#I think this would have been very impactful if the show hadn’t ruined it

[spectrum-color]

People talk about POV traps in aSoIaF (and fiercely debate where in the story they are,) but I think the biggest one is how readers come to subconsciously dehumanize the smallfolk just like the nobility do. Trident discourse always emphasizes how tragic it is that Lady, an animal, died, but rarely Micah the little boy who was brutally murdered to appease Joffreys pride. Theon is often portrayed sympathetically for his actions at Winterfell where he exclusively killed servants and two completely unrelated innocent little boys because he was a noble hostage (who unlike his victims was dressed in velvets and ate fine foods and had people cooking and cleaning for him full time) and because the boys weren’t actually Bran and Rickon, people who matter, but just faceless peasant kids. It’s rare anyone even remembers who Doreah and Irri are or what happened to them.

This isn’t a moral failing of readers and I’m not trying to castigate anyone. Rather, it’s an example of how by only getting us in the heads of the equivalents in universe of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, we can get an incredibly skewed perspective.

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Seven: Beginning of the End

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: language, Mickey being a dick, (again, shocker) a little angst, a little fluff, phone call, (yes it’s a warning) confession of feelings.

The smut is COMING I PROMISE! We’re getting there, just slowly. As I’ve said before I’m putting a lot into this fic and for it to work out the way it’s going to, there’s a fuck ton of twists and turns. But we are progressing I swear. Mickey is really going to ruin Dahlia (in more ways than one)

Thank you to the wonderful @bisexual-horror-fan for beta and editing this for me! I love how much you love them and see just so fucking awesome at helping me bring the fic to live. Love and appreciate you so so much dude!!!

@lizey-thornberry as you wanted to be tagged :)

As it turns out, Mickey was right. Things couldn’t just go back to normal after I made the stupid and monumental decision to kiss him. I don’t know why I thought that they would, or could. Maybe because I never had before, I hadn’t realized the impact the small action of pressing my lips to his would have, the ripple effect it would cause outward like throwing a stone into a pond.

Talking about it with Sidney in my dorm room the next day like we were a couple of fourteen-year-olds, I was met with a reaction I hadn’t expected. The words, “I kissed Mickey” left my lips, and then I felt her warm arms throw themselves around my neck as she pulled me to her, taking me a little by surprise. Sid was very similar to me in some ways, not huge on casual physical contact, but I suppose being with Derek was beginning to coax her into it. The change wasn’t unwelcome. Happiness looks good on Sidney, she looks best with a smile on her face and warm in her eyes.

I laughed, a little surprised, moving my hands to rest on her back as she pulled away, her infectious grin lighting up her face, “Look at you!” She said, dropping her arms back to her side, the beginning of the question slips out quickly, “Was that your first-“

I respond even quicker, “Yeah, it was. I mean, I don’t think Paul Miller in the fifth grade really counts.” I said with a nearly coy smile.

“Oh no, I saw that “kiss,” it definitely does not count. So what made you do it?” She pressed, pulling her legs up to sit crossed legged on my bed. I had no morning classes, so Mickey hadn’t met me with his usual coffee and a bagel, and for a brief moment I had a passing thought of how weird that was, he didn’t know my schedule that well. I did have a class twenty minutes from then, but I knew he had his film class with Randy at the same time. The thought abandoned me as I sat with Sid, blushing furiously as I recounted the experience.

“I don’t know, I mean, I guess it just felt right?” I looked down at my hands, twisting one of the rings on my fingers around and around as I spoke, “He was just being so… Mickey. But not in the way I’m used to. He was asking me if I’d ever look at him in a romantic kind of way. I guess I realized that I was starting to look at him like that, so I kissed him.” I shook my head, loose hair cascading around my shoulders as I did so, groaning a little, “It was stupid, right? I’m not ready!”

“Dahlia, you won’t know till you try.” Sidney’s friendly brown eyes looked at me as her hand found mine with a reassuring squeeze, she offered up in a show of comfort, “Maybe someone like him is exactly what you need right now?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at her, my head tilting a little to the side as I asked, “What do you mean?”

Sid hesitated for a moment, teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she let out a small sigh and answered me, “You’ve been through a lot, D. I know you’re only just getting back to your old self, but you have to admit, he’s been a big part of that,”

I opened my mouth to object, but she shook her head at me once, making me immediately clamp my lips together when I took in her serious expression, “You can’t deny it, we’ve all noticed it. When you’re around him, you get the light in your eyes we haven’t seen in, God, forever!” Sidney’s hands squeezed mine again as she bent her head down to catch my eye, “Would trying it really be the worst thing in the world?”

“I-“ I mouthed words, but nothing came out as my brain churned.

Would it?

There was no denying I was attracted to him, but so was half the student fucking body. He’d also fucked half of that same half of the student body, and I knew myself well enough to know I didn’t just want to be another notch in his bedpost. I had no idea if he really cared about me, or if this whole thing was just another game to him. I didn’t want to be a toy, I didn’t want to just be viewed as something for fun, to be played with and then be discarded when he was done.

I thought of the way he looked at me, friends didn’t look at friends like that. It was like he knew me, more than I knew him. He looked at me as if I was something to fucking eat, and it was almost too intoxicating.

I thought of the way his lips felt on mine, how right it felt, how he tasted and smelled, how his fingers dug into my hips and traced my spine. It felt so right, but there was something else behind it. A kind of urgency that at that moment I could quite put my finger on.

“All of this is moot if you don’t like him.” Sidney interrupted my train of thought, making me blink a couple of times and glance up at her. She was standing in front of me, I didn’t even notice her hands let go of mine or her standing up and putting her jacket on, “Just think about it, alright?”

I nodded my head, and she smiled down at me before giving a goodbye, a casual wave over her shoulder upon her exiting my dorm room, leaving me sat crossed legged on my bed staring at the door long after it clicked shut.

She was right, when was she not? I knew I liked him. But I had no idea if he liked me.

Fuck, I felt like I was in middle school all over again.

I groaned, falling back against my pillow and placing my arms across my face, squeezing my eyes until I saw spots behind my lids.

Then my phone rang.

I sighed, pulling my arms from my face and grabbing my shitty cell from my bedside table and flipping it open without looking at the name with a, “Hello?”

No answer, just the subtle, quiet sound of breathing at the end of the line.

I frowned, pulling the phone from my ear and glancing at the name.

Unknown Caller.

I pressed the phone back to my ear, propping up and asking more clearly, “Hello?”

The line went dead.

“Weird.” I muttered, tossing the phone back on the bedside table, forcing myself to stand up to start making my way to class.

The phone rang again, making me jump with a small gasp as I hesitantly picked it up.

I felt relieved as I saw Mickey’s name lighting up the small screen, answering him happily enough with, “I told you I don’t like getting calls.”

“Well, hello to you too, Dahl.” I could tell he had a smile on his face judging by his tone, and I couldn’t help one from spreading across mine, “What are you doing right now?”

I glanced at my watch before responding, “I’ve got class.”

His voice came through the receiver undeniably tinged with mirth, “Wanna ditch? Or are you too scared?”

He sounded so teasing, as if the words themselves were curling inside my ears, beckoning me to come out, and play. I rolled my eyes, scoffing slightly as I defend myself. “Christ, how much of a square do you think I am?”

Next he was explaining his line of thinking, “Sorry, I automatically assume you're a prude when it comes to your education as well as your lack of sex life.”

“Ouch.” I laughed, not even really feeling slightly hurt by his taunting comment. That was just the kind of guy he was.

“But seriously, I think we have stuff we need to talk about. Meet me outside your building?”

Fuck, he wanted to initiate that conversation? That, I didn’t expect.

I mumbled something about being down in a few minutes before hanging up, looking in my absent roommates floor length mirror and quickly combing my hair with my fingers, thanking the lord I had washed it last night, quickly tying a bandana around my head.

Passable, I decided with a shrug.

I quickly locked my door behind me as I left, leaving the building, and there he was, looking unfairly attractive but dressed, so simply, it made me want to bite his head off. Did the fucker know how good he looked without even trying? It’s maddening.

“Hey.” He remarked with a smile, his less than subtle once over not going amiss.

“Hi.” I suddenly felt shy, diverting my eyes down to the ground. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d basically thrown myself at this guy yesterday, and now I couldn’t even look him in the eye?

He said as much, eyebrows arching slightly as he asked, “You good? Feeling a little shy, are we?” His tone was teasing yet again, and I scoffed, forcing myself to meet his eye.

“No. Shut up, why am I ditching class?” I quickly changed the subject, maintaining casual eye contact. Well, as casual as I could muster without giving into the fact that all I wanted to do was kiss his stupid fucking lips again.

He seemed to already know that, a smile making the corners of his mouth tug up at my very obvious attempt to divert the conversation, “I want to take you somewhere.” He spoke lightly, holding his hand out for me to take.

I looked down at his outreached hand blankly, my own eyebrows raising a fraction as I asked hesitantly, “Where, exactly?”

He sighs with a nod, “Ah right, you don’t do ominous, I forgot.”

Fucking asshole.

“Library. It’s pretty dead right now because almost everyone has class around this time, so we can talk there.” His hand reached down and grabbed mine as he spoke, intertwining our fingers together, and I felt that jolt of electricity spark the moment we made contact. I tried not to show it, act like the sensation didn’t claw its way up my arm, shoot through my bloodstream and settle in my chest.

Was I crazy? Did he feel it too?

He tugged me alongside him, his winning smile lighting up his face. God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t help but look up at him as I walked alongside him.

His eyes were still bright as ever, with somewhat of a wicked gleam lurking below the deep surface of his light brown irises, and they just looked so… Inviting. He glanced down at me for a moment, his eyebrows raising a hair as he took in my clearly admiring expression. “What?” He asked with a laugh as we neared the entrance of the library. I tore my eyes away, looking at the double doors in front of me instead as I muttered, “Nothing, nothing.”

With another chuckle, he pushed the doors of the library open with one hand, still gripping mine in the other as he hauled me along with him between one of the many stacks of books and shelves.

I loved libraries. The smell of the old books and crisp paper, how quiet it was. It was like an escape, one you actively want to lose yourself in the same way you can and do lose yourself in the pages of a book.

Mickey’s hand released mine as he sat down, crossing his legs and leaning against the back wall between the stacks, gesturing next to him for me to sit down. I obliged, settling down beside him and resting my hands in my lap. He was right, of course. It was deserted, not a student, a professor or even the librarian in sight. It was quiet, comforting. I could only hear Mickey’s light breathing beside me before he spoke, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

“You want to talk about yesterday?”

I shrugged my shoulders timidly, not wanting to meet his gaze that I knew was concentrated on my face.

“Do you?” I asked, keeping my voice as soft and quiet as his was.

“I do. You took me a little by surprise, didn’t know you had it in you. You don’t seem like that kind of person who just-“

“I’m not shy or anything.” I interrupted him, suddenly feeling a little defensive, “It was stupid, I know. But honestly? I’m not upset I did it.” I made myself look at him, watching as his expression shifted to one of subtle surprise as he asked in mild disbelief, “You’re not?”

I shook my head, moving my arm to prop my elbow on my knees, so I could rest my face in my hand as I looked up at him, “I’m not. I know that may come as a surprise to you because you see me as shy, but I thought about it a lot last night, and I’m glad I did it.”

He was quiet for a moment, this time him dragging his gaze from me to stare blankly at the wall far ahead of him. His full lips pursed slightly, clearly deep in thought, before he asked, “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” He nodded once, still not looking at me. I knew how I felt, I knew I had to tell him. I’d spent too long as an emotionless zombie and just surviving rather than living. As both Sidney and Randy had pointed out, he was the only person that’s been able to reignite the fire I used to have, to make me feel like a person again. I couldn’t deny I had feelings for him, that was pointless. I was sick of playing pretend, acting like I didn’t. What was the use in pretending like I just wanted him to be a friend?

I knew there was always the chance he didn’t feel the same way, but it really didn’t bother me. I had to do what I never did and just shoot my shot because I knew that if I didn’t, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. In hindsight, maybe it would have been better for me if I just kept my mouth shut. But alas, I opened my mouth and said it. Six words that were going to change the trajectory of literally everything.

“Because I have feelings for you.”

There was no taking them back once it was all out there. This head practically snapped in my direction as soon as the words were out of my mouth and his jaw seemed to relax slightly, his eyes boring into my face.

“Feelings? Come on, Dahl.” He didn’t say it in a rude or snarky kind of way. His tone was off slightly however, a slight edge to the words as though it was almost a warning.

I ignored the hidden tone, dropping my hand from my face and turning to face him properly, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m not the kind of person who throws myself at people, but you… You’re just…” I couldn’t find the words as I watched his expression soften, the hard brown in his eyes switching to something I could only describe as melting chocolate. I felt his hand gently touch my cheek and I leaned into it slightly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Feelings.” He whispered it, so quietly I wasn’t even sure he’d really said it, as if he can’t believe it. He must have known there was something going on here, but this was not what he’d been expecting, clearly.

My eyes stayed closed as I felt his lips gently brush mine, soft as a feather and just so… Careful. Like he was afraid he’d break me.

I hummed, light, an involuntary reaction without a melody as I felt his lips against mine a little more firmly before he pulled back, making my eyes open and look at him confused.

“You can’t have feelings for me.” He sounded sad and his face completely gave him away. He looked tormented by something in his own head, his head shaking from side to side, “You were right with what you said last night. You don’t know me.”

“But I know enough.” I insisted.

He laughed a humourless laugh, his hand moving to run across his hair as he continued shaking his head, “You really don’t, Dahlia. If you did, there's no way you’d have feelings for me.” He said the word feelings as though it disgusted him.

Fuck, this guy switched up fast. I decided to match his energy.

“What the fuck is your problem, Mickey? You make me skip class, drag me to the deserted fucking library to talk about what happened last night and what, now you’re mocking me for being honest with you?”

“I’m not mocking you, Dahlia. I’m stating a fact.” He rolled his eyes, refusing to look at me.

“I asked you if we could pretend like it never happened, if we could be just friends. You’re the one who said we could never be “just friends.”. Fuck.” I stuck my fingers up in air quotations as I spoke, feeling stupid and naive. Of course, he didn’t want me, why would he? The whore that was Mickey Altieri sluts around campus, why the hell would he want to start slumming it with the resident freak?

He speaks and it is so annoying and thoroughly him, “I was gonna tell you if you want to fuck, we can fuck. But I don’t do… That shit.”

I laugh bitterly and bite out, “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t want ‘that shit’ with you now anyway. God, you’re an asshole, you know that?”

He didn’t speak, eyes still staring down at his clenched fists and his brows furrowed.

“Whatever, I don’t need this shit, especially not from you. Bye, Mickey.” I moved to stand up but felt his large hand grip my bicep tightly, keeping me beside him on the floor. “Get the fuck off me.” I snapped, struggling, but his grip hardened, refusing to let me move.

He speaks louder than he has all afternoon, louder than he should in a library. “Can you just let me explain? I don’t do relationships, Dahlia. I never have. Like, come on! Do I seem like that kind of guy interested in monogamy to you?”

He had a point.

“I fuck, I leave. It’s a habit that I don’t think I know how to break. But you. You fucking get to me and I absolutely hate it.” The words are genuine, and he seems so upset that they are, like he wished that they weren’t true.

I stopped struggling, pausing to look at him in confusion as he continued talking.

“I know I’ll hurt you eventually, and I don’t want to do that. Really, you have no fucking idea how much I don’t want to do that. I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want an out, you stupid asshole.” I snapped, frowning at him as his lips twitched in a slight smile at my choice of words. Dick. “You don’t know that you’ll do any of that unless you try. How fulfilling is it, screwing without purpose? Banging and ditching over and over?”

“Very. Very fulfilling, maybe you should try it. That’s all I can offer you.” His smile widened as he took in my expression, clearly feeling me waver just slightly before I shook my head.

“I’m not fucking you just to fuck you, Mick.” I insisted, hoping I’d reach him.

He sighed, he’s falling back against the wall behind him as he finally let my arm go, but I didn’t move. He had some kind of spell over me, I didn’t want to go anywhere.

“So you’ll only let me fuck you if I’m dating you, huh? How long into it can I, a week?”

I scoffed, shaking my head no.

He asked next, tone hopeful, smile small, looking over at me through the corner of his eye, “Week and a half?”

“When the moment is right, maybe.” I told him, my own smile lurking on the corners of my mouth.

“And I can’t fuck other people in the meantime?” He asked with an honest curiosity.

“No.” I say firmly.

He looked thoughtful for a second, his eyes scanning over me in the way I once hated, but now was growing to love. I liked the way he looked at me like I was something to eat, and it honestly made me want to force him to wait even longer before he could touch me.

“Fine.” He said quietly. I pretended not to hear, cupping my ear and leaning toward him with a sly, “Hm? What was that?”

He laughed, grabbing my hand and pulling me close to him, adjusting himself against the wall, so he was face to face with me as he said, with the most beautiful smile I’d ever fucking seen on his face, “I said fine, let’s try it. Let’s date.”

CHAPTER EIGHT HERE

[cryptidcariad]

A snippet from back when Thrash was a metaphorical monster, rather than a literal one

Official art of the Arvensoar from Pathfinder's Golarion setting, and a sketch of Emmett (Thrash's old human form) courtesy of the talented @plebies!

On the fifth floor of the Arvensoar - the basalt tower where Magnimar City Guard keeps its headquarters - a set of knuckles rap on a door bearing the plaque 'Deputy Commissioner Lloyd Ransom'.

"Enter."

The newly promoted Captain Emmett Ransom enters. "Deputy Commissioner, sir!"

A nod. "Captain Ransom. Congratulations on your new rank. You asked to see me?"

A short pause. "Yes sir. I was hoping you could help me figure out a discrepancy in my new assignment."

"Show me."

A nervous flurry of activity, in which a piece of paper is retrieved by from the the younger Ransom's accoutrements, and handed to Ransom the elder. "Here, sir. It says... Galdura?"

"Correct."

"But that's outside of Magnimar."

"Correct.

A long pause. "But sir, it's just... it's just second-rate wizards and sheep out there. Perhaps you could speak to the Division Commander and ask-"

"I already spoke to the Division Commander, Captain, you would still be a Lieutenant if I hadn't. It was me that asked her to assign you to Galdura." The young Captain's flinch is disproportionate, sensitized, involuntary. He doesn't know why he's in trouble. He almost never does. "And considering your obvious potential but also your recent conduct, she agreed. It's perfect place for you to stay out of trouble and get some good experience under your belt for the good of your career."

A child's appeal now: "But father-"

"But nothing, Captain. If you didn't want to get assigned to a backwater you should have shown some bloody discretion." Now it comes out. "Drunk in public! Feuding in the street with your latest harlot! If you had any sense you'd see that this change is for your own good." The Captain grits his teeth. Not what happened. They were friends, he just – hadn’t handled the breakup very well. But how to make his father understand? "That was-"

"I know perfectly well what that was. Ingratitude, is what it was! Did you ever stop to think that your reputation has an impact on my reputation, my legacy, everything I've done for this city? Especially when I go out of my way to vouch for you. You think it makes me look good to have a son who has had everything planned out for him, been given every advantage, and still finds a way to fuck it up? All you had to do was follow the simplest possible plan, and you couldn't even do that right." The Division Commander has been thinking long and hard about this. He knew from experience that while a firm hand and good discipline usually garnered good results, they could sometimes produce dependency and moral frailty in those of weak character. He had hoped for better from his son, but it was time to face his own mistake.

"I... look, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I made you look bad, okay? I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything, least of all excuses. Just go to Galdura and do your job. And to make sure you don't ruin your reputation there as well, I'm cutting you off. No more family money until you show some gratitude and prove that you can make something of yourself. Is that clear?"

"I-"

"Is that clear, Captain?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir." Defeat.

"Dismissed." And that was the last time Deputy Commissioner Ransom ever recognized his son.

[aeaeaexxzd]

cant wait to do my master in television writing and producing next yr

Season 6 of The Walking Dead should’ve been the final season. For one, accuracy to the source material is not relevant because the televised remake was never intended to be from the very start. 

Secondly, there’s a reason they chose this black and white timeline system in the 6th season, remember that ? I don’t necessarily fuck with it but it’s a marker, it says something, so it doesn’t make any sense, stylistically, to go in that direction and then abandon it along the way, unless it had actual weight.

I’m aware of, and I understand the cultural impact that the character Negan had, it revived the show right after it would’ve been appropriate to end it. But I have a tendency to believe that if you can’t do something right with good intentions then you shouldn’t do it at all. Negan worked, he became even more iconic and marketable than Rick, and that’s all that mattered.

And in hindsight, I think that Negan’s storyline could’ve easily been told in the earlier seasons. He could have happened soon after the The Governors storyline or even replaced it completely, seeing as he wasn’t as much of a hit anyways. 

Commercially, ending a show like this after 6 or 7 seasons doesn’t work, we’re talking about money. And it’s when a story becomes solely about profit, that it truly dies, and that’s when watching a show like this becomes a chore for me. I’m not seeing quality, because I’m not seeing love for the story, for the characters, and for all the people who have to work on the project. 

The longer you make a show like The Walking Dead last, the more you risk ruining it. A lot of loyal viewers of audiences from many different shows can vouch for this about their favorite pieces of media. They’ll say “it got kinda bad towards the end” or “I stopped after x season”. I know for a fact that Glenn’s death on the show in season 7 lowered the viewership count significantly. Not to mention it’s release in 2016 was facing new competitors like Stranger Things, Lucifer, the Crown (Netflix), Westworld (HBO) and many more. It’s blatant the the show lost it’s relevancy. Nowadays it’s barely talked about, even less with the spectacular debut of the series adaptation of The Last of Us. People were craving a story like that, (survivalism, the apocalypse, love, found family) not because there hadn’t been one in a while, but because the one that already existed was failing. It’s easy to ruin a show. It’s easy to let things crumble and to make the wrong decisions. 

If you’re going to make a show last as long as 11 seasons, you have to do it right, and it has to be worth it. The audience matters. Fans and casual viewers alike give TV shows life and reputation. You can’t give them what they want, but you can’t punish them either. I genuinely don’t understand the choice behind this. People would have remembered The Walking Dead for what it was : an excellent apocalyptic, horror drama and thriller and ending the show at 6 seasons, or even 7 would not have hurt anyone, especially not the viewers.  

It seems that these days good stories are either cut short or prolonged until they are no longer so. There’s TV and there’s storytelling. You can have storytelling without TV but you can’t have TV without storytelling. And one of the main rules about telling a story is that it needs a good beginning just as much as it needs a good end. This is why you bring up Breaking Bad. This is why you bring up Avatar the Last Airbender. When a story ends where it’s supposed to you are left with good memories and accolades from everyone. It’s almost silly that a show about corpses walking around would end up one itself.

[team-frightfur]

Dramaturgy: Standard Chapters 1-3 (because looking back they’re super short.)

Archive of Our Own Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/43361508/chapters/108999891

Episode: 1

Disclaimer: I Don't own any of the characters, stories, or even most of the plot points. - Text Glossary (this will get longer) Italics - Either emphasis or thoughts. Brackets - an aside. Brackets + Strikethrough - Repressed thoughts. Skippable.

Expect no consistent quality with the art. They are crimes for a reason.

Born from the discovery of implementing mass into Solid Vision, Action Duels! Duels where the field, monsters and Duelists' become one, pulls the crowd into the maelstrom of crazed excitement!

In Yuya’s opinion, action duels were, without a doubt, the latest and greatest evolution in duelling! Setting aside the sheer fun factor of riding Odd Eyes Dragon around the field, you just couldn’t get this kind of lighting anywhere else!

Admittedly, the lighting was doing way more for Gongenzaka than it was for him. Gongenzaka’s white clothes blazed like a star against the simulated firelit night, and the simulated wind made his red bandana flare out behind him. Above them, curtains of falling sakura cast dappled shadows on his shiny samurai monsters.

As if that wasn’t enough, the set was based on Ancient Japan! So the scarlet torii, paper screens, and wood houses fit Gongenzaka’s samurai themed monsters like a glove.

Yuya’s bright pink hip hippo, though, didn’t really blend in so well. Technology just couldn’t put yukatas on duel monsters yet.

Still! Never let it be said that Yusho Sakaki raised a quitter! Smiling for the camera, Yuya jumped his hippo right onto the roof of the main building. With the moon behind him, the backlighting would shine down like a halo - perfect for his dramatic turnaround!

- Is what Yuya would have said if Gongenzaka hadn’t accused him of messing around, followed by the real solid vision projector promptly dying, dropping Yuya face first onto the floor mats.

The impact took a moment to sink in.

Did I just nearly die?

It had been an 8 foot drop.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how much his head hurt in a minute, ‘nearly’ meant ‘not dead yet’, so the show could still go on! Groaning, Yuya forced his eyes open and sat up, scanning the room for why everything had shut off.

Instead, he landed on four different Tatsuyas, large grey eyes fixed on him with identical expressions of horror.

Ouch. Maybe he thinks I got one turn killed in real life.

If so, then that was not gonna fly! As an entertainer, Yuya made eleven year olds smile! He certainly didn’t traumatise them by breaking his neck onstage!

As such, he did the only thing he could think of.

He pulled a very funny face.

*****

You Show Duel had always been a small school. Even when ‘Yusho’ was a legendary name, it'd never opened outside 3-8pm, had more than two teachers, two floors, one stadium, seven rooms, and twenty students.

According to You Show’s current principal, Shuzo Hiiragi, it was by design. When it came to education, Yuya’s dad believed in ‘quality over quantity’, so he refused to have one person teach thirty kids. Workplace policy was that one teacher could teach ten max, making twenty a mark of success!

For over a decade, the sheer star power of Yusho’s name had kept the number of students maxed out. In Yuya’s memory, the attendance rate had only dropped below 100% twice.

First was when Yuya was six and the attendees had halved to ten. There was a long waiting list, though, so by the end of that year it was full up again.

Three years ago, on the other hand, they’d lost 16 students and, in all the days since, they’d never been able to hook another.

It was obvious why. Yuya and his dad were ruining this school. He knew it, Yuzu knew it, and Mr Hiiragi had to know it.

Despite that, no one had  ever  asked Yuya to leave. He’d always be grateful for that and he’d never forget what he owed to Mr Hiiragi.

Mr Hiiragi was a miracle worker. Yuya didn’t know how he did it but, no matter how few students showed, how much he was offered for the building, or how thin school finances got, Mr Hiiragi always pulled through. Because of him, the legacy Yuya’s dad had left behind always felt secure.

Seeing his face turn pained as he inspected the real solid vision projector made Yuya’s insides twist. The low ache in his nose didn’t even compare.

“We can fix it, right?” he asked, grip tightening on the ladder Mr Hiiragi was using. Any school without a real solid vision projector was dead in the water these days -especially one that focused on entertainment duelling like You Show.  

“We’ll find a way.” Mr Hiiragi said nervously, before wailing. “-But in the meantime, my hot blooded coaching is going to be  wasted !”

“Aw don’t say that.” Yuya tried. “I for one think your theory lessons are super hot blooded and fun!”

He did not, but, considering how the real solid vision projector had broken the instant he’d tried to play a card, Yuya was scared he’d been involved somehow. If he personally destroyed the school his dad and Mr Hiiragi had founded in a single duel, then Yuya’d have to start making up for it early.

Thank god that, while Yuya was resting on the front room couch fifteen minutes later, Mr Hiiragi reported that it was not, in fact, his fault.

Kinda.

Well, basically, Yuya’d upset Yuzu so badly that she’d smashed the keyboard up, which overloaded the system and caused the duel to shut down. An act which Yuzu, arms crossed on the couch next to him, was clearly unrepentant for.

“I don’t even see what I did wrong!” Yuya protested. “Tatsuya was laughing, wasn’t he?”

“He was laughing because you were making a fool of yourself!” Yuzu snapped.

“Exactly.” Gongenzaka added. “There’s a difference between laughing  with  someone and laughing  at  someone.”

“Buuut” - Yuya pointed out with a wink - “isn’t it better to be laughed at than ignored?”

 Or worse…

Gongenzaka frowned, eyes narrowing in a way that made it clear he knew exactly what Yuya hadn’t said out loud. “You think too little of yourself.”

“Gongenzaka’s right! Promise me that you won’t make a joke out of yourself again!”  

Yuya held back a sigh, he could tell it would be stupid to argue. “I promise.”  to give it a shot.

Tragically, just like Gongenzaka, Yuzu heard the quiet part. Suspicious, she leaned in closely so that Yuya could see the fire in her blue eyes.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it!”

“You liar!”

Caught red handed somehow, Yuya dodged off the couch as Yuzu swiped at him playfully? forcing him to hide behind Gongenzaka. Sweating, Yuya prepared for the next five minutes of “Hide from Yuzu or Die Horribly.”

Never had Yuya been more happy to hear the door burst open behind him. Smiling, he turned around and backed up towards the wall, hoping to welcome any other kids who’d dropped by.

Instead of a kid, though, it was an adult man with the most impressive moustache, bumblebee striped suit and sideburns that Yuya had ever seen. Honestly, he was kind of impressed. Sure, the style wasn’t his cup of tea, but you had to respect someone who wore their heart on their sleeve like that.

Mr Hiiragi was less stunned. “Who are you?”

Smiling wide, the man bowed slightly. “My name” -he supplied dramatically- “is Nico Smiley. I’m the manager of the current action duelling Champion, Strong Ishijima!”

Instantly, the air temp in the room crashed. Yuya’s heart froze to match, chest aching from the tangled mess of emotions twisting around inside it. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

But there was a stranger here so he couldn’t show any of that.

Mr Hiiragi exploded. “I refuse!” he bellowed. “Yuya is a precious student of You Show! I won’t let him join your dog and pony show!”

“What a shame,” Smiley replied. “After all, if you did, we’d be happy to provide you with Leo Corporation’s latest real solid vision projector for free.”

“Whether or not he wins or loses?” Mr Hiiragi asked.

Yuzu kicked her dad in the shins.

“I mean -could we get back to you on that?”

“Of course, of course! The duel isn’t until tomorrow, after all.”

Yuya’s smile faltered. Tomorrow!? “Y-your promoters haven’t already advertised the match, have they?”

“We would never! That would be a violation of your rights.” Smiley assured him. “I can promise you that no advertising will occur until after you give us the go ahead.”

I guess the promoters working on who knows how many hours of crunch don’t get those sorts of rights.

Putting aside his sympathies, Yuya was happy he didn’t have to answer yet. There were so many questions, feelings, and obligations swirling around in his head that he’d need at least a half hour to sort through them all.

Luckily, half an hour was also the amount of time it took for Smiley to walk out of their school. Yuya was frozen to the couch at that point, so Mr Hiiragi saw him out.

The moment he heard the door click closed, Yuya’s smile dropped off his face.

“So, pros and cons!” Yuya started. “Pro number 1: The school survives-”

“-Don’t you even think about duelling just for that real solid vision projector!” Yuzu warned, scooting over and pressing a finger to his chest. “I won’t let you walk into this on our account!”

“But-”

“What’s more important is that you want to go,” Gongenzaka added.

“Exactly! Focus on yourself! No thinking about You Show, or our classmates at Maiami middle, and definitely no thinking about all of Ishijima’s fans!”

“But just imagine how much the crowd would laugh if I lost!”

“Yuya!”

*****

Three years ago, Yusho Sakaki disappeared. Since it happened the same day as his match against Strong Ishijima, instead of a 'disappearance’, they called it a ‘no show’, instead of a ‘missing person’, they called his dad a ‘coward’ and instead of getting any sympathy, Yuya was called a ‘coward’s son.’

But Yuya’s dad was not a coward! He was a legendary duellist who never ran from a challenge and always, always fought to the end! Nothing could shake Yuya’s resolution on that.

No, his dad must have had a good reason for leaving.

-Which meant there was no need to doubt him on anything else! Satisfied, Yuya shamelessly kicked the idea that he should ‘focus on himself’ under whatever dusty mind closet he had in his head. Dad was exempt.

“So!” -Yuya started, stepping into his room and diving onto his bed- “What would Dad want?”

As he considered it, his eyes wandered to the poster of his father on the wall. In it, his dad was dressed in his signature suit and top hat, triumphantly punching the air at Maiami Stadium.

If Yuya remembered correctly, that had been his big win against Ushio -a milestone that earned him the title of ‘legend’ -but what Yuya liked most about it was the clear, picture perfect angle on his dad’s face. Because of the pro-camerawork involved, It was bigger and more High Q than any other pictures in the house.

Thanks to this poster, he would never forget his dad.

(The grief would haunt him every day .)

Right now, Yuya needed those memories. Eyes fixed on it, he thought back to the day he’d been crying in the schoolyard. What had Dad said to him back then?

“Laugh when you want to cry” - he muttered, dragging the words out of the back of his mind - “and push forward when you’re frozen in fear. If you can do that, you’ll definitely have fun.”

The meaning was clear enough. Dad would want him to duel

In that case, Yuya had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his shoulders and switched his duel disk to communication mode. His hands shook as he dialled in Mr Smiley’s number but, no matter how fast his pulse was racing, Yuya’s heart was set.

“Hello, this is Nico Smiley speaking.”

“Hi Mr Smiley, this is Yuya Sakaki! I think I’m going to accept that duel!”

*****

The single saving grace to the duel being tomorrow was that the ‘tomorrow’ in question was a Sunday.

Sadly, this Sunday was looking to be worse than usual. Sure, it was partly Yuya’s fault for going to bed last night with toxic, man eating butterflies in his stomach, but he’d expected them to go away overnight! Not get married, buy a house, have five kids, and settle down for retirement!

Yuya could only thank his lucky stars that he still had one countermeasure: mum’s pancakes.

Everyone who’d ever finished a plate agreed that Yuko Sakaki’s pancakes were the best. The dough was so fluffy that it melted in your mouth and the lemon juice, strawberry, and cream on the side balanced their flavours perfectly. Yuya fully believed that, should he ever meet a monster down an alley one day, he could domesticate it with these pancakes.

Not even the butterflies stood a chance. By the time he’d finished digging in, Yuya felt ready to face anything.

“Thanks for the food!”

Mum waved him off. “No need. I figured you’d need a pick me up for the duel!”

“I can’t just not say thanks though”- Yuya muttered before the rest of the line crashed down on him. “-wait, you already knew!?”

“It was on the morning news, Yuya. I bought a ticket.”

The promoters worked at least 10 hours of midnight crunch, he decided. At least 10.

Since his Mum had already found out, Yuya wasn’t surprised when the doorbell rang. Hurrying over, he opened the door and found Mr Hiiragi, Yuzu and Gongenzaka all packed onto the footpath outside.

Gongenzaka spoke first. “You truly accepted Mr Smiley’s offer?”

“Sorry for not telling you! It was pretty late when I called Mr Smiley about it last night.”

“Well, that’s a relief! Guess I won’t be needing this after all!” Yuzu said brightly, hiding her paper fan behind her back. “In that case, I’ll be watching from the stands! Give it your best shot and not an inch less, Yuya!”

“And put You Show Duel School back in business!” Mr Hiiragi chimed.

“-But If you  did actually do this just to pay us back, I promise I’ll make you regret it!”

“Trust me!” Yuya laughed, sweating slightly as Yuzu pulled out the fan again. “It’s nothing like that! I just wanted to …be brave and have fun!”

“Then you’ve already succeeded. After today, whether you win or lose, no one can deny your courage.” Gongenzaka said firmly. “Make sure that you try to enjoy it, too.”

“I promise! -and on that note, since you guys are here I may as well run this clown idea past you-”

*****

A few hours and several devastating discussions later, Yuya had to head out. The duel wasn’t for another hour, but it was good manners to show up early for the deck inspection.

Well over a decade had gone by since duel disks had been upgraded to shuffle themselves. That made most forms of card manipulation, like false shuffles, cuts, and passing, impossible. Somehow, though, there were still duellists out there who thought they could get away with marked cards, so inspections were still mandatory.

The deck inspection, along with “being too stupid”, “not respecting your opponent”, “making a joke out of yourself again ” and “making it seem like clowns and magicians are interchangeable” were just some of the many reasons Yuya was convinced not to sneak up behind Strong Ishijima in a jester costume. It wouldn’t be much of a twist if everyone in the entrance hall saw him jingling around.

“If you want there to be a twist, then win.” Yuzu huffed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s not about what’s likely or unlikely, it’s about what everyone expects.”

Yuzu was right, obviously. To everyone in the stands tonight, Yuya was less likely to win than an exodia user missing both legs. Only Mr Hiiragi, Yuzu, Gongenzaka, and his mum even entertained the thought of anything else.

Speaking honestly, Yuya agreed more with the majority. This was the champion of action duelling they were talking about! Compared to that, Yuya could barely qualify for the locals every second year.

Yuya was going to lose, he’d accepted that. As long as he did his best, that was what counted, right?

But if he knew that, then why wouldn’t his heart stop racing, why were his hands so sweaty they could barely hold his deck, and why was that same mess of emotions that had been dug up by Nico Smiley writhing around a day after he’d left?

Even when he took the field, Yuya was no closer to an answer.

*****

Maiami stadium could house up to twenty five thousand people. With that many seats, the field was almost dwarfed by the stands around it. Luckily, the stadium was fitted with state of the art drone cameras, which could capture the duel and project it onto wide screens behind the seats.

Yuya had sat in those stands more times than he could count to watch his dad leap, spin, and fly across the field. Since his dad disappeared, he’d come a lot less, but he could still be dragged out for the occasional match.

No amount of watching could have prepared Yuya for actually standing on the field. From here, the lights were blinding, the empty space around him felt massive, and Yuya could practically feel the thousands of cheers for Strong Ishijima shaking the air and grinding down his bones.

To his relief, the cheers quieted down when Smiley started announcing the match, allowing Yuya to hear Ishijima’s greeting.

“Here alone?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmph. I expected Sakaki Yusho to appear if we dragged out his son.”

Yuya couldn’t even imagine what to say to that.

( If that was enough, he’d have come back ages ago .)

Before either of them could say anything else, Mr Smiley announced the action field. In a flash of light, grass sprouted from gravel, and a forest appeared around them like a cage of trees. Under Strong Ishijima’s feet, a large stone castle materialised, carrying him so high up that Yuya couldn’t even see his face anymore.

Still, you couldn’t ignore tradition. If Yuya remembered correctly, the first part only took this long.  

(“Duelists locked in battle!”)

“Kicking the earth and dancing in the air alongside their monsters!”

(“They storm through this field!”)

“Behold! This is the newest and greatest evolution of Dueling!”

*****

After his dad disappeared, things got difficult.

When he walked into You Show and his dad wasn’t there, the absence stabbed into his chest, when he walked home alone, it weighed on his shoulders until they ached and, when he walked through the front door and closed it behind him, it dragged him back to that day, three years ago, when he’d waited behind that door for hours.

Back then, Yuya’d really believed that, any second, the door would swing open and his dad would come back. Because of that, he’d been frozen behind it until the sky turned dark and the only light in the room was what streamed under the door crack.

But in the end, his dad never came back. His mum came home late from her own desperate search and, when she realised he hadn’t done anything but sit there, collapsed into tears.

Seeing Mum cry made Yuya swear never to sit in front of the door again. Still, he never stopped waiting.

*****

No matter how much things hurt, Yuya never cried. A single week of school was enough to teach him that, for most people, crying was weak.

Instead, when Yuya walked to school and was stabbed by a hundred mocking gazes, he smiled and dragged Yuzu to the lockers. When the word “coward” was scrawled on his locker and desk, he smiled, cleaned it off and moved on with his life.

No one had left a flower vase for him, yet. He was honestly surprised.

 I don’t want to go back.  

As the months passed, Yuya had to clean his locker less and less, people stopped staring at him when he went to school, and his smiles stopped making Yuzu angry. He got used to the ache in his chest until even the lack of students at You Show became something acceptable.

If Yuya lost, would people start writing “loser” on his locker? Would they glare at him every morning and put a flower vase on his desk?

The path in front of Yuya felt like a sheer cliff.

*****

“Entertainment Duelling has nothing to prove!”

No one outside You Show believed that. To them, if the father of Entertainment Duelling didn’t believe in his own style enough to duel till the end, what good could it be?

There was only one way to make people respect Entertainment Duelling again: for the students at You Show to win. As Yusho’s son, Yuya had to win more than anyone else.

He didn’t win enough.

What is wrong with me?!

All Yuya wanted was to protect Entertainment Duelling, but all he could do was drag it through the mud! He lost half his duels, acted like a clown, and could never keep his big mouth shut! Three years ago was proof of that -a smarter kid would know better than to challenge the champion!

Now, Yuya was going to lose the one match he shouldn’t. Finally, the open question of which was better, Entertainment Duelling or Ishijima beatdown, was being answered by the worst possible person.

Everyone’s eyes were on him! The pressure made his ears ring!

How could this possibly be fun!?

*****

In the end, though, it was everyone else’s problem.

His classmates were scum, one moment they pretended to be decent, the next they were rubbing salt in his wounds.

The audience was just as worthless. After seeing his dad take on pre-errata crush cards, monster reborn, and Yata-locks they thought that Strong Ishijima  scared him?! Just think for one second and they’d realise that, even if his dad  had lost, Entertainment Duelling was second best!

But no! That’s too much to expect! Better to make Yuya duel a man three times his age over a grudge with a missing person!

Didn’t anyone have standards?! Why wasn’t anyone worried?!

His dad might be dead or trapped somewhere!

Was it just that fun to drive him crazy?

If so, then it was working. Underneath the nausea, underneath the ache, underneath the ringing in his ears, his blood was always boiling. When the feelings faded thread by thread, anger was always last to disappear.

Maybe one day, it wouldn’t disappear at all.

I want to make them pay for these last three years!

(At that time,  Would Yuya finally lose it?)

*****

( When he was younger, Yuya suspected that Strong Ishijima had kidnapped his father.  

  Obviously, that wasn’t right but, even after Yuya realised how silly it was, he kept looking for reasons. Maybe his dad had been taken by the Yakuza, or maybe he’d been teleported to some fantasy realm! Maybe he was sealed by an ancient curse and could only be freed by Yuya solving a puzzle!

Yuya’d outgrown those paranoid fantasies. Still, deep down, a part of him felt like if he won today, on the anniversary of Yusho Sakaki’s disappearance, his dad would finally walk back through that front door. He’d say he was proud of Yuya, give him a big hug, and Yuya wouldn’t have to deal with any of this fear, shame or anger  ever again  . )

  Something has to change!

*****

No set cards, no hand traps, just 400 LP and 4 monsters to take down Ishijima’s 4000 LP and his ace monster.

The duel was over. As the cheering for Ishijima rattled his skull, Yuya didn’t know if he could smile through it anymore.

Maybe that was the worst part. Even if Yuya lost, he wanted to live by his father’s teachings.

[peachmuses]

@sociieties asked: 5 times shuuzou felt something was very, very wrong. bad end.

i. the first time he feels something is wrong is when he comes back to makoto's apartment. ( he had made a rash decision in breaking up with his best friend / anger and jealousy swirling in his stomach leading him to argue with his best friend - the one person shuuzou had always tried to not hurt. he had hurt him anyways / and shuuzou is ready to swallow his pride. ) makoto's things are here -- but there's a thin layer of dust that shows that nothing has been touched for a week or so and shuuzou's stomach twists in knots. ( wrong. this is wrong. something is wrong. what happened / where's makoto ? ) he's pulling out his phone to text best friend as he moves to makoto’s room. maybe there will be something there / maybe – maybe, makoto hadn’t left him.  

[ text; ako ] where are you. [ text; ako ] came by to talk. [ text; ako ] mako -- where are you ? why does it look like you havent been here ???? [ text; ako ] ako im sure youre mad im sorry pls. i didn't mean it. [ text; ako ] ako-chan????

he finds out his best friend is in america -- and that makoto was sick. makoto tells him they can talk later. later, he finds out from atsushi that makoto had left with tatsuya. ( and shuuzou wants to cry. he knew it. he knew something was going on there. why else would makoto go to the person that tried to destroy their relationship ? shuuzou wants to cry. he's so stupid. he should have known tatsuya wouldn't have allowed him to have anyone. he shows up on kazuya's door step, and when the other asks him where he's been, shuuzou, sarcastic, drunk, replies with " emotional hell. " kazuya stares, and shuuzou fidgets, before he’s releasing whatever breath he has and drops his hands to the side. it’s not fair / he’s so tired. why tatsuya ? why his ex ? why the one person that wanted to ruin everything ? tatsuya is good at that. ruining things / ruining people. “ makoto left with tatsuya. ” kazuya curses under his breath and shuuzou wants to laugh / cry / kill himself / anything so he doesn’t feel the sharp blade of betrayal in his chest. ( he’s empty ! everything good in him is gone. the most central thing to his existence / the support for who he was as a person – gone. nothing will never be the same. shuuzou will never be the same. )  

ii. it's been a few months of therapy -- kazuya had helped him find someone after shuuzou forced himself to ask for help. he can’t lose kazuya as well – he’s lost everyone else. ( his friends – his family. all he has left is his soulmate. ) therapist recommended a psych; and shuuzou hated it on principle. ( it made him think of makoto / and how he studied psychology / and about a professor that no longer exists; shuuzou tells kazuya about it one day as ryou slaps his hand telling him he’s cutting the vegetables wrong. ) he had spent both beginning sessions with each of them, staring untrustingly at therapist/doctor – and both were extremely patient with him.   " apparently, " shuuzou says, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and sitting next to kazuya whose strumming his fingers, " the bad vibes i've been feeling all my life is just severe psychological distress. " he thinks it’s funny / in a way that it’s not funny, but it’s hysterical to him. recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder; a mental illness that impacts his ability to manage his emotions ; more often caused by severe childhood trauma. it explains the hallucinations that he has. he tells kazuya and ryou, about it too. he’s trying to talk more. the abused kid who only wanted to be enough and was never enough. nothing he ever did was enough for his family / then he wasn’t enough for tatsuya / then he wasn’t enough for makoto. it’s not fair of him to put it on makoto; when he’s the one who ended things – but shuuzou thinks it’s fair anyways. call him bitter; he doesn’t care. holiday season is the worst, shuuzou thinks. in japan, the holiday is more for couples than anything, but in america, it’s a time for family and friends to rejoice. shuuzou tells kazuya and ryou that he’s going to give them time to themselves, but not to worry about him. christmas day arrives, and shuuzou spends it in bed. he’s tired and alone / but he no longer weeps despite the distance that he feels between him and everything and everyone that exists. it’s his first christmas without makoto around; since he’s returned from america back when he was a stupid teenager. he hated it then, being away from makoto, and he still hates it now.

[ text, drafted; ako ] merry christmas.

he doesn’t send it – he thinks about it, but makoto hasn’t reached back out to him since shuuzou had told him nevermind on talking, and shuuzou realises that means makoto doesn’t want to talk to him. ( if makoto had wanted too / why wouldn’t makoto say something / do something ? ) it's the 26th, which means it’s christmas day in america, and shuuzou decides that the best way to ignore the emptiness inside of him is to toss his phone into his closet. he won’t text makoto / he won’t text tatsuya / and whoever tries to reach out to him, can just move on. he’s easily left anyways. hours later kazuya and makoto break into his apartment, and wake him up. ryou’s got an iced coffee with his name on it and shuuzou blinks wearily at the two of them. kazuya tells him that he wasn’t answering his phone, and shuuzou shrugs. “ it’s off. I threw it somewhere in my closet. ” shuuzou reaches for iced coffee, and ryou holds it out of reach so shuuzou is forced to get up and shuuzou scowls at him, as he’s forced to get out of bed and from under the covers. he tells kazuya that he feels like something had happened, that something bad was happening, and ryou looks up at his best friend in concern. ryou – who had read about borderline personality disorder, who had told kazuya about it in bed that evening after shuuzou had left. ( he remembers, briefly, doing the same, when makoto had told him that he was autistic. ryou had told kazuya about that as well. ) ryou shakes their head, “ I’m sure it’s nothing. c’mon there’s a sale going on, and if we don’t show up for lunch, I’m pretty certain og and momoi-chan will kill us. ”

iii. his therapist asks him if he loved makoto and shuuzou shrugs. " no ? " it's more question than statement. part of him has always loved makoto / part of him will always love makoto. she asks if he's certain and shuuzou softly admits a 'no'. he's not certain / he’s never been certain of anything, actually. at one point, makoto had been the center of his universe and shuuzou thinks that's stupid. there is no center of the universe / the universe is infinite; non-rotating. there, logically, can be no center if there is no point that exists within it. there is no center of rotation - unlike a spinning ball on a finger / there is no center of mass because the universe is infinite. the universe is flat; not curved - - there is no center there either / and it is always expanding equally in every direction. there is nothing that exists only in one spot / no supermassive black holes, or super-large nebulas or other foreign objects. there is no center of the universe / and it's stupid that makoto is - was - his. the night before he had a stupid dream that things had worked out for him and he tells his therapist that he had drafted another text to makoto.

[ text, drafted; ako ] I’m sorry about everything. [ text, drafted; ako ] I’m sorry this was the best I could do. [ text; drafted; ako ] I’m sorry I can’t get over it. [ text; drafted; ako ] I’m sorry I still think about you.

his therapist stares at him with dark, concerned gaze and shuuzou feels stupid. he should be over it; he should; he should; he should. she tells him that it's okay to not be over it when makoto had been such a large part of his life and shuuzou wants to laugh. he tells her that he has this feeling that something is wrong / that makoto is getting into trouble and she tells him that he needs to worry about himself for a change and that it's okay to not worry about him.

iv. it's their birthday -- it is ; and shuuzou feels less empty ; more numb than anything. his coworkers throw confetti at him, and he puts on a fake smile nd dusts himself off. " thanks for that, " he says droll to satsuki who giggles. she's pregnant – her and og had told them after christmas, and shuuzou thinks it's funny just how protective aomine and og had gotten over her – she’s just about to have the baby – a girl, she told them, excited. she’s about to go on leave, and shuuzou pats her shoulder. “ lets celebrate you, though ? ”  he's taken to regularly drafting texts to makoto - his therapist tells him that he shouldn't but shuuzou thinks it's okay as long as he doesn't reach out.

[ text, drafted; ako ] today's my birthday and i feel sad. [ text, drafted; ako ] when will you be back. [ text, drafted; ako ] i have this feeling you're not taking care of yourself. [ text, drafted; ako ] i still miss you.

she wants him to journal / shuuzou does not have the patience to journal - or the time. he's filled his schedule with so many things that he's not allowed to be sad. kazuya's birthday was three days ago. shuuzou stared blankly at the old pandora group chat that's not been touched in a good year and a half. he rereads old messages; and thinks he might hate tatsuya more than ever for doing what he'd done. kazuya hasn’t mentioned them / but shuuzou is certain he can’t be the only one that miss them. he now stares at himself in the mirror - he thinks he's better / better at pretending that he's better, at the very least. he's tried praying / tried every language he knows to call makoto back --- and nothing works.

v. something's wrong. he doesn't know whats wrong / but something's wrong. he brings it up to his psych - he tells him that his chest is tight and he feels like something has gone wrong; that someone was hurt, that someone was in danger. his therapist ups his meds and shuuzou wants to cry. he's not imagining it - he's not. he tries to tell them ; but they tell him that it's just a mental break and shuuzou shatters glass in his hand / he's jolted into the here / now; and stares at bloody hand and his psychitrast stares at him. shuuzou hates him. shuuzou hates makoto too. shuuzou hates tatsuya the most. he hates that he loved makoto / and it wasn't enough. splitting, his therapist had told him when he was diagnosed, is often caused by an event that makes an person with borderline personality disorder to take an extreme emotional viewpoint. she explained it to him as when a person has difficulties assessing a situtation, / polarizing a view of a person as strictly good / bad. it was his own mind that ruined things / because, shuuzou always ruins things. his heart is heavy / a burden. he wonders when he can think / say makoto’s name without it hurting ?  he wonders how he can get rid of it ? it's been ages, and shuuzou still feels stuck. it's been over a year, and shuuzou still feels like he's stuck. kazuya brings up his hand and why it's bandaged, later on, and shuuzou shrugs. " accidently broke some glass. " he sends a tired grin to kazuya, " i'm too old to fight anyone anymore, don't worry. i've left that all in the past. "

[cookinguptales]

You know, one thing that really hit me as soon as I learned what was going to happen in this episode was that there has been a severe over-reliance on hypnotism and Djinn magic this season.

Now, I know that hypnotism has always been a thing in this show. I know that. But it’s always been used both sparingly and effectively in the past. Like, usually hypnotism gets them into trouble, not out of it. Hypnotizing Sean and giving him brain scramblies was the problem in that episode; he hadn’t even had the knowledge they were trying to hypnotize away! Laszlo hypnotizing his way into that house to eat that dude was the beginning of the plot (him being stuck in an animal shelter) not the end of it.

And when it has been used to handwave repercussions, it hasn’t been done often. Like they did it to Meg but that was IIRC the only major time they did it in that season. All the other times were brief comic relief, like Laszlo refusing to pay for his shit at Best Buy.

But if you look at season four, they’ve been using hypnotism and Djinn magic to get around plot holes and real character development. They used one or both of those things in almost every single episode. (I think only the premiere and possibly the finale don’t have them. Maybe the dick wish ep...? I mean, other than the dick wish.) And at the beginning, when it was just small things like Marwa staying home instead of going to the Night Market, it was like... well, okay. Or things that were bigger but fun enough that you forgive it, like the Rinaldis getting to go to the wedding.

But it builds, doesn’t it? The cumulative effect of all those ass-pulls is... I mean, it makes for an unconvincing and unsatisfying season. It makes it so they can do anything they like without real repercussions, and that’s a problem. Because you need some repercussions. It’s not like the audience also forgot these things happened. I think the way they keep using hypnotism/magic to avoid emotional/plot/logistical fallout from things is a very bad trend. When you write without restrictions, you also tend to write without impact. It’s really messing up the character development, too, I think.

Like... did they forget that Nandor is bad at hypnotizing people? He specifically said in the animal shelter episode that he could really only make people do what they already wanted to do -- which seems a far cry from making the Freddies instantly stop screaming and start playing Taboo. Like bro, he managed to stop an existential crisis in its tracks!

And uhh... maybe some of these characters need to have existential crises! It’s like no one ever even gets to react to the events of the episodes anymore and that’s even leaking into the characters who can’t be magically affected, like Guillermo. Guillermo hasn’t really gotten to react onscreen to a lot of things he should have this season, and I think it’s just... that weird tendency this season to introduce things and then use magic to make them not matter. It’s bleeding into everything.

I think all this is part of why we just assumed that Nandor would eventually realize that the Djinn magic was a punishment and was ruining his life. Because magic always has in this show. The easy outs always got them into trouble. It seemed like that’s where they were going with it in the dick wish episode, too. But in this season, those easy outs have really been used as a writing crutch, and that sucks.

[wandsandwheezes]

Jealousy | G.W

Warnings // 2.6k // 18+ SMUT,   jealousy, sex, gagging, exhibitionism, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, use of pet names, bratty behaviour, dom/sub vibes, aftercare.

A/N // Hi the first smut of the year and it encompasses everythingI want from george weasley <3

The thing that made George Weasley tick the most was people eyeing up his girl. It got him riled up beyond belief, but the ever proud man he is, he would never admit to getting jealous over it. He'd simply let the jealousy get bottled up until it burst. For the most part you ignored the male attention you got, choosing to pretend that you simply didn’t see the lingering stares while nevertheless enjoying the way your boyfriend’s grip tightened around your waist or how he’d stalk over and pull you into an electrifying kiss. His actions quickly told you exactly how he felt about other men’s eyes drinking you in, you were his to devour and his only, so to say that you didn't play into that only the slightest bit is a lie. 

You didn’t mind lending a hand in the shop on the weekend, especially when it meant being able to spend more time ogling your lover and the way his muscles tensed as he picked up boxes, how his smile would flash as his inner child came out with all the demos, how easy it was to sneak a kiss in his office and most notably how lovely it was to share lingering glances across the shop as you worked on the tills. George liked having you around because every part of him wanted you close to him, that was why it twisted the knife that little bit more when he saw you lean over the counter just a small amount, giving the man you were serving a view of your perfect chest that his eyes had been locked onto. 

The action alone had him clenching his fists together, the vein in his neck popping out as he felt that bubbling jealousy reaching its capacity. Part of him had forgotten that he was holding onto some of the products he had been adjusting on the shelves, counting himself lucky that he hadn’t broken the glass bottles in his hand. He was next to you as soon as you were waving the customer goodbye, mumbling under his breath as he signed you off the till, inputting his own till code to deal with an admin task. “What the fuck was that all about, doll?”

“Sue me for me wanting to make a sale, baby” You smiled, resting your head against his bicep as you waited for him to finish up with his task, dainty hand snaking around his back to hook your fingertips gently through his belt loops. He was finding himself in heaven just by being able to breathe in your perfume.

“Those goods aren’t for sale.” He laughed, a smile hiding the sheer amount of boiling jealousy that was stirring inside of him, he raised his eyebrows and made sure to get a good look of what you had on show, wanting nothing more than to rip open your shirt, so he could see the bare tits that he loved in full view of the afternoon rush. 

“Funny one George” you smirked, hand dropping from being slinked around his hips, a hand that he quickly catches, pulling you so that your chest is pressed directly against his, causing a small gasp to fall from your lips at the impact, looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile before pressing a warm kiss to your cheek, a direct contrast to the callous words whispered low enough for only you to hear.  “I’m fucking serious, you’re mine.”

You knew that if he had said those words in the comfort of your own home his voice would have been several octaves deeper than his usual conversation’s tone, cut thick full of seduction as he tugged your shirt off of you, but here he had to keep himself restrained, on the low. He would bend you over the counter right now if it weren’t for the shop full of people; it wasn’t unfamiliar territory to be bent over something as George had his way. Lucky for you though, today you could be as bratty as you wanted, he would have to keep himself under wraps until you were alone. 

George had sulked off in his office, causing you to follow the man you were intent on annoying all around the shop like the needy girl that you were until he gave in, trapping you between his body and a shelf of potions, careful not to push to hard in fear of drawing attention to himself. You opened your mouth to protest, only to be met with his pointer finger to your lips. 

"Is this what you want, to be my little whore begging for me with her eyes?" he tutted as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck just below your ear, sucking a mark that would be visible to everyone causing a tiny little desperate moan to fall from your lips. 

"You like having eyes on you though don't you? In your short little skirt and a pathetic excuse for a shirt… you're just daring me to bend you over something." He mumbled against your ear as his hand was on your breast, thumb and forefinger toying with the hardened nipple through the material of your shirt and bra. 

"Baby, I don't know what you're talking abou-" You bat your lashes at your boyfriend, trying your best to act coyly at the situation, ignoring the feeling that his large hands on your chest was giving you. Trying to look away, the fear of being caught in a compromising position with George all too much to bear. 

“No talking back, brat.” His hand quickly moved, now on your jaw as he forced you to look at him before crashing his lips down on yours in a fevered kiss. Hs leg had slipped between yours, knee nudging your thighs apart before giving you something to grind down on. It was one of his favourite sights, watching you desperately rut against his thigh as you got yourself off for him. 

“George what if someone-” You moaned breathlessly as his hands guided the slow and teasing pace you were allowed to move your hips, It felt so good you were trying not to moan the whole shop down. 

“I already said no talking back.” He growled at you, feeling the cool sensation of his rings as his hand pressed against your throat, he wasn't choking you yet, only giving your windpipe a simple squeeze as a warning sign that he was on the edge of his tether. 

Fred had yelled his brother's name, as he reached the top step, searching for George around the top balcony floor. The action made your boyfriend look away frustrated as he bit the inside of his cheek. Grumbling a low, 'upstairs, now' before storming away from you, leaving you breathless. 

You did as he said, waiting for him excitedly for the first 15 minutes, after 40 minutes had ticked by you grew frustrated with him, after another 15 you were ready to start teasing him again, standing bent over the kitchen counter as you text him. 

<< Leaving me all desperate are you, Georgie? x

<< My fingers can't even do yours justice x

<< Bet that guy from earlier would have taken care of me x

>> Don't push your luck, kitten x

Your last text to him was enough to make him leave the stupid task that Fred had left him to do, practically storming up the stairs as he fumbled with his keys to unlock the front door. You hadn't even realised that George was behind you until your phone was snatched from your hands, his strong grip holding you firmly against the counter, his fingers lacing through your hair, taking a handful to grab at. 

"You are such a fucking Brat, I can't even do nice things for you without the attitude." You moaned as he gave a rough tug at your hair, his hips bucking into yours in an attempt to relive some of the tension in his own trousers but to no avail, he only grew harder at your babbling moans and begs for him. 

"You're begging now but you've been such a bad girl, I don't think I should really touch you at all, I may just have to use your mouth instead." You nodded, not even sure what you were agreeing too, too blinkered by wanting to have him please you that you'd do anything. He knew your limits, you knew your safe word so you knew you were safe.

He had tried to restrain himself but before you knew it you had been thrown over his shoulder, hand giving your ass a playful slap as he walked you towards the bedroom, the sound of your giggles a pure symphony to his ears as they rang about the flat. 

There was no dignity in the way he had thrown you on the bed, ripped open your shirt and hitched up your skirt over your hips. Not even caring to take off your underwear, only slipping it to the side to have his fingers buried deep inside you, at first he was slow and teasing as he stretched you out with his fingers alone hut as you began to clench around him, he picked up the pace, bringing you all the way to the very edge of your release before pulling his hand away, sucking your juices off his fingers with a chuckle. 

“You think you were clever did you? Bad girls don’t get to cum, not until I say so." He hummed, tapping at your clit with his wet fingers before he leans down so that his head is between your thighs, blowing cool air over your exposed heat, causing a shiver to run up your spine. 

"On your knees." His voice was thick, cut sharp and letting you know that he wasn't messing around, he waited for you to be on your knees in front of him, letting you deal with unbuckling his belt to pull him free. His hands were already holding back your hair, helping guide his length down your throat as soon as it was past your lips. The sound of you gagging as he hit the back of you made his cock twitch, a single tear running down your cheek as you hummed against him, a tear that he wiped away with his thumb, smiling down lovingly at you. 

"Just one tear for me, Princess? I want your makeup ruined, I know you do too." You nodded at his words, taking him further down your throat until the tears started to spill. You loved it, the way he would use your mouth, it wouldn't take him long till he took control of fucking your throat. His hand pulled your mouth from his cock, spitting in his hand to wrap around his length, mixing your saliva together before he was thrust back into your mouth, setting a relentless pace, hearing your gags as he hit the back of your throat. 

"Look at those pretty tears, baby… I'm in two minds to have you cum over and over for me just to keep those tears spilling." His thumb ran over your lip, pulling you up by your jaw so that he could kiss you, the kiss was soft, almost checking in to see you were okay and still with him. 

He had you lying on the bed as he rid himself of his clothes, first the tie, which was shoved into your mouth. This was a sight he would never get over, an innocent look plastered in your eyes as he lined himself up, sinking deep inside you quickly. You fit like a glove with him, stretching out perfectly to accommodate every single inch he had to give you and it felt magnificent. He was still but his thumb circled your clit in such a perfect way that he had you coming undone in minutes, that was number one.

Number two was given to you in slow purposeful thrusts as he moaned out for you, not caring who could hear his guttural grunts. All you could do was hum back as a response, wanting to moan for him and only him. The third time he had you releasing so quickly just from his rough pace, he'd pulled his tie from your mouth to kiss you, swallowing every single moan like his life was dependent on it. 

"Godric I love your tight cunt. I stretch you out so good, don't I princess? Show me, where you feel me, doll." The fourth had you shaking, he was fucking you so deeply, pulling out completely and sinking back in to the hilt. Your hand grabbed his shakily, pressing it hard against your abdomen, he could literally feel the tip of his cock hitting his hand and he chucked, hooking your legs over his shoulders. 

"That's pretty deep, baby, I bet I could fuck you deeper." His words and the feeling of his whole length fucking through you had you over the moon. You weren't sure if you were begging him for more or to stop, it was pain and pleasure mixed together like the perfect shot of ecstasy. The tears were falling down your cheeks like you'd been caught in the rain, but George thought you looked stunning. 

"Think you could handle another, brat? Let me lick your cunt nice and clean." Your body told you to stop but your mouth was begging for it, craving a new release by his skilled mouth. You didn't want to deprive yourself of his perfect tongue. Each lick and suck had you screaming for him, your sensitive and used cunt close to release again and this time it was heaven, your thighs quaking as it released over you. You were well and truly overstimulated. 

"Good Girl, such a good baby. I'm so proud of you for taking all five, doll." He praised, pressing kisses all over your makeup-ruined cheeks while his hands rubbed gently over your sides. He made sure to get you nice and cleaned up, changing you into his warmest hoodie and some pyjama bottoms, scraping your hair up into a bun and pulling on some fluffy socks. 

He changed into his own pyjama bottoms, staying shirtless before picking you up, your legs wrapped around his torso as he walked to the kitchen, laying you down on the sofa, leaving you to come down from from your state of bliss as he made light work of cooking your dinner. He truly was the perfect boyfriend. 

"Georgie?" you called out to him, seeing him turn around, immediately dropping what he was cutting up to tend to you. 

"Hi princess, welcome back… how're you feeling." He smiled, thumb running over your cheek as he cupped your jaw. 

"I love you, George, You're amazing." You hummed, pulling him in for a delicate kiss

"I love you more, baby girl… I wasn't too rough?" He asked, forehead pressed against yours, to which you shook your head tracing light circles on his chest. 

"Good girl, I hope you're hungry… I'm making your favourite." You smiled, letting him hoist you up, taking you over to sit on the counter as you watched him. 

You smiled dumbfounded by his sweetness, thinking to yourself, 'I'm gonna marry this man.' because George was everything, real true husband material. 

[aminiatureworld]

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

 Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

 Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

[jackrrabbit]

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! Hawks (Keigo Takami) - Scratches and Bruises

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Alright I’ll do it...I’LL WRITE HAWKS SMUT....but I won’t like it.

Okay people so This is gonna have talks of death, abuse, yandere shit.

Leggo!

...

“What’s a pretty girl like you do sad for?”

You looked up from your phone to find a man practically leaning over the restaurant table. You could smell the alcohol from miles away and the way he was moving wasn’t helping his case either. You were instantly put off by him. Correction: You were disgusted by him.

“What’s a ugly man like you so bold for?” you smiled sweetly as the venom dripped off your words. “I’m really not interested.” you looked back down at your phone. You were just about to get a new high score on your favorite phone game and this asshole was ruining your chances. Your character almost died twice since he began bothering you. It was really starting to get on your nerves. If you didn’t unlock that new skin, you might kill someone.

“Oh come on.” he slurred. “Can a guy just compliment such a pretty lady?”

“Not when he looks like fucking Voldemort.” you replied just as quickly as he ended his sentence. “You’re kind of bothering me right now.” you pressed pause on your game and looked up again. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, seriously?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a guy at one of the booths, staring over at you. It didn’t feel creepy, but it was enough to capture your attention. 

“I wanted to-”

“What do you want?” you cut him off again. “We’re wasting time here.” you threw your phone on the table. “Save me the headache and save your ego...” you crossed your arms. you faked a smile. “Goodbye.”

“You bit-”

“Is there a problem?” 

A new person walked up to you two. The same guy who you had noticed before stopped in front of your table. He had sandy brown hair, and very sharp looking eyes. You swore you’ve seen him somewhere. You weren’t too sure.

“Nothing buddy, just about to show this bitch who she’s talking to-”

You crossed your arms and shifted around in your seat. “I mean I don’t need to be shown anything.” you shrugged.

“Oh are you?” he laughed. “Well I hate to break it to you but I’ll have to intervene” the stranger laughed out loud. 

“What do you mean-”

The drunk was instantly floored as this stranger grabbed his by the neck and slammed his face against the table not even an inch away from your phone. The drunk landed on the floor with a thud, moaning in pain. You weren’t even sure if he was registering the pain he was in or the fact that he had gotten his ass handed to him in the first place. All that you knew was that he was being peeled off the floor and escorted (more like thrown out.).

“You’re welcome, lady.” the guy didn’t take another look at you before be took a step forward. 

“I didn’t need your help.” you snatched your phone off the desk. “I can take care of myself.” you rolled your eyes. “And I wasn’t gonna thank you, either.” you stood up. “I’m definitely not going to now.”

The man slowly turned around, revealing his face clearly. “Oh really?” 

He was attractive, no doubt about it. His tight black muscle tee with baggy jeans and boots...damn he was a looker. Yet you weren’t like most MC’s...it would take a bit more than that for him to have any impact on you.

“Really.” you repeated. You put a hand on your hip. “Now if you’ll excuse me...I’m off to find another table to sit at.”

The man who ‘saved’ you didn’t take his eyes off you all night. Even when your friends came and joined you. 

“Hey Y/N, is that Keigo Takami looking at you?”

“I think it is!” another friend piped.

“Who?” you stared at her as you lowered your drink. “Who is Keigo Takami?”

“Y’know...Hawks.” she whispered. “I heard they call him that when he served time...” 

“He’s a literally crazy person. He’s an absolute menace! He’s a former hero...”

“Can imagine why...he beat the shit out of this guy who tried to hit on me.”

“Him?! I haven’t heard of him ever doing that for anyone before.” your other friend widened her eyes. “Y/N, I’ve heard of his past relationships...they didn’t end well. They all ended up missing...or in therapy.”

“I can take care of myself.” you shrugged. “I’m sure whatever Hawks has for me, I can take.”

“Don’t say that so freely, Girl. I heard he has a lot of screws loose.” your friend put a hand on your shoulder. “Like a lot.”

“Well whatever Mr. Man has in store for me, I’ll be prepared. It can’t be that bad, right?” your confidence dispersed a little bit. You looked behind you back at Keigo who had been cracking open a can of beer. He looked a little to interested in his own world to see you staring. 

“Y/N...Y/N!” your friend snapped her fingers in your face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah!” You focused back on your friends, feeling your emotions sort of switch. 

From the corner of the room, Keigo’s eyes followed you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you. Never in his life had he ever seen a girl like you before. He had never been so...fascinated either. Something inside him snapped, he had to get to know you.

He had to.

...

“Is there a reason  you’re following me?”

On a trip to the supermarket, you couldn’t help but voice your opinions. Keigo was hiding in behind a display of cans whilst you stared at the cheese. Hmmm Cheddar or American? Maybe Havarti! Hmm Pepperjack? Why were there too many types of cheeses?! Too many options!

“You have a very keen eye.” he revealed himself. “I like that.” he began walking along side down down the aisle. “Try this one, it’s the best on burgers.” he grabbed a package of Pepperjack cheese and tossed it in the cart.

“I’m just very aware.” you replied boredly. “It comes with the territory.” you opted to ignore him trying to shop for you. 

“Of being a hero?” 

His words made you freeze. You hadn’t been a hero in years, let along thought about it. It had been so long...

“I hung up my cape years ago.” you rebutted. Your tried to keep your voice steady, but he could tell his words affected you. It made you wonder how he even knew that.

“I can say the same.” he winked. “Only I traded the cape for...other things.”

“I can tell...Hawks.” you grumbled in reply. “That’s what they used to call you right?”

Keigo knew you were challenging him. Part of him was angry, others not so much. He was interested to say the least. No one dared call him that anymore. Hell, no one lived long enough to even finish such a sentence. What made you so different? You had guts...he liked that.

“Yeah...that part of my life is over now.” he began following you down the aisle. “What about you? Why’d you give up hero work?”

“That’s not something I want to discuss with a stranger in the middle of the store.” 

“I get it...how’s 7:00 sound?”

“Pardon me?” You and your cart skid to a stop. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’ll meet you at the bar we met around 7! Don’t be late, and tell the bartender Takami Keigo is gonna be waitin’ for ya.” he winked. “Don’t leave me waiting princess...”

“I don’t even know you!” you were taken aback. “You don’t even know my name...”

Keigo’s face twisted into a smirk. He took a step towards you. You flattened yourself against the aisle wall as he trapped you against the cereal. “So tell me...What’s your name?”

“Huh?!”

“For a hero...you’re pretty dense.” he chuckled, nearing his face closer. “I asked your name, Hun.” he winked. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Y/N.” you replied breathlessly. “My name is Y/N.” Why did you tell him that, you had no clue. Idiot!

“Okay then Y/N.” he neared his face towards yours. “7:00 tonight...okay?”

“Uh huh.” you nodded. 

“Wonderful, I’ll see you tonight, princess.”

... 

You sat at the bar stool, spinning around lazily. You called all of your friends, your parents, hell even your grandparents. You didn’t tell them the details, but you told them if you didn’t message them back by 9:00 AM the next morning, call you just in case.

“What can I get you?” the barkeep walked up, wearing a kind smile on his face. You suddenly remembered that Keigo had told you, and you didn’t trust it one bit. “Can I get a water please?” 

“Coming right up, young lady.” the older man kindly looked at you. “Anything for the former Number 1 hero!”

You giggled bashfully. “Please, that was years ago.” you shook your head. “I appreciate it though.” you smiled. Hero work, the bane of your existence. Your past buddies and partners had all begged you not to leave, but with the amount of scars and suffering you endured, you had no choice.

You wouldn’t put yourself through that again, not for anyone. 

“Here you are miss.” the glass was set in front of you. 

“Thanks.” you put your hand over the top of the glass. Now that it was in yoru hand, you could move accordingly. “I was also supposed to meet someone here?...Told me to tell you to expect me...Keigo Takami?”

The barkeep’s face fell, fear striking his features. “O-oh! You’re Mr. Takami’s company for the night! I’m supposed to escort you to his special booth.”

“Special booth?” you repeated.

“Y-yes, please follow me!” he urged. “Only VIPs are allowed back here, but he rented out the entire back area just for you!”

You felt your senses go off, fight or flight mode. Now or never. You reached in your purse. Knife, check. Mace, check....Gun...check.

The kind barkeep took you to a back area. It looked like the main dining area, only a lot more high end. Slow jazz music was playing in the background and the lights were low. He was right, there was no one here...except one person.

He dawned a brown leather jacket, black skinny jeans and those all to familiar boots. He tapped his fingers against the table as he stared down at his phone.

“Mr. Takami. She’s here.”

Keigo looked up with that shit-eating smirk. “Thank you Hideo, leave us.”

The barkeep stalked off leaving you alone. You suddenly felt out of place. You looked around, taking note of the city beaming outside the windows. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” 

You looked back over at Keigo again, almost surprised. “Yeah, it is.” you nodded.

He motioned next to him. “You wanna sit down or are you gonna stand there staring at me? I don’t bite.” he winked.

Silently, you sat down, still keeping your distance from the man. You were about a good two feet away from him. You weren’t too keen on getting any closer.

“I’m surprised you came. I thought you’d find a way to get out of this.”

“I am too, but I figured I’d entertain this idea...just for tonight.” you shrugged. “Don’t try anything, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Keigo cracked a genuine smile. You looked stunning and he wanted to tell you that. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew about you when you were going by your hero alias. He recognized the way you walked, the way you spoke. You could have killed that freak who hit on you if you wanted to. However you didn’t. He was curious about that.

“Why did you ask me out?” you raised an eyebrow before he could get a word out.

“I’ll let you know in a minute.” he winked. “I’m more interested in you.”

“Like what?” you raised an eyebrow. “How interesting can I be?”

Keigo didn’t want to say he did extensive research on you and couldn’t find shit. It drove him crazy. It was making him go quite literally insane. He was more that interested. He was invested. When he didn’t answer, you sighed.

“You tell me first.” you crossed your arms. “I know your reputation proceeds you.” you raised a brow.

“Princess, that’s not how this works.” he tried to sound as if he was joking. “I ask the questions here.”

“Well it is today.” you shrugged. “Either we have an even exchange or you’re out of luck.” you shrugged. “You decide.”

Keigo stared blankly at you. You were a tough nut, that was for sure. Plus you sure as hell weren’t afraid of death. That must have meant you had no idea what he was capable of. Then again, it must have been your Hero Side taking a stance.

After what felt like a minute, he sighed in defeat. “...A friend of mine was killed by a hero.” he confessed. “You ever hear of someone called The Bronze Monk?”

“That name sounds familiar?” you raised an eyebrow. “He’s another hero, right? He can turn his fists into bronze.” You tried to recall.

“Mhm...He killed my friend.” Keigo clenched his fist. “I did 6 years because of him....”

“I don’t understand.” you raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with you?”

“This was while you were dominating the game I guess, so I don’t blame you for not knowing.” he shrugged and he slapped a hand on the table. “HIDEO! TWO BEERS.”

“So I’m confused. I heard The Bronze Monk died mysteriously...he fell from over 500 stories...”you paused. You took to time to noticed that Keigo has aired out his wings this time around. You didn’t even noticed he HAD wings. “It was all over the-...wait a second...You never said who your friend was.”

“She was a- she was a villain.” Keigo sighed. “She was like a sister to me and I was tryna get her to stop being so dumb...turn over a new leave and she was doing so well! Shit, but...one day she dumbly got into a fight with that asshole and I watched my friend die right there.” Keigo hitched his words slightly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” you said sadly, regretting opening your big mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No...it’s fine. I guess in order to move on I gotta talk about it right?” he sat up straight as the barkeep came back with two mugs and quickly stalked back off. “I was so blinded by my own anger. What type of hero would go out of their way to punish someone trying to make amends....” he seethed. “I flew him up to the tallest building in the city and dropped him...I only got off on good behavior...”

It finally all made sense, to you at least. You let what he said marinate and sit well...it felt surreal.

“So.” Keigo grabbed his glass and took a huge gulp. “I’ve said my peace. You’re turn.”

You stared at this guy for what felt like ages. Something told you that this guy couldn’t be trusted. All the alarms were going off at the same time...but for some reason-

“My parents wanted me to be a hero.” you said. “My quirk is hereditary, so it’s passed from person to person.” you shrugged. “I loved saving people, helping people...then-” you paused. “I saw how corrupt, and hateful, and disgusting these so-called heroes were...I lost someone important to me too.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested. You took a swig of beer, trying to gather your thoughts. 

Keigo took note of the way you were fiddling with your left hand. Your thumb grazed over your ringer finger as if something was missing...something important.

“Who was the guy?” Keigo asked, snapping you out of your trance. He had a gut feeling he already knew, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

“...H-he was um...we dated since high school.” you shrugged. “We were a team, him and I.” you smiled at the memory. “When he turned his back on the hero world, they turned their back on him too.”

“Meaning?”

“They sold him out.” you choked. “They left him for dead and told me he would be okay. I should have gone back for him but they held me back, they told me there were other people that needed my help.”

“What happened when you learned the truth?” Keigo asked. He only knew that a poor hero lost his life, he didn’t know that the only other survivor just so happened to be his future wife.

“I had to choose...my friends and my morals or being a hero. If anyone knows just how two faced and conniving these people are, it’s me.” you shuddered. “I’ve met traitors, and killers disguised as good guys. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore and I gave up! Forget being number 1, forget status, forget everything...Being a hero...lost me everything.”

“Hm. Thank you for sharing that with me, Princess.” he replied. “It must have been hard to do...it’s nice to know you trust me so much.”

“It was only fair, I guess.” you boredly drank. “It not that big a deal.” you stared down at your fingers. “It was years ago, I’ve moved on.”

Keigo took note of how your mood faltered. He couldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me?”

“Hm?” you looked up from your glass.

“I’m sure where ever your fiancé is, whatever he’s up to. He doesn’t blame you.” he put a hand over yours. “He wouldn’t hate you for moving on either.”

“He wouldn’t?” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know?”

Keigo couldn’t answer, he just wanted to say something, anything, to put a smile on your face. It was like a second nature in such a short time. He wanted to be your hero. “It’s just a hunch...you shouldn’t be afraid to move on...sometimes all you need is a push out the nest.” he winked as his wings twitched behind his back.

“Bird humor? Really?” you scoffed.

“It’s what I do, princess.”

...

After the heavy and depressing, you don’t think you laughed that hard in years. 

“Wait hold on.” you stopped laughing. “Pause for a minute! You, with those big ass wings got your ass handed to you by some chump named ‘The weather man?’” you were crying from laughing so hard.

“He could control the wind!” he defended, also laughing. “You shoulda seen it!”

“Well maybe you need to exercise your quirk more.” you crossed your arms.

“As if you’re the master of your own.” he playfully rolled his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I am!” you raised an eyebrow. “Shall I demonstrate?” you scooted out the booth and stood up. “Don’t blink or you might miss it.”

Keigo leaned back in his seat, now very interested in what you were about to display for him. He watched your eyes narrow in focus as you held your hands out in front of your face. Slowly, a very tiny tornado formed in your hands, small and handheld. This mini tornado was soon replaced by a tree sprouting out of the top. You waved your hand around and miraculously summoned rain out of your palm. 

“Okay Y/N, focus.” you mumbled. Suddenly, out of everything, a flame erupted from the center of your hand. 

He watched in awe, he had never heard of anyone with a quirk like this one before. With another flick of the hand, everything you had summoned disappeared. “Ta-da!”

“That was amazing.” he commented as your sat down. “What was that??”

“I come from a long line of ‘benders’. Funny name, I know.” you giggled. “I can bend another element...spirit. I can only do it when I’m really happy though.”

“Why didn’t you try that one?”

“...I said I can only do it when I’m happy.” you smiled sadly. It didn’t take long for Keigo to catch on. 

“Oh.” he raised a brow. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s alright.” you shook your head. “Ever since...he died...I’ve never been able to do it.” you shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to.”

“I’d love to witness that.” Keigo laced his fingers within yours, making your face heat up. “I bet it’s beautiful.”

“...S-shush.” you scoffed, looking away bashfully.

Suddenly the song changed, a slow jazz song began playing. A slow beat, with soft drums and what you could describe as a romantic saxophone.

“Dance with me.” he held out his hand. 

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully as you took his hand and stood up. He guided you to the middle of the floor. he pulled you flush against his chest. The slow music seemed to drown out the hustle of the city noise outside. He hummed thoughtfully, singing to the tune for you. 

“You never told me.” you mused as you two moved in sync.

“Told you what, princess?”

“Why did you ask me out?”

“Truth be told, something drew me to you.”

“Like what?” you innocently stared. “What about me could possibly interest you?”

“Out of everything you’ve told me, everything really.” he bit his lip. “You’re amazing, everything about you.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself, Keigo.” you shyly replied. You turned around and rested your back against his chest. He rested his head in the divot of your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist, guiding you along to the music. 

He was right, he wouldn’t leave you, not now. Not ever. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it, princess.”

“If I admitted I was wrong about you, would you hold it against me?”

Keigo nearly froze. A shock was sent up his spine as the words left your lips. “You shouldn’t say things like that, princess.”

“How come?” you turned around to face him. 

“I want to-” he bit his lip. A gentle hand rested on the base of your neck, his thumb caressing your throat. He laid a kiss on your lips, passion dripping off of every peck. His tongue slipped through the small gap as he moaned against your mouth. You whimpered and shivered feeling his tongue dominate your mouth. He responded with sounds of his own. Shaky breathes and low groans.

You responded to his touch, allowing his hands to travel under your shirt. “Keigo.” you whimpered. Your feverishly ran your hands through his hair, practically gluing your bodies together. You felt his fingertips creep under shirt, dancing across your skin. “W-we can’t do this here.”

“You’re totally right.” he didn’t cease, instead opting to kiss down your neck. “So...my place or yours.”

You felt yourself lose all sense of direction. “Y-yours.”

“You’ve just opened up Pandora’s Box, princess.”

...

You fell back on his bed, crawling backwards. He rid himself of that jacket and his shirt, leaving him to flex his muscles, his wings, and everything. You stared up, trembling in anticipation. 

Your friends would probably kill you, but you didn’t particularly care. You hugged yourself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.��

Keigo loved it. It meant you still had innocence flowing in your veins, not for long. He would toy with your brain. He would bend you to his will and drive you insane with lust. You would be the perfect sidekick for him. He stalked over to you, biting his lip. 

“Look at you.” he mused. “You’re so cute.” he giggled. He rested a knee at the edge of the bed, beginning to crawl towards you. 

You noticed his wings were spread wide, covering over you two like a shield.

“C-can I?”

“Go ahead Princess.” he smiled knowingly. He had the look as if he knew something you didn’t. You reached a trembling hand to gently brush his beautiful feathers. A low groan erupted from his throat.

“Oh my gosh! Am I hurting you?” you almost withdrew your hand back.

“Don’t stop...please.” he growled lowly. 

It was only then you realized, this was turning him on. You ran your hands through his feathers. They were soft, shiny even. 

“Enough!” he grabbed your hand and pinned it above your head. “Look at you, princess. All ready for me.” he laughed. “I wonder how wet I can make that pussy for me.” he used his other hand to fumble with the button of your jeans.

You trembled under his touch, feeling your pants slide down your legs. You were completely drowned in your own lust. A fire was prominent in your chest. You were shaking under his fingertips. 

“Enjoy this, princess.” he winked before crawling down. He lifted your shirt up and planted little kisses along your stomach. He grabbed the hem of your panties with his teeth and pulled them down. 

You were squirming in anticipation, waiting. 

“You smell so...so-” he didn’t finish his sentence because he had drove his tongue up your slit. A gasp escaped your lungs. Absentmindedly, you had grabbed a fist full of his hair. 

“Fuuuh~” you couldn’t speak. You weren’t even sure he’d be able to hear your over the sound of your wetness. You could feel your water dribble down your thighs. 

“Wrapped your legs around my head.” he growled, digging his nails into your thighs. “Grind that pussy against my tongue, princess.” 

You thrashed against his mouth, feeling warmth gather in the pit of your stomach. “Keigo!”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, making you cry out even louder. 

Keigo felt himself lose touch with everything, he was only focused on you in the moment. Fuck, was he hard too. Hearing your moans. Shit, he couldn’t wait to bury himself into you. 

“Baby, do you hear that?” he looked up at you as he promptly replaced his tongue with his fingers. “Listen.” he pumped his fingers into you. “You sound so fucking cute” he groaned, mimicking your soft whimpers. “It feels good, yeah?”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded. 

Suddenly, he yanked his fingers out of you. His head fell forward to rest on your pubic bone. He sounded as if he came just now even if it was you getting all the pleasure. 

Like a predator stalking after it’s prey he meet your eyes. He wore a sadistic grin with his bottom lip taken between his teeth. He sat up, fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“You ready for me, princess?”

“Yes, p-please?” you whimpered. 

Fuck, you couldn’t do that to him. He had a mind to tear you apart where you lay. Your jaw went slack as his cock was released from its restraints. Would that even- Inside you?! 

You felt it brush against you, slightly. You met his eyes and froze there. He was staring down at you. He looked absolutely feral. You could barely look away as he slid himself inside your throbbing hole. He painfully slowly rolled his hips into you. He twitched inside as he bucked his hips into you. 

“Look at how good we fit together. That’s right.” he managed through clenched teeth. “My cock was meant to be here. I was meant to fuck you.” he snarled. 

You tightened around his length as he thrust harder. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” His jaw dropped again. “Say my name, please?”

“K-keigo.” you obeyed. You felt a warmth in your chest as well as your core. It was like a fire was being ignited in the pit of your soul. “I’m gonna-”

“Fuck! Don’t finish that sentence.” he snarled. “You don’t wanna know what I’m gonna do as a result.”

In a swift motion, you were suddenly staring down at Keigo. He had a death grip on your legs as he was now thrusting upwards. You had your hands on his chest in an attempt to support yourself.

“I think I like you more when you’re riding me.” he bit his lip. “You look so fucking sexy. Those moans, that body, your pretty fucking pussy-”

“Keigo, please! I can’t it anymore.”

“Oh yeah, you gonna cum? You wanna cum for me, baby?” he spoke in a babyish voice. “You wanna cum all over Papa Bird’s cock? Do it, do it for me...ARGH FUCK!”

You felt his warmth inside you at the exact same time you had came. He was shaking under you, rolling his hips upwards to relieve the friction he had caused. 

Keigo stared in amazement at a bright light erupted from your chest, a small bird in the shape of smoke began flying around the room.

“That would be spirit.” you laughed tiredly, watching the quirk you had thought died reactivate out of nowhere. 

“I hope you know...you can never leave me now.” Keigo sat up to lay kisses on your neck. “You’re mine now.”

(AND DONE! This was Hawks debut on the blog so lets all give hem a huge hello!)

[eskelbigbang]

Eskel Big Bang 2021 Masterpost

Here are all the fics and art made this year for the Eskel Big Bang. Congratulations on the hard work, everyone!

AO3 collection || #ebb works tag || #ebb art tag || #ebb fic tag

Below the cut is a full list of all EBB works:

Uprooted (T, No Pairing, 12k) by @rachofspades, art by @drachedraws

When a nondescript notice begging for a witcher's aid catches Eskel's attention on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he finds himself drawn in by his own curiosity despite his initial reservations. Once he arrives, it quickly becomes apparent that there's something more sinister going on than typical monster attacks, and he's determined to figure out what it is. Fic || Art (1) (2)

These Clay Hands (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.7k) by @aalizazareth, art by @hobbart-art

Eskel is a shy pottery instructor who meets Jaskier during one of his lessons. The two hit it off. Fic || Art

The Empty Safe Job (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 18k) by @iboughtaplant, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

A team of thieves with complicated pasts take down the rich and powerful to help those that get left out from justice. Their latest job should be simple, but an unexpected adversary has Eskel confronting his past. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Fic || Art

the broken vines are an open door (M, Eskel & Geralt & Yennefer, 5.2k) by @trissmarrygoals, art by @flyingyarn

Traveling through Aedirn with his newly acquired child surprise, Eskel stumbles upon a dead body - and with it, a mystery. Fic || Art

With you I'll never be alone (T, Eskel/Geralt, 5.8k) by @dat-carovieh, art by @mondfuchs

From their first meeting, through their whole long life Geralt and Eskel have always been there to comfort each other when one of them got hurt. --- Or five times Geralt and Eskel comfort each other through some kind of hurt and one time they're just comfortable. Fic || Art

Eskel Has A Good Day (G, Eskel & Wolf Witchers, 9.3k) by @gods-no-longer-tread-here, art by @phoenixandjacob

The Wolves (and bard) of Kaer Morhen go on a vacation to the coast, and have a good day. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Tu Me Manques. (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 8k) by @etcorsolus, art by @cvbeebop

In which, Eskel meets a bard who calms him. Body, mind, and soul. Story title is how the French say 'I miss you.' The more literal translation is 'You are missing from me.' Fic || Art

Little Red (M, Eskel/Lambert, 6.1k) by @miahclone, art by @llwynbleidd

Eskel helps Lambert while he's recovering from a serious injury. To distract him from the pain, Eskel tells stories of past hunts. Fic || Art

Constellations (M, Eskel/Geralt, 7.2k) by @dredshirtroberts, art by @dat-carovieh

Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Trial By Fire (Eskel and Aza's Wild Ride) (E, Eskel/OFC, 11k) by @janzoo, art by @liaonyxrayne

When Eskel rescues his succubus acquaintance from witch hunters, their reunion becomes something more as they're drawn into the hunters' plot. What can they do against a twisted idealist and the danger he presents to witchers and non-humans? Fic || Art

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 29k) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites, art by @wolfgeralt

When Eskel is hired to kill an incubus who ruined a noble wedding, he finds that his target is far from a bloodthirsty beast, a too-pretty court bard. Eskel spares Jaskier and they go their separate ways, with Eskel expecting never to see the incubus again. But Jaskier has other ideas. Fic || Art

I Could Eat the World Raw (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 7k) by @buttercupsanddandelions, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

“This is Eskel.” He pushes him slightly forward, “And he just had his conduit moment.” After becoming a mage, Eskel finds that he's been soul-bound to a little lordling. Fic || Art

Something we bury (M, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @heartoferebor, art by @craftgamerzz

“Where’s Eskel?” Ciri asks Geralt, frowning a little. “He went out to do more hunting and gather some potion ingredients. Should be back any moment,” Geralt reassures her. “Ah. Good.” She hesitates a little before deciding to forge right ahead with her next question. She’s asked everyone else in the keep, of course she’ll have to ask Geralt, too. “About his scars…” * Ciri wants to know where Eskel's scars came from, so she decides to ask everyone at the keep about them. Except, they all seem to have different stories... Fic || Art

Lord What Fools These Witchers Be (T, Aiden/Eskel, 21k) by @jayofolympus and @frenchkey, art by aviixrc

When Lambert brings Aiden to winter with him in Kaer Morhen, Eskel is catapulted straight into his own personal hell. It would be easier if he didn’t like the Cat. Instead, he finds himself falling head over heels for his brother’s boyfriend and trying to hide it from a pack of nosy Witchers. If only Aiden would stop flirting with him... Fic || Art (1) (2)

A Moment of Comfort (M, Eskel/OC) by @merpancake

An attack at a brothel begins with blood and carnage, but Eskel finds an unexpected peace in the arms of Cenna. As their paths continue to cross, Eskel carries that same peace within him on his journey through monsters and men. Art

Toussaint's Finest (M, Eskel/Geralt, 9.1k) by @kate-river, art by @justhereforeskel

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever. Fic || Art

Beneath the Shadow and the Soul (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 32k) by @vix-spes, art by @buffskierights

Eskel had the strange feeling that everything was going to change when he passed through Dol Blathanna one year on his way back to Kaer Morhen for winter. He had been passing through a town and, instead of running away from him, someone had exclaimed “You’re a Witcher,” and proceeded to sing at him. He just hadn't realised how much of an impact it would have on him. Fic || Art

Daughter of Fire (T, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 4.9k) by @kittynannygaming, art by @zmezagain

Witchers are sterile, that's a fact. No female human can bear their child. Well, the keyword here is 'human' and a succubus is very not human. And Eskel now has a sweet 7 years old daughter. Fic || Art

Break It Recklessly (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 22k) by @anonymousblueberry, art by @nol-nol

From teenage tearaways to successful adults, Geralt and Eskel have always been inseparable. To the extent that when Geralt accepts a wedding invite with Eskel as his plus one, there’s the assumption that they have finally sorted their shit out and got together, forcing them to keep up the facade or cause chaos for the happy couple. What follows is a crash course in emotions, dating, and working out that love can burn long and slow for a very long time. Fic || Art

The Question (M, Eskel/Istredd, 40k) by @eskelchopchop, art by @stars-in-my-damn-eyes

Eskel's in Ohio when Yennefer calls. He’s reluctant to pick up; he’s still not over Geralt, and he's got zero desire to chat with Geralt's new lover. Turns out Yen isn’t his lover anymore, and this isn’t about Geralt. It’s about witcher’s work. Yennefer owns Portal, one of New York City's most popular gay clubs. A Post-Conjunction Entity (PCE) is hunting her clientele, leaving a string of withered corpses in its wake. The police are doing jackshit. Will Eskel come back to a city full of bad memories and take a job off the books to stop it? He'll sure as hell try. Along the way, he’ll cross paths with Istredd, a man with sorcerer’s eyes and a painful past of his own. If Eskel doesn't work fast enough, they both might become the PCE's next victims. Fic || Art

Is It Cold In The Water? (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 12k) by @jennyloggins, art by @jerry-of-rivia

His horse is tied to a branch a few trees out, and that’s where Eskel heads to grab his water skein, taking a deep drink and soothe his dry throat. Patting his horse’s backside affectionately on his way past her, Eskel feigns a stern voice to say, “Zuzanna, keep watch for me.” Her tail twitches as if to swat him away. Fic || Art

Everything I Want (I Can Find in You) by @eyesofshinigami, art by @phoenixandjacob

Eskel didn't think he'd ever see Jaskier again, sure the Cat witcher was only looking for a night of fun. But then he keeps showing up, taking Eskel to bed and leaving him little presents. It takes Eskel a bit, but eventually he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier means it when he says he wants to keep him. Or Eskel doesn't think he deserves nice things and Jaskier is determined to show him otherwise. Fic || Art

One Stop Shop; Tattoo's Piercings, And Love (M, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert, 7.4k) by @jesheckah, art by @moondrunkart

When Eskel fumbles an invitation at a party to come into his tattoo shop, Jaskier and he move towards an explosive love. How many tattoo sessions does it take for the heart to know what it wants? Fic || Art

Entanglement (and other words for a mess) (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 31k) by @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, art by @merpancake

Eskel has a hundred marks on his body, but a soulmark isn't one of them. Fic || Art

Beneath Each Other's Bones (E, Eskel/Geralt, 7.6k) by @pressedinthepages, art by @drachedraws

Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold. Fic || Art (1) (2)

#9fe2bf on the Shore (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.5k) by @buffskierights, art by @phoenixandjacob

The sea roars with a vengeance, something angering the waves even as the stars shine brightly overhead in the clear night sky. If Eskel were a poet he’d say it almost sounded like a wail of mourning, the way the whitewater crashes upon the night black sand and the gathering foam, the sea frothing furiously. But Eskel’s always hated his poetry lessons so being a poet is firmly off the table. Fic || Art

lion in the wolf's den (T, Coen/Eskel, 5k) by @patchwork-doublet, art by @justhereforeskel

eskel is nervous being around ciri, afraid things will go south like they did last time. Fic || Art

Sugar Baby Blues (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 24k) by adevinecomedy, art by @pastelrune

Jaskier’s mind slipped back to a night several months ago when he was all worked up but had nowhere to go and a mountain of school work to get through. How it was just so much easier to log onto a camming website and watch someone perform seemingly just for him. The gorgeous, confident man on the other side of the screen had been so accommodating, even though Jaskier had been shy and hadn’t typed much into the chat. Modern au where Eskel is a Cam boy and runs into a bit of a financial bind. Enter Jaskier who just might be the answer to all his woes. Fic || Art

Winter Comfort (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 10k) by @myidlehand, art by @liaonyxrayne

Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen to spend some time with Eskel, after briefly meeting him in the fall. And while both of them seem delighted to see each other again, Eskel starts to shy away from Jaskier's comments and flirting. It doesn't take a genius to see Eskel is having body image issue. Jaskier aims to help him through it. Fic || Art

The Subtle Knife (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 26k) by @major-trouble, art by @cylin-aka-ankamo

There's an assassin haunting the Continent. No one knows their name, everyone - that is, everyone in the know - calls them The Specter. If you want a rival out of the way, a political opponent disposed of, or a strategic target taken out, contacting The Specter gets the job done. For a price, of course. There's an art to subtlety, after all, and it wouldn't do to risk the attention of law enforcement. So there's no obvious cause, no knife to the back, and the deaths aren't usually remarked upon. The Kaer Morhen Agency, however, has noticed. One of their agents has been hired to protect potential victims, people scared that they've been targeted. And they have reason to worry. When Eskel's first assignment winds up dead of no discernible cause, it starts him on a search for the elusive Specter, hoping against hope to track down the assassin before they're hired again. Setting a trap for a ghost is something Witchers are used to. Setting one for a trained killer may prove beyond them. Fic || Art

No Funny Business (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 11k) by goldendaydreams, art by @nanero11

Eskel had long given up on finding his soulmate, his soulmark nothing but scar tissue from a house fire he’d survived as a child. Knowing that most people wait for their perfect someone, their destiny, didn’t stop him from falling in love with Jaskier, the nurse he met after a hunt gone wrong. Fic || Art

Stronger Than My Storm (E, Eskel/Geralt) by @rawrkinjd, art by @nol-nol

Eskel and Geralt were friends from the very beginning. They added the benefits later. It was another way to offer comfort and companionship when the rest of the world closed in around them, and Eskel was content with it for years. Until he wakes up one day and realises it’s become something more. He touches Geralt’s silver hair, wreathed in a halo of yellow sunlight, and allows himself to feel the cracks spreading through his heart. Witchers can’t love each other. It would only lead to suffering. Eskel realises he must weather the storm inside or let Geralt go forever. Fic || Art

Full of Life (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 6.3k) by @sternenstaub28, art by @llwynbleidd

When Eskel gets hired to solve the case of people disappearing in town, she didn’t know she’d find a friend and maybe even something more. or Beauty and strength don't necessarily make your life easier, a companion and love however do. Fic || Art

choices are the hinges of destiny (T, Eskel/Geralt, 7.5k) by @lutes-and-dandelions, art by @cassandrasartworld

After rescuing a fae from the clutches of death, they repay Eskel by helping him make a choice. -oOo- A story about what would have happened if Eskel had claimed his child of surprise. Fic || Art

Eskel Vs The Continent (And His Feelings) (M, No Pairing, 47k) by @chibitabathasloves, art by @zmezagain

Eskel decides he needs to leave Kaer Morhen after the fight with the Hunt. Where will it take him? And will he be able to face his feelings he desperately tries to ignore. Fic || Art

lookin' to the sky to save me (T, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @torynickles, art by @trissmarrygoals

Geralt slides his hand from Eskel’s shoulder to his back. And then. Then he keeps moving it, outwards, away from Eskel’s torso, where there should be nothing but air, but— “What the fuck?” he chokes, because he can still feel Geralt’s hand, sensation where there should be none. He shakes his head wildly, twisting his arm to reach for his own back. His fingers connect to something, but—it’s not his body, it can’t be his body, even though he can feel himself touching it. Because he’s made up of skin and flesh, bone and muscle, and this thing has all of those, but— It’s covered in sticky, damp feathers. Fic || Art

A Fine Night at the Faire (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 12k) by Elensule, art by @liaonyxrayne

Eskel has been hurt by the world and hides for refuge in his little goat farm. He's found no reason to look for love, or much of anything else. But encouragement from his brother sends him to an unfamiliar locale; the renfaire! Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone was just what he needed. Fic || Art

[uvobreakmylegs]

Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

[physicalturian]

[18+] The thrill of the chase - Nanami Kento X Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader; No physical description. Everyone is 18+] [No spoilers from the anime nor the manga]

Words : 8951

Archive of our own

Inspired by this art on Twitter and this one on TikTok

Tags : Fluff / Smut / Roleplay / Hair-Pulling / Soft degradation / Prey/Predator / Chase / Powerplay / Power dynamics / Punching / Impact play / Marking / Unprotected Sex / Spit kink / Choking / Play fighting / Cockwarming / Overstimulation / Begging / Submission / Blood kink / Edgeplay

Summary: Nanami comes home all bloody after taking care of some curses. You confess finding it hot to see him in such state and things take a twisted turn...

-“If you’re so feisty, show me some of that energy little mouse. I don’t think you realize you’re trapped yet,”

Taking a bath was supposed to be relaxing. And most of the time it was but knowing that Nanami was late and still not home made it harder to unwind.

While I was submerged by burning water, music playing in the background, I kept my arms out of the bath to avoid withering like a prune. My eyes were closed as I tried to think of anything but the possibility of my partner being wounded, I trusted him, he knew what he was doing… But I also regretted his change of career. He was a lot safer in the confine of corporate bureaus. But who was I to say anything? He seemed a lot happier being a sorcerer than doing stock market.

I drummed my fingers nervously on the side of the bath, humming to drown my thoughts, taking in the nice fragrance of the bath bomb I had threw in the water. I could still hear the fizzy sound it made as it dissolved, amidst the popping sounds of the bubbles on the surface of the water. Taking a handful of bubbles, I huffed to myself, “I’ll clock out before 6pm, he says” I grumbled, letting them fall back in the water “I don’t do overtime, he says” I said, imitating his gruffy tone. He could at least text if he were on his way home, I thought as I leaned back, eyes closed.

“There was a small set back, I am here now.” I was startled by the voice by the door, I quickly leaned against the tub to cover myself and sighed when I saw it was Nanami. “You scared me-“ I stopped mid-sentence and looked at him in a mix of shock seeing how bloody he was but also slightly pleased by the sight. I did not want to tell him that seeing him all bloody like that had an effect on me, and it was not justworry. I hid a smile behind my palm.

I gulped when I saw him unwrap his tie from around his fist, it was covered in blood like his suit. He had a habit of doing that when he fought, I never really knew why since he would still end up with bruised knuckles. While his face was speckless, his hair wasn’t, and his suit was ruined. I was about to get up and check on him when he stepped closer and told me to stay in the bath. “I need to make sure you’re okay, Kento,” Huffing, he gave me a half-smile and let his jacket fall to the ground as he gazed down at me.

No matter how long I had known him, I would never get enough of the sight of him in his white dress shirt with his harness. It had a charm I couldn’t quite describe, perhaps it was the way it defined his muscles even more or the contrast of the black on the white. It looked exquisite on him. Sitting on the edge of the bath, he grabbed his weapon from the harness behind his back and put in on the ground before looking at me. “I’m ok,” he reassured me as he placed one of his hand on my thigh.

It was a huge contrast of temperature with his freezing hand and my burning skin, but the worse was the intense look he was giving me as his hand slid further in. Deeper in the water, higher on my thigh. I brought my knees together to stop his hand from going any further and whispered his name in a warning tone. His reply was to tighten his grip, he had rolled up his sleeves and looked even better than moments ago. “Tell me to stop,” He breathed. I don’t want to, I thought. Instead, I played it off.

“You keep ruining your suits, we should buy black ones, it’ll be easier to remove the stain,”

I heard him hum as he moved his hands to his harness, letting go of me. I was disappointed but did not say anything, we could take a bath, relax and just enjoy one another’s company. “Perhaps should I change my entire outfit?” “No, no, the shirt and the harness stay,” I reacted too quickly, only realizing after that he had a small smirk on his face, that he was baiting me.

“Is that so?”

Chuckling, I sunk deeper in the water, “I mean, the harness holds the weird bat you got, right? So…” I trailed off. Nanami replied, deep in thought, “A polo shirt would be very comfortable-“ “Ken! Polos are ugly, you’re already on thin ice with the blue shirt and leopard printed tie,” I heard his laugh, then the muffled sound of something hitting the rug on the floor. I glanced his way and saw he was very slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his harness was on the ground. The slowness was not to make me yearn for him, no, he was in pain.

I quickly got out of the bathtub almost tripping as I did so, I ignored the cold hitting my skin and moved his hands from the buttons, “I can do it, dear,” He whispered. “Just because you cando it, doesn’t mean I can’t help you.” I replied, moving his hands once again when he tried to do it himself, instead I settled them on my hips and heard a low satisfied groan from his throat. I took a deep breath to stay composed, but I couldn’t help but feel something lighting up in me.

When I had finished unbuttoning his shirt, I shrugged it off his shoulders and took in the sight. It was once again with mixed feelings that I enjoyed it. He was gorgeously sculpted, but also covered in bruises. “You grow reckless when you do overtime, you shouldn’t rush things Ken…” I mumbled, checking if there was anything more than bruises. “The bruises will be gone in a few days,” He brought me closer against him as he said so, I wrapped my hands around his neck and saw the red that tainted my hand when I caressed the back of his head.

Pushing him away, I huffed and was about and went to grab my bathrobe, “You should get cleaned, take a bath and relax,“ “Then get back in the bath, I’ll join you,” He told me while unbuckling his belt. I paused in my steps and turned around to look at him with an inquisitive look, “Ken, I don’t think it’d be practical if we are going to do that…” When he finished undressing he stared at me with a certain hunger in his eyes. My eyes traveled from his eyes to his lips before looking at his blood-covered hair and knuckles.

Nanami held my hands in his, effectively bringing my attention back to him. A smirk was painted on his lips. “That being? A bath, with my lover, hm?” I rolled my eyes and nodded, slightly disappointed but lead us to the bath. Before I could step inside, Nanami said he’d get in first, that I should sit between his legs. “It should be the other way around, I’m not missing the chance of washing your hair, okay?” He chuckled lowly in response and told me to ‘get in then’. When I did, he stood in front of the bath a moment. I believe he was taking in the sight, and the longer he stood there, the more self-conscious I was becoming.

I made a beckoning motion with my arm and told him to join me. “Careful it’s hot,” I said hurriedly, with his hands on either side of the bath, he lowered himself into the water, I heard him hiss a bit. It could have been because of the burning water, or maybe the pain, whichever it was he did not complain. He gave me a sight I enjoyed greatly, but I held back from squeezing his ass and let him make himself comfortable. With his back now against my chest, I asked him to lean forward, which he did without a word. Like that, I let my hand roam on his back a moment. I noticed the marks around his back, it traveled to his front, I could see it on the side of his chest.

I let my fingers travel the redness, thinking of how it could have happened then it struck me, “Ken, your harness is too tight around your chest,” I whispered, as I wrapped my arms around his torso and kissed different spots on his back. I heard him sigh in content, the tension in his body visibly going away as he relaxed his form and let his hands fall in the water to hold onto my thighs. “It’s the point, that way it doesn’t move. The marks never stay long,” He stated. He had started rubbing my legs slowly. At first it was his hands wrapped around my legs, then he only trailed a few fingers along my skin.

I jerked my leg away to stop him, laughing when I told him to not do that. There was some playfulness in my voice, he knew I was not mad. “I’m not missing the chance of having you fully naked, so, unless you tell me to stop…” With a bit of a struggle, he turned around in the bath. He was still between my legs, but this time he brought me closer to him by pulling my ankles and wrapping them behind his back. My breath hitched when I felt him against me, more than just the skin. Keep it cool, there is no way I’m fucking in a bathtub, I thought.

Ignoring the closeness, I leaned back to grab the shampoo and bumped it against Nanami’s chest. “If you still have some energy to be like that, then wash your hair first,” I huffed. There was a funny feeling in my stomach when he smiled at me and bent over enough for me to see the top of his head, “Do it,”

“It would have been more practical if you hadn’t turned around,” I grumbled as I poured water over his hair before spurting some shampoo in my hand and started lathering his hair, “Don’t complain if the shampoo gets in your eyes- nor if your neck hurts because it’s entirely your fault,” I huffed, earning a low chuckle from the blond man. I rolled my eyes and suddenly gripped his hair tight when I felt his hands wander on my lower stomach before adventuring higher and brushing his thumbs over my nipples. “Ken! Don’t start,”

“Oh angel, you started this long before I did,” He said smugly. I couldn’t see his face, but I quickly rinsed off the shampoo and combed his hair back with my hands before lifting his face. “That’s entirely false, you did,” I said, falsely offended. Reaching behind me once more, I grabbed the washcloth and dipped it in the water, only to have big hands take it from mine and lead them to his higher thighs. My breath hitched once more as I looked up at him with a warning look, but I did not say anything.

A smirk was displayed on his lips as he guided my hand to his cock, then let go when I wrapped my hand around it but did not move. “I never realized until now,” he started, tucking a strand of hair that stuck to my skin behind my ear. “That seeing me in such a pitiful state turned you on,”

My eyes widened and I heard him chuckle breathlessly as he told me to go easy with the grip on his cock, I let go not having realized I had tightened my hand. “I never said that; Did I?” And here I thought I had been subtle, but it wasn’t that at all. He had feigned ignorance since he had saw me look at him too intensely. “I’d say the needy look in your eyes, and excuses to touch me, speak for themselves. Wouldn’t you agree?” I did not reply.

Instead, I shrugged and grabbed the washcloth once more, then poured some body wash on it before handing it to my partner. He pushed it back towards me, and leaned back in the bath, arms resting on either side of the bath, “I’m too sore to do it myself, would you mind?” He was good at keeping his emotions in check, he wasn’t smiling smugly, or anything as such. No, he kept his face neutral, but I knew he was being a little shit in his own way.

I smirked, “Of course,” he smiled back gently, but we both knew it wasn’t a real smile, no. He would be looking at each of my movements, ready to have me at any moment. He ran his hand through his hair and rested it back on the rim of the bath.

Scooting closer, I moved to sit on his lap, making him stretch his legs in the length with the space I had freed. “Tell me if it hurts,” I said before gripping his chin roughly, making him look at me as I cleaned his face. I felt him clench his jaw and had to hold back a smile. I avoided his gaze the entire time, focusing on cleaning before throwing him a side glance followed by a mischievous smile. “Careful,” He just said, not moving, simply letting his gaze follow me. I quirked a brow in reply, humming in a questioning manner before continuing cleaning up.

I started by his shoulders and sliding to his neck where I let my fingers wrap around his throat a bit longer than it was necessary. I felt his hand caress my back before settling on my lower back, “I said, careful,” Nanami said as he let his head fall back on the back of the tub, his eyelids almost closed as he looked at me from that angle. “Am I hurting you?” I asked innocently. I moved to clean his chest, knowing full well the moment I’d dip my hand inside the water, I’d have an advantage.

“You’re awfully daring tonight, does the sight of me drenched in blood turn you on that much, my love?”

“If anything, it annoyed me to see your suit ruined, Ken,” I huffed. When I went to wash him lower, Nanami took hold of my wrist and stopped me. I looked up at him confused and was met with a look at told me he was clearly not having it. Dropping the washcloth on his chest I sighed, “Alright, maybe, yes. Can you blame me?” I admitted. It made him chuckle as he brought me closer to him, his hands on my ass as he pressed me right against him. “Tell me more about it,” He whispered as he kissed my neck gently, leaving a trail down my collarbone before going up again.

I let out a breathless laugh at the feeling of his breath brushing over my skin along the lightness of his kisses. Both my hands were now resting on his shoulders as I leaned the side of my head against his, “I never get to see you fight,” I started, my fingers sliding over his collarbone to caress the base of his neck. “It’s for the better. If you did, that’d mean you’d be in danger,” He explained.

I sucked in my teeth, “That’s not what I meant, you’re right but I meant like…” I could feel my cheeks heat up as time went by, no matter how I worded it in my head, it was bound to sound strange the moment it’d leave my mouth.

“You’re strong, it’s hot, you’re good at being a sorcerer… And I know you enjoy the fighting, so I can’t help but think of the faces you’re making when you’re enjoying a good fight. A fight that’d leave you breathless, sore, aching all over,” I looked down at him and cradled his face in my hands as I tried to roll my hips only to be kept on the spot by Nanami’s hands. “The adrenaline pumping in your veins, your heart beating faster and faster as it tries to keep up with your ecstatic state. The rush of seeing them taken down, of knowing you were stronger than them,”

I ghosted my lips barely above his and held back a smile when he parted his lips, “Maybe you didn’t break a sweat, maybe you did, but in the end, it left you drenched in blood that isn’t yours, you’re the one left standing. You’re good at this and you could keep going until exhaustion takes over, I know it” I kissed him tenderly, smirking when I felt him trying to deepen the kiss, but I pulled back and grinned wider. “But you never do, you never let it take over, because you have to come home to me,”

“I’m starting to think there’s an underlying meaning to this speech,” Nanami hummed as he started rubbing my back gently, pouring more water over my freezing skin. A smile grew on my face as I let a hand wander down his torso very slowly, letting my fingers brush over his happy trail. “I’m just saying… that maybe you still have some energy left for some fun,” I grabbed his cock underwater and suddenly found myself with my ass on the bottom of the bath as Nanami got up and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Get out,” he said while handing out his hand for me to grab.

As he helped me out of the bath, he handed me a towel. I knew there was a huge grin on my face when I wrapped the towel around my form and pulled Nanami closer by his towel. He slapped my hand away, I could only chuckle in response. “Bed, now,” he stated. It sent electricity coursing through my body. I stood in front of him a bit longer, trying to gauge the mindset he was in. I wanted him on edge, I wanted him to go all in, “Don’t you worry, I got the message,” he started, sauntering closer. He lifted my chin roughly, just as I did earlier.

“You’re enjoying this a lot, when I’ve barely done anything,” He let his hand fall to his side and tugged off my towel, leaving me stark naked in front of him. “Stay like this, get on the bed, kneeling,”

The smile on my lips was portraying the same emotion as my laugh, nervous. “I don’t think you got the message,” I whispered, earning a loud sigh from my partner. “Looks like I need to get you there myself,” I did not have time to complain that I was lifted off the ground before being thrown onto the bed.

By the time I sat up, Nanami had his back turned on me and was in front of the wardrobe, already halfway dressed. “Ken, I’m confused,” I was about to get out of bed when I heard him tell me to stay there.

As he was buttoning up his shirt, he looked at me with a smile. “Tell me, my dove,” I perked up at the sweet name and moved to the center of the bed, kneeling. “Does it turn you on because you know I had to go full force?” He asked as he moved to the drawers and pulled out a leather harness that he shrugged on, buckling it on the front before looking at me with the same small smile.

“Or maybe is that whole speech more of a way to hide that your dirty little secret…” He finished by slipping on a pair of black leather gloves. He had not put on his tie, but he was now fully dressed, while I was completely nude. “Is that you want to feel the thrill of being chased…” He walked around the bed slowly, leaning over slightly to grab the paddle that was resting next to it, against the wall. He was now on my right, I did not want to look too needy, but I was starting to feel excited, yet I didn’t move when he went to grip my jaw and made me look at him.

“…Of being preyed on.”

I hated myself for the sound that escaped my throat, it made Nanami’s smile widen. “Is that it? You want to be dominated in the most carnal way, to be rendered defenseless,” I did not reply.

“Tell me your safe word, now” And I did, making him smile proudly. “So, you can speak,” he breathed in fake surprise, a few seconds after, Nanami was pulling my legs towards him and had me on my back as he kept my legs spread by settling himself between them. “I almost thought I had already scared you from so little, it would have been disappointing since you’re not yet as vulnerable as I’d like you to be,”

With both of his hands on my knees, he spread my legs wider and looked between my legs with hunger before letting his eyes trail back to my eyes. “And not nearly as afraid, from the look on your eyes you’re still too confident. I’ll wipe that smile off your face,” My breath hitched, I regretted the excited smile on my lips when it made Nanami frown as he gripped my knees tighter before dragging me off the bed.

His hold on the paddle handle changed as he rested it on his shoulder. He looked down at me with a half-smile. “I like this better; the floor is less comfortable than the bed, isn’t it?” I nodded and leaned back when the blond leaned forward, dropping his arm holding the paddle so that the tip hit the ground. It startled me. “Good, I don’t want you comfortable, fear comes when you’re out of your comfort zone,” He looked me up and down, a few strands of wet hair falling over his face.

I could feel my heart beat faster, it only increased when he suddenly crouched in front of me, the paddle now being used as a place to rest his chin as he looked at me intently. “I think you need an incentive, so here,” He held out his hand for me to grab and helped me up my feet. I looked at him confused. I was slowly growing uneasy from his actions; they did not make one drop of sense.

Once I got to my feet, he pulled me towards him and wrapped a hand around my throat when he got closer to me before whispering right next to my ear, his teeth grazing my lobe. “You have two minutes to hide, if I find you…” His fingers dig into the side of my throat, elating a muffled sound from me. With the strength of his arm, he got me to my tiptoes by lifting me even a little bit, his hand still around my throat. I held onto his arm to try to stay balanced and get him to let me go, which he did, almost making me fall to the ground. But I caught myself.

Nanami sat down on the end of the bed, setting the paddle on his lap. He leaned back on his hands; I couldn’t help but ogle how good he looked like that. He made sure to wear exactly all the things I told him I liked once, and the paddle on his thighs was the best accessory I could hope for. “Don’t let me find you, little dove,” He emphasized his word by running his fingers over the handle. “Don’t get me mad either,” I heard him well, I understood what he meant, and it sent thrills running down my spine.

When he looked up, Nanami quirked a brow. He then looked at the watch on his wrist then back at me, “You have one minute and a half left, I suggest you get going little dove, unless…” His gloved hand tightened around the handle once more. Leather against leather made a sound all the more appealing to my ear, I went to take the towel left on the floor but thought against it when Nanami tutted me, “You stay like this, go,” He shooed me.

I scurried off.

I felt self-conscious, running around the apartment naked, trying to find a hiding place but I also felt overwhelmed. This was Nanami’s choice of furniture, his choice of decoration, and all of this was one thing: minimalist. Nothing was made to hide in or behind. Part of me wanted him to find me, just to see what he’d do, to see his powerful look as he looked down at me before dragging me from my hiding spot. But then, I wanted to see him get frustrated as he’d try to find me.

I needed to see him lose his composure, get frustrated. I had to think fast, to know what I really wanted out of him. The thud of my feet on the cold floor was all I could hear at first, though it did not drown the louder sound no one could hear, my heartbeat.

I quickly grabbed the blanket from the couch and opened the closet door. That’s when I heard a voice call from the bedroom when I entered the living-room and peeked under the sofa. “Thirty seconds left,” Fuck fuck fuck, I thought in panic as I crawled inside the closet. I made sure to close it silently behind me, before sitting in the deep corner and throwing the blanket over my form. Now this was not the type of hide-and-seek I did as a child, it was… better.

Now hidden, I let the remaining seconds pass, and soon enough I could hear the sound of Nanami’s steps around the apartment. “You better be hidden little dove, I do love a good chase,” He was walking slowly, scaringly so. Quiet enough that I really had to pay close attention if I wanted to hear anything. Along his footsteps was the repetitive sound of something hitting the palm of his hand. It wasn’t the paddle, if it had been, the sound would have been blunter. But it sounded more like a sharp, cutting sound.

I was buzzing with excitement, my blood pumping more and more with how eager I was. We had done a few rougher sessions before, but I wanted to see how it’d turn this one around, and I was more than willing to let his creativity run free. His steps seemed further away, so did his voice when he spoke loud enough so that I could hear him no matter where I was in the apartment. “I’ll applaud the effort you put in your hiding spot, and while I do love the chase,” I heard him groan as he slammed something shut, startling me in the process.

“I do grow tired of hide-and-seek pretty easily,” he continued like this for a few more minutes, his tone growing more and more impatient, more unnerved as he spoke. His steps were heavier on the ground, faster too, he was pacing, he was doing comes and go around the place and suddenly, it all stopped when he stepped inside the living room.

No more talking. No more taunting. Nothing.

It was eerie. For a moment I thought he was done, then I heard what I believe was the TV. Is he for real? I thought in astonishment. I peeked out from under the blanket that covered my form and silently crawled to the door, placing my ear against it. He had indeed turn it on. I sighed in disappointment and opened the door slowly to surprise him and gasped loudly when I was met with a smug smile. Nanami was crouching in front of the closet. I looked him over, noticing the paddle was resting in the holster where his weapon would usually be, and instead in his hand was a riding crop.

He was holding it in his delicate fingers, as his forearms rested crossed on his knees, “What better way to bait the mouse than to make it believe the threat is gone?” My stomach dropped, I could either back away inside the closet or try for a run. The latter seemed like a better option, one that avoided me ending up cornered. Smirking, I threw him the blanket and push him and went for it.

I don’t know what I was thinking. That wouldn’t stop him. I hadn’t even made him fall back, he simple sighed angrily. I had barely stepped out of the closet that I found myself gripping the back of the couch when Nanami grabbed my shin and made me lose my balance. “A stupid move,” he grunted. I tried to get back up, but he stood up and forced me to let go of the couch, effectively making me fall to the ground.

A groan escaped my lips when I met the floor with force. When I tried to sit up, I was pushed down once more by Nanami’s shoe. It wasn’t too strong, as long as I complied.

And I did.

“Tell me, what’s your color little dove?” He asked in a low tone. The tip of the riding crop was being grazed along my form as I tried to get him to move his foot away, my hands wrapped tight around his ankle. “Green- let me get up-“ “I’m not ‘letting you’ do anything,” He spat as he pressed a bit more on my torso before removing his foot and crouching next to me, a hand resting still on my chest to keep me down. “Fight for it.” He said it in a way that made it as the most obvious solution.

I stuttered, raising a brow in confusion. He smiled. It wasn’t heartwarming, it was reassuring, it was mocking. It made my blood boil. When I was about to reply, he gripped my jaws strongly making me clench my teeth in annoyance. “Maybe I should be clearer, after all you are a bit… slow tonight,” I frowned. “When I say don’t take the towel, it does not mean take the blanket,” he stated as his eyes wandered from my lips to my throat.

If I listened to him any longer, I’d start feeling bad for not obeying him, which was not correct in this situation. So, I clawed at his hand that was now tightening around my throat, “Let- go- of- me!” I gasped through heavy breaths; he wasn’t budging. “Do you need a hint?” He asked with a condescending smile, I did not reply. “Hit me.” My eyes widened, I let go of his hand and instead held his wrist. Not knowing if he was joking. After gauging a bit longer, I came to the conclusion that he was dead serious.

I was starting to feel dizzy, from lack of oxygen… and from arousal. It was strange, but I couldn’t ignore how great it felt, “Ken-“ “Fucking do it, fight for it- or beg, I’d be pleased by both outcomes,” he paused and moved to straddle my lap, his knees supporting most of his weight.

With hesitance, I raised my hand and pushed his face away. He only laughed in response, he did let go of my throat, both of his hands sliding to the nape of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair as he lifted my head a bit from the ground to make me look at him, “A rougher incentive seems necessary, you’re still too comfortable,” He leaned in and ghosted his lips over mine, whispering to not forget my safe word as he pressed a short kiss on my lips before leaning back.

He took hold of the riding crop once more, not yet taking the paddled out and let it trail over my nipples very slowly. I arched my back for more, my eyes closed then yelped at the burning sensation on my skin when he struck me. I gave him a scowl, he grinned lazily. “If you’re so feisty, show me some of that energy little mouse. I don’t think you realize you’re trapped yet,” I did not have time to reply, he struck me again. I yelped in pain/pleasure.

“It feels like you’ve surrendered already my dove, was it that easy to get you to submit?” When he did not get a reply and rose his arm to strike me once more, I pulled him by the front of his shirt and tried to roll him over, only to be laughed at when held my wrists in one hand and pushed me back, hands over my head. “You’re not trying, you’re humoring me, it’s pitiful,” He said with a scoff.

The thought of hitting him was becoming stronger and stronger, I wanted to see what he’d do in response. But I couldn’t do this anymore, he had me pinned. He either read my mind or had something in his, but for some reason he let go and started unbuttoning his shirt.

I took this opportunity to use my knee to hit his back, before punching his jaw with all my force. A shaky breath escaped his lips, not one of fear, but of excitement.

That attempt had not changed anything of the situation I was in, if anything it only angered him more. With his face still half turned to the side, I could see the growing smile on his lips. He slowly turned around; His lower lip slightly redder than before. “You’re getting the hang of it, but you’re still bad at it. Here, try again,” He faced the other way, giving me his other cheek.

“Ken I’m sorry-“ He interrupted me by guiding my hand into a fist to his cheek, “Right here,” he hissed. “Make it worth it, it’s your last opportunity to get the upper hand, then it’s my turn,” I wasn’t going to do it until he took out the paddle and struck my thighs with force, smirking, “Next is your stomach, stop me,” Two thoughts clashed inside my head, the first was, let him do it, the second was, no way. I acted on instinct and punched his jaw with force before gripping the back of his hair and pulling it.

He winced, I took the chance to slide from under him and escape quickly. I barely missed the hand that reached out for my ankle, an exhilarated sigh left my lips. I made a run for it, but instead of cornering myself to the bedroom, I stopped on the other side of the couch. I would mirror Nanami’s opposite steps, making him more and more frustrated. I noticed the wiped blood on the back of his glove along the one that seemed to be tainting his teeth when he smiled in the most threatening and primal way.

Seeing him away from me, seeing how I was in a safe position, seeing that I was not losing just yet… it all pushed me to taunt him, “You can’t reach me, it’s funny isn’t-“ I stopped mid-sentence and felt my heart dropped when Nanami simply jumped over the couch and sauntered over me, his eyes darkened with arousal. He seemed more than thrilled by this whole thing, I knew it the moment he opened his mouth, I kept mine shut tight. “Hilarious. But I don’t see you laughing much, little dove…” He said slowly.

His hand rose oh so gently to cradle my face in his, “Submit,” his whispered. I shook my head. His hand slid to the back of my head once more, except this time he took a handful of my hair and started walking away, pulling me by my hair. It wasn’t too painful, as long as I kept up with his pace, which I did. He threw me on the couch and struck my back hard with the paddle. “The hard way it is,”

My partner crouched next to me, I did not move from laying on my stomach, before he could speak, I spat on him and grinned. He closed his eyes a moment, wiping the saliva off while getting up once more. “I was going to give you one last chance, but it seems your spirit isn’t broken yet. Sheer force seems to be the solution, don’t you think little dove?” He brushed my hair gently, then struck my back hard. I let out a moan and buried my face in the pillow to try to muffle it before speaking up.

“I have a high- pain tolerance sir- fuck,” I swore under my breath. I heard him laugh genuinely, breaking character for a second at my mistake. I was so used to our power dynamics that it rolled off in times of… pleasure. “Let’s see how high, remember,” I thought he was going to remind me of my safe word, instead he said, “The words are: I submit,”

I huffed. “Am I hearing them from you?” I asked playfully.

It earned me another strong hit, this time with the riding crop.

I felt Nanami’s gloved hand brush over my sore back, taking in the damage. The feeling of the leather on my skin felt so good against the burn I was feeling. “You’re getting off on this too much, let’s make it more fun,” He whispered as his hand slid between my legs, “Pain won’t get you begging, but pleasure will,” His fingers slid between my lower lips to finally meet my clit as he started stimulating it tentatively at first.

It wasn’t the right spot at first, so I turned around and grinned proudly, “I think you’re better off hitting me if you’re not going to hit the spot-“ I swore under my breath when he put just the right amount of pressure, making me feel a shiver all over my body. Nanami laughed mockingly but did not stop, he skillfully played with my clit. He lifted my ass up to get a better angle but gripped my hair forcefully to keep my head in the pillow and not lift myself up on my arms. “This spot, right?” He breathed, satisfaction dripping from his voice.

I only whined in response. When I tried to move my ass back to get more friction, Nanami placed a knee on the couch and stopped me from moving with his hip. He kept me in place, his fist gripping my hair even tighter. “You’re a fucking handful, should I let you cum to appease that silly little greed of yours?” He grunted against my ear, I could feel my eyes roll back as I was getting closer and closer. “Yes, please, yes, yes,”

He pulled his hand back, and slapped my ass hard, probably leaving a mark. He let go of my hair and let his hands trail back to my waist where they stayed as he bent over my back and spoke, “I thought we agreed I wouldn’t let you do anything,” I breathed shakily as I turned my head to look at him the best I could. “Frustration suits your face well, little mouse,” He said softly, his eyes darting to my lips. I caught a glimpse of the real him there, until he got closer to my face and licked from my neck to my cheek, “Let’s see how long it’ll take you to beg for release,”

When he said that, his fingers went back to my clit, nothing else. I did not get any friction; he did not even deign giving me any sort of pleasure from his cock. Through moans and gasps, I looked over my shoulder to catch of glimpse of him as he pressed once more onto my back while his other hand was between my legs. “At least fucking remove the gloves, Ken-“ My voice went a higher pitch when I talked, forcing me to hide my face in the pillows to muffle my moans.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” I heard Nanami’s gruffy tone as the speed of his fingers increased on my clit. “But it looked like you thought you had any say in what I was doing,” His breath was getting heavier just as I felt my legs shake the closer I got. Nanami saw it and slid his fingers away. I groaned out his name in frustration before moving my hand between my legs, only to have it slapped away. “My, my, already taking matters in your own hands?”

I was startled when I felt the cold texture of the riding crop brushing from my shoulders to my back, to slowly slide between my legs. I gasp when he pressed it just slightly at my entrance before slithering to my clit and striking it, earning a high-pitched moan from me. “I wonder how much you can take before it’s too painful to even touch it, shall we see?” Hearing him so cocky ticked me off, and while I could feel the pulsing of my clit, desperate for more, desperate to get off, I felt a spike of fighting spirit before all.

When Nanami went to touch me once again, I tried to kick him, all while moving my arm to push his from my back. He did lose his balance but caught himself by gripping both of my legs as he pulled them so that my pelvis was finally touching the couch. I had barely time to realize what happened that my legs were in a deadlock between his as he straddled the back of my thighs. One of his hand wrapped around my throat, bringing my head back enough that my throat was perfectly exposed. He rose on his knees, still behind me, and lowered his face to mine in that same angle.

I was seeing him upside down, but I could also smell the blood I had drawn when I hit him. It was intoxicating, in the strangest way. My back hurt from being arched like that, mixed with the pressure on my neck… it felt delightful. “What a pretty sight, twisted like a useless fucking ragdoll,” I gasped at his name calling, not ready to admit it sent a jolt of pleasure through my body. Brushing a finger over my chin, Nanami kissed me roughly, smiling along the kiss as his tongue delved into my mouth but it was as passionate as it was quick. “Beg me to fuck you,” he growled against my lips. I only whimpered in response, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut.

He did not like it.

Nanami pressed against my ass, rolling his covered hips against me. He then brought a gloved hand to my lips and said, “Take it off,” talking about the glove. I opened my mouth and gently nipped the tip as he pulled his hand back. The glove was snatched out of my mouth and thrown on the low table before his fingers returned to my mouth and forced my mouth open. “I haven’t been playing fair, have I?” He asked rhetorically. I knew there was something behind this question. And yet, I shook my head, making him grin wide. “It’s only fair I return what you gave me,” I quirked a brow at his word then the pressure on my throat was gone.

His hands were unbuckling his belt, “You stay like this, I have you right where I want you,” When I heard him groan upon freeing his cock from his pants, his remaining gloved hand returned to my throat and tilted my head backwards once more, “You’ve been a fucking pain,” He grunted as his free fingers brushed against my hole, I bite my lip to hold back the smile I felt upon winning. “How are you feeling right now, little mouse?”

With a strained voice, raspy even, I said, “Green, and proud to see you succumb first,” I said with a wicked smile. Nanami mirrored it, but it did not hold the same pride. No, it was disturbing, it did not match his following actions when he stopped touching me. “Is that what you think is happening? Let me tell you one thing,” he paused, and I heard him groan as I felt his movements behind me, he was stroking his cock a few times. I suddenly felt it press against my entrance and let out throaty moans when he slowly slid it in.

“I love tests. Testing how long you can hold before begging to come,” He started as he sheathed himself inside, he wrapped his arm around my waist and started playing with my clit, elating loud moans from me, “It feels good, doesn’t it?” I nodded; My eyes closed as I focused on the pleasure. Another gasp left my lips when I felt him fully in. When I was about to move to get the friction, the hand around my throat tightened. “I’ll be testing how fucking desperate you are for my cock, you’re not allowed to move unless you submit, understood?”

I threw him a deadly glare and smirked mischievously, “Try me,” then I gripped a handful of his hair and pulled him back. Nanami hissed, with the arm that was around my waist he brought mine down and tilted my head back once more, his face hovering over mine. “I pulled your hair, you pull mine, it’s fair,” He stated, his voice dripping with ire, his eyes then darkened, “You spit…” He started, opening my mouth with a gloved finger, I heard the sound before realizing it. He closed my mouth afterwards and covered it with the palm of his hand. “I spit, now fucking swallow,”

I tried to get his hand off my mouth, but he kept it there until he was sure I had swallowed, that’s when he added, “I can feel you walls clenching around my cock, it looks like you’re enjoying being treated like filth,” He leaned back, and pushed my head into the pillow, his form unmoving inside me. I wanted more than just that, I wanted to feel his hands gripping my waist tight as he’d fuck me from behind. I leaned back, to try to get something from it, only to be struck down.

The snap of the riding crop meeting my skin echoed in the silent room and was soon joined by my painful moan. “Two words, say them. Or do you not understand what’s going on here?” Without moving, his hand met my clit once more while the free one held my hips in place, he resumed his earlier work and my moans were now full whines, my poor clit felt like it was burning from the overstimulation it was getting. Nanami continued, until he felt my walls clench around his cock, that’s when he stopped and laughed breathlessly. “That’s three times, I can go on, but can you?”

I tried to reply, but my response was muffled by the pillow. Perhaps it was for the best, but Nanami wasn’t having it. He gripped a handful of my hair once more and pulled my head up, “Stop mumbling, articulate,” He ordered. I looked away, pressing my lips tight. “Alright, let’s see how well you fence after the fourth time, shall we?” He never let go of my hair and used his free hand to touch my clit once again, I couldn’t muffle my panting this time. My mouth wide open, loud moans, I couldn’t bear another deception.

“Please,” I uttered.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” He said with a bit too much pride in his voice, “Need I remind you the words?” He asked as he pressed his lips delicately against my temple and gritted through his teeth, “Go ahead little mouse, say it,” I wasn’t saying it. I felt his lips turn into a smile, his fingers hadn’t left my nub, and it had gotten unbearable, each of his graze against it felt like it burnt so when he bucked his hips into me one time: it was enough to make me succumb.

“I submit- Ken, please, no more, I can’t-“ I panted, tears of frustration streaming down my face. A satisfied growled escaped Nanami’s lips, “Atta girl, let’s get you fucked properly,” He let go of my hair, effectively making me fall back on the pillow. His hands brushed over my back a few times, as if he was assessing before going forth with what he had planned. He paused, then settled his hands on my hips and started ramming inside me animalistically.

Each of his thrusts were met with a whimper, that very angle made him reach the right spot easily, but it wasn’t enough yet. I felt like he was holding back, “Ken- my back-“ Confused, Nanami slowed down his movements and leaned in, keeping himself in role, “Speak up little mouse, I can’t hear you over how fucking loud you’re whining,”

I swore in pleasure under my breath among the tears, he knew what he was doing, and I could feel my face heat up more than it already was. I quickly got hold of myself and sobbed, “Mark me, let it out,“ Nanami had now stopped everything and seemed to be gauging how I was doing, a flicker of the real him showed on his face before he returned to his role once more. “Look at you, crying for more. Desperate to be ruined, to be dominated,” He delicately tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, it did not do much with how messy my hair was, but it was soft, nonetheless.

“I’ll oblige,” With a kiss pressed on the back of my head, Nanami then did exactly what he promised. His thrusts were more carnal, his hands, now both gloveless, were painting my back with claw marks as he used my back as his canvas. I was not aware of much of what I was doing, but it felt so fucking good. I was moaning and crying at the same time and seeing how Nanami seemed to get even more turned on from the sight, I was led to believe he enjoyed it as well.

He kept that pace up, but soon enough we both reached our peak. Through heavy pants, I begged Nanami to cum inside me, which he happily complied to. The mix of pain and pleasure made everything stronger, I felt my eyes roll back and my legs shake, as best as they could from being held down, then nothing. Pure bliss.

I kept my eyes closed a while longer, letting Nanami pull out and do as he pleased. He probably got changed and went to get what he thought was necessary to take care of me.

Then I believe I fell asleep a few moments after that, I don’t know how long but when I woke up, I was wrapped in a comfortable bathrobe. A blanket was draped over my form, and something was resting on my stomach. Looking down, I saw Nanami’s hand lazily draped over it.

I then looked up and saw my head was resting on a pillow on his lap. He was sitting on the couch, watching the TV. When I met his gaze, he smiled in the most charming way, “You’re awake, it seemed it tired you more than I thought it would. We’ll be more careful next time,” He said softly as he kept his eyes on mine.

We stared at one another a while. Not saying anything, not needing to, or maybe wanting to. But it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable.

Nanami broke the silence first, “Did it meet your expectations? I find myself believing you’ve been thinking about this for a while, maybe a fantasy?” He asked, his hand absentmindedly brushing over my stomach.

I smiled tiredly, “Oh it did, it’s hard to get into it at first… And I wouldn’t be against being thrown around more. Safely… ish, of course…” I paused, not believing I was feeling embarrassed after what we had done. “But you were definitely great, thank you for engaging in this… I guess it could be defined as a fantasy,” It felt too serious to thank him like this, but I did not know how other way to do it.

“I did not think it would have been necessary to say it, but clearly you seem to be thinking I only did it for you,” He looked at me with a loving smile, “Which I partially did, but I do enjoy seeing you struggling under me. And I definitely enjoyed this, more than you think,” I quirked my brows in surprise at his word, the small smile on my lips betraying the shock and showing the excitement that returned. “However, I must apologize for the soreness you’ll be feeling, I treated everything, but you’ll definitely be sore for a few days… Maybe a week, you tell me,”

I moved on the couch to see in how much pain I was and hissed when my whole body screamed for me to stop. “Yeah, okay, I feel you. A week, more like a month. I say next time we try something tamer, what’s your fantasy?” I asked tiredly, snuggling closer to him as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

Nanami chuckled softly and caressed my cheek gently, “Let’s talk about that tomorrow, we might need to buy new things,” He said half-jokingly.

“Is it a uniform?” I asked as I fell asleep.

“It might be, I am a simple man after all…”

I think I laughed, but I was too tired to remember. Maybe I’ll let him ruin a few more suits if it led to this…

[no--envies]

The extras about Shen Jiu in SVSSS are extremely good. They’re really tragic and made me feel sympathy for him even though his fate was mostly brought upon him by himself and his persistent refusal to let go of his bitterness and resentment. I don’t think he deserved such a horrible end, though. His fate and character arc are important for the themes of the novel as they are, but I enjoy reading fics that give him a redemption arc.

I didn’t think much of Shen Jiu as a character before reading the extras, but now I find him a compelling antagonist. His backstory gives him depth and does a good job at explaining his behavior and motivations. His terrible past doesn’t justify the way he mistreated Luo Binghe and tried to kill him, since Luo Binghe hadn’t done anything to him, but it definitely makes Shen Jiu a much more interesting character than the one-dimensional villain he seemed to be initially.

From his point of view, we get to see that the person he arguably hates most of all is himself. What I find most interesting about his character is that he kept being resentful towards everyone he deemed more fortunate than him despite being completely aware of his own issues, which led to him hating himself even more. This was a loop he was unable to escape from, in part due to his circumstances and in part because his personality was already prone to jealousy and resentment to begin with.

Shen Jiu knew he was a bitter, jealous and bad-tempered person, but he didn't really try to improve himself. He thought others should show kindness to him first, since he had never received it in his life (except from Yue Qingyuan) and didn't understand why he should be the one to make the first move to get close to his peers. His feud with Liu Qingge was mostly due to an incompatibility of character, but Liu Qingge didn't show more willingness to understand Shen Jiu's perspective than Shen Jiu did with him. Both just kept throwing insults and cutting remarks at each other, not doing anything to mend their very strained relationship.

Shen Jiu didn't even actually hate Liu Qingge as much as he said, because (as we learn in the extras focused on Shang Qinghua) he tried to help him twice. The first time was when he gave him support while they were fighting together against a dangerous creature; the second was when Liu Qingge had a qi deviation in the cave and Shen Jiu tried to save him, but in his panicked state only made the situation worse. Both times Shen Jiu's intentions were misunderstood, but instead of trying to clear up the misunderstandings he burrowed deeper into his own resentment and victim mentality, which contributed to his own reputation being completely ruined later on. Even then, we never see him trying to defend himself or get other people's compassion. His biggest flaw was arguably his immense pride and inability to show his own vulnerability to others. A lot of things would have happened differently if only he had been willing to lay down his pride and show himself to others for who he was, including his suffering and loneliness.

I love redemption arcs and I see Shen Jiu as a character who had the potential to redeem himself, which is why I find him such a compelling character. However, he took a different path in the novel and ended up dying in a horrible way, sad and alone, which I find quite tragic. His extras might be my favorite chapters in SVSSS for how much they impacted my perception of a character I wasn’t interested in at all in the beginning.

[heliads]

Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex,  and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys. 

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him. 

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.