#Beverage Formulation

[foodresearchlab]

Food Research Lab help you with an innovative beverage product (new to the world) which is entirely unique and different to pre-existing products. Example new technologies include genetically modified foods, extrusion, 3D printing, new ingredients etc.

The food industry is witnessing a new form of consumption. Keeping that in mind, we can formulate the products in the form of ready-to-drink, ready-to-mix, and ready-to-serve beverage products. We use ingredients that offer an added value to the development and improve its indulgence and sustainability in terms of its functional ingredients, plant-based food dyes, and natural preservatives with a clean label.

Reach us: https://www.foodresearchlab.com/what-we-do/new-product-development-service/beverage-formulation/

[thedrinklabsus]

Beverage Branding and Formula: Elevating Your Drink Game with The Drink Labs

In today’s highly competitive market, beverage branding is essential for making a drink stand out. A unique brand identity not only draws in customers but also builds loyalty. At the heart of every great beverage is a well-crafted beverage formula that perfectly balances taste, ingredients, and innovation. The Drink Labs, a leading name in the beverage development industry, specializes in creating customized beverage solutions that cater to diverse consumer preferences and market needs.

Why Beverage Branding Matters

The beverage industry is one of the most dynamic sectors, constantly evolving with new trends and consumer demands. To succeed in this landscape, a product needs a strong and distinct identity. Beverage branding encompasses everything from logo design, packaging, and marketing strategy to the overall perception of the product by consumers. It sets the tone for how customers experience the drink and how they connect emotionally with it.

The Drink Labs understands the intricacies of beverage branding. They offer comprehensive services that include market research, brand positioning, and the development of a unique visual identity that resonates with the target audience. With their expertise, you can create a compelling story around your beverage that captures attention and drives sales.

Creating the Perfect Beverage Formula

While branding is vital, the core of any successful drink is its formula. A beverage formula is a meticulous blend of ingredients that define the flavor, aroma, and texture of the drink. It’s what makes your product unique and keeps customers coming back for more. The Drink Labs excels in crafting innovative beverage formulas that not only taste great but also align with current trends, such as health and wellness, sustainability, and functional ingredients.

Their team of experts collaborates closely with clients to understand their vision and target market. They conduct extensive research and use advanced technology to create a beverage formula that meets all regulatory standards while delivering an exceptional drinking experience. Whether you're looking to launch a new energy drink, a refreshing iced tea, or a functional wellness beverage, The Drink Labs can help you formulate a product that stands out in the crowded marketplace.

Read More: - beverage formulation company.

The Drink Labs: Your Partner in Beverage Success

Partnering with The Drink Labs gives you access to a team of seasoned professionals who are passionate about beverages. They offer a one-stop solution for both beverage branding and formulation, ensuring that your product is positioned for success from concept to shelf. With a deep understanding of market trends and consumer preferences, The Drink Labs is committed to helping you create a beverage that not only tastes great but also tells a compelling story.

Whether you’re a startup looking to make a splash or an established brand aiming to innovate, The Drink Labs is here to help. Their tailored approach ensures that every aspect of your product, from the beverage formula to the brand identity, aligns perfectly with your goals.

Visit Here

Conclusion

In a market where first impressions are everything, effective beverage branding combined with a superior beverage formula can make all the difference. The Drink Labs stands out as a leader in both fields, offering innovative solutions that cater to the ever-changing tastes of consumers. With their expertise, you can create a beverage that not only meets market demands but also establishes a strong presence in the industry. Let The Drink Labs be your partner in crafting the next big drink sensation.

[recipeformulation]

Beverage Recipe Formulation: A Guide of science behind the Innovative Beverages, All you need to know 

Creating the perfect beverage isn’t just about preparing a tasty recipe. It’s also about comprehending the science and making practices behind the beverage recipe formulation process. The refreshing drink results from careful planning from the start and accurate execution, considering the variety of ingredients, required flavor, mouthwatering taste, and nutrition profile. 

Introduction 

Are you interested in growing a beverage but don't know the accurate process and whole planning behind this? Then, here is the solution for you, beverage formulation is the best place to start. The most important thing to know about formulating a beverage is that it is all about the taste and nutrition. When consumers love the taste of a beverage recipe, you get your foot in the door. Yes, you just make the first move towards your goal by entering into this process with a success rate and building a strong foundation for your beverage brand. 

Apart from the fact that you have a brilliant idea for creating flavourful beverages, the formulation process still took charge to make the idea successful.  Drink formulation is a process that involves a lot of effort, energy, and proper planning. Working with beverage development experts will let you learn how to make your own beverage while relying and trusting on their expertise throughout the process. From innovating ideas to expanding in a great way and formulating refreshing and mouth watering drinks to quality assurance, branding, marketing, and everything, a beverage expert can guide you. 

What is beverage Recipe formulation? 

So, now you have a basic idea about beverages and formulation, you are aware that it's going to make a big impact if you start with proper planning.  You’ve penned the concept, researched the market and beverage industry, and also, even worked to generate your source of funding. However, it's a tricky part to turn your simple ideation into a real product for your target audience or customers. It’s time to develop your formula with a formulation expert.

The complete process of creating a recipe including all the necessary steps defined as beverage formulation. In this very initial phase, you should choose the perfect ingredients in adequate amounts and work on a process that meets the required standards. 

The formulation is a part of the beverage development process that involves turning a vague idea of a beverage into a tasty recipe for the customers. Developing a recipe will dilute your drink’s flavors by incorporating the ingredients and involves steps necessary for its further production. 

There are various steps that go into formulating the perfect beverage, for both a non-alcoholic or functional beverage, a CBD-infused drink, or an alcoholic beverage. Formulation is one of the most important aspects of making delicious and safe beverages for users. 

We know, the whole science behind this formulation process, it requires a scientific approach to get it done perfectly. However, this scientific knowledge is mixed with innovative ideas and experience to formulate and create recipes for new beverages. The creative aspects of this formulation process play a crucial role in developing new flavors and refreshing, and innovative drinks filled with nutritional ingredients. 

During beverage formulation, a beverage manufacturer will take care of various things including:

Develop a product specification sheet

Source ingredients and prepare nutrition facts

Submission of the necessary paperwork requisite by the FSSAI and other regulatory bodies

Conduct stability testing & Nutritional Value testing 

Scale up the recipe according to the requirement of the adequate amount 

The production processes should be optimized and batching instructions preparation should be considered. 

The next major steps are packaging design and labeling. 

Recipe Commercialization

Cost Optimization of the products 

In this formulation process experts work with food scientists, nutritionists, and other experts to develop amazing recipes and products. It requires laboratory tests and their assurance for moving in toward the next steps. The staff makes sure that the products can be produced at a perfectly measured scale. Moreover, check whether it meets all safety and quality standards. By using appropriate ingredients and in proportionate amounts the product will prove safest for the users.  

Foodsure Beverage Recipe Formulation Process

When you opt for Foodsure as your beverage formulation partner or company, every process will be easy and sorted for you. We’ll start with an initial consultation, in this phase, we make sure to better understand your perspective behind the ideation or strategies. During this discussion, we begin with analyzing different and unique ways to make it a reality by incorporating various approaches that align with your goals. Our team of experts will provide managerial thinking, raw material suppliers contacts, shelf life insights and consideration, and the list goes on.

After the consultation step, we’ll move forward with your project into development and prototyping. During this time, we’ll talk to our flavor partners to make a baseline taste for your drink. Then, we’ll move further to check the drink’s stability by analyzing the ingredients for solubility and compatibility. The development and experimental processes create the ideal profile and provide the details required for efficient large-scale replication.

As your determined formulation partners, we’ll keep working on your beverage composition with consistency and complete planning until we get approval from you and you decide it’s perfect. Then, you’ll have a complete formula that’s ready to produce at scale and can expand in the market. 

Composition Concept Development

Here, again a crucial move in the formulation process takes place, we take the idea for your drink and develop it into a full, market-ready concept. Comprehending all the major aspects of your beverage project helps us to develop and formulate a commercially viable recipe that will work with your overall business strategy appropriately. During this process, we:

Identify your key requirements for your beverage.

Make figures for pricing targets, production quantities, and conditions.

Ensure to develop a range of useful concepts for your drink based on brainstorming ideation sessions with our experts.

Work closely with you to identify and develop the best concept for your drink.

Recipe Development & Beverage Formulation Cost with Foodsure 

After finalizing the concept with Foodsure, our team of expert beverage scientists will start to work on developing the recipe for your drink. We will make sure that it turns out to be the best experience for you with us. During this process, we:

Perform a complete price analysis, source ingredients, identify cost reduction opportunities, and do product analysis smartly for better decisions.

During the initial phases, develop initial samples, perform laboratory stability and other necessary tests, reformulate as necessary, optimize beverage formulas, and deliver samples for you to test and review.

Provide final samples and give your final commercial recipe with approximate end pricing of raw material and compound cost.

Let Foodsure Help You with Your Beverage Recipe Formulation 

As of now, you all have a complete understanding of the beverage's recipe formulation and have discovered how important it is to find the right formulation partner for you to maintain your brand values and identity. Moreover, you must achieve success in your planning by executing it accurately. The process can be time-consuming and sounds a bit difficult, but it will become simple especially when you have the right team with you thus, choose foodsure and take the first and right steps towards development.

Foodsure provides you with a full-service independent beverage recipe formulation company that can help you in a well-defined manner to make your every move easy and comfortable. With every step of the beverage formulation process, you will get the right direction. We have good experience in the market and renowned brands with loads of expertise within us.

Our team of experts or skilled members follows industry trends that align with our vision and incorporate fresh content to keep the beverages formulation industry at the forefront. Working with us creates several benefits like we ensure quality solutions that make food suitable for mass production by maintaining the recipe tasty and nutritious. We also make sure that it does not have any negative impact. It is essential to take care that the taste and designs meet industry standards and maintain rules and regulations.

Give packaging guidelines to maintain the freshness and quality standards of the beverage designed to fit mass production and your target audience. Connect with foodsure today, to get started on your beverage formulation journey. Make it useful and successful according to your ideation and our planning and expertise. 

[medicaldevicesindustrynews]

Knowing About Sports Drinks Before Consuming Them

Sports drinks can help you a great deal in keeping yourself hydrated when working out. sports drink was introduced in 1965. Gatorade was developed and tested it on a football team. Since then, sports drinks have become a commonality among athletes all over the world.  What Exactly are Sports Drinks? They are a beverage which can replenish some nutrients lost during exercise. They do not contain…

[gencannaus]

Bottling, filling, contract packaging and formulation for cosmetics, supplements, beverages, and personal care. GRAS, FDA and CGMP certified.

[windvexer]

I've spent a few years on the "stirring intent into your [beverage] isn't necessary or even that great of a way to formulate a daily practice" train and now I've wrapped 100% back around to that it's actually pretty decent and more people should take it seriously.

[spirk-trek]

For the fic prompt thing: how about Spock coming out as gay/bi/ace to a pining Jim (who thinks that Spock is straight)?

Merry writing!!!���

hello my darling anon! thank you for the request :) this one is very short and sweet. i like to think spock assumes everyone already knows, so he doesn't expect it to matter. i hope you enjoy!

quick side note to the anon who requested genius!jim... i started writing it, hated it, started again, then watched a documentary that made me change the entire plot but it's turning into one of my favorite little creations ever. thank you (and all the others too) for your patience <3

without further ado, let's get spock out of the closet!

(or read here on ao3 if you prefer)

~*~*~*~*~

"Please, Jim. Spock n’ I here are the only ones who know a thing about exes."

Jim, McCoy, and Spock sat around the Captain’s desk in his quarters, enjoying a particularly potent blend of top-shelf beverages. At least, the two humans partook. Spock held onto a mug of tea himself, sipping steadily while Jim continued to tip a vibrant green liquid past his lips. He raised an angled brow at the doctor’s statement.

"Doctor?"

"Well,” he leaned forward, elbows resting on the surface before him, inadvertently nudging a nearby plant dangerously close to the edge. “That T'pring didn't exactly treat you to the warmest welcome, did she?"

"I have exes, Bones,” Jim chimed in, delayed by his moderate intoxication. He reached out to push the plant back to a more sturdy position before Spock could do so, rubbing one of its leaves between his fingers briefly.

“Yeah, but the ones you do got ‘re angels.” McCoy jabbed a finger into the space between them. “Not to mention, they’d all take you back ‘n a heartbeat if you asked. You know I’m right.”

Jim hummed, bobbing his head in consideration and tracing a circle around the edge of his glass. 

“Not Gary."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Gary’s dead."

"He's still my ex, no?” He picked up his glass again but did not drink from it. 

"And T'Pring is Spock's." The doctor turned his attention back to the science officer, a smile on his face Spock couldn’t discern a reason for. He set his mug down on the desk and clasped his hands together.

"T’Pring was correct in her assessment that our bond would not amount to what she is likely to achieve with Stonn. Her actions were logical."

"Oh, c’mon now.” McCoy waved a hand. “Logic. She'd’ve been lucky to have you."

"I continue to resist belief in the concept of luck, doctor."

Jim leaned closer then, brushing their shoulders together. Spock turned to address him, watching as a warm expression reached his eyes, flecks of soft pink light reflecting back from golden depths.

“I’ll convince you yet,” he murmured. Spock’s mind went blank in its attempt to formulate a response, making it a relief when the doctor cleared his throat. 

He shifted back, centering his posture. “Regardless, Captain.” 

“Jim,” he corrected. “Off duty, remember?”

He touched his glass to his lips but still did not drink. 

“Regardless, Jim.” In his peripheral vision, Spock saw McCoy finish his own drink in one swallow. “You misunderstand my meaning.”

“Then what did you mean?” The doctor’s voice was harsh from the burn of alcohol, blue eyes narrowed.

“I am not interested in sharing a life with her on Vulcan, as my home is no longer there.” 

Jim had propped his head against his hand, swirling his last dregs of green lazily with the other, waiting for him to say more.

“Of course, the issue is compounded by my lack of attraction to females.”

The glass slipped from Jim’s fingers, shattering against the floor. Spock raised both brows as the man then raised his hand toward McCoy and shushed him loudly.

“I didn't say anything!”

Jim leaned in toward Spock with urgency, nearly slipping off his chair in the process. Their knees touched, broken glass forgotten below them.

“Lack of... attraction?" He repeated. Spock noted a change in color to his cheeks, deepening beyond the usual pigment caused by alcohol consumption. 

“To females.” 

Spock nodded.

“Explain.”

“They do not arouse me,” he answered simply.

“Well, would you look at that?” McCoy was looking down into his empty glass. “I need another drink.”

“But, Spock.” Jim reached out for his shoulder as if the interruption had not occurred, grasping tightly to regain his attention. Spock raised a brow.

"Men." He whispered the word as if it contained some sort of secret. “Do they-”

McCoy turned from where he’d crossed the room to retrieve the bottle of brandy. Apparently too quickly, as his steps stuttered sideways.

"Jim!"

Jim’s hand on Spock’s shoulder jumped away, though he pulled his eyes away with significantly more difficulty.

"What?"

"You can't just-"

Spock interrupted. "It is a logical question."

"See?” Jim was smiling brightly when he turned back toward him. “He thinks I'm logical."

"Yeah, well, I think you're both stupid."

Spock crossed his arms over his chest, but Jim ignored the insult. He attempted not to notice the anticipation behind his expression, the way it pulled at him, made him consider reaching out as Jim so often did.

"Well, Mr. Spock?"

Spock blinked. "Males are, indeed, of primary interest to me."

"That's a whole lotta words to say you're gay."

McCoy had leaned back against the partition, glass to his lips. Jim covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, though it escaped in the form of a huff through his nose, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I believe, gentlemen, that is my cue to take my leave."

"No!” Jim’s smile fell suddenly and he leaned back into Spock, hand reappearing at his shoulder.

“Stay? Please?”

He swallowed, blinking slowly. Spock was all too aware of the four centimeters his hand slipped down his arm before his grip tightened to stop it, as well as the six centimeter decrease in space between their faces. 

“You haven’t even finished your tea, after all.”

This was a correct statement. Jim’s hand slipped another two centimeters lower.

“Yeah, Spock. Stay,” McCoy encouraged, downing the rest of his drink once again. “I’m leaving.”

Spock only briefly glanced at him before looking back at Jim. 

“Very well, Captain. If you wish me to remain.”

“Jim, Spock. Jim. And yes. I do.”

[bloodcasket]

FOR YOU, I SHALL DESTROY MYSELF

PAIRING: Obsessive!Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, alcohol consumption, stalking, obsession (obsessive behavior on vergil's part), possessiveness, acts of ownership, mentally unwell reader, submissive reader, sensual themes, smut (lightly written), murder, violence, small blood-play.

WC: 7,481

DESCRIPTION: To save yourself, you make a deal with a demon.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31st ─ THE DEAL.

Eyes are watching you, sparing simple glimpses through each passing second. Irises and pupils that become distorted and ugly as they peek through wine glasses, the color glossing over with a crimson hue. The vision feels judgmental, full of ridicule. Too many people huddled close, speaking in hiccupping boasts. Everybody here wishes you gone. They're all watching, smiling. Smiling at your failure.

The air is pungent, reeking of sweat, and of rotten musk. People are slicked over, kneeling over the bar's countertop, sloppy lips molding over one another while with a lazy smile. You swear you feel the graze of an unwanted hand across your back, but you had mistaken it for a waft of air coming from the entrance doors. The breeze comes just as quick as it goes, you wish you could have drifted with it.

How embarrassing of you to slouch forward on the marble countertop, and draw nervous breaths of panic, thinking that someone had fancied you of all people tonight. How wrong you were. That’s how you had always been, for no one cared for your presence. Just another breath that got lost amongst the others. Another squeak that was overpowered by a shriek.

You want to scream, want to shout, “stop it all!”, but then you catch yourself with a quick breath, and it all comes crashing back down on you. The eyes are looking, yes. But at you? Never. Maybe it was the thick atmosphere, the bustling bodies, the cheers of the new year arriving upon the hour. Maybe it was this that made you feel so anxious, so afraid. So alone. No one by your side.

No one was holding you at this hour, kissing you happily until you saw the clock strike 12. Is that what this is about? You couldn’t understand. You were not blissfully drunk, rather pitifully intoxicated, your mind foggy and your conscious drawing blanks. Your senses were locked, your emotions deepened from the shots of vodka.

Is that what you wish for? For someone to long for you? Arrive right at this location, this exact bar, in hopes to see you?

Why did you come here? How pathetic you were, standing here isolated, swallowing glasses of alcoholic beverages that you found rather disgusting, and all for the hopes it would ease some cracking that formulated inside you. To dull the sharp edges of your ache, your sorrow. It did rather the opposite, only tended to the embers that now rose to flames deep within your soul.

“I must go”, you whispered solemnly, but you did not know who you were whispering it to. Mostly yourself. A woman gives you a strange glance as she hears you mumble to yourself, thinking you're completely hysterical.

I must go, I must go, I must go. You did not need to leave, you only wanted to. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't, but stubbornness is a passion, and you were quite stubborn.

Your movement is quick, unnoticed when you escape away from the public and into the darkness. The atmosphere is light now, fresh, natural as you embrace the cool night. The air is still damp from the rain that soaked the Earth a few minutes ago, but you don’t mind the puddles that soak into your pants as you hustle through them. You would rather thank the chilling water that grows slick upon your calves, the sensation of it easing your heated skin. You prayed it would sober you up, save you from this spinning world of madness.

It's much better to feel this, you think as your drunken state leads you stumbling into an alleyway. Much better to be away, in the darkness, where you belong. Sheltered, and untouched.

You stumble once more and swallow up a whimper as you feel a twist in your ankle, your shaking hands reaching forward to grip sturdily on the brick wall. Your nails flick against the rough surface, growing tarnished with every daring step forward. You were shocked you hadn't fallen yet, but the sprain in your ankle only mocks you, tells you ‘just wait’.

This night, right now, you were to go home.

Had you known any better, you would have prevented a thickening curse that looped into your life just brief moments from now. But instead of caring about your future, you carelessly dawned on the past. Letting a drunken wail tumble down your lips and echo amongst the abyss of the alleyway, not a shroud of light in the distance.

Where do I go? Do I go home? Who will take me home?

Another stumble. You sniffle.

Where are my keys? I can’t see, my eyes hurt. My head aches.

There’s still no light to be seen. Snot bubbles in the blacks of your nostrils, pooling forward.

I shouldn’t have drank. I'm so stupid. Please help, someone help me.

There is a sound of hissing.

“Yes”, you sigh, voice hoarse and groggy. You presume it must be the sound of a car, albeit the sound of a rattling engine that has just been powered to life. To you, it must be a sign you're near a street. You will ask someone to give you a ride, take you away from this area of mental wreckage, and bring you home. Home? You shake yourself for a moment, brushing the confusion away as you keep pushing your legs, turning a sharp corner and searching the best you can for a gateway of exit.

What you find though, is not a chance of escape. It is a street, indeed, but there is no one in sight, no voices to be found, not even the guttural hiss that you swore was an engine. Nothing. Only the copper scent that permeates the air. It is too dark, and too close to midnight for you to make out any colors or hues, only shades and glimmering objects underneath the moonlight.

There, laying upon the gravel, a puddle is slick amongst the road, soaking into the indents of the asphalt. Just like the other rain puddles, you thought the same as this, but as you near it, one thing only becomes clear. The scent. The puddle. The moonlight. The darkness. The hissing. The street.

It is clear now, it is clear. It is the scent of death. Slick upon the road in front of you lay a fresh pool of blood, not yet yielding the hue of brown, rather, crimson. It was new. A new murder. The body is limp, a man that had streamers once grasped firmly in his palm, you could tell as you knelt to examine him. He was most likely late to a new year's party, but now he will be late to any other event in life. His life was cut- taken by the grasp of death.

Your mouth felt dry, your tongue tasted nothing but sour.

Across his bloodied shirt, skin is parted, flesh jarred open like cutting a piece of paper apart with scissors. His laceration is deep, and his organs are no longer holding, being that someone- something has slashed him so thoroughly. His face is colorless, pale, solemn. He was young, he could have had a purpose.

Your heart- you think it has stopped. You take one last look at his lifeless palm, streamers still spread across it, before rising and daringly twisting on your heel, heaving a dry lump down your throat with a solid gulp.

It is only then that you understand, you should have been home. Shouldn’t have gone out. Shouldn’t have been here.

You knew you had done wrong by turning on this street, but the audacity you had to try and run. No one, especially the drunken likes of you, can escape an inhumanly being. But you are stubborn, and you are pitiable. You are by no means an athlete. You are by no means an agile contortionist. You are by no means an intelligent and stable specimen. Only fragile, and weak. Ready to be shattered, like glass.

You are limping with your sprained ankle, and your breaths are erratic as you hear it snarling from the skies above, the hissing- the ecstatic and primal bloodthirst in its howls becoming known as it leaps from the rooftops, crawling down the brick of the buildings and knocking down street signs in its treacherous wake.

You do not last; you had expected this much.

You are taken down by one powerful blow from its elongated arm, sharp like a blade, and as red as the blood you had seen on the street. The creature bounces thematically, so quick to pounce whenever it wishes, its speed and agility making you tremble. Its skin is like armor, rough and built like a shield, you are no match, you are just a human.

“Oh god”, you squeal, its blow not landing on a fatal position on your body, but rather, an area that makes the experience more tortuous, and grueling. Its blade-like hand has swooped through the air and slashed across your arm. You are quick to start bleeding, the wound so deep your body caves in, but you attempt to put pressure on the gushing area with your shaking palm, the salty sweat you leak only makes the ache worse. Your tarnished nails are now drowned with red.

“Oh! Oh”, you cry and cry, not capable of formulating words, but it's not like anyone would hear you now. The creature smells you, draws your scent in. It seems to play with you, revel in the way you squirm and sputter whimpers amongst the concrete. Smells your purity, your innocence. You smell amazing, and delicious, and delectable, and so much better than the man it had originally planned to feast upon. It has decided to play with its food.

You have stopped your attempts to scramble away, you are too weak. Still intoxicated, slightly sobered from the adrenaline that has pulsed within you. Your ankle is still sprained, and your feet are blistered beyond repair. Now, you leak your bloody essence from your arm, and you sob desperate tears, the whites of your eyes now a shade of pink.

Who am I, anyway?

You blink, the demon draws closer.

I shall die here, won't I?

It swipes its blade across your leg, the unharmed one. You scream dryly.

No one will save me...I am doomed.

The monster licks away at its weapon, hissing in glee at your taste.

No one. I have no one. No purpose. I will die here. Yes, I will die.

It brings its arm in the air for the final blow, and you watch without fear, seeing the glint it beholds underneath the moon's luminescence. You are ready. Even through sorrowful tears. You are ready to die here, so beautifully, under the moonlight.

But the blow never reaches you, and the sound of its howl echoes through the air, up and down the street, reaching every space, every crack, every pit of darkness. Its shrill is a sign of its defeat, and you watch in horror as a sword has pierced through its body of armor, tinted with red and black. With much haste, the weapon is sheathed, its slice sounding slick as it pulls out from the demon's flesh, letting the villainous thing fall flat on the street, fallen victim to the same act it made on the young man it killed prior.

You had been so ready, but now here you sit, staring ahead with a curiousness come about your dampened eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of a man. You make out his figure, his face, his weapon, even all through your blurred vision. You had made him out to be aged, his precision with his sword showing experience, but the smoothened, porcelain-like skin he had made him appear youthful. He is beautiful, stunning beyond reason. His majesty standing before you. ‘How old may he have been?’ you found yourself wondering, just as much as he found yourself to be ignorantly staring. A glint about his sharpened, light blue eyes. So light and mysterious that they could resemble gems.

“How ungrateful” the man speaks, his voice is so proper, and yet you make out a scowl from his words, his lips curving to produce a grimace. His jaw is solid, and sharp when he speaks, full lips soft and plump when they frown at the sight of you. You must have looked foolish, for he eyes you with judgement.

“Not even appreciative for the saving of your pitiful human life” he speaks once more, airy, and soft, but it still pierces your soul. “What have you to give?”. His appearance is comparative to his speaking. Monotonous, and yet striking. Dressed in a blackened leather vest, blending into the sheen of his leather pants clad on him, sculpting him out like a shadow of the night. If it wasn’t for his whitened hair, he would be unnoticed, one with the abyss.

You shift for a moment, stained fingers dismantling from your tainted flesh, letting the blood feel cool amongst your skin. You do not move as much as you wished, as once you move your feet to shuffle upward, you wince and pipe out a squeak of agony. You had forgotten the demon tore up your leg, too. You glance upward to catch his eye, to look at him properly, and catch a slight flare of his nostrils, like he had been smelling the air. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and you watch with a distrusting expression. He must have been disgusted by your injury, because the glint in his eye becomes something different. Something you cannot describe. You had mistaken it for being censorious.

“What-what can I give?” you stutter with your words, your speech impaired and jumbled from your prevalent fear, “I...I have nothing to give you. I do not know if I even have a home” you shiver under his predatory gaze, his entirety nothing short of intimidating. “But I have called...I have no one, but I still called. I thought no one would come. But you came. You saved me-you...you-you saved my life. Thank you-” you cut yourself short, your cheeks flush and your breathing growing unstable from your rush of words.

You cannot tell now if you are still intoxicated, still swayed by the alcohol, you do not think you are. You think your emotions have just been bubbled up inside you for so long, that now when you speak to this mysterious savior, you only speak with earnest desire. The desire that has been trapped and hidden.

“I cannot give you anything but myself, I want a place to belong, please, please do not think me foolish. Please take me away, please, I beg of you- I have nowhere to go- no one-”

“Correct- you are a fool. I save you, and you cannot give anything, but yourself. I will kill you now, strike you down, and what purpose will you have?” He tampers with you, watches the rise and fall of your chest, the quiver in your failing body. He has not tucked his sword away safely, for it stays sheathed, and pointed at you. He ushers it forward, letting the weapons tip just barely graze your breast, right above where your heart lay beating wildly in your chest.

“You misunderstand”, he moves a little closer, his coat ruffling along with the passing wind, “I do not save souls, I take them. What has your human life have, that will be of any importance to me?”.

‘That is why he must look so young’, your thoughts are so disorganized, ‘he is a demon himself. Come here, to fight amongst the other demons for his prize as the winner. The king’.

He watches you so closely that all you wish for is to cower away, but how can you? You have no choice but to swallow and look up at him. The same desire in your eyes burning. The same glint in his eyes unreadable. You have yet to know his name as you speak so confidently:

“Then take mine! Take my soul! You have saved me. I will be yours, I swear it. Just take me-won't you? Please, it hurts so much”.

He does not smile, doesn’t even scowl. He only stares, and stares, and stares, his nostrils flaring once more, and his adam’s apple shifting with his intake of a gulp.

You feel a sudden burning sensation rise amongst your arm, and you close your eyes amidst a wince, but when you open them again, he is gone. He hadn’t agreed to your deal. He hadn't even expressed his distaste about it. The strange, and hauntingly gorgeous man became one with the night again, dissipating into the darkness.

There is a sound of sirens arriving in the distance. It is barely distinctive from the blaring pops and explosions that erupt in the sky, the colorful fireworks looming over the city, signaling the new year has arrived.

‘What has your human life have, that will have any importance to me?’, his voice still echoes in your head.

You hadn't even learned his name.

You haven't even learned how important promises may be.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31ST ─ DREAM OF A DEAL

To be a troubled man is one thing.

A man who has had too many tragic events to corrupt him. Make his sanity crumble into dust, to be nothing more than an unrecognizable memory. A man who witnesses everything he loves disintegrate into nothingness, fall past the webs of his fingers, even though he made sure to clench his gnarled hands into fists, to desperately keep close what little he had. He would take in everything as a young boy, see faults to be his own, taking in the blame and guilt, swallowing in the darkness.

To be a demon is another.

A demon who does not care for the strangled screams of the innocent, but rather, takes pleasure from their blood-curdling pleads of mercy. A demon who tastes the life it ends, tearing apart flesh by flesh, skin by skin, bone by bone. Consumes the soul, relishes in their utter terror, growls in pleasure.

Vergil awakes suddenly, sitting himself up on his bed, feeling the blankets crease and bundle into piles beside him as he pushes them off. He sighs and then grumbles, a wave of disappointment reaching him.

To be a demon, Vergil slaughters. To be a human, Vergil dreams. And on this particular night, Vergil has dreamt, and dreamt wonderfully.

The dream felt so real, so lucid, it swept over him like a sacred prophecy, like a vision that would soon come to him if he manifested it enough.

In it, he sat at a table brandished with a red satin cloth placed neatly on the surface, lavish items decorated in the center. The room he’s sitting in is too dim, too blurry and discreet from the low candlelight, but he knows, he knows there is someone sitting with him at the very end of the table.

He’s drinking rich wine, and strangely, he is human in the moment. Smiling from the foggy words that the stranger speaks from the end of the table, his dimples deepening with every bashful grin. The only thing recognizable is how sweet their voice is. How pure. How loving.

“I shall........

I am........

Devoted.....

I am yours.....

take me......

my soul......

is yours”.

They keep chanting and chanting, certain words only memorable. He is so content with this dream, feeling so bound to the pleasant ownership of the mystery person he sits with, but suddenly the candles sway in their low light, and are wiped out within seconds, the sound of the strangers' screams echoing around him. The dream had advanced into a nightmare.

This, is when he wakes. Sweat is sticky against his temples, his heart is thumping hard against his ribcage. He usually does not let his composure slip over something so trivial, but dreams are different. Dreams can control you, paralyze you, show you your deepest fears. And Vergil's fear is to grow sensitive, grow close to something again, all to watch it die. And fall away from his hands over and over again.

The troubled half-demon slips away into the night, far from devil may cry. He roams the streets, gawks in misery at bustling restaurants filled with jubilant voices. He curses whatever presence to make him feel so weak, to make him feel so unnerved that he must find a way to escape his emotions.

He is miserable as much as he is restless, clutching his precious Yamato in his firm palm, turning corner by corner, slaying creature by creature to occupy his time, and smelling scent by scent. The scent of sweat from the cooped-up bars, smelling the soil after it ripened from the fresh rain, smelling chemicals after another civilian sets off fireworks in honor of the upcoming new year. Oh, how he despised such human holidays.

He turns yet another corner, and something piques his interest. Yet another smell to devour, and not from the aroma of fresh bread, or a floral plant, but the richness of blood. It is so powerful that he cannot contain himself, the demon within him begging him to get just a taste. It is nothing he’s ever come across. He gets closer and closer, and then he hears it.

“Oh! Oh!”

It is a mere mistake for his arrival in this area. He only intended to brush some weights off his shoulders, help his thumping heart soften until he felt numb and devoid of human sensation.

Although, the voice he hears, the voice that is crying. It is pure. It is sweet. It is so familiar. It is the voice from his dream. It is you.

It is a mere mistake for him to be here, and yet, when he sees you wince and squirm, to see you crawl and bleed along the street, so frail and abused, he feels infuriated.

He draws out his Yamato, lurches it forward until it has made good use, its blade piercing the “Fury” in front of him. The demon that dares to touch the stranger of his dream cries and crashes. He is finally able to see you properly.

Your weak eyes tremble so softly, glistening and wet with human tears. His heart thumps faster.

“What have you to give?” . He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he hasn’t left yet.

Your blood smells divine. Your tears, he yearns to lick away with his warm tongue. He drinks it in, trying to deny urges.

“Then take me! Take my soul!”. He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he didn’t take you away that night, claim you, make his dream become reality.

Your voice. Your blood. Your soul.

He hadn't even learned your name.

He hadn't even learned that an interest can blossom into obsession.

9:30 PM ; MARCH 31ST ─ A REUNION

Months are brushed by with time, events going faster than it usually does. That incident, that specific night, it stayed with you, lingering in your memories. It was just until recently that you finally healed, your thick lacerations that once bled and bled, and lifted your skin with an unpleasant swell, have finally softened. The skin has finally connected, now a lighter shade and smoother compared to the rest of your body. Inches of imperfection that mock you.

Sometimes it all came back to you, the bar, the people, the alley, the shadows, the street, the monster, the man. When you thought back to it, it was practically unbelievable, you had almost considered it a part of your drunken imagination, until your eyes connected with your abused skin. It was real, that was true. Everything you said─that was true as well.

Everything….you wished it had not been true. Maybe it would have been better if the man had ended you. Point his sword a little further into your chest, impale you so gracefully like he had the other creature.

The blue, crystalline eyes that glimmered like water, but held such a roguish stare. He had been a demon himself, you knew that much. A demon disguised as a beautiful god.

You would go out on certain days, the once chilly air molding into a choking humidity, one that is heavy and warm in the spring. The crowds would soon get thicker than before in the streets, people hand in hand, side by side. You would ignore them, walk to destinations with a purposeful stride, all until you caught a glimmer hidden amongst the sweaty crowds.

That blue shade. That white hair. That blackened vest. That unblemished skin. That stare. It was only until you blinked your eyes in confusion, just to notice it was gone. He was gone.

‘Do not worry so much’ you would speak to yourself, into the depths of your head, ‘you are only anxious. He is gone now. He is gone forever’. You were still innocent till this point, still youthful and naïve. You would soon learn that your consciousness is a powerful thing, but only through a life of corruption. Through lessons of toil.

Your shoes drag up the weathered steps, its beaten surface feeling so dull under your body. You remember walking up these apartment stairs that night, seeing how something can be so challenged over time. To become so walked over, and used, all until it is nothing but dirt and dust.

You cried as you sat on them, as you finally came to recognize where you belong. What your “home” seemed to be. A place that is sorrowful, empty, and cruel, cast away into the pitiful parts of the city.

Your feet push up the final step, your fingers fumbling over uncertain objects in your bag, your eyebrows creasing and wrinkles molding onto your face as a frustrated expression is shown.

You mumble words of impatience, “fuck”, and “where is it” tumbling past your lips with a huff, all until you finally catch hold of the thing you’ve been desperately searching for, lifting the jingling keys to connect into the slot on your apartment door.

When it is opened, you shuffle yourself inside, feeling worn and tattered from hours of work, tossing your bag aside until it collides with the wooden floorboards.

A glow is spread across the room, presumably from your oil lamp, which you took much caution in making sure was never lit when you were out. You creep on your feet, staying nimble on your toes as you turn a corner, your vision taking hold of what waits in the living room.

The oil lamp is heated, its light flickering playfully, dancing inside the glass. You feel yourself melting, as it feels so warm in here, you swear the room will just enclose any second, swallow your existence. You are right about one thing, but oblivious to the other. Oblivious to the lounge chair that sits adjacent to the golden light, a figure sitting coolly upon it. Leather-clad legs, that are long and graceful, sit neatly crossed. Like a king sitting on his rightful throne. His weapon placed along the expanse of his lean thighs, his gloved hands gripping over it so hard you saw his knuckles turn white.

“Took you quite a while, don’t you think?”, his tone is soft, smooth and devoid of emotion, as if him being here was perfectly normal. “Why don’t you sit?”, the way he says it does not sound like a suggestion, but rather, a demand.

The man does not turn an inch to face you, no movement in his posture, or disfigurement in his poise. He is regal, he is dominant, and he is waiting. Waiting for you to seat yourself beside him, in which, you do not spare a second to do so. His grip on his sword becomes tighter, and his lips purse as you pass him.

You do not ask him why he is here, and why would you need to? He is much more powerful than anyone else is. You watch him carefully as you lower yourself down amongst the other chair, your hands clasping into an anxious fist, your palms suddenly growing clammy. You would have never expected to meet him again.

“The deal” he starts off, his eyes now meeting yours, pupils blown enough to show you your own tormented reflection, “I have agreed to it. Your soul-”

“I did not mean it”, you are quick to interrupt him, trying to make your tone assertive and brave. You are only the opposite, as your voice sounds meek and hoarse the moment it slips off your quivering tongue. That is your first mistake. To try him. To deny a half-demon.

“What I said was a mistake....” you are lying through your teeth, “I am sorry for troubling you, but I’ve decided that my life is much better-”

You yelp suddenly as his hand shifts off his weapon and to the arm of your chair, dragging it forward so that you're closer, his lengthy fingers gripping so roughly on the material you think it will break the seams.

“Your life was never yours the moment you promised yourself to me” he speaks with a snarl, words coming out in an aggravated hiss, almost seeming offended. “You dare deny me, after I saved your life?’. He leans in, his lips folding into his teeth so he can growl at you, to come off as threatening, to tell you there is no other choice.

“You had told me that my life was not important to you” you whispered in a feeble voice, glancing at him through the webs of your eyelashes, fingers still molded into one another and shaking with such a capacity you thought you would shatter. “I do not even know your name”.

He gazes at you for a few mere seconds, seconds that feel impossibly long under the authority of his still eyes. He sits up, adjusting himself away from you, the palm that was clutched on your chair now nimbly easing itself off and back to his body. He now settles his interest on the wall of the room, you take it that he doesn’t wish to see your pathetic face trembling under him.

“It is Vergil. My name”, he states, matter-of-factly, his form still glistening under the light as it waxes and wanes, casting indistinguishable shadows along the walls. He holds his composure well, head held high with determination, and lack of regret.

‘Vergil’. You repeat his name, over and over in your head, as if it’s a mantra. “Vergil...”, you say it aloud this time, curiosity tinted in your sweet voice. You watch him, waiting for a sudden sneer, but he only shudders from your silken tone, as if he hungered to hear you say it. “My name is-”

“I know who you are, more than I care to admit”, he quite enjoyed interrupting your sentences, you dared not to bark back. You feared he would kill you if you did so.

“I have known you for a very long time” he huffs, voice thick now and heated “you have nowhere to run. You foolish thing. It is better just to listen”.

And what did you have that could possibly make you say no? A future, filled with endless experiences? A career, one that pays well and never puts a single callous along your frail hands? A family, something you can hold on to, rely on when you need it? Happiness, tranquility, security in yourself? These things did not exist. You had nothing, truly, and that is why you had offered yourself to him that night.

If not anything, your soul had no purpose. If not anything, it wouldn’t hurt to try with him.

“O-okay” you are suddenly stuttering on your own words; mouth unsteady with every syllable spoken, throat dry. You had not realized you were crying. Vergil finally turned to watch you; his emotions unreadable.

“The deal, let’s do it”.

You have learned his name.

You have learned how powerful promises can be.

The deal had been made, stamped by your own, sobbing words.

MONTH OF JANUARY ─ A STALKING PRESENCE

Vergil takes your words harder than the blow of any weapon. Your scent, your quivers, your voice, your promise. It visits him in his dreams, so much that he refuses even a second to close his eyes. It is all familiar, every night, any occurrence. The moment he drifts away, he is met with the red satin laid on the wooden table, the candelabra in the center, a dim light glowing on the apples of your cheeks. The pure smile that creases up on your lips. Then, your words of devotion.

You? Of all people? How dare you. You have ruined him.

He spends weeks in a fit of utter rage, in denial of the lust he feels for you. The want, no, the need to have you by his side.

Then, he gives in, deciding it will all just stop if he listens, and do what needs to be done to restore his sanity. Now he must have you. Make his dream come true.

You are naïve, and innocent. So stupid to not even catch him standing beside your bed, in your own home. His large, calloused hands would reach to rub gentle caresses into your resting face at night, watching your lips part to let out breathless sighs as you swayed toward him. Drool would draw slick against the corners of your mouth, bubbling on your pruned bottom lip, and Vergil would conceitedly swipe over it with his thumb, popping it in his mouth delicately to taste you. His tongue was greedy as it lapped over his thumb, he had to chain himself down, force himself not to kiss you.

“Hush, little one”, he would coo softly in your ear whenever you would whine from a nightmare, “it won't be long before I take you”.

He did this for months, watched you carefully, crept beside you like he was your own shadow. Made sure to fade into the crowds when you grew too close. He did well to figure you out, to deny his obvious feelings until he could not contain himself anymore.

Your neighborhood had been notorious for demon cases, a dangerous residence. He could not let this be. To imagine your life taken by some measly creature? To bury their teeth in your flesh? His flesh. Your body? His body. Your soul? His soul.

He had obliterated every object of evil that could possibly even lay a finger on you, even went out of his way to grab stalking humans that eyed you for too long, dragging them into alleys, his hands locking onto their neck and twisting just enough to hear a snap.

He has lived this cruel, tormenting life for too long. If this is the way he must have something, he will not spare any moment to have it. How sweetly you gave yourself up to him. Now, he will visit you. Take you. Own you, and never let you go. You would comply, wouldn’t you? You had told him yourself, you had nothing.

Your weakness made him tremble, made him thirst just as he did when he was young, 19 all over again.

He is selfish, he knows this. He does not care. Power is the only thing he knows, and power will get you to succumb to his touch, let him take you over and over, just as he did in all his wicked dreams.

You need him.

You need him.

You need him

You...need him?

5:00 PM ; APRIL 10TH ─ THE CLAIMING

He has taken you far away from the public, through wooded forests, and up into the billowing mountains, a manor he has promised you. A life that will no longer battle with you, only a future that is peaceful, as long as you promise to be his.

You have figured out that he only is kind when you obey his orders, and speak to him in a submissive, soft manner. It would be best not to challenge him, for your own good.

He does not speak to you when you travel to the manor, and you make no attempt to ask him anything, being that your jaw is locked, and your head is sweltering with panicked assumptions whenever you are near him.

He is tall, and looms over you like a giant when he stands. His legs are long, and he takes elegant, yet long strides. Tells you “make haste!” whenever you fall behind as he guides you through your new home, in which you rush up beside him shyly, gazing up at his face for guidance. He takes great notice of this, and grips his Yamato a little tighter, just as he always does whenever you grow too close. Maybe he found you annoying? Wanted to rip you to shreds with his beloved sword?

You did not know he was only simply holding himself back.

“Come” he beckons you over to him with his hand spread open, waiting patiently for you to take it. “I feel rather hungry, let us eat”, he suggests, and you oblige like the obedient soul that you must be for him. You place your smaller hand in his, watching as his fingers wrap over your knuckles greedily, his hand interlocking yours into his. Like a butterfly that has been trapped in the silken web of a black spider.

He only smiles as you shake in his possessive grip. “Feeling shy?”, he teases, but you shake your head in denial, which makes him only grin further, the dimples on his cheeks becoming pronounced. “Good, you mustn't be. Not with me”.

He takes you through the doors of the one room you have not seen yet, which is the dining room, and is wide and spacious just as much as the other parts of the house are. This is much more lavish than your apartment back in the desolate city.

The floors are wooden, and the walls are colored with a beautiful crimson red, which is a wonderful comparison to the red silk that is spread along the oaken table that sits strangely in the center, small candles sitting along the edge of the top, leaving the center depressingly empty. There are no chairs in sight, and you turn to question Vergil, only to catch him boldly staring back, his pupils enlarged and full just the same as the night he came to confess to you.

“Won’t you...” he licks his lips as he keeps his eyes trained on you, hand still squeezing onto yours firmly, “take a seat?”.

“But there is nowhere to sit”, you interject, batting your eyelashes in worry, gulping down a lump of uneasiness. He chuckles lowly in response, his reaction being so irregular that it terrified you.

“Well then, shall I help you?” he spoke to you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, biting gently down on the flesh of your earlobe. “Yes”, you squeak, and he guides you toward the table, pushing you down until you lay sprawled on top of the red satin, his gripping palm letting go of yours finally so he could peel off his long black coat. His arms now remain bare, muscles protruding as he grips your ankles and yanks you closer to him, casting your leg over his shoulder, your toes crazing over his leather vest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he has ripped your clothes off, one by one, impatient and selfish, a salacious side you have never seen from him before. “I like to claim what is mine”.

And claim he does, as he kisses marks into your precious skin, his teeth grazing over your body until his softness blends into primal, and the kisses transform into passionate bites. There are bruises along your neck, thick along your collarbone, sucked into your breasts, placed sloppily along the stretch of your stomach, and swollen along the flesh of your thighs. His saliva so slick against you, seeping into your pores, becoming one with your body.

“Please” you cry out a plead, fingers shaking and reaching out to grab him, you do not know what you are begging for. He just licks away your tears, tastes the saltiness of your sweat, swallows your lips into his, his nose brushing along your cheek as he finally gets to feel you against him, to taste your consent.

“Vergil” you whine breathlessly when he parts, his spit slobbered all over your bottom lip and down to your chin, his consuming kiss making your lips bright and puffy, all from his desire. He is gawking at you, eyes drinking you in, making sure he will ingrain this image of you in his head. It is that expression that you could never understand. Now you know, it is the expression of lust, of yearning desire.

“Tell me” his voice is akin to a growl, like a wolf that is ready to swallow its prey, “tell me that you are mine. That you belong to me. That your soul is mine to keep forever”.

The wax of the white candles dribble from the wick, become dry and hard along the oak of the table, they dance and shake in a ritualistic essence, wickedly excited when Vergil takes you, fills you up, chuckles when you grip shyly on his forearms with your shaking hands.

“Tell me” he coaxes out a throaty groan, rocking his hips into you, hip bones colliding with the flesh of your thighs. A sickening heat rushes to your face, makes you dizzy and apprehensive. You shelter your flustering face, whimpering from sudden pleasure.

“Do not hide your face from me”, he leans down, connecting his chest with yours, perfectly bottoming out within you, like two puzzle pieces that needed each other. He grabs the hand that you hide your face with between his pearly white teeth, canines biting down hard enough to draw blood in the center of your soft palm, your red liquid pooling on his lips, he only fucks you harder.

“I shall only be yours!” you cry out, palm feeling heavy under his tongue, the warm muscle lapping away at you as if your taste is divine.

“I am devoted to you!” he grunts at your words like a madman.

“I am yours, you can take me” he takes your fingers into his mouth, thrusts perfectly articulated, breath heavy. Candles still dancing with pride.

“My soul, is yours”.

He finishes, staking his claim.

MONTHS LATER ─ FINAL CONFESSION

Forks and knives collide and clash against porcelain plates, the light is dim, the dining room a sacred place for you and your husband. It is the evening that you two sit for dinner, Vergil keeping himself trained on you with a possessive glare.

You are tipsy from the wine he has served you, hiccupping from the heat that bubbles up inside your esophagus. A tingling aftertaste sweet on your tongue, you swallow, it only enhances. Your hands find themselves under the table, an index finger tracing the scar he impeded on your palm. A scar formulated from a rough love-making months ago, it is stunning compared to the ones on your arm and leg.

“Do you remember…” you start, soft-spoken, vision hazy and the surroundings seeming opaque, “do you remember when you saved me that night?”.

He smirks, seeing your question more as a challenge. His nails trace over the condensation on his glass, feeling the water topple along his skin and down to the leather of his glove.

“In our garden? Stopping you from falling in the rose bushes?”

You shake your head. He slicks back his white hair with an intrigued look on his face.

“The library, when I cast you aside before those books fell on you?”

You try to interject, he doesn’t let you. Rather, he smiles nonchalantly, a hint of jubilance in his tone.

“On our walk in the forest, when I slayed those wild animals who attempted to bite you?”

“That night Vergil, when we first met”.

He has stopped his glass mid air, lets it fall back on the table slowly, his attention still steady on you. You stop just the same, refusing to set a finger on your cutlery as you desperately await his answer.

“How could I forget?” he seems confused, and almost irritated. He stands from his chair, stalks over to you, his elegance dignified beside the luminescence of the candlelight.

“I had promised you my soul. My everything. You have given me much more than I had ever expected”

“Only what you deserve” he whispers, fingers tracing over your shoulders. Tracing “mine” over and over again.

“But why?” you choke, biting away at your swollen lips as you fluster at his lips pressing chaste pecks along your nape.

“Why?” he repeats your question, breath ghosting against your skin, yet another kiss is placed, and you gasp as he bites down.

“Because for you, I shall destroy myself”.

[sumicchin]

CHIMES OF THE HEART

❇ a wind breaker (satoru nii) reader insert.

CHAPTER 3

Sakura curses the world for not having the ability to teleport people in and out of his room. (2.5k words)

content warnings: female reader, awkward teenagers, cussing

Cafe Pothos was a safe haven for the students of Furin, and much to Kotoha's dismay, it often becomes a makeshift meeting place for very rowdy delinquent business.

The girl found herself cleaning up the tables as Umemiya and Hiragi talked by the counter, glasses seemingly looking like alcohol but actually filled with water (for dramatic purposes, Ume says).

"You were lookin' at the girl strangely earlier, 'sup with that?" Hiragi asks, snapping his friend out of a daze.

Umemiya hums as he puts down his beverage, "She looked familiar, is all."

"But we just met 'er."

"Maybe she appeared in a dream," Umemiya laughs.

Hiragi doesn't dismiss his friend though...he knows better than to doubt Bofurin's leader. He never declares something he's unsure of.

"Well, we can fish out information once the girl's feeling better." Hiragi says as he takes out a gas-kun10, feeling his stomach flip again.

Why are you two making it sound like she's a wanted criminal up for interrogation, Kotoha thinks as she's wiping the tables.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Two of probably the most awkward people in Japan stare each other down as if they're relaying some passage about the secrets of the world. 

Sakura could only think of unintelligible phrases in his mind, never had he locked gazes with the opposite sex this long. He tried to open his mouth but clammed up immediately, not knowing what to say in the first place.

Should he greet her or something? Talk about the weather? Or what about asking about how she's feeling at the moment.

Nah scrap that, he'll do the most Sakura thing ever.

"Are you fucking done sleeping?"

He fucked up, he thinks.

He earns a weird glare and just wishes he could die in a hole. Well, it isn't as bad as he thought it was, imagine if Suo was here. The girl groans and musters all her remaining strength to sit up, stressing Sakura out for the nth time that day.

"W-what are you doing?! You're supposed to be resting!"

"Need to go somewhere..." She struggled but soon was able to stand up, now noticing the change of clothes. The top is fleece with long sleeves, and her pants are made of cotton as well as socks. She's unfamiliar with it, but she often sees girls of her age wear the same thing when she visits the market.

The boy immediately regrets his very poor choice of words and aggression, dragging the sluggish girl by her arm back to the futon. "You can't go out, I promised to look after you!"

The girl just looks at him with annoyance.

"I don't need a babysitter..."

Sakura for some reason felt like he was dealing with his doppelganger, and now he understands how big of a saint the people around him are for being patient with him.

He thinks to himself how would his friends respond in this situation. How were they able to show kindness and patience towards someone like him? He calms himself and looks the girl straight in the eyes...

Face us when you're talking.

Sakura takes a deep breath, clearing his mind of aggression. "Look...I don't know what you've been through, and I won't force you to talk about it...but I ain't an enemy." The girl remains quiet, but her face is now free from turmoil.

Not having the energy to fight back, she could only respond with droopy eyes and a bit of a slur to her words, "You look very kind to me...no need to prove it." The boy heats up and starts yelling incoherent sentences, saying he's a very violent delinquent who's far from nice. Was he really becoming soft?

She chuckled as she sat down, taking the futon to her hands and begins folding it, "Thank you for letting me stay here, but you don't want a criminal inside your house."

Sakura scoffs and scratches the back of his neck, trying to formulate a sentence that would make her feel better for beating up people the other day. "Those guys were traffickers, you just gave them what they deserved." And that cops barely do jackshit in this town, apparently. This earns him an audible 'Oh' from the girl, now plopping the neatly folded futon in place. Sakura could only hope that she didn't smell drool from the bedding.

He notices her form relaxing, body now facing his. Not that he thinks violence should be normalized, but he swore to himself that those scumbags had it coming.

The two just stare at each other for a while, waiting who's going to continue the conversation. Unlike his conversations with Kotoha who usually takes the lead (and embarrasses the hell out of him), the current situation is calling for him to take the initiative.

"Just, stay here until you feel better...I don't mind," he feels his face heat up when he noticed the girl staring at him like he's part of the seven wonders of the world. "Whachu lookin' at?"

She shook her head, and saw her smile for the first time, "You're the handsomest person I've seen."

Sakura almost went into cardiac arrest.

He clutched his chest, feeling his chest beating erratically. He might be the one who needs to rest rather than the girl.

After a few seconds, Sakura felt himself calm down and think clearly. He concludes that this girl is dangerous, physically and mentally.

Now regained his footing, Sakura clears his throat and politely (surprisingly) asks for her name. He sees her hesitate for a moment, but one look at Sakura's honest eyes reassured her.

"(F/n)."

I just asked a girl her name, Sakura inwardly celebrates.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Sakura sets up the rice cooker that Kotoha left earlier, (F/n) watching as he takes out the ingredients. "Sorry this is where you had to rest...it was the closest from where you fainted." He takes out the bag of rice and dumps it in the pot, obviously not knowing how this works since he forgot to ask Kotoha for instructions.

(F/n) watches in dismay, grabbing the ingredients from the struggling boy. "I can cook," she just saved the rice grains and bits of meat from being turned into a disastrous meal. The girl grew up in a very secluded area with little to no technology, so she too unfortunately had no idea how to operate the machine, but one can hope to work a miracle. She asks the boy where to rinse the rice, to which he points at the sink. Back home, she had to walk to a well to gather water for everything. Having everything in one room is very convenient.

Sakura watched as (F/n) worked in the supposed kitchen of his apartment (just a sink). He observed that she seemed very used to doing chores, and he remembered what Suo said earlier.

Perhaps she works at an izakaya...or even a brothel.

It would make sense that she ran away from...that establishment, but he knew better than to assume.

"Regardless of what you say, I think it's comforting and warm here," she says while rinsing the rice and vegetables found in the bag Sakura was rummaging a while ago, "I feel safe already." Sakura pouts, fiddling with the rice cooker.

The ingredients were for chicken congee, so she'll do just that. "What was it like in your home anyways?" He asks, watching as the girl returns with rice, ginger, and chicken broth inside the pot. "Old, to say the least," she replies.

They both fiddle with the machine, taking turns acting like apes and eventually, they get the thing working. "I hope this actually works, I only saw this in a magazine," (F/n) recalls a page she read before.

The rice cooker, an asian home essential!

She proceeds to watch the machine intensely like a caveman discovering fire for the first time. Sakura saw his phone screen light up next to him, seeing tons of unseen messages from everyone. He unintentionally ghosted them from being too nervous earlier.

Nirei

DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO BOTH OF YOU?!

Sent a sticker [faint].

Suo

Is everything okay, Sakura?

You haven't answered our messages.

Umemiya

I know you get nervous around girls, but nii-san knows you got this! 😎👍

Kotoha

Don't break the rice cooker please!!!!

and lmk how she's doing!

Tsubaki

You better not be doing anything to her~

Kaji

be back tom to get my hoodie cuz they used it as her pillow

Sugishita

are u dead

Why the hell was Sugishita messaging him was his first thought, but he slowly replied to everyone's message and told them everything's all good, with the minor exception of his heart rate.

Sakura

everythingz fine sheesh

you guys can all visit tomorrow

were making congee right now

oh and her name is (f/n)

He decided to be brave today and use the camera function of his phone, taking a picture of the girl watching the rice cooker.

Cute, he thought while blushing to himself.

He sends the picture to his friends. Not even a second passed, he already received tons of replies.

Nirei

Cute!

Sent a sticker [love].

Kotoha

Ask her if she's feeling better!

Tell her the clothes I brought are for her btw!

Suo

She's like a child watching the rice cooker ^^

Tsugeura

TELL HER TO EAT TONS!!

Sent a sticker [eat].

Umemiya

Tell (F/n) I said hi!!!!

I will also bring her some of my special soup tomorrow!!!!

Hiragi

Make sure she's nourished well.

Kiryu

Sent a sticker [cute].

I left some medicine make sure she drinks it (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Tsubaki

CAN I VISIT RN???

PWEASEEE!!!! 🥺

Are these guys seriously gonna raid my house tomorrow?

Sakura feels (F/n) sit next to him and is now staring at his phone, letting out an audible gasp of amazement. "That's a real phone, right?" He nods, but more importantly, almost combusts from how close she is to him. This girl is going to give him a stroke.

"You haven't seen one?" Sakura thinks, but he's one to talk since he literally got his phone pretty recently. The girl next to him shakes her head, "Only in the magazines and books I've read."

"W-wanna use it?" He offers it to her, but she frantically shakes her head, "No no, I'm good with watching. I don't want to accidentally break your stuff..."

Socially challenged meets technologically challenged, the saga.

She's pretty cute like this...

(F/n) looks at him like a kicked puppy, "You're probably thinking I'm an idiot or something." Sakura immediately dismisses her and says he was basically the same before he arrived in town. He thanks the gods for giving him Nirei and Suo.

The girl mumbles an apology, obviously bothered based on the expression she's giving. "I'm just, overwhelmed is all...it's my first time out in a city, and I don't know anyone nor have anything on me."

Sakura knows exactly how it feels.

"Believe it or not, I had nothing before coming to this town." He recalls his first day, saving Kotoha and the rest was history. "I just beat up some guys and suddenly, I'm surrounded by all these people."

"Then they probably saw something in you."

Sakura looks at her, "Y-you aren't the first person to say that."

(F/n) smiles, "I can tell you're willing to go through lengths for the people you care."

Sakura gasps, telling her she's not making sense while stuttering. Facing her companion who's seemingly cosplaying a tomato, she lets out another chuckle, "It's a secret power of mine."

"S-shut up. First you were a ghost, and now you're acting like a psychic." (F/n) laughs, having too much fun teasing the boy next to her. "What's up with you earlier anyways?"

The girl stops laughing, fidgeting in her seat. "Ah... it's a long story." Sakura raises his brow, finally having the leverage over her, "I-it's not like I killed someone! Those guys suddenly came at me...and stuff happened." She starts telling him about what happened afterwards with matching gestures— searching for shelter, admitting to stealing a few things, and the encounter with the Furin students.

"So... I'm really grateful that I get to recover before I set out."

Well...that didn't answer anything, Sakura thinks. Now impatient, he starts taking the lead to make the conversation fruitful.

"Where do you need to go?"

"Huh?"

"I said, where do you need to go? I'll help you out."

"Some place called—"

 

The rice cooker dings and (F/n) whips her head towards the machine. "Oh, the congee is ready!" 

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

After a silent dinner, the boy refreshed himself and prepared to head for bed.

But he can't.

Not when he keeps constantly reminding himself that he's sleeping in close proximity to a girl. Said girl also was feeling restless that night, back facing Sakura as she sat in front of the curtainless large window with the moonlight illuminating the room.

Sakura was very curious about her. The damned congee machine cut her off while she was talking, and he's still trying to grasp at straws on why she's such a capable fighter. For now, he's letting her have a moment of peace. She hasn't uttered a word since dinner, did Sakura offend her somehow? Consumed by his thoughts, he was suddenly pulled out of a haze once he heard (F/n) mention his last name.

"Do you live alone, Sakura?" He takes a moment before answering, letting out  a hum and saying that it's been like that since he could remember. When was the last time he spent the night with someone else's presence? "But you have your friends, right?" He pauses for a bit, looking at the girl's back as if she had two heads. It's exactly what plagues him, the thought of letting people see through him...but he's learning to grow past that. 

He had friends that constantly remind him that he belongs.

"How does it feel..." the girl trails, turning to face Sakura, "to have friends you can rely on?" He notices her watery eyes, yet none of her tears fall. Sakura thinks back to the time he felt like he had no place in this world. It was painful, having to reject the kindness that others have shown him before. But as time passed, he grew longing for this interaction and found himself enjoying everyone's presence.

When did he start to feel sentimental?

The boy answers with a small "It's ok," while avoiding her gaze, but his thoughts say otherwise.

They mean the world to me, is what he truly meant.

(F/n) smiles, "Will you...let me indulge in something like that too?"

He goes silent, not knowing how to respond at first.

Sakura gets up from his previous fetal position to sit next to the girl.

They both watch the moon in comfortable silence.

"Stop acting like a cryptic then." Confused, (F/n) looks at Sakura and asks what he meant by it. He clicks his tongue, muttering something along the lines of 'Are you slow?'.

The room is barely lit by the moon, but it's enough to see his cheeks that were dusted with pink.

"As your friend, you gotta let me know what's on your mind before I can help you. I can't read minds, unlike you." The girl chuckles at Sakura's words. "So, where do you have to go?"

"Oh, a town called Makochi, I think..."

Sakura stares at the girl, with the emptiest expression he's ever pulled.

"What's with the face?" (F/n) grimaces, all of her comfort thrown out of the window.

This girl's gotta be pulling my leg.

"Can't believe I got myself involved with you."

need to remind myself to make a masterlist ww

[foodresearchlab]

Food Research Lab help you with an innovative beverage product (new to the world) which is entirely unique and different to pre-existing products. Example new technologies include genetically modified foods, extrusion, 3D printing, new ingredients etc.

[dataentryspecialist]

Will you make me tea?

(Soong brothers edition)

Data: Of course. As you order lemongrass green tea seventy-three point six seven percent of the time, would that be your preference? Or would you perhaps like to try an alternate blend? I have been formulating various herbal blends that I believe will have a pleasing effect on your palate based upon your favorite foods and beverage flavor profiles. I can bring you an assortment if you wish?

Lore: What am I? Your butler?

No! Don't get up. I'll get it.... Why are there over three hundred herbal blends in here?! Which one of these do you want?

[girlactionfigure]

🩸TERROR ATTACKS, ROCKET HITS - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - terror ramming and attempted stabbing, from a distance.  Not gory, but yes scary. )

⚠️(Kaan 11) vigilance is being raised for the possibility of another Iranian attack.

⭕FOR THE 2nd TIME TODAY - LONG RANGE HEZBOLLAH MISSILES at TEL AVIV, setting off alerts throughout central Israel. No injuries, however large pieces of missile debris falling causing damage and demonstrating why Home Front Command says wait 10 minutes after a siren.

⭕ROCKET HIT - AVIVIM (Northern town).. multiple people injured.  IDF: 50 rockets in the barrage.

⭕IDF - 150 rockets fired by HEZBOLLAH at Israeli civilians today.  1 killed, multiple injuries.

⭕HAMAS FIRES A ROCKET at Kissufim.  Intercepted.

▪️CIVILIAN FOUND DEAD IN Kfar Masaryk (Acre area, north) - in this vehicle, hit by SHRAPNEL FROM HEZBOLLAH ROCKETS.

▪️TERROR - RAMMING & ATTEMPTED STABBING - SHILOH INTERSECTION.. terror ramming of a 15 year old boy at a bus stop, followed by the terrorist exiting his vehicle and chasing a 26 year old woman to stab.  Civilian in another car exits, runs over and shoots the terrorist - saving the person being chased.  2 lightly injured.

▪️TERROR - DRIVE BY SHOOTING - JORDAN VALLEY..  An Arab terrorist shot at a vehicle and wounded two peace activists working the area.

▪️PETTY WAR POLITICS.. Yesh Atid's announces a decision to vote against the law to deport families of terrorists, because it is from the coalition.

▪️PM NETANYAHU SPOKE WITH PRESIDENT-ELECT TRUMP for 20 minutes, congratulating him. The conversation was warm and cordial. The Prime Minister congratulated Trump on his election victory, and the two agreed to work together for Israel's security. The two also discussed the Iranian threat.

▪️FOOD RECALL - SAN BENDETTO beverages.  Return or call company for refund.  Strange odor.  Avoid consuming.

▪️GAZA POLIO VAX CAMPAIGN COMPLETED.. (COGAT) completed with 2 rounds, hundreds of thousands of children vaccinated, hundreds of medical teams, and tactical pauses implemented with WHO and UNICEF.  93% under 10 vaxxed.

🔹NEW HEZBOLLAH LEADER SPEAKS.. pre-recorded to avoid being found.  “Hezbollah will fight because they have the will power to continue fighting, there is no political solution unless Israel surrenders, unless offered a political solution. Lebanese sovereignty must be maintained.”  Bizarre.

♦️LEBANON - IDF airstrikes in Danish, Beirut this evening.  Over 10 attacks.

♦️LEBANON - IDF airstrikes in Baalbek, northern Lebanon - with significant reports of deaths.

♦️LEBANON - IDF destroys (again) the Jarmash crossing from Syria - Lebanon in northeast Lebanon.

♦️LEBANON - Meiss al-jabal Municipality in southern Lebanon: The IDF has rigged the hospital in Meiss al-Jabal with explosives for demolition, declaring it in use as a Hezbollah military site.

♦️IDF CHIEF - “we must continue formulating plans for ongoing combat in Lebanon, including expanding and deepening IDF operations in Lebanon. We will implement these plans as needed.”

▪️COMMENTARY ON X - “Hezbollah claimed responsibility for launching a salvo of advanced missiles at the Tzrifin Israeli military base, near Ben Gurion Airport (hitting the airport).” - - So to be clear, you are pointing out Hezbollah intentionally fired at and hit a CIVILIAN airport in active operation - an obvious blatant war crime.   To be "proportional", are you ok with the IDF bombing the Rafik Hariri international airport in Beirut while planes are landing?

.. RELATED: Head of Beirut airport- Rumors of the airport being evacuated are fake news.

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

Smoke Signals (Sanegiyu Oneshot)

I’ve hyperfixated on this idea for like three weeks, and I’m so proud of this oneshot! I genuinely believe that this is one of the best things I’ve ever written ;)

Requests and asks are still open!

Warnings: swearing, drug usage (marijuana and alcohol), mention of depression, and poor self care maintenance

Synopsis: Sanemi and Giyu work together late at Kimetsu Academy and everyone's noticing Sanemi's gradual decline. After a particular comment made in the staff room after hours, Giyu formulates a plan to get his hotheaded coworker to finally open up

Word count: 8k~

Sanemi Shinazugawa was never one to open up about anything. He seemed to be on a personal mission to bite back at anyone who tried to approach him with some lovey dovey shit, so no one really know much about him. The entire staff of Kimetsu Academy had tried their own methods to get him to crack a little with no luck. Poor Kyojuro couldn't seem to make any progress with him after months of trying, and not even Obanai would share anything about the white haired man.

Giyu couldn't recall where his curiosity originated from, but it grew with every night he willingly stayed late at the Academy. He often took advantage of the quiet atmosphere of the nearly empty staff room on the second floor, using the time spent to grade assignments and plan his upcoming classes. Giyu doesn't sleep much anyways so he wasn't too worried about exhaustion catching up to him. However, lately when he finds himself evaluating coursework at his desk in the staff room, there would be none other than Sanemi Shinazugawa furiously grading math quizzes at the desk right next to them.

Both of them started teaching at Kimetsu Academy around the same time so they weren't necessarily unfamiliar with each other. At first the two never talked, both men opting to focus on their career than to go out of their way to be chummy with one another. But after getting roped into the weekend excursions that Tengen plans for their little group, Sanemi and Giyu started allowing the company of others in their lives. And now here they are, tackling their own responsibilities side by side in near silence.

Carrying two cups of coffee, Giyu slides back into his swivel chair at his desk and hands Sanemi the lighter coloured liquid. Sanemi sighs in relief and accepts the styrofoam cup and taking an eager sip of the steaming beverage.

"Thanks." Sanemi huffs. Giyu nods, wondering how anyone can drink coffee with three creams and five sugars. Neither of them found the stillness of the room uncomfortable, both men just simply enjoying the other's presence and the very warm coffee. It was maybe seven in the evening, the last remnants of the sun gracing the room. Sanemi seemed to allow himself a five minute break to re-energize, and Giyu couldn't stop himself from peeking over at him. He looked bone-tired, back pushing against the cushion of the chair he was sitting on and the back of Sanemi's wrist rested on his forehead. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his scarred face looked flushed. Giyu pursed his lips at the sight.

"Something bothering you?" Giyu asked. A pause passed between them despite the small thump of Giyu setting his black coffee on his desk. Sanemi didn't even register the question at first. When he did, Sanemi whipped his head back at Giyu in visible confusion.

"Huh?"

"You look tired." Giyu commented while holding eye contact. "Are you alright?"

Sanemi's eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his lips now turned upwards in anxiousness. The coffee rippled as Sanemi set it on his desk and reached for a pen.

"It's nothing, it'll sort itself out eventually." Not even looking over at Giyu to see his reaction, Sanemi focused his eyes to a spot on his desk. The pen found itself on a typical sticky note, scribbling on the yellow square a mess of knots and tangles. Ripping off the sticky note, he threw it in the recycling bin net to his leg and started scribbling on the next one too. "All things do."

Giyu was prepared for this kind of reaction. With all the anecdotes of other trying to get closer to Sanemi, this was expected. However, it threw Giyu off guard with how severe Sanemi's discomfort was at the question. From someone else's perspective, the frantic scribbling and ripping of sticky notes makes Sanemi look enraged. But Giyu didn't see it like that. Sanemi's eyes were frantic, as if he was trying to blur Giyu from his peripheral vision. There was just something in the way his brows furrowed and his lips pursed that just screamed panic.

Giyu decided to press forward. "Are you sleeping well?"

"I'm sleeping just fine."

"I don't think you are."

Sanemi scoffed and turned to Giyu, a look of disbelief apparent on his face. "Really?"

"You look awful."

A pause broke between the two men. Sanemi was giving Giyu the hardest stare he could muster with his fist clenched. Realizing what he just said, Giyu gulped nervously as he awkwardly held his gaze, solely fixated on Sanemi's wild eyes.

"I mean that nicely?" Sanemi raised a brow at Giyu. "It didn't- that didn't come out how I intended."

Sanemi lowered his gaze at Giyu, almost glaring at him, as he simultaneously placed another quiz in front of him to mark. Finally breaking eye contact, Sanemi downed the last of his coffee and got back to work. Shame bubbled and swirled in Giyu's stomach.

"We still on for Friday?" Sanemi asked, not looking up from his material.

"Uhm- yeah sure." Giyu stuttered. "I'll bring beer, as usual." It was hardly noticeable, but Sanemi nodded in acknowledgement at Giyu's offer.

Silence passed over the two again, occasionally interrupted by Sanemi turning a page or moving onto the next quiz. Giyu sat awkwardly next to him, sipping on his black coffee that has almost gone to room temperature by now. His mind was swirling, trying to come up with something, anything, to say to Sanemi. But he just didn't have the words.

"I'm really sorry-"

"It's fine," Sanemi interrupted. "Don't lose your head, Tomioka."

Giyu was taken aback at Sanemi's abruptness. He wasn't really sure what to make of it. Despite Sanemi's reassurance, Giyu just knew that there's more to this conversation. And more than anything, he was worried. His hands started to shake and jerk as Giyu tried to think of something to say again. But this was a sensitive matter, at least to Giyu, and that he had to be careful about what he said next or else Sanemi's resentment may worsen.

"I just want you to know," Giyu began, fiddling with his twitching fingers. "That if you ever need someone to talk to, you got me."

Sanemi froze, emptily gazing at the quiz he was in the middle of marking with a pen in his right hand. His grasp on the pen fluttered from clenching and letting go, clearly trying to process Giyu's words carefully. By the time he faced Giyu, Sanemi seemed to be conflicted. The inner turmoil was very apparent in his expression, and if Giyu didn't know any better, he would even say that Sanemi looked like he was pleading with him.

"Look, I don't know what you want to get out of me but I'm not budging. Do I look intoxicated to you? Just get back to work."

Sanemi immediately turned back to his stack of math quizzes and marking ledger with a huff. Before Giyu could protest anything, Sanemi had already started furiously scribbling scores and passing paper after paper onto another pile of marked quizzes on the opposite side of his desktop. Giyu frowned and considered Sanemi's last remark, after all, he did already have plans to have dinner at his place on the upcoming Friday. If these were the terms that Sanemi set, then who was he to try and match them?

Giyu Tomioka was fair game.

The rest of the week pretty quickly, much to Giyu's growing anticipation. His plan was already set in motion, with the help of a flamboyant art teacher in the Academy's faculty of course. After consulting the best way to approach this with Kyojuro and Shinobu for the past few days, Giyu felt more confident about his visit with Sanemi on Friday.

However what most worried him was Sanemi's declining state over the week. With ever passing, Sanemi seemed more and more drained. Students started voicing their concerns with other teachers, mainly reporting to Kyojuro and Kanae to see if there's any way they can ask him to take a few days off. Sanemi apparently have gotten more stern on the curriculum, now assigning more pop quizzes and instead of teaching the material at the beginning of class and allowing the remaining time for students to work independently, instead Sanemi will demonstrate more methods and quadratic equations. Student were starting to get overwhelmed with the amount of times Sanemi would stress that what he was teaching was going to be on the test the upcoming Monday.

Unable to find a way to approach this issue professionally, Giyu just put his faith in his coworkers to hopefully alleviate the tension between Sanemi and his students. He saw Kyojuro and Gyomei approach Genya about the issue with no luck. as he also seemed resentful at the situation before him. His worry only seemed to grow with every passing day.

When Friday approached, Giyu buzzed the call button in the lobby of the apartment complex a few after classes had ended for the day. In his other hand was a plastic bag that had some supplied for how he was hoping to spend the night with Sanemi. The call button clicked an a voice spoke through the crunchy sounding speaker.

"Name and business." It ordered.

"...Uh, it's Giyu? I brought some stuff up for tonight." The speaker clicked again.

"Come on up."

The lobby door opened automatically, allowing Giyu to pass the receptionist and reach the elevator. He was already used to this route, so Giyu already knew to ignore the elevator's worrying clunk when it passed the fifth floor, that the eighth floor that the Shinazugawa's resided in usually smelled of lavender scented detergent. as well as to be weary of the tuxedo cat that had a habit of wandering into the elevator during it's escapades. Giyu crouched to pet the little guy, Joji from 912. Continuing down the hall, Giyu could feel his mouth salivating at the smell of several families cooking dinner. Sanemi usually made simple yet well balanced meals, and for a moment Giyu started to wonder what he made.

Arriving at Sanemi's flat, Giyu knocked on the door just below the steel plated numbers that read 923. The sound of shuffling and faint music could be heard from inside the apartment, but the door didn't open. Giyu's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he knocked again, but then a high pitched beep rang from the other side of the door.

"Ah shit- Just open the door! Kinda busy here-" Sanemi shouted.

The beeping stopped and was replaced with rustling metal. Giyu felt awkward about opening the door to someone else's place on his own, but then again, Sanemi seemed to be too preoccupied to open the door. Hesitating, Giyu slowly rotated the doorknob and peeked his head in. The scent of whatever Sanemi was cooking immediately wafted towards the draft from the door, making the rumbling of Giyu's stomach embarrassingly audible. His mouth filled with saliva again as shoes were hastily torn off and left on the genkan. Giyu slid on some slippers that he found near the front door, and stepped up onto the hardwood of the apartment.

In the kitchen, Sanemi was swiftly chopping some kind of vegetable with efficiency and ease, immediately dumping it in the small pot that sat on the gas stove. Moving onto the next burner, a shallow pan had two pieces of salmon softly sizzling in a sauce. Sanemi took a spoon and gently basted them in the glaze. Setting the plastic bag he held onto the kitchen island, Giyu pulled out one of the barstools that hid underneath it and sat down.

Amongst the various sounds of dinner being prepared, a record player was playing 80's rock softly through the apartment. The tune was catchy and the electric guitar solo seemed to escalate and drive the song without it baring out the drums or the base. Sanemi's place was decorated with a mature yet angsty feel that might not have worked for most people, but seemed to suit Sanemi quite well. What caught Giyu's attention the most was an electric guitar with a black angular body hung up on the wall near the living area. What was strange about it is that there was no amp to be seen, and the fretboard of the guitar had a noticeable layer of dust atop the black acrylic. Seems like it hadn't been used in a while.

A door slammed open, rocking some of the other objects hung on the wall a little. Giyu jumped in his seat in surprise, as he turned his head to find the source of the noise. Genya was bent over to pick over a rugged backpack that was unceremoniously shoven next to a side table in the living room, and stomped back to his room to fill it with some folded clothes that sat on the edge of his bed.

"Good evening, Genya."

Genya only grunted in response, too busy packing his backpack to properly greet Giyu. The air was thick with tension, causing Giyu to squirm in the barstool as Sanemi watched Genya sternly. This kind of atmosphere was unusual for the Shinazugawa brothers, serving the impression that something was clearly amiss. Genya was normally apprehensively friendly with Giyu, usually because of how awkward he was around new people. And sure they were both hotheaded, but Sanemi normally found a way to work around that for the both of them for Genya's sake.

"I'm going out." Genya slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the front door swiftly to but on some shoes. Sanemi gawked at him.

"I told you that you're not going anywhere until you take your studies seriously." Sanemi argued.

"It's a study group." Genya hopped on one foot as he struggled to put his combat boots on. "Tanjiro arranged it."

"Until I see your quiz on Monday, you're staying here until you get your shit sorted."

"Seriously? If anyone needs to get a hold of themselves, it's you." Genya groaned, grabbing a coat and opening the door. "I'll be back in the morning."

The front door slammed shut and shook the walls once again. Giyu's jaw was dropped at the interaction he just witnessed before him, chest still tightened in discomfort. Sanemi's back was still turned from Giyu but it was obvious he was pissed. He had stopped stirring for a few moments, his hand making claws as he shook them in anger. When he stopped, Sanemi turned towards Giyu and gestured at the door as if that explained anything.

"Do you see what I have to deal with? He's just so-" Sanemi waved his hand in the air. "You know? Ughhhh!"

Giyu nodded frantically, trying to show his best that he understood. He didn't have the heart to tell him that he, in fact, had no idea what just happened between Sanemi and Genya. Utterly lost at this point, Giyu felt a bit helpless. He wanted to reach out to Sanemi, but it was too soon to execute the plan right now. Standing up wordlessly from the barstool, Giyu started to set the table neatly for the two of them.

When the table was set, Giyu checked in on Sanemi. He was still hovering over the stovetop, but now he was fiercely muttering under his breath. Giyu stood next to him, leaning over the granite countertop and watching Sanemi cook dinner. Sanemi didn't even change out of his work clothes, still wearing a white collared shirt and black slacks. His blazer was nowhere to be seen, but his shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach like when he joins in on Tengen's plans on the weekends.

"Rough week?" Giyu asked.

Sanemi snorted. "You have no idea."

Giyu patted Sanemi's shoulder lightly in reassurance. He could almost see the struggle on Sanemi's own worries and stresses were his own. The cotton felt rough and stiff under his hand that lingered a little longer on Sanemi than he originally intended. Silence overtook them again, standing side by side by the stove.

Dinner went a bit more smoothly once both men started digging in. Sanemi had cooked a glazed salmon, rice, a light salad and a small pot of stew on the side. The cold beers that Giyu had brought from the convenience store paired well with the meal, following the recommendation from the green haired teen who worked there. The two chatted between bites, mainly about work related topics and their students. Giyu was tempted to ask about Genya or Sanemi's sleep schedule, but he he held off knowing that he still had a plan to approach this, sitting at his feet in the plastic bag.

"What about you?" Sanemi inquired, taking another sip of his beer. "Are you still eating well?"

Giyu cringed internally, trying not to show it.

"Tanjiro told me that he only sees you buy bread at his bakery. Dude, you're a fitness teacher. You know you need to get some nutrition to wrangle all those damn kids."

Giyu glanced down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. "It's not all bad, I'm supporting a local business."

"Bullshit!" Sanemi interjected with an appalled smirk on his face. "If you don't start taking better care of yourself, I'm going to start making lunches for you if it means you eat properly."

"You don't have to, Sanemi you have enough on your plate already."

"People are worried Giyu- hell, I am too! If you just let me-"

"I'm worried about you too."

Giyu stared at Sanemi in concern, his fidgeting coming to a halt as he focused on the hotheaded man in front of him. Sanemi once again put on the spot, seemed to be at a loss for excuses. Defeated, he just slumped in his chair and stared at the empty plate as Giyu downed the rest of his beer. He sat up and placed his folded hands in front of him on the table, trying to find Sanemi's gaze. Sanemi refused to look at him.

"I thought about what you said a few days ago, Sanemi."

Giyu leaned over to the side and reached into the plastic bag next to him on the floor. Sanemi's eyes followed his movements and watched him pull a small tin container out of the bag and placed it on the table, right in the middle. Giyu carefully glanced at Sanemi, confusion apparent on his face as he stared at the box. Sanemi looked up at Giyu again.

"I have a proposition for you." Giyu leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Sanemi sat up straight and finished the rest of his beer, gesturing for him to continue.

"Everyone knows that you're not really one to talk about your feelings, which is fair! You don't have to open up to us if you don't feel comfortable. But you're clearly struggling, Sanemi. And I want to help."

Sanemi's eyes furrowed at Giyu's confession, jaw clenched as he nodded slightly. "Actually, I got this idea when you asked me if you look intoxicated when I started to question your sleep." Giyu finished.

Sanemi was taken aback, at first not really understanding what Giyu was implying by that statement. Giyu leaned back to the side, the plastic bag rustling again. But then it hit Sanemi.

There was no fucking way.

Sanemi reached for the tin box on his dining table and grabbed it swiftly. The metal was cool to the touch and the container was decorated with two large stickers that covered the top and bottom of it. Flipping open the creaky lid, inside the metal box were four joints. Looking back at Giyu, there were now two stacks of index cards atop the dining table in front of him.

"If you don't want to do this, that's fine." Giyu reassured. "I won't be mad or anything. but since it was something you mentioned, I thought that if we-"

"Sure." Sanemi agreed.

Giyu tilted his head. "What?"

"I'm down." Sanemi reiterated, closing the lid of the box with a smile on his face. "Whatever you have planned here, I say we do it."

Giyu couldn't believe it. He had a whole speech prepared on how everyone knew Sanemi was having problems, and how they all cared about him. He wanted to tell Sanemi how many people were willing to do anything to pitch in to cheer him up, to reignite and rejuvenate the hardass attitude and his motivation that he lost in the last week. Giyu was genuinely shocked that he didn't need to say any of that, Sanemi had just accepted that he was worried. And that he was willing to take a chance on him, because that was enough. Barely able to hold it back at this realization, Giyu beamed at Sanemi.

It didn't take long for the two men to clean up the leftover clutter from dinner, Sanemi quickly washed dishes and left them on the drying rack as Giyu wiped down the table, dried the dishes on the rack and put them away. This had become so routine to them both that Giyu already knew where everything was meant to be placed. The two worked together silently, still processing the previous discussion. Giyu felt hopeful. Once they were done, Sanemi led Giyu to the balcony through the sliding door by the dining table. The lock clicked as Sanemi opened it smoothly and stepped through and toward the evening sky. The balcony was made of concrete with a clothesline connecting from Sanemi's building to the one across the street from them. Some plants in terracotta pots decorated the corners of the balcony. All of them held fresh herbs except for one large pot, with scorch marks along the inner walls and a pile of ash sitting at the bottom. The small balcony also held a small loveseat sofa with a tiny table sat in front of it. The balcony was crowded, but lived in and welcoming.

Giyu took a seat on the sofa, which was made of a firm plastic except for the cushions. Sanemi took a seat beside him and crossed his ankle over his knee. They were shoulder to shoulder with barely an inch of space between them. Giyu handled Sanemi the blue stack of index card while he held onto the yellow stack. Sanemi took the tin out of his pocket and examined the stickers carefully.

"Why did you bring four? I don't even think we can get to two, dumbass." Sanemi chuckled.

"I got them from Tengen, actually."

"Of course." Sanemi took out a joint and gave it to Giyu to hold for the time being. "Guessing from the club named on the box, I'm assuming that's his too."

Giyu nodded, agreeding that he wouldn't be one to hold onto stickers that featured the logos of the local clubs and bars around the area, especially with how high end the names were.

"He insisted I hold onto some extra, so I thought I might as well for next time."

Sanemi placed the tin box on the table in front of them. "Next time?"

"Well, yeah." Giyu mumbled. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to finish all these cards tonight, in case you wanted a break or feel the need to stop." His hands twitched again, prompting Giyu to look down and fiddle with them. "I want this to be a good experience, not one where you feel pressured."

Sanemi nodded again, his lips slightly upturned at Giyu's thoughtfulness. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a zippo lighter with a wind spinner engraved on the side.

"Do you smoke?" Sanemi asked, flipping the cap of the lighter easily.

Giyu shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest. "Once or twice."

Sanemi lit the joint and Giyu watched the end of it flutter with heat before glowing in the dark lightly. Bringing it to his lips, Sanemi took a long drag of the joint before handing it to Giyu. A bit out of his territory, Giyu took a small take of the joint so he wouldn't be forced to cough a little. Sanemi finally let out a sigh after holding in the smoke, immediately laughing under his breath.

"Fuckkkk, I haven't done this in years." Sanemi looked pleased, taking back the joint and flipping through the blue index cards sat on his thigh. "How do you want to go about this?"

"You ask a question from a yellow card, I answer first and then you answer. Then I ask a question from the blue cards, you answer and then I do too."

"What if we don't want to answer that question?"

"You don't have to." Giyu shrugged. I won't insist it."

Sanemi took another drag of the joint, pulled out a card, and exhaled deeply. "How would you introduce yourself if you two were strangers?"

"Hi, I'm Giyu Tomioka." He began. "I'm the Phys-Ed teacher of Kimetsu Academy."

Sanemi grimaced, finding it awkward to play along with him. "Sanemi Shinazugawa. Math teacher of Kimetsu Academy."

"I guess we're not stranger anymore." Giyu joked.

Sanemi handed back the joint, bouncing one of his legs as he waited for Giyu's turn. As he took a hit of the marijuana, Sanemi started to feel anxious about the questions they had in their hands. Sure Giyu was more quiet and careful with his words, but Sanemi found it intimidating how natural it seems to Giyu. Sanemi started to second guess agreeing to this game of his.

"What's your favourite colour, Sanemi?"

"Who came up with these questions?" Sanemi snorted. "Uh, green. A light green."

Giyu returned the joint. "Blue."

Sanemi held the roll between his lips as he pulled out another card. He took another drag and red out the question. "What are you currently feeling?"

"Scared. Excited, but scared." He started drawing circles on his knees as he relaxed.

"You're scared?" Sanemi repeated in disbelief. "This seems so easy for you."

Giyu shook his head. "It's not really, I don't really talk to anyone like this. But I'm glad that we are, talking like this." Giyu tucked his hair behind his ears. "I'm just focused on hearing you out."

Sanemi leaned back a bit. "I'm fucking terrified, you have no idea. It's one thing being afraid to hear what someone might tell you, but it's another thing willing yourself to say it."

The environment seemed eerily tense, both men watching the dark sky roll with clouds as the weed fogged the air a little. The pungent smell seemed to thicken with the anticipation for the next question. Giyu took another drag of the joint, but inhaled a little bit too much than he could handle. Sputtering into a couch, Sanemi grinned wildly and patted Giyu excitedly on the back.

"There we go!" Sanemi cheered. "Atta boy, you alright?"

Giyu blushed in embarrassment. "Yeah. Next question, ummm..." He flipped to the next card. "When was the last time you cried by yourself? In front of someone else?"

Sanemi's hesitance didn't go unnoticed by Giyu. "You don't have to if you don't want-"

"No no, I got this." Sanemi reassured, probably more to himself rather than Giyu. "The last time I cried by myself was when I got shanked last May after a rough day." He pulled down the pit of his sleeve to show the small scar on his shoulder along the myriad of the other several scars. "It wasn't that painful, it just was my last straw that day."

"And in front of someone?" Giyu asked as he leaned closer to Sanemi's shoulder to take a closer look.

"About a year ago. Bad breakup, and Obanai happened to find me." Sanemi pulled the shirt back up, but kept it unbuttoned as usual. He stuck his hand out and Giyu passed the joint back to him.

"Last time I cried in front of someone was when someone close to me had died." The whisper was barely audible, but Sanemi heard it clear enough for a pang of guilt to strike him in the chest. Just how much did they not know about each other?

"And by myself, last night."

Sanemi turned to Giyu in concern. "Why were you crying?"

"I don't know." Giyu gestured vaguely around, a bit more sluggish than usual. "I just do sometimes."

Sanemi placed the joint down on an ashtray on the table, but Giyu immediately reached for it and took another drag. He looked more comfortable in his hits now.

"Next question." Sanemi pulled out a card. "What's your favourite quality about yourself?"

Giyu stared at the balcony above them, trying to find an answer. "Ugh I don't know- my eyes? I don't really like much about myself."

"You do have really pretty eyes." Sanemi agreed. "I would say my muscles." Sanemi tilted his head towards Giyu with a stupidly sly smirk on his face. "I show them off for a reason, you know?"

"I don't blame you." Giyu turned in his seat so his shoulder pressed into the back of the sofa more so his body was turned to Sanemi, now able to see him more clearly. His knees touched Sanemi's shoulder from the way that they were pressed into his chest. "Any specific area that you're particularly proud of?"

Sanemi's grin widened. "My six pack. Do you have any idea how badly core workouts burn after-"

"It's an eight pack." Giyu corrected.

The two men froze in place, staring at each other in disbelief. Sanemi's jaw was dropped at what Giyu just said, he leaned in closer to reach his reaction a bit better. Giyu was no better himself, the apples of his cheeks were glowing bright red in the dim lighting. Sanemi's shock turned into a smile and a small chuckle which turned to a fit a giggles until he was finally roaring with laughter. Giyu had part of his face covered with his hand to show that he too was laughing under his breath. The two laughed until their sides hurt and calmed down from the sudden outburst. Once they were able to speak without giggling, Giyu pulled out another card.

"If a crystal ball could tell you any truth about yourself, your life, or the world, what would you want to know?"

"If I'm raising Genya right." Sanemi heaved. "He's a hot headed troublemaker like me, but he has good friends. He's a good kid at heart." Sanemi sighed worryingly and shifted on the couch until him and Giyu were finally shoulder to shoulder. "I'm just scared that the world is too harsh to give that kid a chance."

Giyu took another hit of the joint. "I think you're doing a great job, you two are just too similar. It's why you don't see eye to eye."

"No it's more than that, I fucked up this week. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on him and now he probably hates me." Sanemi took a deep breath of the evening air around him. "What about you?"

"I would want to know... what waits for us on the other side?" Giyu took another drag of the roll in his fingertips. "Life is hard, Sanemi, especially when you can't trust anyone to be there for you when things get ugly. Living like that, it brings loneliness..."

Sanemi wrapped his arms around Giyu, bringing him closer in an effort to comfort him. "It gets better, Giyu. You just need to stick around long enough to see it."

Giyu didn't want to say it, not right now, but he really appreciated Sanemi's affirmations. He was overwhelmed with many emotions, as it had been more than a decade since he was able to talk to another person so openly. He just hoped that Sanemi didn't see how he brought the edge of his sleeve to his eyes, wiping away a few tears of gratitude.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Giyu sniffed. "Next question?"

Sanemi pulled out a card. "What's something you and your partner appear to have in common?" He stated quizzically at the index card. "Are either of us even in a relationship?"

"No it's-" Giyu had to pause in order to gather his thoughts, starting to feel them swirl around in the air with the smoke. I think it means us, we're partners in this game."

Nodding in agreement, Sanemi looked at Giyu and patiently awaited his answer.

"I think we both expect more from the future than we're ever gonna get. Given our track record so far I mean."

There was a light pause between the two men, letting Giyu stew in his emotions until he felt the need to lighten up a bit. "No offense, Sanemi."

"None taken." He shrugged. "Can I pass this one? My answer is some fucking sappy shit, you probably don't want to hear that."

"I want to hear it." Giyu pressed. "If you want to pass you can, but I want to hear it."

Sanemi rolled his eyes in anxiety, he grabbed Giyu's wrist lightly and brought his hand to his face, taking a hit of the joint deeply. He felt the marijuana immediately calm his nerves as he exhaled. He met Giyu's ocean blue eyes again, now a bit more bloodshot than he expected. Gently, het let go of Giyu's wrist and sat up straight. For a moment Sanemi considered finishing off the joint for the both of them.

"I think..." Sanemi started, rubbing his knees a little to ease his nerves. "I think we're both more content solving someone else's problem than to deal with our issues ourselves."

Giyu watched Sanemi's face intently as he said this. The white haired man really tried to hide it, but Giyu managed to catch a view of a tear sliding down his cheek slowly. Giyu moved his feet down from the sofa, and reached forward. He pulled Sanemi in for a hug by his shoulder, though he wasn't sure how welcome it was because Giyu was really stiff. Sanemi accepted the gesture, instinctively holding onto him tightly with shaky arms.

"Thank you." Giyu whispered lightly, almost inaudible over the traffic below them. Sanemi only hummed in response. The embrace was incredibly awkward for Giyu, unsure if he was doing this properly. He can't remember the last time he had someone in his arms that wasn't a fling. Giyu felt out of practice.

Sanemi pulled away after a few still minutes, much to Giyu's disappointment. Pulling out another card exasperatedly, Sanemi read the neatly printed text aloud. "What's something that you've been meaning to do for a while, and why haven't you done it?"

Pausing thoughtfully, Giyu took a few minutes to think of an appropriate answer. He had one, but he wasn't sure if it

was something he would want to breathe out into the world. Sanemi's reason for being afraid to play this game started to make sense now that he found himself in the same position. Sanemi gave Giyu a reassuring smile, and placed his hand on his shoulder. Giyu took his hand into his own and held them gently in his lap.

"To get to know you." Giyu confessed. "I couldn't find a good way to approach it."

"Really?" Sanemi sighed, a joking grin stretched across his lips. "I think you did a great job with this though."

"You think so?"

"Do you really think I would've done this with anyone, dumbass?"

Giyu beamed again, satisfaction present in his eyes. Sanemi squeezed his hand, and Giyu shifted again so that his legs draped Sanemi's arm of the couch. The joint was long forgotten, the butt of it tossed onto an ashtray. Sanemi didn't object to either.

"I've been meaning to go through my records." He sighed, mentally adding that to his endless list of things to do. He wasn't sure if that list ever dwindled in the first place. "I feel like some of them don't fit me anymore."

Giyu tilted his head in confusion. "I thought you would've said have Genya teach you the guitar. I saw it on the wall."

"Hah! No, that old thing is mine." Sanemi laughed hearily at the assumption Giyu made. "I used to be in a band back in teacher's collage, but it didn't work out. Now it just collects dust."

"I would like to hear you play sometime."

"I doubt it, I'm rusty as hell." Sanemi shook his head, memories flooding back of how much he loved the sleek black guitar when he was younger. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if I remember how."

Giyu shrugged. "You'd figure it out, you always do."

Leaning forward, Giyu rested his head on Sanemi's shoulder as gently as he could. The added support allowed him to regain himself as a wave of dizziness came over him. Sanemi rested his cheek atop hi head, relaxing into his touch. Sanemi continued to watch the night sky as an airplane soared above them, while Giyu still stared at his lap. Sanemi's hands were the same size as his, but scarred and rough. He traced over the white lines.

"Sanemi?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Giyu interlocked his hands into Sanemi's. a silent plead of encouragement that he was listening. Sanemi rubbed his thumbs on the back of Giyu's palms.

"No." He breathed, the scent of Giyu's conditioner filling his lungs. "I haven't been sleeping, you were right on that."

"Do you get nightmares?" Giyu mumbled groggily.

"No it's not that." Sanemi shook his head gently, still holding onto Giyu's hands tightly. "I've just been thinking a lot lately. I've been trying to drown it out by working more, but I don't think that's fair to my students." His palms started to sweat, but Giyu didn't pull away. "And then Genya failed one of my quizzes, so we've been fighting all week."

The glare of the city lights blinded Sanemi from watching the peaceful liveliness of the evening that surrounded him and his balcony. He thought about how everyone lived their own little lives apart from his, and he wondered how much of it he impacted. How much stress he might've caused to everyone around him.

"I just thought," Sanemi whimpered defeatedly. "That if I buried myself in work, that I wouldn't have time to think. or feel, and I would just claw my way through each day. I would just get through it anyways." Tears clouded his vision, the glares of light growing brighter. "Look where it fucking got me."

Giyu was nearly crying alongside him, sniffling quietly and figuring with both of their hands. Sanemi's head brought a good weight to his, comfortable with how much he was relying on him in the moment.

"The anger is just a front, you know. There's no denial in the anger and the fighting, but I try to hold it onto it at work. For my own sake." Sanemi chuckled dryly at himself. "You know, I really fucking hated you."

Giyu's bottom lip quivered. "Seriously?"

"Hated your fucking guts." Sanemi affirmed, taking his hands from Giyu and resting his arms down Giyu's back. "You're actually content with yourself. Or at least you're content enough to actually allow yourself to think about your life." Giyu's back was warm, but he still felt him shiver. "I'm still jealous that you don't feel the need to drown everything out every damn second of your day. You can think, and you can say what you're thinking."

"You're wrong." Giyu argued. "I don't talk about it. I constantly feel like I'm drowning, but I don't want to say anything because I don't want more people drowning with me. Have you seen me at work? I don't even talk much, not even when we're at the club."

Sanemi recoiled back, lifting his cheek off his head and looking Giyu in the eyes. "Since when have you- why?"

"Huh?" Giyu was trying to concentrate with how fuzzy he was feeling, trying to focus on Sanemi's wild eyes.

"Why don't you talk more? You're talking plenty with me right now."

"Because it's you." Giyu cursed under his breath, his gaze exploring every swirl of Sanemi's plum coloured irises. "Because I want to talk to you more."

Sanemi could barely grasp Giyu's expression, his mind hazed with weed and the serenity of the moment. His spine tingled in the cold evening air as he tried his best to stay present and not drift off into another swarm of thoughts.

"You said that you couldn't do this with anyone." Giyu huffed as if he'd been holding in his breath for the past minute. His gaze still fixed on Sanemi. "Why me?"

Sanemi pressed his forehead to Giyu's, grounding himself to create a response. But he had none, his mind was blanking out on him. The effects of the marijuana bubbled in his throat and he couldn't stop himself from spouting some shit he'd probably regret when he's sober. And yet he found himself with the same answer as Giyu.

"Because it's you." Sanemi whispered as if he had just reached that conclusion just now. "I wouldn't want anyone else. Just you."

Finally looking into Giyu's eyes, Sanemi saw a world of life that he hadn't seen in Giyu for ages, maybe ever. The blue of his irises rose and crashed like the waved of an ocean, but it wasn't chaotic. It was alive, and raw, and so full of emotion that he swore that he could feel seasick just looking at it. Giyu's pupils were dilated so much that Sanemi could see the reflection of an airplane he'd spotted earlier in the night, making him wonder why he hadn't felt the need to escape where he was. For all he cared the rest of the world around him didn't faze him. All that mattered right now was himself, Giyu, and his little balcony.

"Damn, your eyes are pretty."

"What-"

Sanemi interrupted him by pressing his lips to Giyu's, hasty but gentle. He was bracing himself for Giyu to take him by the shoulders an push him away in disgust. But it never came. Instead, Giyu lightly took a hold of Sanemi's waist and tilted his head. Sanemi's ribs tingled at Giyu's touch as the seasickness returned to the pit of his stomach. Fingers threading through his long hair, Sanemi took a hold of Giyu's roots and pulled him impossibly closer. Giyu tried to regain control by slowing down, kissing him back so lazily that it forced Sanemi to follow his lead. Warmth flooded through their veins, a tender but fleeting moment that they both enjoyed with no remorse or regret. Giyu pulled away for air and pressed his forehead to Sanemi. Both tried to catch their breath as the world around them continued to move and sway with the beat of their hearts loud in their ears.

"I'm tired." Sanemi's stated, still holding onto the back of Giyu's shirt.

A pleased grin stretched across Giyu's face. "Let's get you to bed."

Letting the index cards fall and scatter across the concrete floor of the balcony, Giyu helped Sanemi stand up, leading him by one arm on his shoulder and his other hand on the sliding door and leading him inside. The walk to Sanemi's bedroom was short, but Giyu had to take a second to remember the way you need to jostle the door in order to open it. Inside was Sanemi's bed, a flatscreen TV, a nightstand that stored several books on quantum physics and a small closet in the corner of the room. Giyu laid Sanemi down on the left side of the bed and returned from the kitchen to bring him a glass of water. Sanemi appeared to be very mellow, and had changed into sweatpants and left his chest bare in the warm apartment. Obviously fighting off sleep.

This wasn't the first time that Giyu stayed overnight at the Shinazugawa's, and this wouldn't be the last either. But it's happened often enough that Giyu knew that Sanemi kept the extra blankets in a spare cabinet in the living room. Giyu made sure that Sanemi was comfortable before turning to retreat to the couch to also catch up on some sleep. A rough hand on his wrist prevented him from leaving.

"Stay." Sanemi exhaustedly begged Giyu, a pleading look in his tired eyes. "Please stay."

Giyu contemplated for a moment if he wanted to respect Sanemi's personal space, as he's never been this close to him before. His heart pounding even harder in his eardrums was drowning out the voice of reason that still persisted despite his intoxicated state. And on any other occasion, he would've listened to it. But after Sanemi lifted the duvet for the right side of his bed, inviting him without a word uttered, Giyu gave in. He wandered to the opposite side of the room and crawled in the shockingly cold bed. Sanemi was laid on his back, watching Giyu settle onto his stomach and draped an arm over Sanemi's waist. His head was resting on Sanemi's shoulder and their legs intertwined together at the foot of the bed.

Giyu pressed a kiss to Sanemi's cheekbone and bid him a restful sleep. Settling back into Sanemi's neck, Giyu rested his head on Sanemi's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Sanemi's eyes were fixated on the flat ceiling above them as he relished in the company of the man laying beside him. He could blame all this on the weed in the morning. He could chalk up the sappy conversations, the tears shed between the two of them, and the gentle kiss on the marijuana they shared on the balcony. The smell of which might get him in trouble later. But he didn't want to deny it after tonight. Not when it was Giyu. Sanemi's eyes drooped in the quiet apartment, the night still bustling outside but he paid no mind to it. And though he would never say it out loud, Sanemi thanked Giyu. For the first time in over a week, Sanemi had drifted off to a dreamless sleep in the dead of the night.

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

I know this one was super long but if you made it this far, THANK YOU! Writing this oneshot has been an absolute pleasure and I’m so happy I’ve got it done after MONTHS of thinking about it T_T

In other announcements, I have two requests being filled out! One of them is about a quarter done while the other is just over halfway and I’m hoping to post one of them before my finals ;)

Also thank you for 150 followers! I really appreciate anyone who visits this blog and reads my work ^^

Requests and asks are still open, please read the rules before submitting anything ^^

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I don't know if you're ask box is currently open, I couldn't really tell but I really like your yandere alpha asks and I was wondering if you could do either 2p England or 1p America, please 🥺

I think I did 1p America as an Alpha at one point so I’ll do 2p England also this post will be kinda spicy and mention gore because ya know it’s OLIVER. So read at your own risk.

⭐️🌟⭐️🌟 Enjoy🌟⭐️🌟⭐️

He eats Betas because to him they’re a versatile meat he can use when he cooks. Their blood is reserved for his teas, cakes, and soup thickener / base. He refrains from eating Omegas since the poor weak things already have a difficult time within society. They’re lower class and depending on that and the range of skills they have, looks, birth are just a few factors that contribute to one’s overall quality of life. Plus Oliver an Omegas blood is only tasty if it’s someone he’s bonded to. He will only hunt down an Alpha if he’s assigned to do so by his boss.

He’s 100% will control how his S/O will look at all times. He’s got coordinated couples outfits: sleepwear, tea-party, casual walk in the park, you name it he has an outfit for it. And yes, you better believe that it’s pink with maybe a few blue pieces here and there.

You have to be able to maneuver yourself through a ground caked in glass shards, discarded needles, and murder weapons most of which a pills or knives. What I mean by this is you have to be able to read his mood shifts. It can help you formulate sentences that won’t leave you chained to a wall or a chair for an evening. One way to see his mood shifts is that his eyes will flicker with colors. But if they turn blood red or they’re simultaneously blue and pink… that's the sign to RUN. Other colors along with the intensity and duration are other things you’d want to look out for. It aids you in dictating the severity of how he took what you said or did . So plan accordingly when you speak to him. It’s like trying to navigate a rabid mind field .

It take him about a month of obsessing over you for him to finally make his feelings known to you. He’ll intentionally sit next to you at meetings, just happen to be at the same brunch spot as you, and know exactly what to bring when it comes to your beverage you’d want from the local coffee shop. But be warned that the coffee he brings you has low dosage magic pills he’s concocted. They make you think of him more often and even have lucid dreams with him. It’s one that he will harvest for future dreams he can savor in his spare time before you decides to ensnare you. Not to mention that your psyche is no longer safe and will belong to him.

It’s 1000% too late when pastel sugary treats appear at your place of work and implores you to have tea with him. It will instruct that you wear the outfit that has been provided date and time plus he even arranges for a ride to come and fetch you on the day of. Depending on if you say yes or no to this will dictate how he treats you from there.

If you say yes

Things will be easier in the beginning. Oliver will be the kindest alpha to you albeit the staring he does at you is off putting when you go on your first date with him. “Oh poppet you’re simply just too cute not to stare at!”

He already formulated a magical contract if you seem hesitant to continue to move forward with a relationship with him. Oliver will do his best to highlight only the positives that you’ll benefit from if you become his. Things like never having to cook, spill some of his magical secrets to you and raising your overall socioeconomic status. You’ll want for nothing more. The catch will be that your freedom to do anything without him or one of his trusted magical beings hovering over you 24/7. The spells he offers are all superficial illusions and other basic things like levitation of small items etc. (Oliver is smart enough to know to not teach you anything that could give you ideas about escape or leaving him)

If you say no

You’ll be relieved when you find that he decides to be absent for a few weeks after you reject him. But that is only the calm before the storm because Oliver is PISSED that you’d dare to reject him. He’s been at home prepping a perfume that has his musk and a potion that was designed just for you. He crafts a bottle that is beautiful and can draw any eye in and masks it as one of your own bottles. Both his musk and the potion together make a poignant concoction. You will put it on the following day after it’s completion and you’ll be unaware of what’s happened to you once it hits your nostrils. You’ll be knocked out instantly. Oliver’s friends from the darkness will drag you right to him and you’ll be slapped right into having a tense conversation with him on how dare you deny him what he deserves. Oliver’s teeth will be showcased a lot through it. He wants to mark you with his hungry teeth so no one can tell him that you don’t belong to him.

He’s also going to be putting a ton of aphrodisiacs in all of what you’ll consume that night. Right down to the water you drink. You’re going to be horny out of your mind so much so that Oliver won’t be able to handle it either and he will also have to drug himself in order to keep up although he’s amazed that you are able to milk him dry. It’s highly likely he will form a knot with you on the first night.

During Rut

Oh god he’s frantic as hell and kinda helpless when he’s in rut. He will dote on you and be subtle (kinda … not really) about how much he needs tender loving. Oliver will do things he thinks are sexy but it’s either wow that’s creepy or pfffffft please calm down.

Examples:

The slightest bits of affection in terms of physical touch will make him orgasm.

When he cuddles you on the couch, you touch your foot to his under the table at tea, or if he does something as simple as kissing your hand. His face is red, he’s totally holding back a guttural moan, and his pants are tighter than they should be. So he either is trying to have sex with you for longer periods or he’s running around like a confused bat out of hell who doesn’t know what do do when they have a crush and a majorly excited. Or on the very rare occasion he’ll lock himself in his study with some suppressants and wait it out.

He’ll want to stare at you for a good 20 minutes or so before he has his way with you. Sometimes he does this while playing with a knife or making a new brew.

Or he will draw out some of your blood and he will have you watch him make a special tea with it. This according to him helps him last long while he rams himself into you.

He can be cute when he preps an entire spread of sweets for you to try (some may or may not have a poor unfortunate soul within them.) as a sweet yet intimate way to get you into bed. This normally only happens at night when the moon is full and completed with saccharine candles that put your mind at ease.

[aliantic]

Baldurston: A Baldur's Gate 3/Bridgerton Crossover

Summary: Navigating the Sword Coast was full of adventures - thrilling fights, daring deceptions, and even a hint of romance. However, when the party travels through a portal and winds up in the world of 1800s London, they know their path has been drastically changed. The world that was once theirs is no more - now, they are amongst the Bridgertons. Can they leave their old ways behind and navigate the complex social dynamics of the ton?

Chapter 20: Karlach

Baldurston Masterlist

“Benedict Bridgerton?” Lady Danbury said, as she set down the latest copy of Lady Whistledown.

Karlach, who had been in the middle of sipping her tea, nearly choked on the beverage. She seemed to be the only person in town who was not instantly interested in hearing whatever this mysterious lady said, but, she thought ruefully, that maybe she should be if she was going to be involved in it. After a small coughing fit, she said “he invited me to dance! I thought you wanted me to dance with the men of the ton!”

“Oh, I have no objection to it,” Lady Danbury said, with a slight raise of her eyebrow. “In fact, Violet Bridgerton frequently comes for tea, although I fear she’s most likely had her hands full with young Miss Bridgerton’s debut this year.” She folded the paper and set it down on the table, picking up her own tea. “I do hope you do your best to avoid scandal with the Bridgerton boy, however. That family has enough to deal with, especially after the Thompson debacle last year.”

“All we did was dance, I swear,” Karlach said. “He saw that I was rubbish at it, and he was kind enough to show me how the dance went.”

“If my brother did not teach you how to dance before sending you to presentment, I relish my chance to have a word or two with him the next time he stops by. Now the rebellious streak,” she said, lightly tapping her cane against Karlach’s shoe, “you might have inherited from myself.”

Karlach smiled. Even in her short time here, she had heard tales of so many people being afraid to even talk to her aunt, but she’d never seen anything other than abject pleasantness. Well, at least not anything else aimed at her. “So you’re not particularly concerned about my ruining the family image?” she asked, a small smile on her face.

Lady Danbury chuckled. “My dear, if you think running off to dance with a man will ruin our family image, clearly you have not spent enough time with me. I dare say, plenty of members of the ton have found me to be scandalous a time or two, yet I’ve not had a word said to my face.”

“Except by Miss Bridgerton,” Karlach said. Hyacinth, the youngest of the Bridgerton children, had already started the habit of coming over once a week to read to Lady Danbury, who claimed that her eyes were too old to read. Never mind that she had plenty of ability to read Lady Whistledown, Karlach thought. She suspected the old bat had just wanted a friend before she had arrived, and Karlach couldn’t think of a better match for Lady Danbruy than Hyacinth. Both were such spitfires that she was nearly in trouble.

Lady Danbury lightly tipped her cup in Karlach’s direction in acknowledgment, and Karlach watched as it very nearly spilled over the side. “One might argue whether the young Miss Bridgerton has any sense of fear in her bones.”

“And why should she, with such a mentor,” Karlach smiled.

Lady Danbury took a long sip of tea, which made her uncharacteristically quiet for a moment too long. Karlach hadn’t been here very long - hells, it had only been about a week since they had come through the portal, hadn’t it? - but even she knew the old lady enough to tell that she was formulating a plan. Not that that meant much, as she had formulated no less than four plans since they’d met. From what she’d gathered, making plans (particularly matchmaking plans) and working to enact them was what she spent 99% of her life doing. Part of Karlach missed certain aspects of hard labor and the feeling of a job well done. Other parts were grateful for a rest, and if Lady D wanted to scheme her into a match with someone, that was fine with her. She wasn’t planning on being stuck here forever, in this weak body that wasn’t even allowed to express much in terms of emotion, much less rage. If she could find someone to sleep with before then, she might as well enjoy herself.

And, well, if Benedict was anywhere near as good of a lay as he was a dancer, she would happily welcome that.

“In fact,” Lady Danbury said, abruptly thumping her cane on the ground and pushing herself up. Karlach immediately jumped up to help her, but she had already righted herself with far more grace than Karlach would have expected, just before once again leaning heavily on her cane for support. She would never say it to Lady D, but with some of her movements, Karlach severely doubted that she needed her cane as much as she claimed to. “I believe I was supposed to call on my dear Violet this morning.”

Karlach narrowed her eyes. “You just so happened to be calling on Mrs. Bridgerton this morning? And you just remembered after reading Lady Whistledown?”

“Strange how memories work some days, is it not? Now, come, child - the good Lord knows I can’t escort myself.”

Karlach rolled her eyes, but followed Lady Danbury as she walked out to her carriage, her cane thumps accompanying her monologue. Karlach nodded along and tried to pretend she was paying attention, but in reality, she was thinking about how quickly the marriage market moved in this place and, even though she was excited about the prospect of sleeping with someone again, she had no idea how long it would take for them to be able to get back through the portal. She hadn’t really had a chance to meet with the rest of them save for small chat at the ball, but she couldn’t really ask them if they’d had a chance to search for the portal then, could she? Gods know that she hadn’t been able to go out and look for it herself. Despite their ridiculous expectation that a lady be monitored at all times (to protect her reputation, she knew, but still, did they honestly not think that any of the women of the ton could protect themselves?), Lady Danbury asked her where she was going nearly every time she stood up from her chair. While Lady D was ultimately pretty unconcerned with her family’s reputation for a while, she was still nosy as all get out, and Karlach was pretty sure “I’m searching for a magical portal to take me back to my home world,” would do nothing other than concern and confusion. And Karlach definitely didn’t want to spend her time in this world locked in a mental institution unable to get out. 

“Don’t you agree?” Lady D suddenly interrupted, suddenly pulling Karlach’s mind back to reality. Or as close to reality as she could get at the time being.

“I’m afraid my mind drifted off,” she answered truthfully, “but I want to say yes?”

“Always a good plan when one is talking to someone like myself,” Lady Danbury agreed. “I was saying that fall is a lovely time for a wedding, is it not?”

Karlach stopped, putting the reluctant Lady Danbury with her. “I’ve had one night dancing with him!” she protested.

“In which you danced more times than is generally considered proper,” Lady Danbury said, lightly whacking the side of Karlach’s leg with her cane. “I said I didn’t mind. I didn’t say it would get you out of the wedding.”

“We are not about to force Benedict to propose to me!” Karlach nearly yelled. She could feel the panic welling up in her body - that sudden flush of heat in her chest that reminded her too much of her old infernal heart, which just made her current heart beat faster.

“Of course,” Lady Danbury said. “We’re not forcing anyone to do anything. But still,” she said, pulling Karlach forward again, “when it happens, my personal vote is for a fall wedding. We’ll see what he says when we arrive.”

[sanjisprincesswifey]

Can I request Law with prompt 10🙇🏾‍♀️ preferably fem!reader<333

note: some jealous law? of course you can request that! some of the best law, in my opinion :)

♡: female reader. 700+ words. sfw content.

though the bar you were in was loud, conversations and glasses clattering echoed against the stone walls, law’s cold dead stare was vociferous when present. from the bar, he watches as you join the strawhat girls in smothering the captain with kisses and affection.

as much of an annoyance as luffy was, nothing he had ever done annoyed him to this extent…and the strawhat captain didn’t even do anything to begin with.

ever since the alliance between the two crews, law had noticed your attachment to the captain. always following him around, accompanying him on his missions and meals, and even sleeping in the same bed as him from time to time.

…don’t ask law how he found that out…

as you stumble up from your seat, luffy pouting as you walk away, you stagger up to the bar where your captain and the other heart pirates are at.

you wave down the bartender, ordering a drink before noticing your captain who wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was staring at you.

“oh hey captain,” you hiccup, smiling at him which doesn’t change his expression. “want me to order you something?” you ask, blissfully too drunk to notice how unhappy he was.

his jaw clenches as he swallows harshly. “no, i’m good. thanks,” he blanky says. he immediately regrets saying no as you take the finished drink from the bartender, spinning on your heel to return to luffy.

out of instinct, law reaches out to grab your hand, gripping it tightly to prevent you from leaving and pulling you toward him.

your hand reaches for his shoulder, clinging to his strong body for stability as you whip your head around, your vision a bit blurry from the alcohol you had consumed.

“captain? you alright?” you ask, half confused, half too drunk to understand what was happening.

his unprecedented action results in the other heart pirates to stare at the captain confused as well, never having seen him react in such a way towards you. even law was shocked by his actions but refuses to let you go regardless.

he stares into your eyes, your pupils dilated and wide from all the drinks.

“captain?” you ask again, “are you sure you’re okay? you look distressed.” you attempt to recognize his emotions the best you can, but this one was new on him; one he had never worn before.

law opens his mouth to speak, but his brain cannot formulate any into a cohesive sentence. the way he was feeling didn’t even make sense to him. “i don’t want you going back to strawhat, y/n,” he manages to blurt out, his voice is too quiet for you to hear. but you read his lips perfectly causing your jaw drops open slightly.

law’s eyes widen slightly, his brows furrowing together when he realizes what he had said, more so when he realizes you had heard what he said.

“are you jealous?” you yell loud enough for him to hear.

upon hearing that, he releases your hand defensively and aggressively shakes his head no. the both of you stare at each other for a minute before you hesitantly look back at luffy, who was waving you down to return. you share some more confusing eye contact with your captain before taking a few steps toward luffy.

law doesn’t even try to bite his tongue when he notices luffy has his eye on you once again. “i’m not jealous… you’re just mine,” law calls out which has you stopping dead in your tracks.

slowly, you turn your head around to meet the eye of your now-blushing captain. “not mine…my crew, i meant my crew,” he embarrassingly attempts to cover up, taking a sip of his dark beverage.

as gracefully as you could, you saunter over to him and lean down to be at eye level with him. law doesn’t enjoy the sudden switch of power, a feeling he has not once felt before.

you glance down at his hand, which held his cup close to his lips, noticing the two straws that danced around the edge of the glass. you edge closer to him, your lips nearing his as you scoop the straws with your tongue, taking the two thin straws between your teeth as your take a sip of his liquor.

law’s eyes are focusing on your lips the entire time, his lips parted as he feels your heated gaze on him. leaning closer to his ear, your lips brush his skin smiling when you can feel him stiffen underneath you.

“if you wanted me to be yours, all you had to do was ask.”

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