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jimraisedmeup · 5 months

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TICK // 18.1 - devil woman

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, graphic sexual content)

Word Count: 1600

A/N: *fun, dirty, fluffy ;)

☾

I've had nothing, but bad luck Since the day I saw the cat at my door So I came into you sweet lady Answering your mystical call

☾

May 16, 1984 - junior year

Neither of you could sleep that night after vandalizing Higgins' house. Maybe it was the thrill of breaking the law, or maybe it was the thrill of sneaking your boyfriend into your room.

The more time that went on, the more you realized just how much you loved disobeying rules and keeping little secrets to yourself. Eddie's risky, unpredictable behavior was gradually rubbing off on you.

Regardless, you could never get enough of spending time with Eddie, talking to him for hours about random shit.

"Didn't you tell me a while back that your parents wouldn't let you have a lock on your door?"

Eddie laid beside you, interlocking his bandaged fingers with yours. You chuckled to yourself at his question. Turning on your side to look at him, you memorized every detail of his face, even in the darkened bedroom.

You looked at him nearly every day, and still you couldn't help it. The idea of ever forgetting this beautiful face was a rotten intrusive thought that crossed your mind, like the flashing, haunted memories of a bad dream.

Pushing away any unwelcome worries, you traced a finger over the tattoo on his bare chest.

"Yeah, they used to be like that. Before my mom left."

The brown eyed boy, half naked in your bed, lifted an eyebrow at you. "Who installed the lock?"

"I did."

"Really?"

"Is it that hard to imagine a woman using a screwdriver?"

Eddie snorted, running a hand down his face. "No, that's not what I meant. I don't know. I've never installed a lock before. I guess I'm just constantly impressed by you."

You didn't immediately respond to his compliment, choosing instead to stare at him quietly, blushing like an idiot at his words.

But then you were suddenly reminded of Eddie's surprise party you had planned that upcoming weekend.

"What are you doing this weekend? Saturday night?"

He pretended to think for a moment, humming to himself. "Oh, you know, the usual… I have a few cars lined up to throw some fireworks at… Hopper even said he might join me. And then I was thinking of following in my dad's footsteps and selling some drugs since I got kicked out of sch-"

"Eddie!" you hissed at him, pinching the pale skin of his ribcage.

"Ow! Sorry! Bad joke, too soon." Eddie rolled over to face you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I have Hellfire Club on Friday night. I'm all yours on Saturday."

You inched closer to him. "My dad is going out of town this weekend," you mumbled, reaching a hand slowly towards his boxer shorts. "You can come stay the night here again. I kind of like harboring fugitives in my bedroom."

His breath hitched as you made contact with his cock through the thin fabric.

"I… uh," the boy stuttered, grabbing onto your waist. "I'm not exactly a fugitive. Just a criminal."

You kissed him gently at first, trying to draw him in closer, if possible. You could tell by Eddie's heavy breathing and the hardness between his legs that he enjoyed your indirect touch, your short nails just slightly skimming his most sensitive parts through the shorts.

Eddie twitched when you grabbed his length completely. His hands roamed your chest, pushing up your loose shirt.

The feeling of his teeth on your nipples was one of your favorite things - Eddie was almost always focused on pleasure, not so much pain. But when it came to your breasts, he seemed to be an animal unhinged, biting you, leaving love marks on the undersides of them.

You had always been a little self-conscious about your breasts, but the man in your arms now made you feel like every flaw you ever thought you had, was actually perfection in disguise.

You had to stifle the noises that threatened to leave your mouth when he bit you roughly. You pulled down his shorts, giving into your complete need for him. Eddie must have felt it, too, because he lifted his hips without hesitation to allow you to undress him.

"I don't have a condom," he mumbled against your skin, the tips of his fingers already inside of you.

"That's fine."

You crawled onto him, straddling him, purposely pressing your damp panties against his cock.

Eddie's face held a playful smile, his hands pulling at the elastic of your underwear. "Umm... are you crazy? I'm not about to risk it for the biscuit."

You leaned forward, laying a small kiss to his jaw.

"I wasn't asking you to risk anything."

Your kisses trailed lower… past the tattoo on his chest, past the birthmark near his hip bone that you had memorized like the back of your hand.

"I figured…" you dug your nails into his thighs, making him gasp. "I figured I kind of owe you after all your hard work earlier."

You winked at him, and then took him into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck."

☾

Crystal ball on the table Showing the future, the past Same cat with them evil eyes And I knew it was a spell she cast

☾

After a few hours of sleep that night, you successfully flung Eddie out of your bedroom window so he could make his grand escape.

He had arranged for Gareth and his older brother to pick him up around the corner, away from Richard Buckley's oblivious presence downstairs.

You entered the kitchen casually, grabbing a coffee mug and pouring yourself some of the hot, dark liquid. You tried to ignore the pleasure you felt from your sore breasts as they made contact with the fabric of your sweater, memories of your fun night with Eddie still clear in your mind.

Your daydreaming didn't last long, though.

"So, I see that you brought my truck back in one piece."

Shit.

You choked on your coffee, not realizing that your father was in the doorway. His arms were crossed with the daily paper tucked under them.

"Dad! I can explain." You put down the mug, holding your hands up in front of you. "Let me explain."

He glared at you for a moment, and didn't let you continue. "What explanation do you have? That is my work truck, young lady, not some beat up car you can take for a joyride in the middle of the night."

You tried to rack your brain for an excuse, or even how your father knew you left last night at all. He was a notoriously heavy sleeper. But you didn't have to wonder for long as your dad kept talking, his face turning red with anger.

"Kate woke in the middle of the night and saw the truck pulling back in the driveway. She claims that there were three people coming back into the house. So help me God, girl, if you brought that hellion into my home…"

Shit, shit, shit.

And then the voice of your savior sounded from the stairs.

"That was my friend… Ashley," Robin said with unexpected confidence. "Long, brown, curly hair? Yeah, her parents were fighting last night so I wanted to go pick her up."

Richard Buckley was ten times more likely to believe Robin over you. It had always been that way, stemming from you ditching church on Sundays in your freshman year and becoming permanent the day you discovered his affair. He was never one to hide the fact that Robin was his favorite daughter.

He sighed, pressing down the sparse patch of hair on the top of his shiny head.

"You should have asked me first, Robin."

"We didn't want to wake you," Robin replied simply, passing him in the doorway and making her way to the fridge for orange juice. "C'mon, sis, we're about to miss the bus."

On your way to the bus stop on the corner, you squinted through your sunglasses at the morning sun. Your younger sister strolled beside you, blue eyes amused.

"Did you and Ashley have fun last night?" she said with a grin, voice heavy with insinuation.

"Oh, yeah, she's quite a lovely girl."

☾

She's just a devil woman With evil on her mind Beware the devil woman She's gonna get you

☾

"Well, well. Look who it is, the lucky man of the hour," Gareth bumped fists with Eddie as he leapt into the car.

"Thanks for the ride, fellas. I couldn't stick around there much longer. Hell hath no fury like a dickhead father scorned."

Gareth's older brother, Taron, bumped fists with him too. "Don't sweat it, I have to drive this little shit to school anyways." He was a year or two older than Eddie and one of the original members of the Hellfire Club.

Ignoring his brother's rude remark, Gareth craned his neck towards Eddie in the backseat. "So… details?"

The Munson boy's face was stone cold. "Since when do I give you any details?"

"Well, I have to live vicariously through someone until Chrissy Cunningham notices me," Gareth explained, fiddling with the dials on the radio. "Plus, your girlfriend's kinda hot."

Eddie let out a bark of genuine laughter. "Chrissy and Jason have been together since, like, kindergarten. Keep dreaming, big boy."

Then he smacked Gareth on the back of the head. "And that's for calling my girl kinda hot. When, obviously, she is really hot."

☾

I drank the potion she offered me I found myself on the floor Then I looked in those big green eyes And I wondered what I'd came there for

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Devin Woman" by Cliff Richard)

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

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elvisabutler · 2 years

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virtue

summary: you are the sort of person gladys should have never let her son interact with. elvis will always listen to his mama, except when it comes to you. you like taking advantage of this. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley pairing: austin butler elvis x female reader rating: m. word count: 3058 warnings: corruption kink. religious undertones. religious overtones. comparing elvis to a cherub. defiling a church. sub elvis, tbh. unprotected p in v sex. mild breeding kink implication, i think. author's note: welcome to a late day 21 for kinktober, corruption kink with austin!elvis. okay so. i'm unhinged just a little this month. sometimes you can't pick what you want and then someone chooses 50s elvis ( cough @blurredcolour ) and you think i want to wreck that man then this happens. yeah. i don't mean anything bad by it, so if you are religious, sorry about this. also yes there is a difference in pronunciation of mama and momma when elvis says it in this. one means you, the other means his actual mother. also almost made this gender neutral, didn't because i haven't quite mastered the art of full sex with gender neutral so i chickened out, but i have a few more austin elvis parts of kinktober so don't worry it'll happen. and you know the usual you can imagine real elvis with this i don't mind.

Elvis is a good southern boy, all manners and charm wrapped into a drawling package. You've known from the second you laid eyes on him that he is a good boy. Except, Elvis is also a bit of a brat, and you'd like to blame his mama for that but- well, deep down inside of you there was a good southern woman who knew how to mind their elders lest you get your ass whooped from here to kingdom come so you can't very well talk bad about her. Elvis- he's innocent enough, all blushes and mild stutters as Scotty and Bill and DJ are making lewd jokes. Elvis a good church going boy and you used to be a good church going girl yourself- a different denomination but honestly your daddy would have never taken you to anything but a Catholic mass- but you had stopped a while back, finding it more suffocating than anything comforting. Still, it doesn't stop you from leaning against Elvis's pink Cadillac waiting for him. You know there's a chance his fans will swarm you and him but your plan means you'll take the risk gladly.

"Darlin'?" Elvis's voice is questioning as he managed to force his way through a small crowd of fans at the church doors. His face- his smile at you despite his confusion makes you remember all those paintings of cherubs and you find a grin blossoming on your own face. Your little cherub, pleased as punch to see you just as you're pleased to see him. "What're you doin' here?"

"I came to see my favorite person." My favorite boy. "And I know it's Sunday so of course you'd be-"

"At church. Oh mama, missed me that much?" His cheeks flush as he looks down at the ground, and then up your legs, eyeing how your skirt errs just slightly on the side of too short and gulping. "You know you shouldn't be wearin' somethin' like that. They're gonna- you know what they're gonna say."

Your answering laugh has him biting his lip as he watches the line of your throat. He just got out of church and you've got him thinking every sinful thought under the sun already. "That I'm a loose woman and that you really oughta stay away from me? Please, we both know I'm irresistible to you. Besides, we both know you love how loose I am."

Elvis has to choke back a groan, especially as he feels your hands pull him closer to you, grasping at his butt and squeezing. "We're in public and outside the church, baby." He says trying to gain control of the situation, all while his head nuzzles into your neck. "God you smell wonderful. New-"

"Perfume." You finish his thought before your allow one of your hands to slide up to his head, running your fingers through his hair. There's a hum that comes from Elvis that causes you to smirk as you pull just lightly on his hair. A part of you is aware his fans are staring, the churchgoers are staring, but Elvis is your boyfriend and you'd like everyone to be vividly aware of it. "How was church?"

Elvis's eyes are hooded when he looks at you, all heat and hidden promise, because he knows you're teasing him. He knows you're teasing him right after church because you think it's fun. He wonders if you're going to ask him what you always ask him when you show up like this every month. "Good. Enlightening, they were talking about resisting temptation. How it's hard nowadays especially with me and my gyrations."

Your laugh sounds downright sinister as the last bit of Elvis's fans and the church goers walk by the pair of you. It earns you a few looks and glares but you choose to ignore them, instead focusing on how Elvis is murmuring apologies to them as they walk by. He's not apologizing for you, you know he cares for you too much but he has to keep up appearances or else he'll hear it from his manager. "Resisting temptation?" Your hand that had been used to pull him close moves to his front, starting at his torso before you slide it down to the front of his pants. "From whom, the devil or everyone else?"

Elvis whispers your name and it comes out practically as a hiss as he can't help but buck his hips against your hand. "Baby. Don't- we're in front of the church. They'll see."

The last word, his last word comes out as a whine, and you move to kiss him, allowing yourself to cup his quickly hardening cock through his slacks. You had him inching toward where you wanted him, just maybe a few tiny pushes left and he'd be exactly where you wanted him. You'd both be exactly where you want to be. Your hand squeezes just a bit as Elvis gasps and grabs at your wrist.

"Mama." A pause. "Darlin'- you're the temptation for me right now. It'd kill my momma if she heard I did something like this after church. In front of the church." He sounds almost pleading, but with whom you don't know. He's had sex before, told you in a rush of apologies about the one girl on the road and while you'd have killed him for it, you find it didn't mean anything. Not like how it would mean between the two of you. The road had taken so much already and you'd be damned if it would take much more. It was your job to ruin him, not a Carny manager and Bill's stupid need to a stimulant that he thought your boyfriend needed.

Your eyes dart around the area, noting that in the time you've been standing there people have found their way to their cars and to their paths to walk home. There is- in short no one still left on the property but you and you imagine the priest- pastor- you forget what Elvis calls the person leading the congregation. It is exactly what you want to see, it's exactly what you need to see. Your mouth moves to his ear, nipping at his earlobe just slightly. "Who said anything about being in front of the church. I wouldn't let everyone see you like this. They might think they could make you feel as good as I will."

A gust of wind blows by the two of you, forcing you both to tilt a little toward the door of the church. The next words out of your boyfriend surprise you in ways you hadn't thought he was capable of doing to you. "Don't suppose you think that's God's way of telling us to go in there, do ya?" He asks, his face still the picture of an innocent cherub sent to charm you but with his tone- oh his tone- rivaling that of the Devil himself, sent to defile you and and anyone you wanted.

The second you hear those words you know you've won this one, you get to have Elvis where you want to have him. You get to corrupt this good Southern boy- this good church going boy into what you want- what you need. "I think that's exactly what God wants us to do, sweetheart."

The pastor is- you're assuming- at his house nearby on the property, unlike most priests you had known this pastor refrained from cleaning up after a service until the last minute, something about how he wanted the service to settle, whatever that meant. So you had some time, not that you or Elvis were going to need it from the way he's pushing you up against a bench, his lips igniting a fire in between your legs and on your skin. You're letting him take control for this original space of time- allowing him to think he's the one in charge, that this was his plan all along, that he wanted to fuck his girlfriend in a church. The truth is the exact opposite but as smart as Elvis can be about some things- he misses cues like this, misses knowing that you were the one who planned this that you're the heathen dragging this boy to hell by defiling him in a church.

"Wanna make you feel good, mama. Wanna feel good." He murmurs, his drawl slurring his words together like they're molasses. His hips rut against you, seeking some form of release before your hand moves to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. "What- you're already undoing my-"

A laugh leaves your lips before you kiss his own, biting softly in order to make them just a hair redder and a little more plump. He looks- he's inching toward looking like the picture of sin. That picture has you groaning softly before you speak. "You can't fuck me if your pants are on, babe. Want my baby's cock in me. Want to feel your cock stretching me. You said you'd let me do this- said you were sorry."

That snaps his focus back from the ceiling where he had been focusing back to you, back to your pouting face and his own face falls. "Oh, mama, I- You know I am, mama, know I didn't- I shouldn't have, you're my girl, you're the only one I want to see me like this- like-" You can see his brain trying to catch up as he forces himself to pause even as his hips keep bucking against you. "Wanted to give it to you, only you, wanted you to have you do all those things to me first, wanted-"

"Me to ruin you?" You finish the sentence, taking pity on Elvis as you moved to try and shimmy out of your underwear. "Corrupt you from the inside out? Make you as bad as everyone thinks I am?"

He nods frantically, trying the best way he can to help you out of your underwear and only stopping when he sees them pool to the floor. His eyes focus on them when he speaks almost making him look bashful and embarrassed. The heat that was already curling in your abdomen grows just a little more as you have to bite your lip to keep from growling at his look, growling at the knowledge that this is all yours to keep.

"Yes." His words come out as a whisper that you can only hear because of the deafening quiet in the church. "Want that. I- Let me fuck you in here, mama. God gave you to me and gave me to you, wanna show him what good he's done."

It doesn't take you a second before you're pushing Elvis onto the bench, freeing his cock from his boxers and sinking yourself down. You're drenched and the noise from his cock entering you is almost sickening in how it sounds. You swear you feel a gush of arousal as he groans, low and making your entire being vibrate. Is this was a religious experience felt like? Was this what you told your father you never experienced at church? You don't know, but you know that Elvis needs to move, needs to buck against you as you ride him.

"Gonna have to help me, baby. Can't ride you and do all the work myself." You murmur against his lips before trailing kisses down his neck, stopping to make sure to suck just against his jaw line, knowing fully well he'll bruise. He is yours and you'd prefer people to know it.

His hands move to cup your chest, touching your breasts through your bra as he nuzzles them. He won't ask you to take off your shirt, not in here, not realizing that you two have to be at least somewhat discrete as your skirt hides his cock pumping into you, hides his hips rutting against your pelvis. "Wanna fuck you like this every night. Gonna marry you, mama ain't gonna like it, but you're my girl. Making me feel so wrong and so right. So perfect- so glad you wanted me- could have gone for those other boys-"

He's whimpering and it's feeding into your own desire to whimper back at him. He's so fucking pure sometimes it sickens you, he's so earnest in what he's saying and it makes you love him so much it hurts you. You kiss him, swallowing both of your whimpers in the kiss, putting all your energy into clenching around his cock, trying to milk it so that you can both finish, so you can tell him that he shouldn't marry you, Gladys would probably die if he did and as much as you want to ruin him, you know he couldn't take that. He keeps talking though- keeps muttering the filth you love to hear him say because it says it so rarely.

It sounds like a prayer, you realize, it sounds like he's muttering a prayer or a hymn onto your skin and you realize that you might be corrupting him, might be ruining him but there's still a part of him that's a good God fearing, church going boy and you can't take that away no matter how hard you try. The rush of arousal you feel after that realization startles you, has you clutching onto his shoulders for dear life.

If he minds your grip he doesn't say anything, instead choosing to buck his hips more as one hand moves in between you two to play with your clit. "She taught me how to do this, mama. I- Can I come in you? Wanna do that- I know I shouldn't but you're- I want it. Wanna claim you like that. You want me like that- don't ya?"

Maybe the road had done more to him than you thought, maybe you weren't corrupting him like you thought if he was playing with your clit like it was his guitar, skillfully earning a sigh and a whimper from you. Or maybe that was from the words he uttered, you don't know, you only know that you feel your walls tightening, feel your cunt fluttering on his cock and you should say no, you should tell him that he needs to come on the floor but you can't utter those words. Instead you utter the exact opposite.

"Come in me, show everyone that I'm yours baby, stake your claim in me like my hickies show mine on you. Show them that I've got you, not anyone else. Show them I've got Elvis- the good boy who loves his momma and his family and would do anything if I just asked. Would fuck me over a church altar if I asked."

He comes with a shout that sounds pained, like it was wrenched from the depths of his soul. You never come with or right after any of your partners but with Elvis, with him right in this moment you feel the warmth of his come and way his hands are gripping whatever part of your body he can grab and you fall against him, coming as quietly as you can, only letting out the tiniest of whimpers against his ear. You can feel his cock twitch afterward, thinking it's going to be interested in the proceedings.

The two of you sit there for a few minutes, attempting to catch your breath and your bearings. You shouldn't have let him come in you, but you couldn't help it. It should be fine, you hope. Elvis speaks first, a quiet whisper against your neck.

"I love you. Meant what I said- wanna make ya my wife. Maybe give my momma grandchildren. Wanna take care of ya like you take care of me." He pauses. "You gonna let me do all those things, mama?"

You sigh, moving to pull off of his cock. "Maybe. You gonna let me turn you into a different kind of man?" A man more suited for you, more suited to be with a girl half the city looks at in disgust.

He looks up at the ceiling and looks at a cross he sees in the distance before he answers with an honesty that startles you. "I think I'd follow ya into hell if that's the only way I could have ya."

In short, yes.

There is a silence that stretches too long to feel comfortable between the two of you until you finally speak, pulling off his cock completely, allowing his release to drip down your legs as you kiss him. "Ask me again next month, Elvis."

He moves to put himself back together, to make himself more presentable to the world as he tucks his cock back in his pants and refastens them. "I'll ask ya next week. I mean it this time, mama. I think- I think ya stuck with me now."

Good. You shrug. "That's just the temptation speaking."

Elvis stands up and moves to touch your stomach as he kisses you. "No, that's me thinkin' God's gonna force ya to let me be with ya after this. Can't have sex wit' ya in a church and not expect somethin'."

You feel as if cold water has been dumped on your head but still you smile. "Your momma won't like it."

His lips curl into a smirk you don't recognize on his face. It startles you and arouses you in equal measure. "To hell with her opinion. I'll ask ya next week. I wanna get an answer this time, mama. Can't keep ruining me like without letting me get a reward."

You open your mouth to say something before you hear a commotion signaling that the pastor is back. The pair of you make a quick escape, running out the opposite end of the church, only stopping when you reach Elvis's car.

"Let me take ya home." He murmurs against your lips as you push him against the car for a goodbye kiss.

"Just this once." You answer back, allowing him to open the door and let you in. "And only this once."

The only response you get is a hum from Elvis. He does ask you again the next week. And the week after. And the week after. You don't give your mostly good Southern boy an answer until the next month.

His momma hates the answer.

#austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis x reader #austin butler #austin butler elvis smut #austin butler elvis fanfic #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis smut #elvis presley #austin butler elvis x you #austin butler elvis x y/n #austin elvis x you #austin elvis x y/n #idk all my tags #ally's kinktober 2022 #kinktober 2022 #ally writes

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dats-hq · 1 year

Note

Ryo- 1, 2, 7, 21,22,

Miu and Saki- 13, 18, 26, 30

Hey did you know that if you accidentally press Ctrl-Z one single time on Tumblr desktop sometimes it will undo 90% of your post and not give you the option to Ctrl-Y? Because I didn't until now ahahhahahahahahahahaha (I am now Piedmon)

Guess I'll just rewrite the entire thing lol

Ryo

First impression? I knew he was going to be cool. That hair? That jacket? That KUNEMON? When I found out he was rude, it was all over.

When I started to truly like him? Honestly don't have a good answer for this lol. I thought he was great from Part 1. His emotional spiral was visible from orbit and I was already stressed about saving him by the time I fought the first spider Kemonogami boss.

7. A quote I remember? [in response to Takuma asking if he knew which Kunemon was real in Part 5]

"Sorta? I couldn't understand what the others were saying, just the real one, so."

I just love the image of Ryo surrounded by the sounds of kew kew and being totally lost until he hears his kew kew.

21. When was he happiest?

I think it's got to be some time when he was able to just vibe with Kunemon. Like when he's shit-talking Takuma and Kunemon is like "Kew" and Ryo is like "haha so true", or when he surprised Kunemon with a gift he made himself and it was training equipment specifically designed for Kunemon's body. [no idea how that works but I love it]

22. When was he at his lowest?

Aside from the obvious answer of Part 3, I think there's a lot to be said about how Ryo tries to drag everyone down to his level in Part 1 and 2. Like he just can't stand that the others have hope. I like imagine this betrays some deep-seated trauma with getting his hopes up about his mom because of adults sugarcoating the updates on her health too much early on. Regardless of if you like that headcanon, I still love how fucked up Ryo gets in the early chapters.

Miu

13. Favorite friendship

Honestly? Perfect tie between Syakomon and Takuma. I love how Syakomon is her only-slightly-less-unhinged collaborator and hypemon, and I love how Takuma is the only human who really consistently treats Miu like a fellow human.

18. How do I think they were as a kid?

Talked with some friends a while ago about how fucked up it is that Miu's parents believed some random stalker over their own daughter, and it makes me think she was always a "problem child". High energy, low impulse control, very little intuitive understanding of social norms.

Feel free to read that any kind of neurodivergent way you'd like.

26. When were they the most "themselves"?

No moment sticks out in my mind for this question as intensely as when Miu gave a prayer to the old school near the end of Truthful route, thanking it for keeping everyone safe and eventually convincing everyone to do the same. It was just so earnest and heartfelt and uncorrupted by any worry about how Kaito or anybody else would judge the behavior. Love that for her.

30. Funniest scene they had?

[Takuma desperately courting Miu's help to get everyone else to calm down in Chapter 6, even addressing her by her preferred royal title]

Miu: Hmm, nah, can't help. Thanks for calling me Lady Miu though >:3c

Saki

13. Favorite friendship

Well since I guess I'm just straight-up a Saoki shipper at this point, I'll say Miu. I spent a lot of time thinking about their relationship back when I wrote Not My Problem, and there's a lot of potential there that the structure of the game itself doesn't really allow to get explored. They kind of both have the same deal going on emotionally, not feeling like they have a place in their communities and lacking independence, and yet outwardly they have entirely opposite vibes (always a fun dynamic). They never really talk about their feelings with each other, so you'd think they wouldn't get along because of those opposite vibes, yet they seem to really enjoy each other's company from what little we see in the prologue and a few Free Action conversations where they both talk about how the other seems like they'd be cool to be friends with.

Every time I replay Survive, that first conversation they have about going to see the Kemonogami realm means so much to me.

18. How do I think they were as a kid?

Saki strikes me as a very quiet, antisocial kid. Like she made friends relatively easily, but never because she was the outgoing one. Obviously that's changed by the time we meet her, but Saki always feels like someone who has changed a lot even before the game begins.

26. When were they the most "themselves"?

Bro this is such a hard mode question for Saki lmao

The first answer that pops to mind is when Takuma gets back from the human world and he talks to Saki and she's super casual about telling him about her surgery and they also just tease Aoi a bit together. The usual secrecy isn't something Saki actually wants, it's something she thinks she needs.

30. Funniest scene they had?

Well, if it was just about a single line, I'd say when Minoru shows up on the bridge in Part 2 trying to act all brave and she's just like "When did you grow some balls, Minoru!?" but it's not exactly a funny scene overall so

Going to go with when you find her snacking on some nuts and then when Aoi asks about the missing nuts she's just like "woah look what I just found this exact second!" and throws them at Takuma.

#digimon survive #kimishima saki #saki kimishima #shinonome miu #miu shinonome #ryo tominaga #tominaga ryo #digimon survive spoilers

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quensty · 10 months

Text

hello all. as u can see ur assassins failed to kill me last night so i'm back to clogging ur dash w a tag game.

i was tagged by @moondal514 (hi bestie <3) to answer 20 questions tailored for fic writers. moondal my love u will regret giving me this opportunity <3

🪿 how many works do you have on ao3?

36! i've been existing in the mid-30-ish range for a good while now. it's starting to piss me off. i post things and then get scared they suck and delete and the cycle repeats.

🪿 what's your total ao3 word count?

153,155 *pops champagne*

🪿 what fandoms do u write for?

am i supposed to list all of them? i'm not doing that 😑🤚 if ur interested ya'll can check out the list here

🪿 what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

men abort mission is definitely my most popular fic (10,856 kudos, it's deeply embarrassing). then it's your crown of thorns holds roses (5,153 kudos, slightly less embarrassing); right hand on his rifle (522 kudos, still embarrassing but at least it's much better writing); kiss me like a snapped guitar string (480 kudos); and love, war, and other exit wounds (468 kudos, which is fucking news to me. i had no idea the kudos had climbed that high)

🪿 do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i do! i like it :D i like ppl to see that i saw their comment and appreciated it. i also do it cos, like, fandom is entirely abt fan-to-fan interaction. fanfic is no different. the point is that i want to engage w other fans and TALK abt stuff. i think it's fun! i've met a lot of friends this way.

🪿 what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

100% would be altschmerz. i don't fix anything in that fic. in fact i probably make everything worse. logan still dies and he never has a proper relationship w laura and the world still sucks. and i sprinkle in some complicated relationships with latinidad while i'm at it. but i love it <3

🪿 what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this is a difficult thing to judge cos most of my fics have happy or at least hopeful endings, but i think the fic that has the most rewarding happy ending is keep on keeping on, dean winchester. the first couple of chapters are meant to be absolute hell. but i offset that by ending the story with everyone happy and alive and together :)

🪿 do you get hate on fics?

no i am perfect <3

🪿 do you write smut? if so, what kind?

throughout all my time in fandom the answer to this has been no. but then i did this thing where i watched iwtv 2022, and my whole world shifted on its axis. so YES, i do, in fact, now write smut. occasionally. i have no idea how to respond to "what kind." it is gay sex.

🪿 do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

ok when i first answered this question i said lifeboat, a sense8 aftg fic in 2 (if u've read it ur eligible for financial compensation), but i change my mind. most unhinged thing i've ever written is 100% between the desire and the spasm, which, i kid you not, is an all the president's men fusion, which, in case u don't know, is a movie abt watergate. WATERGATE.

🪿 have you ever had a fic stolen?

i feel like the answer is yes, but this was in my quotev days, and that site was exactly what republicans imagine anarchists want for society: complete havoc. anyway! my point is that i think i did have a case of someone copying my work almost word for word during that era, but i was 13 and it was like 250 words worth of writing so i was like whatever.

🪿 have you ever had a fic translated?

YES, i'm very happy to say! many very kind people have translated my work. i'll list them below cos they always do a fantastic job and i'm always hoping they get more recognition for their hard work:

@ghostofair wrote a spanish translation of men abort mission!

@sadluna wrote a russian translation of men abort mission!

@bloodymelonteamua wrote a a ukrainian translation of men abort mission!

@kais_room has very kindly written a russian translation of your crown of thorns holds roses!

🪿 have you ever co-written a fic before!

yes! i actually co-wrote right hand on his rifle with my bff liv (@cabeswater). she gave me a lot of ideas while i was crafting it, so it's really just as much hers as it is mine. i'm very happy w it! i would love to write smthn properly w them someday bc they're a phenomenally good writer

🪿 what's your all-time favorite ship?

this is an evil question wtf. i don't know! amara/me.

🪿 what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my sense8 au LMAO. i try so hard every few months to get back into the groove of it but it's a doomed enterprise i think. at this point i would have to rewrite it completely, but i don't have the same passion for it that i once did. sigh

🪿 what are your writing strengths?

i don't know. should i know that? maybe dialogue. i can't say whether i excel at it but i can say with certainty that i enjoy it

🪿 what are your writing weaknesses?

i always get impatient near the end of a long project and end up rushing the ending, which is such a shame cos i'm so talented :(

🪿 thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

in huge favor of it! i love doing that. i tend to do it when i write characters that speak spanish, and when it's done well by other writers? UGH. it makes me want to eat my phone

🪿 first fandom you wrote for?

pjo on quotev writing reader inserts ✌️ that is not a joke i'm dead serious rn

🪿 favorite fic you've written?

FUCK OFF. the real answer to this question is a fic i deleted. i loved it so much i deleted it off my ao3 so i could rework it into an original piece and turn it in for my fiction class this semester LOL. trust me though this piece was already, like, 90% my own writing and less "based" on the source material rather than it was "inspired" by it. if u compare me to those writers who made their harry styles fanfiction into published novels i will fight u. if i have to pick a fic that's still up, i think i'd pick either keep on keeping on, dean winchester or a ghost is a memory

i'm tagging @keepoffthetardis, @enterprisery, @weather-mood, and anyone else who wants to do this! if any of u actually read thru this whole thing i'm so sorry

#i should not have done this. i have 20 pages of a paper to write #TONIGHT.#quen writes #mentioned

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qserasera · 10 months

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i'm like, perpetually at least two weeks behind my tumblr feed but belatedly for the writer ask game: ❤️🎬🦋 (hope you're well and getting enough sleep!)

GIRL....HELP. it has almost been a month since u put this in my askbox....and No i have not been getting enough sleep but IM TRYING T W T questions from this ask meme here

okeys i was rlly happy i got to sit down and answer some of these hehehe

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic? oh gosh...all these answers are going to be bg3 related on account of uh *waves hand* everything hahahaah ^ - ^

this would be a scene from stag hunt, one of those fics based on my own game playthroughs where my protag made an unwise choice with limited information and has some Regrets about it:

"He was defenseless!" This is the closest to shouting that Astarion has ever heard from her. Her eyes blaze, sparks against smokepowder. Like smokepowder, it flares, then dies down in a flash to cold ashes—gray and hollow. "And I—was my own greed that killed him." Against his own will, Astarion's grip loosens slightly. "Layla—" She's not so unsteady as to crumble—but her posture slackens, the warmth of her forehead leaning into his shoulder, against his collarbone... Astarion presses his lips together. What does she want to hear? What does he even have to offer, in comfort? She is the one with the soft touch, and he, the crooked one. 'You could have asked me,' Astarion does not say. 'You could have asked me to kill him. I would have. Just this once. To stain my own palms in red, to wield my blade at your word. I would have done it willingly, at your command. But you—' But she wouldn't, he knows. It must have been a side effect of all those songs she surrounds herself with—a streak of paladin tendencies in her, despite her bardic background.

for the context my favorite line written Has to be the one about astarion offering to be her blade, to take on the the dirty work so to speak...something something mirror image of a lionheart knight, but in reverse :'')) he doesn't have to, but that combo of unstated protectiveness/hinted at beginnings of devotion even when he's Not the type to necessarily think about others is very. Chewy to my brain.

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

ok OK. so. i already mentioned like every single genshin fic i've written for this question (pspsps emperor!zhongli and consort!childe) so. i have to choose something else her LKDJFLSD

when i finish my bg3 transmigration tav fic meeting magistrate astarion, it's going to be Very fun and good but until i have. i don't think i can do that XD

time for SURPRISE EXORCISTS WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

i always forget if u did read/follow up on natsume yuujinchou but if i had to film a very short movie/film for one of my fics, i think it might have to be in your periphery

it was one of those slightly Unhinged fic images that grabbed my brain and wouldn't let me go??? and i finished writing it in like. an hour.

i can see it being filmed like a 20-minute mini-episode, with lots of implied pining music in the background even as the main character Insists to themselves that he's moved past such silly feelings like childish sentiment :))

and for the aesthetics of it, i kno it's a cdrama and not a jdrama, but i would love it to have the slightly tragic, color-rich aesthetic of an ancient love song ahhhh

o w o i need to fancast them too....oh boy. um. i have no idea actually...their faces are already perfect to me in the manga ahhh

[img description: "matoba and natori stare at each other with surprised expressions"] someone else who knows more about the jdrama actors scene can cast them for me. 🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

oh gosh. i don't know?? (right now it would have to be astarion :)) but i do like character types who are. hm. not liars specifically, but they say one thing and do another thing (masks/identities/roles), even if they're feelings are telling them something different! schemers...planners. i also do enjoy writing uh. casually kind characters, if that makes sense.

what i cannot feel like i can write well yet are straight up extroverted characters.......it is. too advanced for me right now :''))) (that might explain why i enjoy reading fic about sportsball anime once upon a time, but very rarely Feel the urge to write something for them hahahaha)

another character type i can struggle with a little more are the ones that are ruthless/willing to be cruel since it's hard figuring out where the line between believably ruthless with some crunch for texture and cartoonish evil laughter would be lmao

i do sometimes like writing characters with less?? dialogue?? and just more thoughts, but that can be a problem for characters who enjoy talking overall (like astarion ; w ; )

thank u for asking these of me friend, thanks for patiently waiting for the response LKSDJFLKSDJFLSD

#blackidyll #have i been sleeping well??? uh. not. not a lot howbout u #hope these answers entertained and amused you!!#memeity meme #long post #fanfiction #replies to an admiring bog

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earlgodwin · 11 months

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sorry in advance if this has already been answered before! i appreciate all your takes on juan and i love reading your tags, and wanted to ask your opinion of the grimy things juan did, like SA, dangling the baby, torturing a child, murdering paolo, etc. (i don't meant this as a comparison to anyone else; we all know cesare was guilty of pretty heinous things as well. BUT, if mentioning them both, juan was like the golden child who as soon as he didn't feel like he was getting the praise or attention he felt he deserved, he did some pretty awful things. cesare was always having to fight to prove himself due to being second fiddle in rodrigo's eyes, so i feel like excuses can be thrown around all day for both of them back and forth, hence why i was hoping to hear your thoughts primarily on juan specifically rather than versus cesare). also, do you really think juan would've defeated caterina and brought down the walls of forli? if so, can you explain why? i feel like even cesare would've struggled were it not for micheletto. hopefully this doesn't come off in any negative way at all, i'm just genuinely curious to hear your thoughts! (i love talking about the borgias but no one close to me has watched it) xx

now that's a good ass question!! and no, don't worry, it's not even slightly negative at all <333 buckle up for the long answer 🙏

first off, i just want to clarify that i *don't* like excusing juan's (or even cesare's) actions because, for me, it's more about understanding why he was acting the way he did :)

now i'll try to answer this in parts:

"juan was like the golden child who as soon as he didn't feel he was getting the praise or attention he felt he deserved did some pretty awful things."

tbh, i've never seen it like this, and i disagree because it's obvious that he feels like he doesn't get enough attention. he always feels inferior to his siblings, like the *real* black sheep of the family. he also feels incredibly isolated, especially after their papacy era when he has no one to be there for him. there's a reason he drowns himself in hedonism!! also, he's terrified that he might not be a "true borgia" since there are rumors about vanozza's commoner husband possibly being his real dad. in the first episode, he was so triggered when a prostitute called him a "bastard," and he aggressively replied to her, proclaiming himself as his father's "favorite" son. despite being "favored" by rodrigo, he still feels like he's not enough because he's aware that his dad confides in and trusts cesare, while all he gets from their dad are reminders that he's only favored because it's rodrigo's wish, refusing to favor the *real* favorite son, cesare, due to self-loathing (cesare being exactly like rodrigo, as if he was a mirror of him, etc.), even though he immensely loves him. meanwhile, rodrigo is always scolding juan and threatening him with replacing him with cesare and shunning him if he doesn't do better, saying that *all* his position and honor could be taken from him in a heartbeat, etc. that's why juan is an absolute blusterer towards cesare because he's a soldier instead of him (even though juan pretty much doesn't give a fuck about being a soldier BUT it's the only thing he has over cesare). and cesare was made juan's keeper by rodrigo, always sending him to pull juan back like some sort of unhinged animal. this deeply affected juan and intensified his insecurities and impulsiveness, but he keeps putting on his façade as he always does.

ok so let's talk about juan's nasty actions:

beating up vanozza's husband, theo: so, as i said earlier, juan is terrified by the idea that his mother's husband, theo, might actually be his father. In juan's eyes, having a commoner as his potential father is seen as a 'threat' to his honor and a disgrace. he is deeply offended by seeing theo being affectionate with his mother and being allowed into the borgia household while abandoning the house rodrigo bought for him. the whole situation deeply offends juan, and it's something that cesare also feels similarly about theo, as he dissed him in season 1 episode 4. however, cesare is not as threatened by him as juan is, as cesare possesses a cooler head and is less insecure about the parentage matters.

killing paolo: so we know how juan clearly remembers the bullying and xenophobic attacks he endured as a child for being a spanish jew in italy. he's still deeply affected by it because even when they triumphed and entered their papacy era, they were still hated upon and not recognized as a superior power because of their ancestry. it troubles juan, which is why he holds his status very dear and makes sure everyone knows he's the pope's son and the gonfaloniere of the papal army, etc. so the last thing juan needs is scandals in the family or someone shaming them, like paolo, for instance. a noblewoman like his sister getting impregnated by a peasant is a huge scandal. earlier, rodrigo taught him through harshness (slapping him, yelling at him, etc.) that he was bred to be a soldier and to protect the family. that stuck in his mind. moreover, getting rid of paolo is something he genuinely thought was the right thing to do, and he protected the family. he even expected praise for it since he often did things to impress and please them. but, typical juan, he acts without thinking things through, never anticipating that he would mess things up even more and disappoint them all. what hurt him the most was that lucrezia hated him for killing paolo, especially when he believed he did it to protect her, so he tried to make it up to her but with no solution (juan's anger at paolo could also stem from his incestuous feelings for lucrezia, and envy consumed him, leading him to find a motive to get rid of paolo, but that's another story.) paolo's murder was an act meant to be *good* but caused a lot of pain, grief, and hatred.

torturing caterina's son, benito: in the previous battle with the french, when juan surrendered instead of fighting them, his family basically called him a useless fool and pushed him aside. despite witnessing his troops being ripped apart by the french's chain cannon, juan was still seriously willing to fight and die doing it. however, lucrezia stopped him and convinced him to surrender because the prospect of him dying upset her, and juan couldn't bear to upset her. anyway, lucrezia was glorified (as she should be) as a savior, and for some reason, cesare was put on a pedestal, even though he did little except chase down ursula and kill her husband while his sister was being abused by her husband in pesaro. juan felt deeply destroyed by this and started spiraling into darkness. then later, given the mission of forli, he decided to do anything to pressure caterina to surrender because he refused to fail again as he did in the first battle against the french. he was even willing to discard his principles and threaten to kill her son, benito, by torturing him. he was determined to win this and bring caterina to rome. however, he ultimately failed due to ludovico's attack, which outnumbered juan's troops.

dangling the baby: one thing about juan is that the more his family, whom he desperately wanted to be loved by, pushes him away, the more he pettily pushes back and hurt them. his arrogance and fake narcissistic nature don't allow him to refrain from clapping back. so, after he told lucrezia that everything he did was for her own good and she still didn't buy it, it drove him mad. as a result, he wanted to provoke her by dangling the baby over the balcony, just to get under her skin. another reason is that, as he mentioned when he was getting high on opium, he was terrified that the baby, giovanni, could be lucrezia and cesare's child, and that the child was a "demon who would devour the world," to quote him. so, yes, he felt threatened by the baby. i mean, juan basically lost his marbles in his final episode lol

attempting to SA the dancer: david oakes described juan's final episode as if juan was already 'dead' the whole time. he was told by the writers to play juan as the antagonist as much as possible, as they wanted to showcase juan's worst actions to deem his death as 'necessary' as they couldn't flourish historical accuracy anymore since juan was supposed to be dead in s1 lol. so, if we're going to explain this particular action, i would say that juan had been suffering from depression and other horrible illnesses, the syphilis is already rotting his brain, and he was already losing his grip on reality due to the constant mockery he endured, including the 'ten more sons' taunt from everyone, including cesare. feeling betrayed and hated by everyone, he told himself he might as well fuck it all up lash out and attack anyone, including the poor girl whom he assaulted after she mocked him.

afterward, he returned to opium to get high again, which led him to see hallucinations. specifically, he saw images of himself and cesare being close and loving towards each other. in that moment, he realized that his salvation lay in affection and love, starting with wanting to reconcie with cesare and forming a brotherhood with him. juan confessed to cesare that he had been in pain his entire life. however, cesare seemed neither to be listening nor touched by his speech because he had already made up his mind to get rid of juan and pursue his own career. while killing him, cesare made it clear that juan was never considered a true borgia, and he stated that they never forgive, despite juan's forgiveness for cesare's constant mockery.

"so you really think juan would've defeated caterina and brought down the walls of forli?"

why not? juan may be physically weaker than cesare, but he certainly has a huge brain. he's the most perceptive character in the show, being the only one who foresaw the events before they happened. he predicted cesare and lucrezia's affair, and it came true. he also warned rodrigo that cesare was trying to kill him, and it happened. like couldn't he have eventually outsmarted caterina and set her up? also, i kinda relied on what david said: "juan laid a successful siege and would have kicked ass at Forli if cesare had let him know... jealousy, huge jealousy." so, yeah <3

so, obviously juan's behavior was constantly and undoubtedly harmful, and it caused a lot of pain and suffering to himself and his family. his actions were driven by a combination of deepseated insecurities, fear of inadequacy, the desperate need for validation and recognition from his loved ones, and a sense of entitlement. he constantly felt overshadowed by cesare and struggled to live up to the expectations and standards set by his father. in my opinion, juan borgia is a complex tragic character who was already doomed by the narrative. all he wanted was his family's validation and love, but he ended up being hated and discarded by them, unmourned. if i ever wanna describe juan with two words, they would be "misguided" and "self destructive"

#damn okay #the thing is juan was literally suffering but none of his family cared about him and you don't expect him to go mad?#sorry for this long answer anon!!! hope it helps though #also feel free to elaborate and let me know what you think !!!#fuck i'm crying over juan again hello ???#juan borgia #the borgias #anon #messages

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slutshamethesquirrels · 3 months

Text

Borrowed Clothing

gojo x fem!reader

length: 6.6k

cw: mild angst, that's p much it

A cutie little Gojo-centric one shot I wrote to cope with everything Gege has put us through, in which Gojo gets to borrow a really cool shirt (amongst other things).

“Gojo?”

He's still in his school uniform, black blindfold covering the upper half of his face, but you didn't need to see his eyes to know something was off. Typically, his posture was one of complete and total ease, loose and open shoulders with long arms falling wherever gravity held them, undoubtedly a habit from being virtually untouchable. The man before you, though, looked like if he got any tenser he’d simply cave in on himself. His usually plush bottom lip was chapped, as if he'd been chewing on it all evening, and there was a slight swell to his cheeks and nose- had he been crying?

“Did you mean it?” He asked, his voice falling out husky and cracked.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means, so he clarifies:

“When you said if I wanted, I could, uhm-” He clears his throat and tosses a look over his shoulder, bouncing anxiously on his heels like he was a normal man on the run from something.

His words jog your memory.

You hadn't seen him in two weeks, but the last time he'd stopped by the diner you worked at he’d ended up convincing you to take your lunch break with him. You always thought he looked a little funny in there, with his high class attire and long gangly limbs fighting for more booth space than was physically possible for him to take up.

Despite his tendency to stand out, he’d been coming in for years. It started when he’d caught you using your water-based curse technique to clean tables faster. Over time the conversation slowly transitioned from trying to get you to join up with Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School to topics that ranged from the weather to the existence of god. You never knew what kind of question was gonna fall out of Gojo's mouth.

Frequently, the two of you discussed jujutsu society. He hated moral arguments and debates but had a love for the craft, though how could he not, being who he was?

It wasn't like Gojo to let you peak into his brain, though. Majority of what came out of his mouth was unhinged, sure, but distinctly detached from any sort of deeper subject matter. You weren't dumb, and you’d definitely caught onto the way he carefully danced around certain topics with jokes and sly subject changes. You got the feeling that he wanted someone to talk with, but didn't really know how to beyond surface level. Couple that with an obvious intellect (buried under a couple hundred fart jokes), and he made for a decent conversationalist.

“I feel like you're my friend, but I’m not really your friend.” You’d told him over the plates of food as the strings of your waitress belt dug into your sides.

“I would never be friends with a weakling like you.” His smirk was devious, bating you into a spat with him, which you’d fallen for, hook, line, and sinker.

“I'm not weak!” You scoff, but you weren't really offended. You played this game with him all the time, Gojo loved a good tease.

“You won't even join us at the school because all you can do with that shitty little curse technique is mop floors.”

There he was again, poking the bear and dancing around what he was actually trying to say. If you had to guess, what he really meant was something along the lines of:

”The fact that you have no interest in utilizing your curse technique disappoints me. You could be doing so much more than food service and I don't understand why you aren't developing your skill.”

So you do your best to communicate your answer to his actual intention:

“It's not a weakness to use a talent for mundane tasks, you dick. For your information, I can do a hell of a lot with my little technique.”

You poke your tongue out at him and he playfully knocks at your ankle under the table, a soft smirk playing on his lips as you continue:

“I mean, when you really think about it, your highness, am I weak because I refuse to use my technique for violence, or are you because you’re a slave to yours?”

You’d truly, honestly meant it as a casual lighthearted roast. The subject matter was serious, sure, but with time you'd come to know Gojo as the type of person you could joke about anything with. He sure had no problem laughing at your expense.

He tried to remain unbothered for the rest of the conversation, but you could tell he was rushing. For once, his laugh had seemed hard and forced. His demeanor had sunken from his typical egotistical borderline-mania into that of a shy theater kid attempting to play a bubbly and jovial character. Before he left, you tried to quell the flames on the bridge it seemed you were actively burning.

“Gojo, are you okay?” You asked as he fished a few bills out of his wallet and tossed them onto the table.

“Of course, why wouldn't I be?”

You wished you could see his eyes, really get a feel for what might be going on in that handsome little head of his.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” You insist, your bottom lip jutting out just slightly as you reach across the table to grab his hand. Just a foot or so away, your hand meets a sort of density in the air, stopping you from getting any closer, and your heart cracks a little. He hadn't used Infinity around you in so long.

“Please. Me? You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you wanna work me up.” He smiles, but it's not genuine. His nose always crinkled when he really smiled, it was something you noticed early on, one of your favorite little quirks of his.

Before he left, you'd written down your address and your phone number, and told him if he ever wanted to talk he was free to call or show up whenever.

Honestly, after those few weeks you assumed he was done talking to you. But here he was.

“Of course I meant it.” You nod with a soft smile, opening the door fully and stepping off to the side to allow him entry.

He shuffles past you, tension obvious in his gate with locked knees and his hands clenched in his pockets. You feel the density of his infinity as he passes you and make a mental note that he didn't come unguarded. If he didn't seem so volatile, you’d almost want to laugh at how comically large he looks standing in the living room between your ancient box tv and low set coffee table. He could easily reach up just a few inches above his head and flake off the little bits of plaster from your ancient popcorn ceiling.

Awkward tension settles for what feels like forever as he scopes out your living space. You can't imagine he's ever willingly allowed himself to associate with someone as… financially challenged as yourself. You did your best to make it homey, you really did, but it was hard when your ‘couch’ was actually a loveseat pulled from the side of the road on trash day, and all your wall art was thrifted.

“It smells good in here.” He finally breaks the silence, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

“I just threw some cookies in the oven, actually. I kind of thought for a second there you'd sniffed me out from all the way across town.” You attempt to loosen his demeanor, and he cracks a small grin, but it's tight lipped and forced.

“Did you, uh, wanna talk?” You prod, twisting your fingers nervously in front of you.

Immediately, his half hearted attempt at being humored by you is dropped. He chews on his cheek, one hand coming up behind him to paw at his scalp, the other staying firmly in his pocket as he thinks.

“Yeah,” He breathes “I just-”.

He fidgets uncomfortably, his head tilting as he seems to make eye contact with the ugly brown outdated wood paneling on your walls; you can't tell beneath the blindfold.

He clears his throat “I don't think I really know how.”.

“Okay. That's okay.” You draw a deep breath, nodding slowly and boring a hole into the carpet by his feet with slightly bewildered eyes as you attempt to formulate a plan for how to navigate the situation.

Eventually, you draw a deep breath, closing your eyes just briefly to re-ground yourself. When you reopened them, you stare directly into him, confident that you could do this.

“Tell you what, why don't you hop in the shower? I have some of my ex boyfriend's clothes that you can wear and by the time you get out the cookies should be done. Maybe after you're out of that uniform and have something on your stomach you'll feel a little better, yeah? We can circle back to the talking later.”

He cocks his head to the side, the ghost of his typical smug grin playing on his lips.

“You really think I'm gonna wear your ex's clothes? He obviously has no taste if he let a woman like you walk out.”

You roll your eyes and cock your hand against your hip, far too used to his flirty nature by this point and putting absolutely zero weight on his words. But you knew his games by this point, and felt fairly certain you could lead a horse to water. An intelligent, cocky, annoying, devilishly handsome, certifiably traumatized horse.

“You don't think you could make his sweatpants look good?”

He scoffs, much more comfortable teasing than directly approaching whatever it was that was eating at him, his shoulders loosening a bit.

“Babe, I could make rags look good.”

You let him help himself to your bathroom while you pillage around in your closet for your ex’s leftovers, hoping they'll suffice. He was a pretty tall guy, so you’re to too worried about that, but he was nowhere near as fit as Gojo, though you couldn't imagine anyone would be, what with the exorcism of curses constantly and all.

Eventually, you find a pair of gray sweatpants. Digging deeper into the box, you find a few t shirts. One is black with a gaudy band logo on the front in that heavy metal style lettering you could never make out, another has a rather… mysterious stain on the front, the other one was a gag gift you gave him several years back. Light pink, the front decorated with peace signs, hearts and smiley faces surrounding the words “alpha male” in bold white sparkly cursive lettering. You giggled and threw that one over your shoulder along with the sweatpants. You had a feeling Gojo would appreciate it far more than your ex had.

“Stop jackin’ it! I’m coming in!” You warn with a knock as you lean into the bathroom and place the outfit along with a towel on the counter.

“Damn, I was so close, too!” He sarcastically whines, and you're unsurprised to be able to see his eyes peeking at you overtop the shower curtain.

“How's the weather up there?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff as you gather his uniform off the floor and leave to go throw it in the wash and check on the cookies.

You're just settling into one side of the tiny little loveseat when he emerges, looking much more relaxed, spinning his blindfold around one finger absentmindedly. You eye the t shirt, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from smirking at him, and it only somewhat works.

“I stand corrected-” He groans as he settles into the other side of the loveseat and kicks his bare feet up on the coffee table, his limbs taking up every inch of it with one arm flung all the way across the back and the other dangling lazily off the armrest, still holding his blindfold “-your ex must've fucking rocked. This shirt fucks-”.

You burst into laughter and toss your head back momentarily “I knew you'd like it!”.

You reach forward to hand him the plate of cookies, rolling your eyes incredulously as he immediately shoves one in his mouth and has to do that weird open-mouthed-blow-breathing around it because it's too hot.

“He actually never wore it.” You tell him, and his brow dips in suspicion as he chews “I got it as a gag gift for christmas and he didn't think it was very funny. He assumed I didn't get him an actual present as well.”.

He swallow's harshly, and then groans in overdramatized exaggeration as you reach for the remote “Well, it is an actual gift for me, because I’m keeping this shit.”.

“Who said you could have it?!” You tease as you flip the tv on, hoping the old DVD you were watching would be enough to placate him.

“I did, unless you wanna fight me for it.” His tone is suggestive, and you reach for a cookie, shaking your head and scrunching up your face to signal that it wasn't exactly worth your life.

“I’m gonna wear it under my uniform.” He tells you and you cover your mouth as you stifle a laugh through a mouthful of cookie “And after my students are done battling a tough ass curse in the middle of the city, I'll offer to take them to some fancy ass restaurant as a reward-”

“Gojo!” You protest, but you’re giggling, and so is he.

“The minute we get seated? I’m gonna be all ’Damn, it's hot in here! Is it hot in here to you guys?’ and then take my jacket off for the grand reveal.”

“Megumi is gonna murder you.” You tell him with a grin. You’d never met the kids, but you knew enough about them to pick up on the vibes. Gojo sometimes talked about them like a proud father, but more often than not like an annoying older brother.

“Yeah, yeah-” He waves his hand dismissively and snatches another cookie “Itadori will think it's funny, though.”.

The two of you eventually settle into silence as you eat, and you’re surprised to find that it's not uncomfortable. Gojo, for all his faults, was fun to be around, at least for you. It was just like your lunch breaks. Teasing, taunting, followed by comfortable silence. He carried with him a warmth that you couldn't quite explain, a certain aura of boyishness that made you fuzzy inside.

“You know,” You eventually break the silence “-sometimes I forget you're like, a god amongst men or whatever.”.

He tenses and sits up a little straighter. After his hair had dried he’d slipped his blindfold back on, and you absolutely despised that you couldn't read his eyes. You knew he wore it for logistical reasons, but sometimes you felt like it was just another barrier between him and the rest of the world. Him and you.

“Sorry.” You breathe when he doesn't respond.

He shakes his head and chuckles wryly “Don't be. It's not you, I just-”.

His hands tense and release repeatedly. He was always fidgeting in subtle ways, like he had more energy than he knew what to do with. You often wondered if he'd benefit from some sort of fidget toy.

“I don't see how you can separate me from it. My abilities, I mean. I don't see how anyone could ever separate me from it.”

Your eyebrows raise in concern, and attempting to display some modicum of validation without pushing, you nod, swallowing thickly. You couldn't understand him, couldn't say ‘I get it.’ because you both knew the truth; no one would ever truly get it. So instead you settle for “Okay.”.

“I don't even think I can separate me from it.”

He brings his hands out in front of him, turning them over and you wish, you want so badly to get into that brain of his.

“I think,” he sighs, dropping his hands and tipping his head back “You were right. The other week. I’m a slave to it. I've never been anything but a slave to it-”

“Gojo.” You breathe, and move the plate of cookies to the coffee table to slide closer to him “I didn't mean that for real, I was just joking, I swear-”.

“That doesn't make it any less true.” He argues immediately, and your heart sinks a little when you reach out to touch him and are stopped just a few inches short “My whole life, I've been the Six Eyes and Limitless combo. It's controlled absolutely everything about me from the very beginning.”.

A dam was breaking inside of him, and you could feel it. He was back to being just as tense as he was before, maybe even worse, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms.

“You know Suguru? I told you about him, right?”

You nod. His half friend, half lover from highschool who had defected from Jujutsu Society and gone absolutely batshit. When Satoru told you about him, the conversation always started with a heartwarming or funny story and ended with a casual joke about Suguru turning into a genocidal maniac. You had the feeling the subject was sensitive, so you always just laughed.

“You know what he said to me before he left?”

You shake your head to confirm you didn't and he drew a deep shaky breath.

“He asked me ‘Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?’.”

Silence settles, tense and thick, and you bore holes into the ugly pattern of your couch, sitting on the opposite cushion with your hands folded in your lap.

“In the end,” His voice was raw, choking “I was only my abilities to him, too.”.

He sniffles and you lift your head. You can't see his eyes, but he hides his face in the crook of his arm anyway.

“Gojo, can I hold you? Please?” You damn near whisper.

He doesn't respond, but you feel the energy shift in the room, the air relaxing back into stasis. He had let his infinity down.

You crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and pulling away the arm that was covering his face, wrapping it around your middle and allowing him to lean into your chest and cry in earnest. Your hands find purchase in his hair, scratching his scalp in soothing motions and then dipping under the neckline of his shirt to do the same between his shoulder blades. His hands grip at the back of your shirt for purchase, twisting the fabric there with force.

“I don't think that's what Suguru meant.” You offer, and he just squeezes you tighter.

“I think, what he was trying to get you to realize was that you have to find yourself beyond your strength. Beyond what you can do for the school or society.”

“Yeah?” It's quiet, muffled into the cloth of your shirt.

“Yeah.” You confirm, moving to cup his cheeks and pull his head back to look at you, which he allows “But also he was a crazy genocidal maniac, so-”.

At this, he laughs weakly, and you smile sympathetically.

“Some people clean diners with their curse technique, some slaughter villages, some have no sense of self beyond it-” Was his sarcastic half-attempt at a joke and you just roll your eyes and wrap him in a bear hug, squeezing him like you wanted him to melt right into your skin.

It feels like forever you just hold him like that.

“If it makes you feel better,” You mutter into the top of his hair “You've always been anything but your stupid curse technique to me.”.

He lifts himself from your chest, leaning back to look up at you “How so?”.

“Well,” you hum, thinking “When I think ’Gojo’ I think of the guy that harrasses me at work-”.

He chuckles, nodding.

“-I think of a devoted, albeit irritating by all accounts, mentor to some fairly kickass kids. I think of a handsome face and an infectious laugh-”

“Oh, now you're just stroking my ego.” He chides.

“No! I’m serious! Shut up for once, big mouth.” You scowl at him but there's no real fire behind it as he shrugs and interlocks his fingers behind his head. He’s trying to act nonchalant but you can see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I think of that one time you dropped by to see me, and you didn't know it but I had just broken up with my boyfriend that morning. I still had to work because I couldn't afford not to but all I wanted to do was stay in bed and cry like a little bitch. But then you showed up and all of a sudden it was bearable.”

He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, humming as his blush creeps from his ears all the way across the exposed portions of his cheeks.

“You mean a lot to me, Gojo.” You tell him, earnestly “And if you woke up tomorrow to find yourself stripped of every little bit of cursed energy- If you showed up at my door just a normal dude- nothing would change.”.

“You promise?” He asks, his voice small and hopeful, almost childlike.

“I swear, Gojo-”

“Satoru. Call me Satoru.”

“I swear, Satoru.”

And then he's pulling you into him by your collar, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, unsurprised to find that he's just as amazing at kissing as he is at anything else. It's precise at first, methodical, slowly pushing boundaries as his hands move to the nape of your neck and his tongue glides across your lips. You grant him entry, feeling the world around you melt as he explores your mouth with his tongue like he couldn't get enough, like he was memorizing all the ways his tongue could slot against yours.

He sucks on your bottom lip, grunting and nipping at the flesh, causing you to gasp and rock against him. He hisses at the friction, his hands moving to your hips to push you down harder, forcing you to feel the way his cock grows harder with every stroke.

It would never, ever be enough to get you off but the fact that you were dry humping Satoru Gojo was enough to have you throwing your head back in search of air, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he licks a stripe from your collar bone to your chin.

“Fuck-” He spits, rocking you harder against his clothed erection “I think I have a praise kink. I've never been so horny in my whole life-”.

At this, you laugh, looking down at him with adoration.

“Yeah, buddy?” You tease and he squeezes your sides to reprimand the action “You want more?”.

His face turned a shade of brick you didn't think possible as he stuttered out a half chuckle “I-I don't- maybe?”.

“Maybe? Just maybe? You're awfully pretty but I'm gonna need a solid answer, Satoru~” You coo, testing the waters. His cock twitches beneath you and his breathing falters. He found his answer immediately.

“Yes, oh my god keep talking-” his whines, his hands fumbling erratically to get you out of your shirt.

“You're such a good boy.” You tell him as he pulls your bra off with a vengeance, like it owed him money “You make me so happy. You know why I haven't made a move on you yet, baby? I just didn't want to lose you, you're so-”.

You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine as he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand kneading your neglected breast with ferocity and desperation.

“Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop.” His words are aggressive but his tone is high pitched and whiny, needy.

“You're so nice to look at, don't know what I’d do without that gorgeous face.” You look down at him and slide your thumbs along his temples, catching his blindfold and tossing it behind him carelessly “Wanna see your eyes, babe. You're too beautiful to hide from me.”.

He groans against your chest, his hand plunging into the soft material of your pants and immediately toying with your clit.

You couldn't believe this was actually happening. You’d always thought he was attractive, but that was just the thing. You and every other person with eyes. You hadn't allowed yourself to ever even toy with the idea of fooling around with Gojo because, well, he was Gojo. How had you ended up here, watching the pupils of his inhumanly gorgeous eyes blow wide and roll back in his head as he drew the world’s most perfectly timed circles on your clit?

“So good, Satoru. So fuckin’ good-” You keen, tugging back on the snowy silk of his hair to expose his throat to you, lapping at the skin there with as much adoration as you can muster. His fingers prod at your entrance and you experimentally suck hard against the sweet pale skin of his neck.

“Fuck, fuckfuck-” he sputters, sinking his pointer and index into you almost in reward to your action, curling and shifting until he hits that spongey spot that has you whimpering against his throat and rocking you hips in time to meet his movements “God damn, you're so tight. Can't wait to ruin it, baby. Just like I always wanted-”.

“You-” You jerk back to meet his gaze with a shocked expression “You thought about this before?”. He picks up pace, this speed brutal and almost too much and yet so, so delicious. Just like him.

He grins, devilish “Only every night since I first laid eyes on you. You have no idea how many times I’ve cum to the thought of you.”.

He's speaking over your mewls, delighting in the way your face twists and contorts with every thrust. Your indistinguishable sounds meld more and more into words until you're saying nothing but his name, over and over, and he feels your cunt fluttering around his fingers. Before you can cum, he withdraws, smirking like the cheeky little prick he is as you whine at the empty feeling.

“Satoru! I was gonna-!” He plugs your mouth with his soiled fingers, groaning as he swipes them back and forth over your tongue.

“What was that?” He asks tauntingly.

“I don't think I quite caught- ah, haha, fuck!” He giggles as you glare and bite down on his fingers in protest and he responds by shoving them in further, causing you to gag just a bit while his other hand dips below the band of his sweats, stroking himself in earnest. You get the hint and swirl your tongue along the length of his fingers in earnest, bobbing your head and moaning as if it were his cock poking at the back of your throat.

“Can't take it anymore, need you so bad-” He pants, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and bringing his hand around your head to pull you forward by your hair to kiss you, shuffling downwards until he's fully flat beneath you- well, almost. He's entirely too tall for your sad excuse of a sofa, one knee cocked awkwardly beneath you and the other dangling down onto the floor.

You giggle at him against his lips as he completely ignores what has got to be the most uncomfortable position in the world, pawing at your waistband desperately like he couldn't stand to see them on you for another second.

“C’mon, needy-” You tease as you lift yourself off of him, offering out your hand “Bedroom.”.

He looks like he wants to protest, but takes your hand anyway, playfully smacking your ass and causing you to yelp as you lead him down the short hallway to your bedroom.

“Aye!” You chastise and he just giggles like a little boy.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He sounds ridiculously satisfied with himself.

The minute you're over the threshold of the bedroom you go ahead and rid yourself of your bottoms, finding a sense of pride in the way he shamelessly eyes you over, swallowing thickly, red in the face.

“Mm? What is it, Satoru?” You purr, reaching up to pull his face down to meet your lips, sighing as he swirls his tongue against yours languidly.

“You're so pretty. So pretty.” He murmurs against your lips, and you smile against him. You knew there was a really sweet man underneath his teasing nature, and hearing it poke through has butterflies erupting in your belly.

Your kiss your way from his lips to his jaw, down his neck, nipping at his skin along the way until your kneeling in front up him, planting teasing kisses to the bulge in the front of his pants, loving the way his hands shake at the contact as they move to pet your hair.

“Y/n” He strains, and it sounds like a warning. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed, all his effort seemingly being used to restrain himself.

You hum in question, mischievously giggling as you tug at his sweatpants until they're pooling around his ankles, watching in awe as his cock springs free. He's huge, of course he's huge. He's Satoru Gojo. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, and you want nothing more than for him to rearrange your guts, but you sit on that feeling for the moment, unwilling to let the opportunity to get back at him for ruining your orgasm go to waste.

From there, you start at the inside of his knees, trailing sloppy kisses along the smooth inside of his thighs, and he lets out little pitchy whines in between breaths that tickle your ears and pet your pussy. You can feel your own arousal seeping down your bare legs, desperate for him.

“If you don't put my dick in your mouth, like, yesterday I am gonna loose my shit-” His eyes open, just barely as he watches you, sputtering out a low and throaty moan as you apply little kitten licks to his balls, bringing up one hand to thumb over the head of his cock and smear the precum leaking out of the tip across his frenulum.

“That so?” You murmur against the skin of his sack before pulling it into your mouth, stroking the top half of his dick at a tantalizing pace.

“Ah, holy shit-” He bucks into your hand, aching for more as your cheeky little giggle makes your lips vibrate against him “I’m s-so serious, y/n. You're playing with fire.”.

“I'll take my chances.” You smirk up at him.

“Don't.” He warns, his voice teasing but breathy, and then hisses as you drag the pointed tip of your tongue against the underside of his shaft, eyes full of mischief and ignoring him completely.

“Three.”

You raise your eyebrows in mocking question. Was he giving you a countdown?

You press your lips to the tip of his cock, pressing almost chaste kisses to the slit. He shudders.

“Two.”

You love the way he accidentally slips into sensei mode sometimes. It has you dripping. You want him to put you in your place.

You swirl your tongue around the tip and pump him once, twice-

“One.”

You look on your face was pure joy as you pushed your tongue out and flattened it against the underside of his cockhead, shaking your entire head back and forth teasingly.

“You're done.” He chuckles as the hands that had been loosely caressing your hair all of a sudden tangle hard in the locks and slam you down on his cock with reckless abandon, causing you to cough and gag around his girth.

The groan that escapes him is fucking music to your ears as he fucks your face with fervor, one hand coming down to rest under your jaw and feel himself poking at the tender muscle if your throat from the outside. You can't breathe, and you don't want to. You can't think, and you don't want to. In this moment, you only want to exist for him to use as he sees fit. As degrading as it is, as fucking disgusting as you feel with tears and drool streaming down your face, it turns you on to no end.

“Goddamn it, babe-” He grunts, pulling you off of him with a single fist in your hair, staring down at you with a heaving chest as he watches the strings of spit stretch and snap from his cock to your mouth in awe.

For a moment, all is silent, nothing but the sound of your mixed heavy breathing coating the room. And then your eyes wander from his face to his chest and you absolutely burst out laughing.

“Wha- Hello?” He starts giggling too when you snort, your forehead resting against his muscular thigh and your hands gripping his knee for some sort of purchase. You aren't sure if you're crying because you're laughing or because you just had approximately ten inches of cock crammed down your throat.

“I can't-” You wheeze, trying desperately to communicate “I can't take you seriously in that fuckin’ shirt!”.

He looks down with wide eyes and barks out a laugh “Dude, I totally forgot!”.

His hands find yours, pulling you to your feet as you both cackle, any dominant tension completely obliterated as you giggle into the fabric of that stupid fucking shirt.

He tips you back to press his lips to yours before muttering against you:

“You’re so fun. Get your goofy ass on this bed so I can fuck you stupid, dork.”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Thankfully, he does remove the shirt before he goes to settle over top of you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He eyes you incredulously as you push on one side of his chest, guiding him to lay down flat on his back.

“You sure you can keep up with me?” He asks, impressed and a little playfully flummoxed at your bold decision.

“It's not that-” You take his hand and let him guide you, whimpering as you settle over his waist and his cock makes much needed contact with your clit “I just wanna take care of you, Satoru. Let someone else do the work for once.”.

He hisses as you rock the head of your clit against him, whining at the delicious friction for a few moments, killing two birds with one stone; giving you both pleasure and lubing him up with the steady stream of arousal that was seeping out of you. Deciding you’re ready, you lift up a bit, reaching underneath you to help guide the tip of his cock into your hole.

“Condoms?” He whimpers, something resembling common sense seeping through the lust filled haze.

“No need, unless you're not clean.” You grab his hand and guide him so he can feel the implant under your bicep.

He manages to throw you a look, full of faux-offense “Why would I be the one with the STD?”.

You just stare at him for a moment, your face all-knowing, until the two of you erupt into giggles again. You hoped he never matured. This version of him was your favorite.

He playfully smacks your ass “Hurry up, I wanna feel you- ah, ah fuck-”.

You sink down onto him slowly, watching his face fall open in pleasure with every inch deeper. Halfway down, his eyes roll back and his hands find purchase on your hips, willing you down a little quicker than you’re ready for but you allow it, too satisfying with the way he's blubbering beneath you, too satisfied with the stretch of him stuffing you to the absolute brim.

For a moment, you still, breathing heavy and bracing yourself against his abdomen with your palms as you struggle to adjust. You swore you could feel him in your throat.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs, his hands twitching at your sides, fighting his last shred of sanity as you nod and brace yourself to begin bouncing on his cock. His grip tightens on your waist and he says your name to grab your attention.

“Not yet, you'll tear something. Start like this-” He moves your hips with a vice grip, rocking you back and forth instead of up and down, every roll of your hips causing him to grind against your g-spot just right. It feels like lightning shooting through your core and you find yourself letting out little whimpers with every motion. Eventually he takes his hands off you and places them behind his head, alternating between watching with adoration in his eyes the place where your centers meet and the way your face scrunches in pleasure as you chase your high.

“That's it, baby.” He praises, breathless “Look at you, taking me so well. How's it feel, hm?”.

“So good, ‘Toru-” You keen as the pressure builds, and builds, and builds; fluttering you eyes closed and rocking faster, you miss the way his eyes sparkle at the new name. One of his hands reaches forward to thumb your clit in time with your movements and your pussy clenches around him in response, twitching and quivering around him as you dangle dangerously close to the edge.

“Oh my god, yes! ‘Toru- fuck- gonna cum, pleaseplease-!”

“Cum for me, baby-” His other hand reaches forward to push three fingers against your waist with a bit of force, just above your pubic bone and holy shit- Where'd he learn that trick?

The added pressure had your vision blurring white as you cried out a blended song of pleasure, collapsing into his chest as he groaned beneath you, his thumb still circling your clit as he helped you ride out your high.

You’ve barely had the time to collapse against his chest before he takes control from underneath, pounding into you with force. There's no pain save the overstimulation as the high of your previous orgasm never really ended, and all you can feel is him. He surrounds you, and invades you, bullying his tongue into your mouth with fervor, keening and whining with every thrust. He sounds so desperate. You're ears struggle to make out which sound is his and which is yours.

The overstimulation builds to a point you've yet to experience, tears pooling in your eyes and streaking down your face, shaken loose with the force of every thrust that rocks your body and smooths your brain.

“S-satoru-!” You cry out “Too much, please, it's too much-!”.

“Nonono-” He shushes you through pained and ragged breaths “I’m almost there baby just a little more. You can do that f’me, yeah? Be good, be good-”.

He thrusts become a little uneven as he shamelessly chases his own high, and you openly sob as he brings one hand to the nape of your neck and snakes one arm around the small of your back, pulling you entirely flush against him.

“Thank you, baby- fuck, thank you thankyouthank-” He babbles in your ear, barely above a whisper, and the sound is enough to send another oragasm rolling over you- or maybe the first one never really ended.

Instinctively, your teeth latch onto his shoulder and he hisses as his hips stutter and stall, hit ropes of cum coating your walls for what feels like forever. With a whimper, he shallowly thrusts a few times, fucking his cum into you as far as possible before slowly pulling out.

Slowly, he goes limp, his hold on you becoming loose and languid as you both catch your breath.

Eventually, he flips you down behind him, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his head into the soft valley of your shoulder.

“Satoru,” You complain “I’m gross-”.

Kiss-bitten lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and he hums in acknowledgment, but doesn't let you up.

masterpost

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #stsg if u squint #cope fic #fix it fic #satoru gojo

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everfairestar · 2 years

Note

Weird writer asks for my weird writer wife: 10, 11 (like I don't already know you SADIST), 18, 24, 26, 35, 37 😘💖

Oh my god, my wife <3 I'm always happy to answer your questions

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Of course. Sometimes you read things and they have you by the throat, forever. I can think of several authors who have works who haunt me. The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray is probably the one that haunts me that's most like my own writing. As for being haunted by my own writing -- basically everything I write is like being chased by ghosts. My brain is a haunted house, and all my characters are my ghosts.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

I know you hate to hear it, but yes. Kill your darlings. Let their ghosts haunt your protagonists, let their spirits possess your POV characters, like shades calling from beyond the grave. It’s not ruthlessness, though. It is love, or necessity that drives it. Some characters are written as in tragedy. And I grieve them as my other characters grieve – it’s killing a piece of your very own soul.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Let’s see… So this is a passage from my first novel, from my female protagonist. She’s meeting her arranged husband’s family – who isn’t kind of him. And she looks at him, and sees him. As he is, as a whole being, as someone who has suffered and lived a life less than ideal. It is her first real recognition of him not as a monster, but as a person. He is used to fading into the subservient background, and she won’t let him make himself disappear in front of her.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

The answer to this is… Typically an absurd amount? I mean, there’s one or two pieces that a sit with for a brief moment and just write it out. But anything multichapter? Conceptualizing that takes years. Playing out and deciding POV characters, building their backgrounds, mannerisms, quirks, likes and dislikes, etc. Then you have any kind of actual world-building. Fanfiction in this regard is ‘easier’ because it comes with some rules – established characters, rules for the world, etc. I spend hours daydreaming, or making up a scenario and playing out how that would be seen from various characters perspectives. So, the short answer to this is: A Lot. And it’s one of my favourite aspects of writing.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

Getting into their head is easier than getting out, especially when you look at my last answer. Establishing how they would think makes it easier to get in… Once I’m in, it’s the getting out that’s hard. Especially with some of the darker, more monstrous characters. I can’t say it’s entirely regretful, but if I’m not careful with some of those awful characters it can cause my own mental health to spiral. Which probably means I’m pretty delicate emotionally or something.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Probably “don’t post anything publicly without editing.” I hate editing. I catch errors here and there as I’m writing, but I hate going back and reading my own writing 90% of the time. Most of the time I feel great about it in the moment, and not so great about it after. Once I’ve posted it becomes Everyone Else’s Problem. :^)

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

Other than “this person was probably extremely mentally unwell”? Well, hopefully that I was a bitch with a lot of opinions and cared a lot about people.

#askmeme #writeblr #hersilentlanguage #bestie I love this #my writing #I always feel like i'm slightly unhinged in answering these questions #as well as being entirely too earnest

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scarlett-vixen · 2 years

Text

Never Let Me Go

A/n: This...became slightly self indulgent I'm so sorry. I have a lot of love for this boy and he deserves to be happy :( Also i highly recommend reading Satan's part before this!! It sets up this chapter basically. As always I hope you guys enjoy.

Tw/Cw: Heavy angst, death, blood, description of Mc's body post lesson 16, a slightly unhinged Mammon, a very onesided fight between brothers, depression, selfdoubt, self blame, starvation, sleep deprevation, nightmares, extreme guilt

Summary: You finally find out what exactly Mammon went through, how he discovered your body and the fight that occured after. Can you find him and put his broken heart back together? Or will your dynamic forever be changed?

Word Count: 7k

The Soundtrack The Fight: Vicious The Apologies: Beelzebub, Satan Asmodeus, Leviathan

"So take care what you ask of me, 'cause I can't say no to you"

Something didn’t feel right.

Twenty minutes ago you had set out in search of Lucifer, hoping to patch things up and set your differences aside, why weren’t you back yet? Mammon was starting to get worried, he tried to bring your extended absence to the attention of his brothers but they told him he was just being jealous.

“Nothing is wrong, you just don’t like them being alone with Lucifer.” His brothers had teased. Normally they would be right however, this felt different.

Something felt off.

The others had been lost in conversation so Mammon took the opportunity to slip out of the room and search for you, he quietly shut the door behind him and started off down the hall towards Lucifer’s room. If you had found his older brother, chances were the two of you had gone to his room to talk, and that better be all you were doing.

Mammon pressed his ear against the door, not too hard though in case his brother had cursed it, no noise could be heard from inside the room, not even the sound of Lucifer’s favorite record playing. Nobody was here. Slightly annoyed that he had been wrong, Mammon headed downstairs to check the first floor, maybe you guys had gone to the living room to talk.

To his dismay, the living room was also empty and so was the kitchen, the laundry room, the library, and your room. The strange feeling inside Mammon’s stomach was growing, twisting itself into a knot, he decided to head back to the second floor and try again. Maybe the two of you had slipped past him while he was searching the library or maybe there really was a curse on Lucifer’s door so he couldn’t hear what was happening on the other side, either way Mammon headed back to the staircase in the main entrance to try again, but slowed his pace when a strong scent hit his nose.

“Hello dear brother, surprised to see Lucifer doesn’t have you strung up from the ceiling for once.”

Mammon stiffened and stopped dead in his tracks, that voice didn’t belong here. He snapped his head up towards the top of the stairs and was met with more questions than answers.

“Surprised to see me as well?”

“The hell are you doin’ here? Ain’t ya supposed to be up in the human world? And what are ya doin’ with yer horns out? You know Lucifer has a strict rule on demon forms in the house!”

There, at the top of the stairs, stood his youngest brother. Belphegor. The Belphegor that Lucifer had forced to go to the human world as punishment for disagreeing with Lord Diavolo. Mammon’s mind was starting to clog with confusion, how was he here? Where were you and Lucifer at? What was that smell and why was it so strong? What was all over Belphie’s arms?

“I have a feeling that’ll be at the bottom of the list of reasons why Lucifer is pissed at me,” He gave a smirk. “where is he anyway?”

“Dunno, that’s who I’m lookin’ for. Well…him and someone else.” Mammon wrinkled his nose; he knew what the smell was now.

“Someone else?” Belphegor raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, our exchange student. A human that got sent down here around the same time you left, they went to go look for Lucifer a while ago and never came back, I’m gettin’ worried.” He shifted his weight and put one hand in his jacket pocket. Why did the main entrance smell so strongly of blood?

“Worried? About a human?” Belphegor furrowed his brows and sneered at his brother. “Why would you worry about some dumb defenseless human? All you’ve ever cared about was money and the quickest way to get it.”

“Hey! They ain’t dumb and they ain’t defenseless! My human is a lot smarter and tougher than most of those flimsy humans up there! Don’t talk about ‘em like that when you don’t even know ‘em!” Mammon felt his cheeks start to burn and didn’t care if his little brother could see them turn a light pink. He would defend your honor any day no matter who it was.

“Your human? What do you mean your human?” Belphie gave him a disgusted look.

“I- well, ya know… Lucifer put me in charge of ‘em when they first got here so they’re my responsibility…and our pact or whatever I guess.” Mammon rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, he felt his face grow hotter.

Belphegor watched as his brother became bashful and started muttering nonsense down at his shoes, a wicked grin grew on his face and he started to laugh.

“Well, I have to disagree. They weren’t very smart and they weren’t all that tough.” He watched as the second born looked back up at him once more in confusion.

“What do you mean by that.” Less of a question and more of a statement, Mammon felt his heart jump in his chest, he feared that he knew the meaning.

“I mean,” Belphegor reached down at his side and picked something up, an arm or a leg possibly, whatever it was had blood all over it. “they might have gone searching for Lucifer but they found me instead.” In one swift motion, Belphegor lifted the object in his hand slightly and then tossed it in the direction of his older brother.

Mammon’s stomach dropped as he realized what his brother had picked up, as he watched it tumble down the stairs with a larger bloody mass attached to it, his heart nearly stopped as he watched it hit every step on the way down.

It was you.

“I guess they did put up some kind of a fight, I’ll give them that.”

Belphegor’s words fell on deaf ears, Mammon stood frozen as your limp body finally stopped and laid motionless on the marble floor in front of him. He could hear noise coming from the top of the stairs but couldn’t make out any real words, his heart was racing and felt like it was about to burst, there was a loud ringing in his ears, his mind was a whirlpool of emotions: fear, sadness, guilt, rage. It was getting hard for him to breathe, his chest was growing tight and with every breath he inhaled that strong smell of blood, he felt like throwing up. The tears began to pool up in his eyes, this couldn’t be real, he wanted to scream but the best he could do was whisper your name.

He dropped to his knees beside you.

“What did you do?” he managed to ask while looking at your bruised face.

“Simple,” Belphie scoffed “I proved that humans are nothing but an inferior species and Diavolo has no business bringing them down here. Unless of course, he plans to add them as a new menu item.”

That was it.

Something snapped inside Mammon, he felt his wings fly out from his back, and before his brother could process what was happening Mammon was at the top of the stairs.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Mammon grabbed Belphie by his shirt collar and slammed his back against the wall leaving a large dent. “YOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR MONTHS! YOU SHOW UP OUTTA NOWHERE! AND YOU FUCKIN’ KILL THEM?”

Belphie gasped for air after having the wind knocked out of him before speaking.

“Why the hell do you care so much about a stupid human?” He placed his hands on Mammon’s wrists, attempting to loosen his grip.

“THEY AIN’T STUPID!” Mammon practically snarled at his brother “You don’t know a damn thing about ‘em! They’ve been down here helpin’ us! WHAT DID YOU DO?” The tears were streaking down his face now. Glancing down Mammon caught sight of the youngest brothers arms, his sleeves were stained with blood, through the various holes in his jacket he could see tons of scratch marks still freshly bleeding. Looking back at his brothers face he could see a gash on his neck, a desperate attempt to get him off you it looked like, the blood from that wound was starting to dry but ran down his neck and soaked his shirt collar.

You had fought like hell.

“Oh, I see what happened.” Belphie managed to say as Mammon pressed him harder into the wall; he gave a smartass smirk before continuing. “You got put in charge of the dumb thing, you spent time with it, and like the idiot you are you went and fell in love with it didn’t you?”

“Shut up.” Mammon hissed through clenched teeth.

“Let me guess: They were nice to you? Did they make you feel good about yourself? Did they try to convince you that you aren’t a scumbag?”

“SHUT UP!” Mammon screamed before hurling Belphie over the railing of the staircase.

Belphegor felt his shoulder dislocate on impact, his body rolled and slid across the floor below, he winced as he attempted to sit up. Since they made fun of him so often, most of the brothers were quick to forget just how strong Mammon was when provoked. He looked up to where he had recently been standing and his eyes grew wide as he saw Mammon falling from above about to land on him, Belphie quickly rolled to the right just barley dodging his brother, Mammon’s foot landed directly where Belphegor’s throat had previously been and left a crack in its place.

Belphie watched as his brother rose slowly, his wings twitched slightly, his eyes held golden flames inside, Belphie knew he needed to run but he was too stunned to move. He knew even in his most powerful state he was no match for the second oldest, he kept an eye on his brothers horns knowing they were deadly enough to injure him with one good blow.

Mammon’s arm reached out and grabbed ahold of his brothers shirt again and pulled him in close, his body was shaking with anger, all logic had left his mind.

“You better be careful Mammon; Lucifer will be upset if you break something important.” Belphie joked but got no response, he shifted to a more defensive tone “So I killed one dumb human, what are you gonna do about it?”

Mammon looked his little brother directly in the eyes. ‘One dumb human’ that’s all he thought you were? No. Belphegor took away more than that, he took away the one person who had been able to reconnect his brothers, the one person who had no problem standing up to Lucifer, who let Mammon hang around all the time and listened to his stories. Belphie took away the one person who had treated Mammon like an equal, like he actually mattered, he took away a friend. Belphegor took away his human. Brothers be damned. Mammon pulled the youngest demon in as close as he could and spoke directly into his ear.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

An instant later and Belphegor was tossed through the air, his back made harsh contact with another wall, leaving a demon shaped imprint in the foundation, before dropping to the floor below. Mammon prepared to launch himself at the avatar of sloth, ready to destroy him for what he had done, but just as he was ready to unleash his fury he heard a noise.

“Mam…mon” The name came out broken and barely audible, but he heard it.

His name.

In your voice.

His head spun back in your direction, your body still in the position it had been but this time he saw your chest move slightly. He felt a sharp pain in his chest as he rushed over to you hoping that his mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke, as he knelt beside you again, he could see your labored breathing. Somehow, despite the severity of your injuries and being tossed down a flight of stairs, you were alive. Mammon whispered your name like a prayer, he wanted to grab you and hold you, he wanted to help you, but he was so scared of hurting you more.

“Mammon?” your hand closest to him moved slightly. He placed one of his hands on top of yours, his voice caught in his throat for a moment before he could respond.

“ ‘S alright, I-Im right here. Ya don’t have ta worry, ‘m right here.” He gently placed his other hand on your cheek. He wanted you to look at him but realized one eye was completely swollen shut, the other was extremely bloodshot, he wasn’t even sure if you could see him.

“Can’t…move…” You gasped for air between words and Mammon could hear your chest rattle as you did. His heart broke even more as he watched a tear fight its way down your face and mix with the blood still dripping off you.

Mammon couldn’t stand it anymore, he carefully scooped you up in his arms stopping briefly anytime you cried out in pain, once you were in his lap he could tell just how bad your condition was. The bruises on your body were a deep purple and sickly green, your nails had blood, fabric and what he assumed to be bits of Belphegor’s skin under them and he was almost certain humans weren’t supposed to bend their leg that way.

“You’re an idiot you know.”

Mammon forgot you two weren’t alone, he snapped his head towards your attacker, he raised his wings to shield you from any further harm. His anger had subsided while he was looking you over, but it was quickly returning.

“Even if they’re as great as you think they are, it’s too late, you can’t save that worthless human. Just let it go already.” Belphegor had sat up now, trying to pop his shoulder back into its socket, with that wicked look in his eyes still.

Mammon wanted to lash out again, to finish what he started, to make the seventh born suffer like you had, but he couldn’t let you go. He looked back at you, your face pressed against his chest, your breathing becoming shallower with each passing minute, he could feel your pulse fading. He knew what he had to do. He filled his lungs with as much air as he could and squeezed his eyes shut.

“LUCIFEEER! HELP!”

The second born screamed as loud as he could hoping to reach every corner of the accursed house, Belphie was right there was nothing he could do, Lucifer on the other hand could fix anything. So many times before when things had gone wrong, when he found himself in deep trouble with a group of witches, when his brothers had accidentally unleashed some creature in the house, when he had been in trouble with Lord Diavolo even, Lucifer had always been there to make things right.

Back in the Celestial Realm Lucifer had taken care of them, if one of them had gotten hurt he was always there to help them, and that carried on even after the fall. If Lucifer could heal an angel then he could fix you, he had to. Mammon held you closer to his chest, his head fell back as he choked on his sobs, he didn’t want to think about losing you.

He needed his older brother.

“What exactly is going on?”

Mammon knew that tone all too well. Lucifer had appeared and was taking in the half-destroyed entrance hall, the crack in the marble flooring, the numerous paintings that had fallen off the wall, the blood the covered the floor, the sculptures and vases that were now shattered on the ground. Mammon watched the eldest brother survey his surroundings, his gaze landing on the one thing that didn’t belong in the room, he watched his brother stiffen and a light flicker in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

Belphie smirked, this was just the reaction he had hoped for.

“I brought you a gift, but you’ll have to pry it from Mammon’s greedy hands as usual.”

Lucifer turned to the second born in confusion.

“What is he talking about Mammon?”

Mammon’s mind was racing, his chest hurt and his eyes burned from crying, he tried to tell Lucifer what happened. He tried to tell him Belphie had attempted to kill you, that you were hurt, that he had lashed out and attacked the youngest. He tried to say it all but nothing would come out when he opened his mouth, so he said what he could.

“Lucifer… help ‘em… please…” Mammon took a deep ragged breath and slowly moved his wings back, revealing your mangled body to the first born “ya gotta help ‘em… please!”

Lucifer jumped at the sight, his first instinct was to yell and to scold his brother, he knew better than that. It was clear what had happened, he knew who was responsible for the damage to the room and he knew who was responsible for you, he knew Mammon had snapped. Lucifer stepped closer and fully took in your injuries.

He knew he couldn’t fix you.

Lucifer tried to console his younger brother, to offer him some type of comfort, before explaining that there was no saving you. Mammon burst into tears, clutching on to you as if it would prevent you from leaving, he buried his face in your neck, his body shaking as he sobbed violently. He heard other voices, several gasps and a sharp scream, the others had found their way to the scene. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about the argument that was happening between Lucifer and Belphegor, he didn’t care about anything anymore.

Mammon continued to sob into your neck, he had so desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to face this possibility, he had been so sure he could save you and keep you here with him. He thought about how scared you must have been, how hard you had fought back, how much pain you must be in. He started whispering in your ear, telling you how strong you were and how much you meant to him, if he was going to lose you, if he had to let you go, then he wanted you to know exactly how he felt.

“Mammon…” Your voice softly whispered in his ear. The avatar of greed pulled his head back to face you one last time, a soft smile on your face, a single tear rolling down your cheek, even in your current condition you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, Mammon knew you were in pain, he knew his time with you was running low and there was nothing he could do to save you, he knew he was watching the final embers of your fire burn and he dreaded how cold his world was about to become.

The second born did his best to smile back at you in a pointless attempt to look strong in your dying eyes. He felt your hand brush against his, his heart broke as you gently squeezed it with what strength you had left, he knew that was your goodbye.

“You were the best human a demon could ask for ya know?” his voice wavered as he fought his way through the sentence. You gave the faintest laugh before closing your eye, your head rested perfectly against his chest, smile still on your face, your chest rose one final time and then your body stilled. Mammon buried his face in the top of your head as silent tears streamed down his face and dampened your hair. “I just hope I was a good demon for you.”

You were gone.

Before now, Mammon felt like he had all eternity to spend in your light, your arrival in the Devildom made his world so much brighter. Everyday he looked forward to talking to you, to spending time with you, to having you sit next to him during class and at dinner. Even on his worst days you always made it worth getting out of bed, you were his best friend, you called him out when he needed it but you also supported him more than anyone else. Belphie was right, you made him feel better about himself. But you just left, and you took his light and will to keep going with you.

The second born always knew how he felt about you, even if he pretended not to, but he never truly knew how you felt about him. Now he never would.

“No way… is that?” Leviathan’s voice cut through the tension in the room, drawing everyone’s attention to the top of the staircase.

Mammon only looked up when he heard one of his brothers call your name, his heart skipped a beat, this had to be a sick joke. There you were, standing on the stairs looking down at them, as perfect as always. His eyes locked onto you, afraid that if he looked away you might vanish, how was this possible?

He was lost in thought while his brothers tried to put the pieces together. How could this be? How could you be standing there without a scratch on you? The air was still thick with the smell of your blood, he had felt you take your final breath, he was still holding your body. Or so he thought.

Mammon’s arms suddenly felt lighter, the pressure on his legs from the weight of your body was decreasing rapidly, he looked down at your mangled form. He could see his arm through your shoulder, his lap becoming more visible through your torso, his worst fear was becoming reality. You were vanishing from his life, he tried to hold on as best he could but his hands passed right through you, slowly but surely your lifeless body disappeared.

*******************************************************

Mammon’s eyes flew open, he glanced over at his alarm clock, this time he had managed to sleep for seven whole minutes. He wanted to sleep so badly, part of him wanting to never wake up, but every time he drifted off that same nightmare would replay in his head. This was the longest he had slept so far.

Four or five days had gone by since the big dinner disaster, he wasn’t sure how many days had passed honestly, time didn’t really matter anymore. Nothing did. You had ripped open a wound that he had tried so hard to stitch shut, you made him face the reality that he had been avoiding, you had reminded him of all the awful things he saw, heard, and felt that day.

The room was pitch black, same as it had been since he retreated from the dining room that night, dirty clothes covered the couch, half drank water bottles occupied the nightstand and floor below. A few plates of untouched food sat on his coffee table where they had been placed days ago, fresh at some point but now starting to mold, this was by far the worst his room had looked in centuries.

In his bed, buried under his comforter and bedsheets, was a very broken demon who had not slept in days despite never leaving the bed. Mammon had been in the same spot ever since you tore into them, he had cried himself to sleep that night from guilt, and when he woke the next morning he couldn’t find the strength to get up and go down to breakfast. Your words were etched into his thoughts, every time he considered getting up your face would flash in his mind, he would remember how angry you had been and he would lose all motivation.

Lucifer had been surprisingly understanding, he had checked in on him the first day to make sure he was okay, he would bring food by in hopes that Mammon would actually eat but it was to no avail. The second born was used to his older brother punishing him for skipping class, he had expected to have his door kicked in on day three for missing so much, but no punishment or lecture ever came. Instead, the avatar of greed had been left alone with his thoughts and memories, two very dangerous things to be left with.

At the time he had been thrilled to have you alive and well, but as the days went by he started to think about how you were not the same version that he had held in his arms so tenderly, you were not the one he had confessed his love to finally, and he had mixed feelings about that. Aside from his own confused heart, he was also being consumed by guilt and blamed himself for everything.

“None of you heard me screaming?? Where were any of you!”

These were the words that had sent him over the edge, your voice laced with rage and eyes full of hatred. He had done his best to silence himself as he cried there at the table but you had caught him anyway, that wasn’t why he felt so guilty though. It was the fact that even in the middle of your brutal scolding, you had shifted gears and started to defend him, you demanded that his brothers stop picking on him and they had all listened.

You had always been the only person to defend him, you shut his brothers down anytime they tried to make him feel shitty, you came to his aide when he was being blamed for a situation he had no hand in. Ever since your pact was made you had always been there for him.

But he wasn’t there for you.

Not when you needed him most, not when you were being brutally attacked by his youngest brother, not when you had been screaming for help. The guilt was eating him alive, his stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the thought of you scared for your life, had you called for him? While his brother did his worst, had you screamed his name? Had you tried to summon him? Had your strength been far too weak to do so?

Mammon’s eyes burned harshly as the tears started to form once more, he had been assigned to watch over you when you first arrived, yet in your greatest time of need he had failed to protect you.

He’d never forgive himself.

He couldn’t handle facing his brothers, he knew what they say about him, that it had been his fault you had died. So, he stayed in his room locked away from the world, from the harsh reality he didn’t want to deal with, from his brothers, and from you. He kept his door locked so that no one could bother him, not that they cared enough to check on him, only Lucifer could enter when bringing by another useless plate of food. He knew the counter spell to open the seal Mammon had placed, out of respect or pity one Lucifer always resealed the door on his way out, but even perfect demons are forgetful sometimes.

“Mammon?” He tensed up hearing his name called into the silent room, he felt a sharp pain in his heart, he squeezed his eyes shut and cursed Lucifer in his mind.

Why did your voice always have to sound so damn sweet?

*******************************************************

Satan told you the full story from beginning to end, about how Mammon had disappeared from the group, about how he and Asmo had gone out to search as well, about how Asmodeus had walked in on the fight between brothers.

He knew there was only one demon who could stop Mammon in a blind rage like that, Asmo had done well to stay out of Mammon’s line of sight, he had bailed first chance he got and rejoined Satan in complete terror, they tried calling Lucifer on his phone but just as he had answered Mammon’s voice rang through the mansion.

You had done your best to focus on your project with Satan in the library, but your thoughts were plagued by images of the second born discovering your broken body. The avatar of wrath could tell your mind was elsewhere and offered to end your study session early, you thanked him as you gathered your things before rushing out of the building.

Now you stood in the doorway of Mammon’s room, pitch black inside and a foul smell emitting from the empty void inside, you grew anxious. You had called his name but received no response, you peered further into the room and saw a demon sized lump on his bed, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you.

Using the glow of your phone as a guide you made your way over to his bed, along the way you stepped over the piles of dirty laundry and discarded bottles, you also discovered the rotting food which was giving off the nauseating smell. Reaching his bed you spotted the lamp sitting on his nightstand, you turned it on and tried again to get his attention.

“Mammon? I know you’re under there.” You moved a dirty shirt out of the way and sat down on the edge of the bed near his stomach. By the state of his room you could tell he hadn’t left in days, Mammon was a lot of things but a slob wasn’t one of them, he was in a very bad place mentally and it hurt to know that.

“Go away…” You felt your heart break a little at both his words and the crack in his voice. It had been days since you’d heard him speak, for seven months he had done nothing but talk your ear off, now after five days of silence you would give him all the grimm in the world just to hear his voice again.

“Mammon please, you can’t just shut me out…” The blankets covering his face pulled in closer, his way of telling you yes he could. You hated this. Mammon was the happiest demon you knew, full of excitement, constantly wanting to hang out and go new places. Seeing him here like this, trying to disappear from you, it was making you miserable. “Fine, don’t talk to me, but I’m gonna talk to you,” you felt a slight sting in your throat, why did he always make you so emotional?

“I know about what happened…between you and Belphie. I know that you found me before the others, that you beat the shit out of him for hurting me, I know you called for Lucifer to save me.” Your eyes started to water but you wiped away the evidence. “It wasn’t your fault Mams…you didn’t know. If you had known? I know you would have protected me no matter what. You’ve always been there for me, you’re the first demon I became friends with, the first I made a pact with. And I know my first is always going to have my back…but it’s killing me to have you avoid me.”

The bedsheets started to rustle, slowly the white-haired demon emerged from his nest of blankets, he sat up against the headboard. You were filled with both sorrow and excitement at seeing him finally, he was a sight for sore eyes, but he looked like a wreck. His hair was a mess, bangs glued to his forehead by dirt and sweat, his eyes bloodshot with dark bags underneath, you half expected most of that but you didn’t expect him to be shirtless.

You felt your face flush due to his exposed chest, he avoided looking at you but you gave him a gentle smile anyway, you wondered if he knew just how pretty he was even when he was like this. He closed his eyes and you watched him take a deep breath before speaking.

“When I told ya that if I couldn’t save ya,” He starts, voice low and shaky. “That you better die…I didn’t actually mean it.”

Your heart shatters completely, it was getting harder to fight off the tears, you vividly remembered him telling you that back when Leviathan had charged you after the stupid trivia game. While he had been busy bandaging your sprained wrist, he had told you he was the only one allowed to save you, you assumed he was just being jealous of Lucifer but it meant more to him apparently.

“You were mine to watch over, Lucifer assigned me to take care of ya back then. I did my best but I always seemed to screw up and one of my brothers had to save ya. I was supposed to protect you, it was my one job but I couldn’t even do that right. I let ya get hurt…I let ya die.” You heard the guilt in his voice, a gentle stream of tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Mammon I—”

“No, lemme finish.” He lifted his head to look at you finally, the tears rolled a little faster, his bottom lip started to quiver but he continued. “When ya first got here…I figured ya’d be like everyone else. I’d have to listen to ya call me names, tell me I’m scum, that I’m just a garbage demon. Ya never did though,” He choked on his words slightly, hands gripping the bedsheets. “You were always so nice to me, I never understood why, hell ya been nicer to me in the last seven months than my brothers have been in the last thousand years.” He sobbed and wiped the tears from his eyes, only for them to be replaced by new ones.

“I should’ve been there for ya, but I wasn’t…you shouldn’t have to put up with me, I understand if ya wanna sever our pact…” You were lost for words, the fact that he thought you would ever do that to him? You were frantically searching for the right words to say, you took too long though, Mammon’s face contorted and he began to sob violently.

Without a second thought you pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around him as he buried his face into your neck, holding him tightly as his body started shaking. You did your best to soothe him, assuring him that you would never sever your pact over this, you gently stroked his tangled hair as he continued to apologize against your skin.

You were never that good at consoling people when they were upset but for some reason it came naturally with him, maybe it was because of how close you had become, maybe it was because Mammon always brought out the protective side in you, or maybe you just felt guilty for yelling at him along with the others. Whatever the reasoning, you continued to try and calm him, one hand still running through his hair while the other gently rubbed his back, eventually you felt his arms snake around your waist and his breathing started to even out.

“It wasn’t your fault Mammon, I don’t blame you and I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. I don’t want you to think I hate you, and I would never sever our pact alright?” You pulled away from him slightly to see his face, the tears had stopped and in their place was a light blush on his cheeks. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.” You teased, the second born scoffed and looked away, but you caught a glimpse of that goofy grin he always had when being bashful around you.

It was nice to see him smile again, to see him in general honestly, you realized how lonely it was without him around to make you laugh. You knew he had missed you just as much by the way he clung on to the bottom of your shirt, you had known for a long time that somewhere along the way he had fallen for you, and regardless of your feelings towards him he was your best friend above all else. You loved seeing him smile, you loved the way he laughed at all your stupid jokes, and you loved how he always made sure you felt included.

You looked at your first man, a title he was so proud of even if it sounded inappropriate, and you suddenly thought about Mammon, not the one in front of you but the one you had left behind. The one that never even got to say goodbye, in fact the last thing you had said to him was “If I die, I’m totally coming back to haunt you!” the memory made you sick to your stomach.

Did he know?

Had Barbatos known you wouldn’t be coming back? Is that why he and Diavolo wouldn’t allow anyone to go with you? If he did, did he also know you die in this timeline? Did he tell the brothers?

You felt your own cheeks become laced with tears, Mammon had been so anxious about you leaving, it pained you to think he might still be waiting for you to return. Was the Mammon you left behind just as torn up right now as the one sitting in front of you? Did he blame himself for letting you go alone? Was he still standing there at the door you walked into, patiently waiting and hoping for you to step back through?

“Hey, come on now, don’t you start cryin’” You were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice, you didn’t realize your tears were now falling off your face and into your lap, Mammon reached up to wipe your cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” You meant to say that at full volume but all you could manage was a whisper. Mammon froze, his hand still on your cheek, his face went bright red as he searched yours for an explanation.

“What are ya sorry for? I’m the idiot that screwed up and let ya get hurt!” You shook your head and sighed. Explaining the timeline ordeal would just give you a headache and possibly throw him into another spiral.

“I should have come looking for you sooner. I was stubborn and angry, I didn’t think about how that day affected you also. I’m sorry you’ve been suffering alone like this. I miss having you around.” You placed your hand on his wrist gently and looked into his deep blue eyes. In typical Mammon fashion he couldn’t handle it and turned away from you.

“Geez, why ya gotta say somethin’ mushy like that huh? I mean of course ya missed me, I am—”

“The Great Mammon.” The avatar of greed whipped his head back around to see you with the dorkiest smile on your face; he couldn’t help but smile too.

“See, you humans do catch on!” You rolled your eyes and laughed; Mammon felt his heart swell a little at the sound. “H-Hey…MC…”

You gave him an inquiring look before he pulled you into a hug.

“I missed ya too…Promise ya won’t go leavin’ me like that again alright?”

“I promise.” You hugged him a little tighter before letting go. “Now, why don’t we get you out of this room? I’ll take you to Hell’s Kitchen, your treat?” You smirked and pulled out the most coveted item that ever existed from your jacket pocket.

“Goldie?? How did ya— Why do ya have—” Mammon looked at you in awe. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“I have my ways.” You teased. He didn’t need to know that Lucifer had given you the card almost six months ago, in hopes of hiding it from the mischievous over spender, instead you’d let him think you were some kind of God for pulling a stunt like this. “So? Wanna go have some fun?”

“I guess I can go out with ya, since your askin’ me and all!” That familiar look returned to Mammon’s face, the one he got whenever you invited him to hangout even if it was just to watch tv all afternoon.

“Great! Oh, but first…will you do something for me?”

“O-of course, you know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” The blush on his cheeks returned. You placed a hand on his leg still under the comforter and smiled politely.

“Take a shower first?” His blush deepened and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Guess I did let myself go huh?” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, taking a look around his dimly lit room, finally seeing how bad it was.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been there,” You tried to ease his embarrassment. “One time I took what was supposed to be a casual thirty-minute nap and it turned into a twenty-two-hour depression nap. When I woke up, I had a chip stuck to the side of my face…I wasn’t even eating chips at the time.” Mammon laughed at your dumb little story.

“Hurry up and get ready! It’s late and I’m hungry!” You stood up and made your way to the door, you turned to look back and saw a fretful look on Mammon’s face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be in my room waiting.”

“Promise ya won’t leave without me?”

“I promise,”

For a brief moment everything around you disappeared, it was just you and him. You thought about what he had done, what he had seen. You thought about the other version of him somewhere in a different timeline, you couldn’t go back and tell that version you were safe, but you could do everything in your power to comfort this one.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Tag List: @asexual-levia-tan @demonablack83 @jockallensworld @ari-shipping-stuff @hamiltonwrite12 @spookyyarn @ice-cream-nekogirl @deppressed-bixch-number2 @undead-dante @paulowniatormentosa @shamrockfish @drakaena @321clockworkangels @obeymemammoney @saeranthot @frankpanioncube @callalillie15 @magic-forever-and-after @midnightbluebell @thegreatiroko @crackheadbbb & @yaboihack (you didn’t ask to be tagged but I know you enjoy Mammon :) )

✨Reblogs much appreciated! ✨

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froggy-frogz · 3 years

Note

Omg omg omg... I neeeeeeed Viktor x fem!reader where he is hopelessly in love with this bomb of a woman and she drives hin crazy and is really soft and warm and when he is near fainting from working too long she finds him and lets him sleep in her bed (her room is closer to the lab) and hnghhhh

Only if you want to of course!

A/N: I changed it to gender-neutral, hope that's alright! Also, this was a really cute idea and literally, I'm such a simp for this man so I might have almost gone overboard here lol- Hope you enjoy anon!

- - -

Viktor x GN!Reader HCs + Blurb

Warnings: None, except Viktor being Viktor

- - -

Viktor had an interesting feeling towards you when you first meet. You would come to work under Heimerdinger and it was then that he met you.

But the thing was, you were unlike anyone he had ever met, you weren't unhinged per se, but you were energetic, a ball of energy, and every time he was around you, you were always in a good mood, and it made him feel, well, made him feel good. Like whenever he'd see you, his mood would slightly raise for the time you were there.

When he would go to talk to you about your studies, he was impressed, sure you were almost borderline unhinged [joke] but you were diligent and smart.

You two became friends after a while, and Viktor was quite glad, as you soon became a big figure in his life.

Always making sure that he had slept in the last 24 hours, had food or water in his system, or wanted to stop by to say hi or crack a stupid joke, he often looked forward to seeing you.

Viktor was afflicted though, as he didn't really understand how he felt about you, you were his friend, a co-worker, and that was all.

It wasn't until Jayce caught on to what was happening for the pieces to finally fit together.

"You alright? You've been starring at the new kid for like, 10 minutes."

Cue Viktor to have a small mental breakdown. Just a tiny one. He's having a bit of a crisis.

Nothing much changes, except for every time you come around to visit he talks a bit more, hoping that you'll stay longer.

You think he'd confess to liking you? No, he would be too nervous too and be too caught up in his work.

So sadly, that'd have to be up to you.

- - -

It was that time of day for you to swing by Viktor's lab, around 7 pm is when you would check on him before heading to grab some food. When you knocked on the door, you received no answer. After a second you knocked again. No response.

You push open the door, and you look around for Viktor, thinking he's probably not there until you spot him, bent over on his desk, not moving.

For a second, you panic and realize that he's probably asleep, seeing how this man never sleeps. You walk over to his desk, and you see his chest rise and fall, and let out a breath of relief. See, he's fine.

"Mmm?" A noise escapes his lips and Viktor shifts, one eye cracking open, "Hello [Y/n]-"

You could tell that he was barely awake from the tone of his voice and you hold back a chuckle, "Nice to see you too. When's the last time you slept?"

When you receive no answer to your question, you shrug, and look around, trying to see if he maybe had a makeshift bed set up for nights when he stayed at the lab [as that being most nights] and when you found nothing, you huffed.

Well, there was one idea that you had.

You bent down, and gently pick him up, hosting him so that you could carry him, he wasn't heavy, but you wanted to make sure you wouldn't drop him.

Viktor mumbled out a weak protest, but he stayed limp against you, not making any attempts to move.

- -

It wasn't a far walk to your room, as you lived in the Academy, so you were glad when you got to your room, as your arm was starting to hurt.

Your bed was reasonably comfortable, with a good amount of blankets folded on the edge of your bed. It would often get cold in your room, so you were fond of having them on hand, but now you were glad.

You lay Viktor down, and he makes no sound. Damn, for someone who never slept, he fell asleep pretty quickly.

Unfolding your blankets, you press them against him, tucking him in. It was honestly cute, seeing him wrapped up in your blankets, his face relaxed, not scrunched up, his face void of any emotion.

It was also quite something to see him of all people in your bed but you'd deal with that thought later.

You moved to your door, figuring you'd go and grab your food and also grab something to keep for Viktor when he woke up.

"I'll be right back." You hum, knowing he won't hear you. "Sleep tight Viktor."

#arcane #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor imagine #x reader #x gn reader

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palaceofpassion · 2 years

Note

Truth or Dare: Pyrrha asks Jaune

Truth. How would he rate all the girls in the room from most to least attractive?

Dare. He must remove one article of clothing. (Seeing as he's in a onesie that could pose a problem lol)

Master List

Now that it was Pyrrha's turn, the girl couldn't wait to ask a question. It wasn't a question of who she would target, she'd already picked him out, but it was a question of how should pose this question. Either he would buckle to her whims, or he would answer, either way it was a win win for her.

"Oh Jaune♥"

The boy instantly came to as Pyrrha called his name, a strange panic sensor pumping inside his heart. His eyes widened as he eyed his friend? What even where they now?! It's not like he hadn't entertained, or dreamt about what she'd just done to him but... but... that had been far beyond his wildest fantasies, because it was real.

"Ye...yes?"

"Truth or Dare?"

No one dared to say anything, the slightly unhinged and dangerous tone in her voice alerting practically EVERYONE in the room. Even Jaune, in his trust of his partner could feel the threat just on the tip of her tongue.

"Truth."

Had it been any other time he would have picked dare, but something about his partner just... it sent alerts off.

"Perfect, and I want a good honest answer, no in betweens or bargains. But for each and every girl in this room. I want you to rank us, from who you find to be the most to least beautiful."

Jaune raised his hand in defiance.

"Just the girls, don't want you using Ren to hide."

Ren gave a quick wink, the young man taking a sip from an open bottle.

"Oh god... oh god..."

Now he was panicking.

"Okay just... I want EVERYONE here to understand I find you all beautiful. But... well..." He bit his lip in panic, "Okay. Just don't kill me. Please?"

"No promises!"

'Damn it Coco.'

"Okay so... the number one spot." He took a moment to process everything. "Pyrrha?"

"Oh?" The spartan seemed to be genuinely shocked, as did Weiss but she didn't say anything just silently furrowing her brow for some reason.

"Yeah... so I just... so the way I identify beauty is a bit different? I dunno, it's got a lot to do how I feel about someone and well... that changes right? Like if it had been before the dance I would have put Weiss as number one."

"That makes no sense to what you just said VB."

"Yeah well... I wasn't htinking straight then."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry Weiss, I just... I still think you're gorgeous and you're awesome, but I've had enough time to clear my head. You're still all the things I thought about you. Smart, hardworking, trying to be you. But... well my feelings shifted. So Pyrrha, you're my number one. You've always been there for me, and even before I got off my crush on Weiss you were still really close to the top for me."

"Oh? Then why didn't you ever notice me?"

"I'm not good with feelings? I have seven sisters, you would THINK that would make things easier but it doesn't."

"Wait seven?!" Emerald sputtered.

"Yep. Well yeah, so emotions aren't something I'm super keen on, not romantic ones anyways. And I was kind of blinded with my pursuit of Weiss. But you mean a lot to me Py-"

She silenced him by kissing him again. "Good, then we understand where we stand after this."

"Uh huh-" He shifted in a daze.

Neptune shook his head in jealousy, "Dude lucky!" He however smiled for his friend? Wasn't sure if Jaune was a friend or not.

"Oh...okay well... uhm... so- next is-"

Jaune took a moment to look at them. "Ruby would be number 2 based on our friendship alone. But sorry Rubes, I kind of see you as a sister. I know it's bit to say it out of order but you're my number 3."

"Aww! Phoey!"

"There there Sis." Yang patted her sisters back but giggled anyways.

"Who is your number 2?" Nora was practically bouncing on her bottom alone.

"You."

He didn't make eye contact with her but Nora felt her cheeks heat up a little as her hands pressed against her face.

"Hey wait! What about me?"

"Oh uhm... you're six right now Weiss." The girl practically glowered, "How did I get so low?"

"I said everyone was beautiful! And you're really pretty but... but we aren't very close and I can't see you that way."

"I should get this out of the way then. So Coco you're last."

Coco shrugged, "Can't blame ya."

"Followed by Blake, sorry Blake!"

"It's alright, we should talk more though."

Jaune nodded, "Emerald."

"Huh, not last, rather surprised."

"Then Neon and Yang."

"Oh! I'm so low! Well, I at least know how to shape your opinion big guy~"

Jaune swallowed a ball in his throat.

Yang just smirked, "All good V- er Jaune." Yang surprisingly gave him a thumbs up.

"So moving onto the girls I've gotten to know a bit better. Velvet, then Reese."

"Hey dude! I didn't expect to be so high! Thanks!"

"D'aww thank you Jaune." Velvet started to slowly play with her ears.

"So then we move onto where Weiss is."

Weiss harrumphed.

Neptune simply gave her a risen brow look.

Weiss blushed a little, but a little payback was fine! She was miffed she was put so low though.

"Then well uh... this is a bit embarrassing to say, but Ciel has kind of put herself on a higher position today."

Ciel herself smiled smugly, something out of place but somehow fitting for her. She'd taken a position next to May.

Who was now blushing at the realization she was number 4!

"So uhm, May... May is next. She would have probably been higher but well... we only recently started talking and I really enjoy spending time with you and-"

She hugged him, that's all she could think of. "Thank you, I'm not used to people finding me attractive."

"No problem." He returned the hug in response.

"So then Ruby is next."

"Boo! I'll take it though, thanks for thinking of me Jauney♥"

"Then Nora."

Nora was still trying to make heads of tails of the situation.

"And finally Pyrrha. Who shifted closer to his other side, pincering him between her and Jaune.

Jaune grew silent for a moment, "So again, top to bottom. Pyrrha, Nora, Ruby, May, Ciel, Reese, Velvet, Yang, Neon, Emerald, Blake, Coco. Bonus now, for guys it's Ren, Sun, Neptune... sorry Neptune you're not really my type."

Neptune took a moment, put his hand to his chest and backed up, "Forshame!"

Everyone started to laugh.

"I suppose it's my turn to ask now... uh how about-"

#RWBYTruthOrDare #Jaune Arc

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

Like I'm Drowning

Rowaelin Month, Day Twelve

A/N: Sorry about this, blame @thewayshedreamed, she's the one who wanted more angst.

This will have a fourth part, for obvious reasons;)

part one, part two

Word count: 3,874

It was two days after Aelin had left their home. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening when the walls of what had once been his favourite place had shaken with the force of Lorcan's fists on the front door, shouting at Rowan to let him in.

He had not answered.

He couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to because his legs had stopped working and the muscles in his neck had been reduced to jelly over the last forty-eight hours, sip after sip of whatever alcohol he'd found in the cabinet.

He lay on the floor, his face in a pool of his own vomit, too heedless to care, too sore to move. In any case, he had stopped smelling the stench hours ago.

Another ten minutes had passed, in which his best friend had threatened over and over again to call the police if he didn't open the fucking door, before Lorcan had slammed his shoulder into it.

He hadn't been able to move in time when the door unhinged from the wall fell partially on him, hitting him in the head with one of the now splintered edges. He grunted in pain and could smell the blood as it began to trickle down his forehead, onto his nose, and he was relieved - he wasn't dead. Rowan had not been sure of it until that moment.

The other was there an instant later, taking the door off him, leaning it against the wall.

And the sharp breath he took was a dagger straight to Rowan's heart.

He didn't want him to see him like this.

He had never heard Lorcan's voice like that. So shocked, so worried. Whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment were blocking him from approaching him. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. Of breaking him more than he already was.

Rowan shook his head what he could, he didn't want him to see him like this. He didn't deserve his help.

"God, Rowan, what have you done?"

The relief at finding out he was still alive lasted a moment though, as the pain in his chest hit him so hard it took his breath away and he pulled himself up onto all fours before yet another wave of gags shook his body. He opened his mouth, hoping that this time something would come out, but he choked on nothing. His eyes filled with tears and Rowan wondered how that was possible.

There should have been nothing in his body.

He’d been in this conditions since the day before.

He felt a hand settle on his back, rubbing up and down as Lorcan tried to figure out what was going on, and his brain betrayed him, showing him images of a life he had taken for granted all along, from the second she had been his.

Him on the bathroom floor a few months earlier.

A box of somewhat-too-spicy Chinese food on their coffee table.

And Aelin.

Her hands on his back.

He shook off Lorcan's hand, "Don't touch me."

The words burned his throat and another gag went up his esophagus.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his back rising and falling frantically with each breath where he seemed to be unable to get enough air in.

"Rowan."

He didn't look at him. He couldn't.

"Rowan, you hear me?"

Lorcan ducked down, crouching beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to remember what he'd just asked him not to do as soon as he gave him a startled look. If he touched him again, he didn't know what his broken mind would show him. He was terrified of it.

With a grimace, Lorcan clenched both hands into fists and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sour smell of vomit and what Rowan was ashamed to admit was his own piss reached his nostrils. When he opened them again there was a distinct determination in his gaze and Rowan had to pull his eyes back to the floor.

He thought he had found a sort of calm in which he might even be able to answer Lorcan's questions, but he was wrong. He was so wrong.

"What happened?”

“I feel-” he tried to speak, failing, “I feel like I’m drowing.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked again. And then the final hit, “Where's Aelin?"

There was no stopping the first sob. His vision went totally blurry, blackening everything in front of him until all he could see was the image of her, and his chest constricted to the point where breathing was no longer even an option. He fell to the side, against the wall, and there was no stopping the desperate crying that washed over him.

***

It was three days after Aelin had left their home. It was eight o'clock in the evening when Elide and Lorcan had asked him if he would like to go back there after leaving the hospital. It was twenty past eight when they had reached his street and he was counting down the seconds till he got to smell her perfume in the air again.

He had entered the house and tried not to breathe through his nose, realising he was not ready to remember what her scent was. He noticed how everything had been cleaned, tidied up or fixed and he didn't have the mental or physical trength to turn around, hug his friends and thank them.

He looked towards the kitchen, on the table. The letter was no longer there.

"Where is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't spoken in the last few hours. Not to the couple he knew was staring at him from the doorway.

He'd been forced to answer questions from the doctors, from his coaches asking him how much time he needed. Lorcan had warned him that he'd lied for him, that he'd told them someone dear to them both had suffered a serious injury and died.

Rowan had looked at him and said a simple thank you while he lay on his hospital bed, despite knowing how much a fuckup of that magnitude risked not only his career, but Lorcan's as well.

It was Elide who had the courage to answer him, "What?"

"The letter."

"Oh." she whispered, "I put it in your room."

He nodded. Running a hand over his face he turned to them, noting how they both looked ready to launch themselves forward if they thought Rowan was going to crumble once more time.

He saw Lorcan clench his jaw and then look away before saying, "You won't find any alcohol, I threw away what was left."

Elide smiled at him with watery eyes, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, "If you need anything, you can always come to our place. You know that. We have-"

He interrupted her abruptly. He didn't look at her as he said in a harsh tone, "Thank you for everything, you can go now."

She took a sharp breath, nodding dryly and turning, hurrying out of the house. Lorcan followed her with his gaze the whole time, telling her he would join her in the car in a moment.

When he met Rowan's gaze again, the voice was the one he'd used all the years in high school when he'd been his captain. It gave no room for argument.

"I don't know what you're going through. I don't even want to begin to think about how painful it is to lose someone so important."

She didn’t die, he wanted to say. She left me.

I gave up on her. I don’t deserve her.

The steel mask Rowan was wearing seemed to be already starting to crack. He needed Lorcan to leave before he couldn't control his emotions.

He had already done too much for him.

He didn't deserve any of what they were offering him. He didn’t deserve anything.

"I can hardly imagine what I would do if I were in your position. If Elide-" he paused, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, for what's happening. It's not easy, I understand, but whatever you're doing right now, it's not the solution. Treating me and Elide like this isn't going to drive us away, and before you tell me you don't need anything, let me just say that finding you lying in a pool of your own vomit completely hammered, out of your mind was one of the most horrifying things I've ever had to see." he took a step forward, placing a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

He had the instinct to pull away, but the grip on his jacket tightened, pinning him in place.

"I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm not going to let you throw away your career like this," he told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lecture you about what happened the other day. I know I would have done a lot worse, but you have to promise me that it won't happen again."

Lorcan's voice faltered at last and Rowan was surprised to see his eyes glaze over.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open, shocked at his friend's reaction.

"Promise me."

He hurried to whisper, "I promise."

Lorcan nodded, pulling Rowan to him and hugging him. He closed his eyes as the man in front of him held him together without even realising.

When they pulled away, they pretended not to hear the way they were sniffing, or the tears on both men's cheeks. They said a simple goodbye and then Rowan was alone.

Again.

He climbed the stairs slowly, walking like a dead man down the corridor filled with memories of him carrying Aelin in his arms on that very floor, and when he reached the door to their room, he hesitated.

He brushed against the knob, gripping it in his hand.

He stared at the wood in front of him and felt panic assail him.

Rowan turned on his heel, running for the stairs, the exit, hoping that Lorcan had not already left.

He threw open the door of the ghost-filled house and ran out, intent on never returning.

***

It was two weeks after Aelin left their home. Eleven days since he'd run away in a panic. Ten days since Lorcan had convinced Rowan to go back there, at least to pack up his things.

Nine days since Rowan had destroyed their room, screaming and sobbing as he tore the curtains from the windows and threw what little of her he had left against the wall.

Every ornament, every picture frame.

He'd screamed at Lorcan when he'd tried to stop it.

He hadn't succeeded. Rowan had razed their home to the ground, shattering every happy memory they had created over the years in those four walls.

Only when he'd found Aelin's ring had he stopped, bursting into tears so loud that the first sob had startled Lorcan, holding the small object to his chest.

They had gone back to Lorcan’s, and Elide had stood there looking at him with wide eyes, before running to get the first aid kit to clean the wounds Rowan had caused himself. More or less deep cuts, which his friends said should have been stitched up by actual doctors, but Rowan doubted they wouldn't lock him up in the psychiatric ward if he went to the emergency room for the sixth time in such a short time.

Especially if he came in with shards of glass between his fingers.

He hadn't kept his promise to Lorcan.

He'd drank again. He'd gotten into a couple of fights. He hadn't been back to the rink.

He hadn't skated in a fortnight. Longest period of his life off the ice.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything. And it was all his fault.

***

It was three months and one day after Aelin had left their home. He had called Lysandra every day since Lorcan had forced him out of his and Elide's house, finding him a place right outside their team's arena. The woman had never given him any real answers, only reassuring him that Aelin was fine and that he should start moving on, too.

That too had broken something inside of him. The implications that Aelin had found someone else.

He couldn’t even bare being in the same room as another woman knowing they’d all be looking at him trying to get in his pants.

Aelin had always been the only one who wanted him for who he truly was, not his money. Not his status.

She had wished all those things gone so many times.

And she had left him.

He had let her go.

The team had sent a physiotherapist to his house every day for the first month, and then every week, accompanied by a shrink. Rowan had managed to drain them all. One after the other.

He was sure Lorcan had lost all hope too, but he continued undaunted to help him, going to his house every day after practice, without ever missing one day.

Rowan knew that Aelin had called him one night, almost a month before. Lorcan had told him, how she had begged him to tell her that he was alright, even though it wasn't true. His friend had also told him that she'd seemed to be drunk, and when she had hung up and both he and Elide had tried to call her back, Aelin had blocked their numbers.

From what he knew, she'd only unblocked Elide's, but she hadn't given him any kind of information about Aelin and he knew she'd never say anything.

He had hurt her - Elide. Rowan knew he'd treated her like little more than trash, both her and Lorcan, but however much he'd hurt her, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

He should have felt something for his friends who had given him everything in the last period, but Rowan could not care less than what they had to go through for him.

Now he was waiting for Lorcan, sitting at the table, to show him he was alright. Putting on his daily show and reassuring his friend that everything was going great, he just wasn't ready to skate again yet. The other one would look at him, yell at him a few minutes before walking out of his miserably empty flat slamming the door.

Rowan was just waiting for the day when he wouldn't show up or when he would tell him he wasn't coming, saying goodbye one last time.

He knew it would happen, one way or another, and Rowan didn't know how to stop the mess that had become his life.

That day it wasn't Lorcan who entered his house, but someone else. Rowan opened the door and saw his agent, his team president, and his coaches, along with the athletic trainers.

They had given him an ultimatum.

Either you go back to slacking off after Christmas break or we break your contract, you're off the team and you lose lots of money.

The president had been particularly emphatic on the subject of money, but for Rowan that would be the least important thing.

It wasn't until the evening after New Year's Eve that he had made a decision.

Lysandra, whom he hadn't seen in person in more than two months, had entered his house looking like someone who hadn't slept in years. She had forced him out of bed, shouting at him to wash up, to clean his house. She had made it so Rowan couldn't talk back, never letting him speak, pushing him left and right.

She had taken him outside, something he hadn't done in weeks, so much so that the sun had hurt his eyes for the first two hours. She had forced him to buy new clothes and all the missing furniture in his house.

She had stayed with him for three days.

Three extremely long days in which she had swore at him, insulted him in every possible way imaginable by the human mind. They'd nearly come to blows when she'd touched a sore spot and Rowan had threatened to call Aedion to haul her away.

She'd dragged him to the party Fenrys had thrown for the New Year and for the first time in months, Rowan had smiled.

Elide had started crying when she'd seen him, Lorcan on the verge of tears as well. They had both hugged him and Rowan had begged for their forgiveness.

That night, Rowan thought things would be different for him for the first time.

He'd been wrong.

Again.

***

It was four years and twenty-seven days after Aelin had left their home. Four years since he had received no news of her. Three years since he stopped asking.

Rowan had been zapping through channels for so many hours now that the glaring light of the TV didn't even bother him anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the screen, not really looking at the images in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a sentence here and there, ignoring the constant tinkle coming from his phone that warned him that Lorcan still didn't give up on talking to him every day from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Even when he was on holiday with his now wife.

They had won yet another cup. The third win in a row.

Sometimes Rowan could hardly believe it.

Three Stanley Cups.

On his dream team.

He should have been excited. No, not excited.

He should have been the happiest man on earth. He should have been out celebrating with his teammates, vacationing on a tropical beach like Lorcan was doing, surrounding himself with girls ready to offer him anything to spend even just one night with him.

But Rowan didn't want to.

Rowan felt nothing – he had not felt anything in the last few years of his life. How did he expect to start now? For a measly win.

He hated hockey. He hated the sport. Hated the fans, his teammates.

He hated his life.

He was about to turn off the TV, confident that he would be able to sleep tonight without the help of the meds the team kept giving him to keep him from collapsing during the games, when his finger froze on the remote.

He didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to be a channel about gossip, and Rowan felt a pang of anger well up in his chest. It seemed to be the only emotion he still felt from time to time.

Shocked and pissed that someone had felt the need to devote an entire channel to minding other people's business, he stood up, ready to pass out in his cold bed, when the words of the man on the screen stopped him in his tracks.

"And now to the latest news, straight from the social of the Toronto Maple Leafs' rookie player, Chaol Westfall, who has announced his marriage to the stunningly beautiful girlfriend, Aelin Galathynius. She has never been very active on social media, in fact, for somebody with such a charm, she'd be perfect in the role of influencer, but-"

Rowan stopped hearing.

He felt his body's reaction in time, and rushing to the kitchen, he managed to get everything his body was rejecting in the sink. He heaved in there till the last bit of what he’d eaten a few hours ago.

His heart was racing and he had to grip the counter to keep from kneeling on the floor.

That couldn’t be true.

Aelin was getting married.

Aelin was getting married to an hockey player.

The anger blinded him as her words flashed before his eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m weak. I’m so tired.

This isn’t the life I wanted for us.

I wish I could be your “’till death do us apart”, but I can’t.

The sound that came out of him was not human as he ran to his room and snatched the ring from the drawer next to his bed, the letter that just went wherever he went and raced out of the flat that never felt his own anyway.

***

It was four years and thirty days after Aelin had left their home.

Rowan stood in front of the journalists. Everyone was gaping at him, his teammates on the sidelines were looking his way as if he’d grown three heads.

And he couldn’t blame them, but he had needed to do this a long time ago.

He’d talked to his agents, the team’s president, everyone he had needed to to make this happen and he hadn’t felt such freedom in so long.

The questions just kept on coming and coming and he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he didn’t care.

He only needed to make this statement in front of everyone.

“I’m aware that leaving this team right now is a foolish and completely insane idea, but this world has taken too much from me already. My contract with the Senators ended with this season and I know everyone was expecting me to say which team I’m heading off to, but I’m quitting.

“I should have done this a long time ago and I’m sure the person this is for won’t even see this interview, but I love someone who thought she wasn’t enough for me. She told me four years ago her love wasn’t enough. I’m leaving cause hockey has not been a source of happiness in a very long time and it ruined everything good I ever had.

“I thought I loved playing cause of the adrenaline. The pride in a win. The chills when you score. But no, it wasn't that.”

I loved seeing her smile whenever I scored for her. The way she used to put medications on my wounds and bruises whenever I got hit too hard. Or the way we used to get all cuddled up after a long flight, after weeks of not seeing each other. I loved how my jerseys fit her – the way my clothes fit her.

He turned to his teammates, the people he owned a lot but couldn’t bring himself to care enough of to stay with them, “Being on this team would only make it worse. I’m sorry guys, I hope you can understand. This isn’t what I want right now.”

And right before he could get off the stage that had been set up for him, someone screamed from the crown.

“What are you going to do now?”

He didn’t stop to reply, avoiding everyone’s gazes and keeping on walking until he reached the exit of the arena. The chill air hit him hard as he went out on the street and got on the car.

This was the last time he’d be able to use one of the team’s cars.

The driver looked at him in the mirror, “Where to?”

“The airport, please.”

The man nodded and started the engine and Rowan felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

Now, I’m going to get her.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #rowaelin month day twelve #angst #tog #throne of glass

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elriell · 3 years

Note

hi! here's my super super random tumblr is a scary place sometimes question: idk if you know the answer/if there is an answer but why does everyone hate the elriels? do we think it's just an offshoot of everyone hates elain? i saw something yesterday that said they'd never seen a group as unhinged as elriels and i just??? disagree??? me and my mutuals are just crying over headache powder and comparing them to taylor swift??? i don't think i've seen anyone unhinged?? i'm relatively new to fandom so i just didn't know if there's something i'm missing :)

Hey bub! I am so sorry you are right, I feel like I am so weathered and desensitised to fandom chaos at this point I cannot imagine joining at this point and how crazy overwhelming it must be to walk in and be like... huh?

I honestly think a lot of it trickles down from this intense hate they have for Elain, I certainly do not think that it is a stretch to hypothesise it could be related.

My reaction would be the same ??? Unhinged? Pick up a dictionary because one half of this fandom bases their ship off baring children, romanticising SA & several other disturbed takes, and invading every Elriel art/artist to harass them. You are right lol We literally spend our days analysing their scenes, laughing over potatoes and headache powder, it isn't that deep.

Here's the thing, I would never ever say any one side is innocent, because of course not! And I think it is so important to note that your fandom will always slightly alter your view because you don't see as much outside of it, however and it is a pretty big one... I would say I know/have spoken to at least 90% of tumblr Elriels and I would not call them unhinged at all.

I think certain fans want to play the victim and that is my opinion. They hate and want something to be mad about so they create the problem, I honestly wouldn't be at all surprised to hear a lot of them send themselves nasty anons to create a larger divide. (Which is so sad because there is enough of one already.)

That isn't to say any one fandom is inherently bad or good, everyone has bad people within it.

I just think certain people should sit back and maybe take a look at their own before calling people unhinged. IMO

Hopefully you can stay on the chilled side since you joined, and just ignore all the other unnecessary shit!

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar

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youtube-rp-memes · 3 years

Text

Out Of Context Livestream Sentence Starters "Chocolate Noodles"

Sentence starters pulled from YouTube live stream shenanigans. Featuring boba, chocolate, weaponizing food, and other nonsensical commentaries.

"He is flagging down a plane. He is a clock."

"The seconds of our lives slipping away."

"That is a very millenial take, [Name]."

"Maybe you had a Monday, and maybe today is Tuesday, I don't know."

"So you can consume chocolate in noodle form."

"Choco-noods!"

"It's something in the seaweed arena."

"It's not a gooping jello, it's a physical jello."

"Seaweed is the word that I missed. Kelpy."

"It's unhinged, but it's good unhinged."

"They thought it was dumb, but great."

"Worthless, but slightly humorous."

"More cheese. More cheese!"

"And there you go. The noodles. The choodles."

"I always feel very caught with my pants down whenever [name] leaves."

"Here's a tip for you, if you want to boil something, putting it on high is the way to go."

"We're just so scale-challenged."

"What a bunch of snake-oil salesmen!"

"All right, bring the bat in."

"That makes me feel better. I like this bat."

"There are many eyeballs that are different from each other."

"You need some semi-nautical component."

"I'm in a spilling-the-tea mood today."

"What are you sticking that in my armpit for?"

"Now I can just take a backseat and harass and chirp."

"We're about to start syringing everybody."

"We have to maximize chocolate-in-syringe."

"That is a good noodle right there."

"That is a NOODLE!"

"Here's the test--fork me."

"Let's stay focused on the noodles here, and not on age and existentialism."

"I feel spritely."

"I'm the one that's exuding all this physical, you know, chest shooting out the things from the syringe!"

"Air fry one of the noods!"

"Why not fill multiple tubes to get your worms?"

"Here be the chopping board."

"I felt naked, and then everyone saw my bellybutton, which was a bizarre experience."

"So, yeah, that was the dynamic."

"Other than that, we have packages."

"I thought that I would walk back in and it'd be a disaster scenario and everything's just on fire and melting down."

"I'm just blacking in and out all day today."

"If we dress them well, maybe some slurpability."

"It's very difficult for me to convey urgency to you without everyone thinking I'm mad."

"I would say that's an 0 for 2 for pushing in chocolate."

"More syringes, doctor!"

"I'm trying to encourage you... as the smoke from the burning chocolate fills the room."

"I feel like I've lampshaded enough. Now I can have urgency again."

"My very important job: holding the tube."

"I am zooming right now."

"The ASMR is [Name] grunting and groaning."

"We have nothing to say. This is literally just happening."

"With how you are conducting yourself with that syringe right now, it was inevitable."

"Things that are inevitable in 2021: Thanos and chocolate on my shirt."

"This is absolute, this is madness. This is complete and utter madness."

"It really is Pinky and the Brain. The same thing we do every night."

"You have ONE JOB, it's to grab plastic noodles and hold them!"

"It is at times like this that one asks: Why. Who. How."

"That was my fault. Chocolate foul."

"That was just ten minutes of grunting."

"You should pour some over a can of frozen peas."

"What if we tried chocolate casting? We pour molten chocolate straight into the ice bucket."

"Are you there?" "No."

"I like that sound. One of the better sounds of the last 15 minutes."

"I think it's just the ending spurt we don't want to be close on."

"Move. That. Chocolate!"

"Just the loud breathing."

"It just keeps doing that. Letting the air out."

"I don't even think the context makes it okay."

"The heavy breathing, oh my god."

"You can tap out whenever."

"I feel so very, very confused. I am emotionally confused."

"It like, assimilated a person."

"You're laughing so quietly you occasionally make a honking sound."

"That noodle went, 'yeet'!"

"Why is the chocolate stretchy? I wish I could answer that question."

"You almost started a chocolate fire."

"This is the most disturbing one, cause it's got the most holes in it."

"We are going to get every single one out, come hell or high water."

"See? I did something. I contributed."

" 'Is this worth it' is really the new question."

"You know, holding this tube, man, it's really the whole key part of this process."

"It's just mostly seaweed at this point."

"Screw Peleton, this is the new workout. We send agar-agar and chocolate to people. Pure profit."

"[Name] gets caught up in chat, gives long story instead of putting chocolate in, burns apartment to the ground."

"Now not only am I doing nothing, I'm actually detracting from the quality of the dish."

"[Name] sounds like a muppet."

"You need to push and I'm going to pull at the same time, and that'll be the magic formula."

"This is like a feat of strength. This is like a Lumberjack Games."

"We're going to have a hard time pawning these noodles off."

"[Name]'s giving supportive midwife energy."

"Let's go with our Lady and the Tramp thing here."

"Don't start sucking too fast." "Sucking?"

"It is slurpy until it's not."

"OnlyNoods. OnlyFans, but it's just noodles."

"A single plate requires 50 minutes of grunting."

"You think it's just going to be the fire, but it's the noodles."

"You would be sucking noodles through a straw!"

"You've done the im-pasta-ble!"

"Slurping, or dare I say, sucking it, [Name]."

"It's literally been an hour and 12 minutes of [name] hanging on for dear life."

"We almost paintballed [name] from across the room with chocolate projectiles, and you want to use an air tank?"

"Put Lindt chocolate balls in a paintball gun, and then try to catch it in your mouth."

"Things that are ball-shaped you can put into a painball gun, so: cheese puffs. Cheeseball gun."

"His is expanding our ways to eat chocolate, ours is how to weaponize chocolate."

"We all woke up and chose violence in the form of chocolate."

"I understand that I made some unsightly or unhearly noises."

"Boba is almost worse, because it's wet."

"Can you imagine the smack of a boba as it's projectiled out at you?"

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence prompts #rp starter prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #roleplay sentence starters #roleplay sentence prompts #roleplay memes #rp memes #rp sentence meme #rp quote meme #roleplay quote meme #roleplay starters #roleplay starter

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takuyakistall · 4 years

Text

selcouth | leech twins

Synopsis: An unexpected encounter with a certain pair of twins by the beach.

Tags: Leech twins/Yuu, fluff

Tagging: @myuminn

Notes: Your raffle prize! Thank you so much for joining and for letting me write your Yuu. This was enjoyable to write, I hope you like it!

The gentle, warm breeze caressed Yuu's cheeks as they sat crossed-legged on a huge rock by the shore. The occasional squawking of the seagulls, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand was enough to give them some sense of serenity. Throughout the whole day they were sitting here, they had their pen and sketchbook resting on their lap as they tried to take in the view and replicate fragments of it on their sketchbook.

It was a bit amusing to think about how accustomed they already are in this foreign world. Everything was unusual, they didn't know anything when they were suddenly thrown into this bizarre world. It was terrifying at first, anyone in their place would feel the same—or so they liked to think. Although with the help of certain friends they made along the way, they learned how to love the current reality they faced despite how wrong it may seem.

They let out a tired sigh, setting down the sketchbook and the pen and placed it beside them. They stretched out their arms, eliciting a small groan when they heard a bone make a popping noise. The sunset was beautiful today. Various shades of red and orange-tinted the whole scene—even in a different world, it was nice to know that some things never change. It was oddly comforting for them.

"Oya, Yuu-san?" A sudden voice sliced through the serene silence, making Yuu jolt up from their place and frantically looked at the owner of the voice.

"Eh~? Shrimpy is here?" Two of them. Any other student would've tensed up, sudden nervousness clawing at the pits of their stomach as they catch a glimpse of a certain pair of twins going toward their direction. Oddly enough, Yuu is part of the minority that felt nothing of the sorts, or rather, they felt more relaxed around them.

The tension faded from their shoulders as they let out a curious gasp, "Floyd-senpai? Jade-senpai?" It was a blessing in disguise—they would've never expected the twins to wind up here at the beach of all places, don't they have other things to attend to? Of course, the first thing to ask them was—!

"What are you doing here?" It was a question out of pure curiosity. The only reason why Yuu winded up here was because of the built-up stress over the past week, they barely got enough sleep, tossing and turning whenever they attempted to. Overworking theirself was another thing too. Despite being a student under special circumstances, they were not exempt from the expectations teachers had for the students in a prestigious school. Being magic-less was already big enough of a disadvantage, they have to work twice as hard as a normal student.

Of course, Floyd didn't even bother answering the question as he made his way from his brother's side to Yuu's side. Sitting down beside you on the giant rock with a lollipop candy inside his mouth, holding the stick as he removed it from his mouth to speak, "We should be asking you the same thing, no one usually goes out this far."

Yuu opened their mouth to respond but before they could do, Jade suddenly made his way towards them too—sitting on the opposite end of Yuu as he let out a small hum. "Floyd is correct. It's indeed usual to see someone like you stray this far from the school grounds." Jade mused.

Yuu squinted, wanting to avoid answering the question as they didn't know the answer theirself. That was a lie, of course; they knew why and how they ended up here but, would it be any fun if they just answered their question seeing as how the twins themselves didn't answer theirs? "I don't know either." They acted out, scratching their cheek lightly as if to feign cluelessness.

Floyd didn't want to let this slide, he knew better than to believe the white lies that came from their lips. Although one glance at their expression after saying that lie, so peaceful with an underlying tone of heartache reflected in their eyes, he couldn't help but change his mind. Surely, they must have a reason why they held such a painstakingly heartbreaking look in their face?

"Is that so?" It was a question that came from Jade's lips but oddly enough, he wasn't looking for an answer. "Shrimpy~, you need to be more careful next time. Who knows what might happen and you might get lost." Floyd decided to play along after all, sticking out his tongue as if to make fun of Yuu. They just chuckled in response, a hand going to their neck.

"My, don't tease Yuu-san that much. I'm sure they have a decent sense of direction, am I right?" Even though his words were defending Yuu, the tone of his voice implied otherwise. It was situations like these that made Yuu think that the twins really were alike in some aspects. They couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"Don't worry, Senpai. I won't get lost that easily." They said in response to both of the twins, it was hard to tell whether or not they were kidding about that. Silence took over the atmosphere once again and yet, oddly enough, it wasn't that awkward. Perhaps it was the presence of the Leech twins? Yuu found their presence as a source of comfort.

It was weird, yes, they'll admit it. Though in their defense, feelings are hard to control—and it's harder when they're stuck in an unfamiliar yet fascinating world. It couldn't be helped, Yuu was also a growing teen like any other student in the school. Save for maybe a few exceptions like Leona or Lilia.

Floyd fumbled a bit in his seat, saying something incoherent under his breath. He looked at Yuu at the corner of his eye and he felt something tug at him with the strings of his heart. His lips formed a thin line, the almost unnoticeable hue of pink tinting his cheeks.

Jade was as calm as ever, admiring the view of the beautiful sunset along with the other two. He kept quiet, the graceful poise he always retained during normal days still present until now—it was astounding. He didn't like being uncertain at all. When he glanced at Yuu, a certain kind of uncertainty loomed over his mind as something unreadable flashes over his expression. Yet, he retained his mask—smoothing over the cracks he may have caused as he let out a quiet sigh.

Yuu let out a yawn, eyes droopy and their whole body felt heavy. "I'm sleepy…" they let out, trying their best to stay awake. Yet the urge was too strong for them to simply ignore so they found theirself resting their head against someone's shoulder. Floyd, in particular.

His body stiffened up slightly, surprised at how much Yuu lets down their guard around them—it was unusual. Although he told himself he should've expected this, they weren't exactly normal after all. Coming from another world and all of that jazz. He didn't dare move his head to glance at them and just stayed perfectly still as if to not bother them.

Jade saw that from the corner of his eye, hands twitching slightly when he saw it. "Oya, it seems like someone is sleepy." He chuckled, lifting a hand to place it on their head—giving it a soft ruffle before retracting it back to his side. A warm gaze falling into his indifferent eyes. Floyd suddenly complained, "Eh? Why is shrimpy leaning on me?" One look at him and it was enough to know that he said those words just to cover up his face which was tinted light pink.

"Now, now, Floyd. You mustn't wake them up." Jade told his brother in a hushed tone, bringing a finger up to his lips—an indicator for him to seal his lips shut or to lower his voice.

Floyd may have been grumbling about this under his breath but in truth, he personally didn't mind it. In fact, he may even go to the extent of thinking that he liked it!

"Tch, what a pain." He clicked his tongue, the annoyed tone in his voice betraying the blush that spread on his lovely, lovely cheeks. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what he felt like, multiple emotions playing out inside his head and his head—Shrimpy was confusing him too much! Though the usual response he would show was to click his tongue and move on, feigning annoyance. Or perhaps he wasn't really feigning that feeling, who knows?

Yuu stirred a little, knocking over their pen off the ledge of the rock. Thankfully, it didn't go to the water but it was a close call. Jade stood up and excused himself from the two, on his way to pick up the pen near the shore.

Alone for a brief moment.

Floyd glanced ever so slightly at the person leaning on him, dozing off without another care in the world. 'They must be tired.' He thought. Floyd didn't really think about his next actions, he usually went with the flow—it's how he kept a free and unhinged lifestyle up until now.

Slowly, he turned his head around while wrapping his arm around their shoulders—his actions were slightly filled with hesitation. Afraid that they might wake up and question what he was about to do. In the end, he went along with it anyway.

He placed a chaste kiss on their head, his surprisingly soft yet rough lips making contact with their head. The action was light enough so it wouldn't wake them up. When he pulled away, his face was redder than before. Cursing at himself underneath his breath.

"Is this it?"

"It seems so."

"Then I'll put them here."

"Make sure to be gentle-- Ah! You just dropped them like a sack. Nice going, Floyd."

"Shut it. See? They're still fast asleep. No biggie." Floyd waved his hand dismissively, already making his exit through the door, leaving Jade behind to clean up after his mess.

Jade could only let out a sigh, staring at his brother's back in disbelief before averting his gaze to Yuu on their bed. As an attempt, he tried to put them under the covers and actually succeeded. It was nice to see that despite the rough attempts, they were still fast asleep—'How cute.' He thought.

He stared at their face for a solid minute, incomprehensible thoughts running through his mind before lifting up his hand to remove the glasses from their face. Folding them and placing them on the bedside table, he wouldn't want them to break when they twist or turn now, wouldn't he?

He allowed himself another moment of weakness, a fond gaze replacing his once neutral expression. Of course, he wouldn't let anyone see him like this and the only reason why he is the way he is right now is because of the absence of his twin brother.

Gently, with enough courage mustered up, he cupped their face as his face inched closer and closer. Only centimeters away before speeding up and placing a quick kiss on their forehead. Pulling away before he gets caught, although a part of him—just a small part—wanted Yuu to stirr up awake.

He stood up, dusting his clothes a bit before walking away. Muttering a soft goodnight before closing the door shut, heading home towards his own dormitory along with Floyd.

Omake!

Yuu woke up, hair all tangled up and messy. "What happened yesterday…?" Memories were a blur and they couldn't really recall anything else after meeting the twins by the shore. It feels like they just woke up from a very very long, fleeting dream.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #octavinelle #jade leech #twst jade #taku's milestone raffle #floyd leech #twst floyd #yuu #twst oc

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