like you really wanna go to this party. Don’t you, Clover?” 

“Yes.” You breathe, refusing to say anything more than that just in case he was actually considering it. You’re so desperate that you don’t even balk when he begins swimming towards the edge of the pool, dragging you along with him. He doesn’t speak again until he’s reached his destination. 

“Tell me, will there be any drinking at this party?”

“Wha–no!”

“Now’s not the time to lie to me, princess. Will people be drinking at this party?” He reaches up to cup your chin, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours as if he's attempting to unravel all of your secrets.

One by one.

“I swear! Grace’s parents would positively kill her if they found out she threw that kind of party.”

Ari quietly mulls over your answer before deeming it to be honest enough for his liking. “How about boys?”

Fuck. While you couldn’t be honest, you also didn’t want to lie. Not when you were this close to getting what you wanted. Which was freedom. 

“Her little brother will be there. He’s a couple grades below us. But it's not like she can kick him out or anything.”

“Just her little brother, huh?” You could tell he was feeling more than a little skeptical. However, you’re surprised when he seemingly lets it slide. Releasing his grip on your chin, he gives you a little push, content to let you float away. 

“I swear. We can’t do anything too crazy with him around – he’d rat us out sooo fast.”

Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me. 

Holding your breath, you watch as he climbs out of the water. He makes a beeline for your towel, patting himself dry to the best of his ability before draping it over his shoulder. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I might be willing to make an executive decision on this one, provided you’re willing to do something for me in return. Something that’ll keep at least some of the heat off of me when it comes to dealing with Steve and the boys.”

What you didn't know was that they had already discussed your desire to attend this party – him, Bucky, Andy, and Steve – and they'd decided that the answer was "no". But since you'd gone the last couple days without throwing a tantrum, Ari felt inclined to give you what you wanted. It also helped that he found your bratty ways to be rather endearing.

So long as you weren't outrightly disrespectful.

“Anything.” The word flies out of your mouth before you can catch it. And just like that, that damn tick in his jaw is back.

“The only way I feel comfortable enough letting you go is if you promise to text me every 30 minutes. Doesn’t have to be long. Just a message to let me and the other guys know you’re okay.”

What the hell?

You open your mouth to protest before deciding you’re better off not. Right now, you’d take the win and try to renegotiate the rest later. 

“Take it or leave it, princess.” 

“I’ll take it!” You reply, albeit probably a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you so much!”

Ari doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead that damned tick of his only seems to grow even more pronounced. “Alright.” With that, he turns and begins striding towards the door. “I’ll, uh…I’ll get you another towel.” He pauses once he reaches his destination, turning to face you once more. 

“And Clover?”

“Yeah?” You call back, feeling happier than you have in almost two whole weeks. 

“Don’t make me regret this." Ari rumbles, allowing you to get a good, long look at his muscled, hair covered chest. "I'd hate for my kindness to come back and bite me in the ass. It would be a shame to start the summer off on such a bad note.”

“I…”

His words leave you so speechless that you can only watch as Ari proceeds to waltz through the sliding door, leaving you outside all alone once more. But not before reiterating his promise to bring you another towel so that you can get ready for lunch.

“Well, fuck…” Is all you can muster before rolling yourself off your float and into the cooling expanse of the water. You swim down to the bottom, touching the floor with both hands as you work to center yourself. 

You hold your breath for as long as you’re able before the need for oxygen forces you to resurface. As you greedily gulp air into your burning lungs you tell yourself not to give a fuck about Ari and his bullshit. Instead, you decide to focus on the most important aspect of tonight, namely…

Just what in the hell were you going to wear?

END

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[danlous]

It's an underdiscussed part of the show, maybe because it's so obvious, that ultimately this whole interview is happening because Daniel Molloy wanted to fuck that vampire. Like before the 1st season even started Eric Bogosian was already talking about Daniel feeling attracted to Louis, and that attraction is an essential part of their complicated history and relationship and is always underneath every other thought and feeling Daniel has about Louis.

Daniel's intellectual/journalistic interest in Louis is inseparable from his physical attraction to him. When they met in the 70s Daniel felt an instant pull towards Louis, and as he said he really wanted to interview him, but he was also quite obviously assuming they would sleep together. Decades later that pull is still so strong he's ready to throw everything else away to get some kind of closure. I think he's sort of embarrassed by his own emotions (especially when he seemingly hasn't come to terms with his sexuality) and that they still have so much power over him no matter how old and mature he is. He's so snarky and rude to Louis to protect himself, to hide his vulnerability and feel like he has some kind of control over the situation. It's something similar with Armand; whether Daniel and Armand have a history or not, Armand is an attractive, powerful man who managed to trick Daniel, so Daniel feels the need show that he's in control and that he's not afraid of or intrigued by Armand, even though he's both.

But this exterior started to crack at the same time Louis' own did. In the beginning Daniel tried to keep his distance (and he probably reminded himself 'these people serial killers' every time he found himself feeling sympathy towards vampires) but when Louis is now acting so vulnerable and strikingly human, doing things like openly crying when talking about his daughter and sincerely thanking Daniel for helping him, it's impossible for Daniel to not feel empathy for him. In the s2 premiere you can see he's genuinely sympathizing with Louis and not even always trying to hide it anymore. Although Daniel says he doesn't really care it's a blatant lie; he's personally invested in Louis' situation. He cares about finding out what's going on and he cares about Louis. He wants to solve this and he wants to help Louis. He still feels strongly attracted to him. Hell, he might even be a litte bit in love with him. Most people who meet Louis are.

In the first season Daniel often perceived Louis as his opponent, and in the s2 premiere he acts like Louis and Armand are both his opponents, but i think the situation will (based on what we've seen so far and promo/cast interviews) now probably pretty fast evolve into Daniel starting to think he and Louis are in the same team and Armand is their common enemy. We know Daniel is basically inserting himself between Louis and Armand's relationship and even the word love triangle has also been used. Armand and Daniel were famously a couple in the books and might end up together in the show too, but at least for now they're both focused on Louis. I wouldn't be surprised if Daniel starts to feel like he has to 'save' Louis from Armand - even though Louis probably doesn't want to be saved