#I’ll still have to fight through a lot of outside-forces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-diable · 10 months ago

Text

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him.

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home.

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach.

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower.

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance.

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing.

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath.

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them.

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment.

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own.

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest.

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind.

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment.

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again.

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her.

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her?

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her.

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it.

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand.

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest.

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest.

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more.

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him.

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.”

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night.

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible.

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement.

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy.

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body.

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring.

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him.

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months.

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her.

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements.

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them.

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find.

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path.

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her.

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge.

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see.

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing.

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her.

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

#Tyler Owens smut #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens imagine #Glen Powell smut #Glen Powell imagine #twisters

2K notes · View notes

violetwifey · 3 months ago

Note

would you spare our poor souls with a pt2 of roommate!vi? 🥺🙏🏻

Eyes Wide Open, Heart Still Sleeping {part two}

Welcome back strawberrieeeeeeeeeees 🍓<3 I hope y'all are doing well! Quite a few asked for a part 2 so I decided to make it (even though I intended for it to be a oneshot 🤭) I pray that I've wrote this part up to your standards. Anyways, enjoy! Also, thank you soooo much for the amount of love my very first story got. I'm genuinely surprised and grateful, always <3

Summary: A night of laughter, sibling squabbles, and unexpected flirtation turns into something deeper when a thunderstorm traps two friends together. As they share a bed and confront their feelings, the walls they've built up start to crumble. With the storm raging outside, Vi must face her fears of rejection, and the reader discovers that maybe they've both been feeling the same way all along.

𝑪𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆

The car ride was silent.

Not the comfortable kind you both shared during late-night study sessions or when rain poured outside, and you decided to stay in, each doing your own thing—Vi with her book, you scrolling through social media.

No, this was the kind of silence that made your skin itch. The kind that made you want to clear your throat just to break it. Anything but this.

Vi slowed to a stop at a red light, her fingers tapping absentmindedly on the wheel. “You okay?” she asked, finally cutting through the tension.

“Huh? Yeah… why?” The question caught you off guard. You had been lost in thought, picking apart the way she had been acting earlier. But now, she was looking at you like you were the one acting strange.

“It’s just… not like you to be this quiet. Every second you’re awake, there’s something coming out of that smart mouth of yours—ow!”

She jerked away, rubbing the spot where you’d swatted her arm.

“Oh, stop being dramatic. It was barely a caress,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and turning to stare out the window.

You heard her scoff under her breath, but you didn’t dignify it with a response. She deserved that one.

By the time you reached the parking lot outside Ekko and Jinx’s place, the silence had settled into something less heavy but still lingering. Vi walked beside you, a gift in one hand, the other swinging loosely at her side.

Then you felt it.

A soft, lingering touch against the back of your hand.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay composed, resisting the urge to jerk away—not out of discomfort, but because of the way your heart stuttered in your chest.

You glanced at her, trying to be subtle. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze forward, posture relaxed. No sign of hesitation. No flicker of embarrassment. If she was caught, she didn’t show it.

So you let it slide.

For now.

When you reached the door, Jinx swung it open, her signature toothy grin already in place.

“There you two are! Took you long enough.” She pulled her sister into a hug, pressing a playful kiss to her cheek before turning to you. “Hey there, Yapster.”

You scoffed, hugging her back. “I don’t yap! Why does everyone keep saying that today?” You pulled away, eyes bouncing between the two sisters.

“Because you do, smartass,” Vi quipped.

You rolled your eyes, missing the knowing look Jinx shot between the two of you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take that,” Jinx said, prying the gift from Vi’s hand. “Now, come meet everyone. You’re the last ones to get here.”

“Oh, I wonder whose fault that is,” Vi teased, nudging your side.

You giggled, shaking your head, and Vi’s soft smile lingered a little longer than usual.

The party was alive with laughter, music, and the occasional crash of something breaking in the distance—most likely Jinx’s doing. You had long since lost track of time, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, watching as Vi and Jinx got into yet another sibling squabble.

“I swear, you always have to pick a fight over something,” Vi huffed, crossing her arms.

Jinx smirked, standing on the coffee table with an energy drink in one hand. “Me? Oh, no, big sis. I just happen to point out how slow you are in beer pong, and suddenly it’s a fight?”

Vi scoffed. “I’m not slow.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Jinx hopped down, jabbing a finger into Vi’s abs. “All these muscles, and yet you cry over a little loss? Face it, Ms Grumpy, I’m the real champ here.”

Vi raised a brow. “You blew up a toaster last week.”

Ekko groaned, stepping between them before Jinx could lunge. “Alright, break it up, you two. Let’s keep it a party, not a wrestling match.”

Jinx threw her hands up dramatically. “Fine! Vi just loves to kill my fun.”

Vi rolled her eyes, but you didn’t miss the small smile tugging at her lips as Jinx bounced away.

You found yourself watching Vi, studying the way she ran a hand through her hair, muttering to herself. She had that presence—effortlessly cool, with a hint of roughness around the edges. Even when she was bickering with Jinx, even when she was rolling her eyes, there was this undeniable warmth beneath it all.

Your little moment of admiration was cut short when someone slid up beside you.

"Didn’t think I’d see someone as stunning as you at one of Ekko’s chaotic get-togethers," a voice drawled.

You turned, blinking up at a guy you vaguely recognized—one of Ekko’s friends. He had an easy smirk, the kind that suggested he thought he was far more charming than he actually was.

"Uh, thanks?" You chuckled, unsure of what else to say. Compliments weren’t exactly rare, but the way he was leaning in, all confident and self-assured, made something in you stiffen.

"You here with someone?" he asked, tilting his head, eyes scanning you in a way that felt more assessing than admiring.

"Yeah, with Vi—"

"Ah," he cut in smoothly. "But Vi’s not your date, right?"

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard. "I mean, no, but—"

"So you're single." He grinned, like he’d won some kind of jackpot. "Good to know."

You let out a small, awkward laugh, shifting slightly in your seat. "I don’t think that’s really—"

"Here," he grabbed a drink from the table behind him, holding it out to you. "Let me at least get you another drink."

Before you could respond, a familiar arm draped over your shoulder, the weight grounding you instantly.

"Hey," Vi's voice was casual, but there was a distinct edge to it. She gave the guy a tight-lipped smile that was anything but friendly. "Didn’t know Ekko started letting just anyone into these parties."

Ekko’s friend sat up slightly, clearly clocking the tension but playing it off. "Vi, right? Didn’t mean to step on your toes." His gaze flickered between you and her. "Didn’t realize there were toes to step on."

Vi let out a dry chuckle, her fingers idly drumming against your shoulder—calm, controlled, but you could feel the restrained energy beneath. "Oh, there are toes," she said easily. Then she leaned forward just a little, lowering her voice just for him. "And if you don’t back off, they might just land somewhere you won’t like."

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial." He shot you one last glance before standing. "Nice meeting you."

You barely had a second to react before Vi turned her head slightly, eyes flicking to yours. "You good?"

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and grinned. "Damn, Vi, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous."

Vi scoffed, finally removing her arm—but not before giving your shoulder a light squeeze. "Pfft. Please." She grabbed a drink from the table and took a sip. "I just hate watching people embarrass themselves."

You hummed knowingly. "Right."

She rolled her eyes, but the tips of her ears? Bright red.

After that, the party picked up again, and you found yourself swept into a mix of games, drinks, and laughter. Vi had eased up, though she still sent a glance or two your way every now and then. Jinx had gotten into an intense arm-wrestling match with Ekko, which ended in them both falling off their chairs.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun.

But as the night wound down, people started leaving one by one, until eventually, it was just you, Vi, Jinx, and Ekko left.

And then the thunderstorm hit.

“Oh, great,” Jinx sighed, peering outside. “Storm’s rolling in fast.”

Ekko checked his phone. “Yeah, roads are flooding. You guys should just crash here.”

Jinx pointed at you and Vi. “Guest room’s free. You two can share.”

Vi choked. “What?”

“You’ve slept in worse conditions before,” Jinx pointed out. “Don’t be a baby.”

Vi grumbled something under her breath, but she didn’t argue.

The storm raged outside, thunder rolling through the sky as rain pounded against the windows. The power had flickered once, twice, before finally giving out, plunging the house into a dim glow from the emergency lanterns. Jinx, ever the chaotic spirit, had laughed it off before disappearing upstairs with Ekko, leaving you and Vi in the guest room.

You pulled out one of Jinx’s oversized shirts from the dresser, turning away from Vi as you peeled off your dress. A small part of you—okay, maybe not so small—was aware of her standing there, trying so hard not to look.

"Jinx seriously has the worst taste," you muttered, examining the faded, paint-stained shirt before slipping it on.

A beat of silence.

Then, Vi’s voice, strained and just a little too tight: "You’re doing that on purpose."

You turned to her, putting on a show with your doe eyes. "Doing what?"

Vi’s jaw tightened. She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. "Never mind," she grumbled.

You laughed softly, sliding under the covers. "Well, I’d offer to let you sleep on the floor, but I doubt your ego could handle it."

Vi scoffed, kicking off her boots. "My ego is just fine, thanks." She hesitated for half a second before climbing in beside you, keeping to her side of the bed like there was some kind of invisible barrier between you.

The room settled into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of rain against the windows. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you teased, "You got awfully worked up earlier when that guy was flirting with me."

Vi groaned. "Oh, don’t start."

"Why not?" You turned your head to look at her, catching the way her fingers twitched against the blanket. "It was cute."

Vi huffed out a laugh. "I am not cute."

"Debatable."

A pause. Then, softer, you asked, "Why did it bother you so much?"

Vi exhaled slowly. "Because…" She hesitated. You could practically see the way she was debating with herself, trying to decide if she should say it.

"Because what?" you prompted gently.

Vi turned onto her side, facing you. In the dim glow of the lantern, her eyes were softer than usual—unguarded in a way that made your heart stutter.

"Because it’s you," she admitted, voice low. "And I—" She stopped, shook her head. "I just... I don’t want to lose what we have. I don’t want to mess this up by saying something stupid."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Vi," you whispered.

She laughed, but it was quiet, almost nervous. "I know. It’s dumb."

"It’s not." You shifted closer, reaching for her hand under the blankets. "It’s really not."

Vi’s fingers curled around yours instinctively, like they belonged there. Like she’d been waiting for this.

"You really have a way of getting under my skin," she muttered.

You grinned. "I try."

She rolled her eyes, but her grip on your hand tightened. "I— I like you. A lot. Probably more than I should."

You felt warmth bloom in your chest. "Good."

Vi blinked. "Good?"

"Yeah," you murmured, squeezing her hand. "Because I like you too, dumbass."

For the first time that night, Vi was speechless. Then, with a huff of laughter, she pulled you closer, pressing her forehead against yours. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

You smiled, closing your eyes. "Nah. I’ll be the reason you live."

And as the storm raged outside, Vi held you just a little tighter, like she finally believed it.

𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔲𝔰 𝔖𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢:

You felt a soft thud against your back, jerking your body forward. "Vi, what the hell!?" you yelped, spinning around to see her standing there, grinning like a mischievous child with a pillow clutched to her chest.

"C'mon, princess," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "How long are you gonna glue your cute little ass to this bed? Take a break, or you're gonna turn into a stressball. I can already see you balding from the pressure."

You blinked, incredulous. "I’m not balding!"

She waved her hand dismissively, stepping closer and tapping the pillow against your arm like she was ready to declare war. "You look like you could use a distraction." Before you could react, she swung the pillow at your head, knocking your books out of place.

"Violet!" you squealed, jumping out of the bed to avoid the next blow. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

With a loud, playful laugh, she swung again, catching you on the shoulder this time. You couldn’t help but laugh yourself, adrenaline kicking in as you realized you were in the middle of a full-on pillow fight.

You snatched the pillow off the bed and swung it back at her, narrowly missing her face. "You asked for it," you warned, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Vi's eyes lit up, and suddenly she was charging at you like a wild animal, swinging her pillow in all directions. "Oh, I did, huh? You’re gonna regret that, princess." She tackled you back into the bed with a cushion to your stomach, laughing all the while.

You shrieked, trying to wriggle away from her grasp, but she was quicker. The two of you were in full chaos mode now, knocking pillows and papers everywhere as you both fought for dominance.

"Come on, admit it!" Vi teased, tapping you with the pillow like a drum. "You needed a break!"

"Oh, I did," you gasped between giggles, managing to yank the pillow out of her hands. "But not like this!"

You leapt to your feet, holding your pillow up defensively, but Vi wasn’t having it. She grabbed a second pillow from the bed and swung both at you, knocking you off balance. "Gotcha now!" she grinned, her eyes gleaming with victory.

The two of you stumbled back and forth, laughter echoing around the room, until you finally collapsed on the bed, breathless. Vi joined you moments later, dropping her pillow to the floor with a satisfied grin.

"Okay, okay," you said, catching your breath. "You win. You’re insane."

Vi rolled her eyes, flopping back onto the bed beside you. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But you needed to relax, and now look at you—smiling like a doofus."

You gave her a mock glare, but there was no stopping the smile that tugged at your lips. "Fine. I admit it. You’re right."

Vi turned her body to face you. "Good. See? Wasn't so bad, was it?"

You nudged her with your elbow, unable to hold back the laughter. "You're ridiculous," you said, still catching your breath.

But in that moment, with the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows and Vi's laugh filling the room, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

"Yeah," she said, a hand coming up to move strands of hair away from your face gently. "But you love me for it." You didn’t even have to answer.

#arcane #arcane fic #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #vi #vi fic #vi fluff #vi smut #vi x reader #caitlyn fluff #vi x caitlyn #caitvi #caitvi x reader #violet arcane #vi fanart #caitlyn fanart

234 notes · View notes

anim-ttrpgs · 15 days ago

Note

Question about deathbed: i havent seen much about it yet but what ive seen doesnt make it sound very...fun to be alive in that world and that its like influenced by practices of the christian church during the middle ages and stuff like that, so im wondering how that would affect being able to even really play a woman being badass in that game?

Is it basically hardmode difficulty if you wanna play a woman?

I have two answers to this.

First is that in Death Bed, a woman can be badass. I’ll demonstrate by making Herr Rike, an old literary and AD&D character of mine, in Death Bed. @thepleasuregoblin @ashweather and @umbraldame can attest that she is just about the most believably badass person there is. (Despite the title of “Herr,” she is a woman and always has been. Well she’s female, technically she isn’t human and in her setting “woman” is a human-specific term while other sapient species have their own terms for genders but you get the point.)

(art by @chaospyromancy)

I’m not gonna go through this very granularly because in Death Bed most stats are rolled, start out very low, and then are upgraded one at a time by level-ups. But over the course of building her stats up to where they should be to represent her I would focus on Agility, Scripture, Dexterity, Vigor, Strength, Endurance, Arcane, and Attunement from highest to lowest in that order.

For Traits, I would get her

(this is a men-only Trait, and also one I will probably nerf before final release, but a female character can still take it, at a price.)

(she isn't actually humble, but the effect of this Trait fits her personality.)

(note the sidebars in this one)

(in no particular order)

I might also consider giving her Gentleman (Men only.) but at the moment in the game’s unfinished state that Trait has an unclear interaction with Lady.

Yes, she does have both men-only and women-only Traits, that’s allowed, it just reduces her Social Status. I rolled it and at the end of all those Traits she still has a Social Status of 27, which is fairly high.

Social Status is a stat representing how respectable the character is by the standards of 1400s society. It determines who gets to talk down to and degrade who. What the higher Social Status character says goes, and if this pecking order is challenged, that tends to distress people.

Characters who have Traits which fall outside their perceived gender suffer a debuff to Social Status, because that’s just how it was back then. Hell, that’s how it is today.

So she could kill monsters and shit with a sword just fine, the worst she would get is maybe the occasional weird look, especially since, in the Middle Ages, it was irregular but not strictly forbidden for women to practice martial arts. The super strict sex-segregation of martial arts was way more of a Renaissance and onward thing.

Now for the second answer.

A lot of what our cultural idea of what is “cool” and “badass” is extremely masculine-favoring. And while yes, swords and armor and violence are cool and badass, (I’m not immune to thinking that the things knights do is cooler than the things their wives do.) a lot of “feminist” or “egalitarian” or otherwise “pro-women” media that is historically set ends up having the message “This woman is badass and cool because she’s.. like a man, unlike those other lameass women who are like women.”

It ends up being the medieval version of that action movie trope that goes like

Male Lead: (pleasantly surprised) “You know how to fight and be badass?”

Female Lead: *racks shotgun* “I grew up with 7 brothers and so I had to learn how to play rough and played army instead of Barbie dolls and I didn’t have a mother and my ex-special-forces dad taught me how to fight starting at a young age. All that masculinity helped me grow up to be cool and tough woman instead of a boring helpless stupid woman.”

instead of, like, celebrating the other 99% of women in that time period who just did woman stuff.

Death Bed allows you to make a character that is a woman but effectively fills the social roles of a man such as killing stuff with a sword*(which is something just about every other TTRPG on the planet also allows), and it allows you to make a character that is a woman and fills all the more normal social roles of a woman while still being a very valuable asset to the party both in and out of combat (and Death Bed has a lot of “out of combat” stuff going on. It’s a classic dungeon crawler, which involves a good amount of combat, but is not purely combat and a party needs plenty of characters who are focused on other things if they want to survive.)

*and again, this wasn’t even something women were strictly barred from doing at the time.

Fencing Master: (Men only. +1 Social Status.) This struggler has +1 Scripture, +1 Strength, +1 Dexterity, and +1 Agility. Additionally, upon gaining this Trait, give him any three Weapon Special Attribute Masteries, selected at random from those he does not already have. Additionally, reduce his Hollowness by 1 each time he gains a new Special Weapon Attribute Mastery. However, this struggler must make a Despair roll any time his martial technique is called into question or disrespected, unless he proves himself. If he attempts to prove himself and fails, he must take an added instance of disadvantage to this Despair roll. He must also make a Despair roll each time his weapon is reduced in Maintenance Rating as a result of a failed attack roll.

Additionally, this struggler gains 2x the EXP from engagements in which he fights alone without allies.

Frightening Demeanor: (+1 Social Status.) So long as this struggler is not a non-combatant, apply a -1 to this struggler’s Attention each time their Attention is increased. However, apply an added instance of disadvantage to their reaction rolls.

Humble: (+0 Social Status.) This struggler’s good nature is a bulwark to disrespect. They gain an added instance of Advantage to any despair rolls related to disrespect. They gain an additional added instance of advantage to any despair roll related to disrespect from characters of lower Social Status.

Lady: (Women only. +3 Social Status.) This struggler has an added +3 to Scripture,[1] and an instance of advantage on reaction rolls. However, she must take an added instance of disadvantage to any Despair roll resulting from being disrespected by a man or woman of lower social standing, and must make a Despair roll up to once per Scene in which she is not wearing fine women’s clothing.[2][3]

[1. Sidebar] Literacy was considered the domain of noblewomen, clergy, and scribes.

[2. Sidebar] This Trait does not require the struggler to be a non-combatant. Though it was unorthodox for them to participate directly in battle, women of noble standing were not barred from martial training. In fact, a nobleman’s wife was expected to command his levies in battle should their home be attacked while he is away.

[3. Sidebar] Wearing fine women’s clothing does not preclude the wearing of most armor, so long as the visibly feminine elements are preserved.

Additionally, up to once per Scene, this struggler gains 100 EXP if she goes the entire Scene without getting her shoes or dress muddy, wet, or otherwise dirty. [gains EXP from reading literature or eating fine food and drinking fine wine? Figure this out.]

Paranoid: (-1 Social Status.) This struggler has an added instance of advantage to Agility rolls to avoid triggered traps, and, once per Hourglass, the player of this struggler can ask that the Narrator reveal to their struggler any and all traps in a room or general surrounding area and the Narrator will do so. However, they must make a Despair roll if they ever accidentally trigger a trap, or if anyone ever startles them such as by walking up behind them or waking them from their sleep.

Also, when the Narrator makes a wandering monster roll, the player of this struggler may ask that the result be revealed to them, but if they do so, this struggler makes a Despair roll.

Up to once per Scene, this struggler gains 10 EXP for being right about the dangers that lurk nearby.

Sharp Tongue: (+0 Social Status.) This struggler’s quick tongue and quicker wit allow them to wind around any social slight with the agility of a skilled fencer. At this struggler’s choice, they can cause the object of their ridicule either an added instance of advantage or an added instance of disadvantage to any Despair rolls related to disrespect from this struggler. Either advantage or disadvantage is doubled if their words are actually said in dialogue or at least summarized and the Narrator deems their remark sufficiently clever.

Tactician: (+1 Social Status.) Once per engagement, this struggler can bark out a specific order to an ally with a Social Status up to 3 degrees higher than their own, or any degree lower.[1] If the ally they are ordering complies, that ally gains an instance of Advantage to the next 3 rolls that carrying out that order may entail. However, if the ally refuses or fails to carry out this order, then this struggler must make a Despair roll. If the ally dies as a result of attempting to carry out this order, then this struggler must make a Despair roll with an instance of Disadvantage.

[1. Sidebar] This can be done even if this struggler is a non-combatant.

Additionally, this struggler gains 5 EXP for each successful roll on the aforementioned next 3 rolls made by their ally complying with their orders.

205 notes · View notes

ruesol · 1 month ago

Text

catalyst - chapter 8

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

tags and cw: mentions of blood and violence, shower sex

fanfic masterlist

With a one-track mind, Sukuna focuses on nothing but his training regime for his final fight.

After meeting Yaga that day, Sukuna discovered that his final opponent was the same man he had lost to months ago–Geto Suguru, a force to be reckoned with in the world of contact sports. Unlike Gojo, the man had received professional training to be a boxer since he turned seventeen. His determination was nothing short of Sukuna’s, so the match would be interesting to watch.

Of course, one of the most critical things Yaga mentioned in his training regime plan was that Sukuna was not to have any distractions till the day of the match, which included you.

It was frustrating, to say the least. You two had just gotten back together, only to be pulled apart again. However, it was for good reason. What’s the harm in paying a temporary price for a lifetime of bliss? So you moved out of his apartment and found another place courtesy of Uraume’s help. You decided to shadow Sukuna’s doctor in the three months he spent training to get some references and make do with your time productively. If you were going to apply for med school soon, you had to be prepared right away.

And before you knew it, the night before the match had arrived.

You didn’t want to feel nervous, considering that you had already watched some of Sukuna’s matches online, but something in the back of your mind kept the fear alive. Seeing him hurt, even with necessity of his career, was still painful, but all you could do was support him. At least, this was the last time it would happen.

With a sigh, you get your clothes ready for the next day. You had promised Yaga you wouldn’t meet Sukuna till the night of the match, and more preferably after he’s hopefully won it.

Sleep evaded you with every passing thought, goosebumps, heart palpitations, and cold sweats–you were experiencing everything the night before match day. You could only feel nauseous imagining what your state was going to be like the next day.

Your hand itches to text Sukuna, but you know better than to ruin his sleep for his fight.

That is until your phone begins to ring with his name flashing on the screen.

You pick it up without thinking twice. It’s been way too long since you’ve last talked to him. “Hey.”

“Hi.” There’s not a lick of exhaustion in his voice. He sounds rather rejuvenated for someone who was going to put an end to his ever-growing career the next day.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. It’s strange how Sukuna’s mere presence on the other side of the line rids you of your anxiety. He’s real, he’s safe.

“Honestly, no. I…I miss you. Very much. And I’m kind of standing outside your apartment right now,” he answers frankly.

You rush to your apartment window, and lo and behold, his truck is standing right outside with him leaning against the door, phone in one hand while the other is tucked beneath his elbow. Even though you live on the seventh floor, you feel like you can see the glint in his eyes when he spots you waving at him through your window.

“Want me to come down there?” you ask eagerly, wanting to be in your boyfriend’s embrace as quickly as possible.

“Nah, I’ll be right up. Give me a minute,” he chuckles at your enthusiasm before hanging up.

The time that passes as you wait for Sukuna couldn’t be any longer. You’re basically vibrating in your seat when you hear someone knock on your front door and rush to it.

Before Sukuna can say anything, you push yourself into his arms before pulling him into your apartment. You immediately notice just how much harder his muscles have gotten from training for the fight. His pecs are more prominent, and there’s a lot more bulk on his body overall. His tattoos only accentuate his new muscles, curving over the swollen, sinewy mass.

“Woah, easy there,” he grins as he strokes down your back, hand squeezing your waist before settling on its curve.

“I can’t help myself,” you whine into his chest. “It’s been three excruciating months without you.”

“Really? I can’t say the same for myself, though,” he teases.

“You’re the one who came here at eleven in the night, Sukuna Ryomen.”

He sighs. He can never win with you. He holds you tight, squeezing you with all the strength he has in one hand. You memorize what every inch of him feels like on your body–how his waist feels thick as your hands barely wrap around them, how his body basically encompasses yours with no effort and the way his sharp chin digs into your scalp.

“To be honest, I’m here to request something,” he murmurs into your hair, deeply inhaling your scalp before pulling away. Confused, you cock a brow when you notice his other hand is holding his boxing gloves.

“What? You wanna have a practice match?” you ask, scoffing at him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I’m here to get some good luck for tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen as your mind reaches what he could possibly be implying, but he chuckles before the words can escape your mouth. “Not like that. I want you to kiss my gloves for me,” he demands as he pushes the boxing gloves to your mouth.

“You came all the way here for me to kiss your gloves?” You ask, surprised.

“Yeah. Well, that and my lips–if you’re feeling generous.” a flirtatious smirk displays itself across his face, tattoos stretching upwards.

“It’s your lucky day because I am indeed feeling generous.” You take the gloves from his hold and kiss each of them as you peer up at him through your lashes. Sukuna’s facial expression is a dichotomy–a heady and heavy gaze trailing down your face and a lovesick smile growing on his lips.

“Maybe you could also get on your knees since you’re being so nice,” he teases as his hands stroke up your spine. You gasp and push his gloves back in his hand, and he chuckles as you push him towards the door.

“Sukuna Ryomen, you have a retirement match tomorrow. You need to rest.” You bashfully look away from the intense eye contact. For the first time in ages, his red eyes are burning with longing instead of fury. “And come here,” you lean up to him and leave a light peck on his lips. “I forgot to do that.”

Sukuna can only stare with a dark gaze. His hands pull you in for one last hug, rough and calloused hands situated on the small of your back. “Promise me that you’ll celebrate with me tomorrow,” he whispers before pulling away.

“Of course, I will,” you giggle. “Yuuji’s throwing you a retirement party after all.”

Sukuna’s tongue swipes the inside of his cheek before he kisses your forehead. “Yeah, that too,” he says as he walks away.

“Wait, what?” you ask, peering out your apartment’s door as your boyfriend walks to the elevator.

“Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep,” he says before the door of the elevator shuts and he disappears.

Only when you close your door and head to bed do you realize what he meant.

Oh.

—

You can feel the bass of the metal music playing on the loudspeakers in your chest, dull thumps and electric guitar riff vibrations strumming in your veins. You follow Yaga to the seat that’s directly by the rings—the VIP zone.

It’s your first time in a boxing arena, not that you’d ever been to any kind of sporting event before, especially with how busy you were with your studies.

To no surprise, there were mostly men around you. Some slightly inebriated, others purely jittering in their seats because of the anticipation of watching two monsters battle out their strengths in the ring. Sukuna was a lot more popular than you had expected, with many people cheering for him even before the match began.

“You should’ve seen the insanity before he took his hiatus. People used to camp outside the back entrance of the arena just to see him,” Uraume told you as they smirked at your amazed expression.

“He’s well-loved,” is all you say. His motive to become a boxer will never be drowned out by the screams and chants of his fans. The dehumanization and trauma wasn’t worth the fame.

You were happy that he was making a major decision for himself for the first time in a long while.

The lights around the audience soon dim down, only bright spotlights illuminating the stage. The music changes to a trap mix specifically curated for the behemoth that was about to enter the stage via the ramp.

The crowd goes silent as the large screen above the walkway begins highlighting some of Sukuna’s greatest fight moments and then it ultimately ends with a slow motion shot of his loss in his last match. But the crowd erupts in cheers when the smoke machines create a heavy fog around his entrance.

Your lover’s stalk is that of a warrior, his shoulders are broad as his silken red kimono faintly outlines his pecks. The camera pans around his face but he doesn’t pay it any heed, only looking around the arena, lifting his boxing gloves and kissing it right on the spot you did the night before.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him thinking about you even during such a tense moment. His eyes don’t search for you, but you know you’re the only one on his mind with the way his lips linger on the leather. You don’t expect your thighs to involuntarily squeeze to ease the ache between them when Sukuna shrugs off his robe, showing off his slick and muscled body.

“Petroleum jelly. So he doesn’t get cuts from punches,” the ever so observant Uraume says into your ear.

Geto’s entrance is nothing short of dramatic. In contrast to Sukuna’s rather simple yet bold tattoos, Geto sports complex dragons on his back that imitate yakuza tattoos. You notice a lone snake tattoo that slithers around his leg, reaching all the way to his mid thigh.

The man was beautiful, but despite his features, he looked like a deadly fighter.

Your heart beat matches the wavelength of the match’s intensity. Slow at first, but quickening with how fast and agile the attacks were getting. So far, Sukuna had been holding up well, dodging Geto, and conserving his energy to charge up a powerful punch to the opponent’s side.

Your blood roars in your ears as Sukuna suddenly takes a mean punch to his face, an angry red bruise slowly growing on his cheekbone as the two men skirt around each other, mentally examining their next moves.

“He’s doing…very well. Compared to last time, he has a lot more energy.” Uraume sounds very surprised. You don’t have a lot to compare him with, and watching boxing fights in person was way more different than simply watching compilations online, so you took Uraume’s word for it.

By the time the first interval rolls around, Sukuna is already spitting out a ton of blood after taking out his mouth guard. You wince as you notice that it resembles nothing of its former transparency, the object now completely covered in a viscous emulsion of saliva and blood.

You nearly jump out of your seat to go comfort him but Yaga nearly slams you back down as he grabs onto your forearm.

“He needs to focus right now,” the boxing coach instructs. Your eyebrows furrow at the command as you look over at your boyfriend who is already staring at you through half-lidded eyes, mouth ajar as he’s too tired to support his muscles.

“He looks like shit, I have to see him!” you beg, but Yaga only shakes his head and walks away. Yuuji, who had arrived a little later than you for the match, comforts you instead of walking over to his brother.

“You have to trust him. Sukuna’s heart is soft and he’ll stop the second you ask him to. Coach wants him to leave with dignity—something Sukuna had planned for.”

Yuuji’s words provide some sort of closure, but your heart still couldn’t take to ignore your lover so you send a discreet flying kiss to him. Sukuna sends a lazy smile your way and winks.

“Ugh, even now?” Yuuji playfully groans and you punch his bicep.

“So what?” you cheekily reply, still staring at Sukuna, who was now rolling out the tension in his shoulders, back muscles ripping with every movement. He fits a clean mouthguard onto his teeth, ready to take on his opponent with the strength given to him by his girlfriend’s support.

—

Sukuna would sometimes tell you about how he’d feel while fighting. Bruises and cuts were the least of his worries when it came to the sport because what really affected him was the post-match adrenaline.

Like a runner’s high, Sukuna expressed that his brain gets some kind of fucked up gratification every time he’s able to land a critical hit on his opponent. And by the time the match ends, he feels like a killing machine, ready to take on whatever victim lands his fancy next.

Which is why you felt like a fawn being watched by a wolf as you stared back at him in the ring. The referee holds his hand up high, yelling out that Sukuna Ryomen was the victor of the match. The two men’s sizes differ greatly, making Sukuna seem even more of a monster than he is—a tank of blood and muscle drawing in the eyes of every spectator in the room.

Geto’s existence is forgotten as soon as the medics lift him onto a stretcher and scurry out. Sukuna Ryomen had not spared his opponent of his wrath.

“What a comeback!” A fan in one of the VIP seats yells. Oh if he only knew.

The gaudy gold victory belt makes its appearance but Sukuna still does not look away from you as his fans scream for him. His gaze grows headier with every passing second, like he’s itching to push off the people around him and drag you back with him.

Uraume nudges you to let you know that it’s time to go backstage. “Let’s go.”

You gulp for what may be coming when you notice Sukuna’s gaze following you as you walk out the arena with his manager, ignoring the cameras that were being shoved in his face.

—

By the team Sukuna comes to his personal locker room, he looks even more exhausted than he did while fighting Geto. A look that differed from the hungry one he had earlier.

“Bro, you did great!” Yuuji is quick to punch Sukuna’s bicep, but the older brother is too tired to play into his antics.

“Thanks, Yu,” Sukuna mumbled as he took a swig of iced Gatorade.

Yaga and Uraume try to make conversation with the champion, but he raises his hand to stop them. “Can I get some time alone? I’m tired as fuck and just don’t wanna talk right now.”

Taken aback, you trail behind Sukuna’s coach, manager, and brother, but are stopped when he grabs your wrist.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“You’re being redundant. You just said you didn’t wanna have any kind of conversation,” you quip. Unlike you, Uraume, Yaga, and Yuuji take the hint, chuckling to themselves as they leave.

Sukuna runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek as a smile slowly grows on his face. “I thought you’d know by now that you’re an exception.”

“Right,” you scoff, looking away. You’re try to pull your hand out of his grasp but his grip is taut. He pulls you to him, your smaller body bumping into his larger one, and he hisses at the impact. The bruises are still fresh but they don’t stop him from pressing himself flat against you and devouring your mouth.

You gasp as the taste of lime Gatorade and blood invades your mouth, his tongue sloppily prodding through your lips. His hands immediately situate themselves on your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pushes you into the shower and traps you against the cold, tiled walls.

Your hands can’t really go anywhere except for around his shoulders, and even when you try to wrap them around him, your fingers barely meet, only your forefingers latching around the base of his neck.

“You’ve gotten so big.” You’re not sure if it’s a complaint or a compliment because, on the one hand, it’s almost mind-numbing to think about how he could just drag you around with a single arm, and on the other, you can barely hold on to him without feeling like you’re rubbing up against a behemoth.

With his eyes closed and mouth sloppily kissing yours, his hands lift from your ass and move around, trying to look for something.

“What are you—“

You interrupt yourself with a shriek when ice-cold water hits your skin, making your white t-shirt stick to your body, nipples hard and visible even through your bralette. Your skirt outlines your thighs and Sukuna flips you around so your ass is pressed to his covered hardness. He pushes your hair and flattens his tongue against the column of your neck to lick to the area below your ear.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mumbles on your skin before sucking at the spot. Sukuna notices the way you shiver and he turns up the temperature—at this point you can’t tell if your skin is warming up at the feeling of Sukuna’s clothed cock between your ass cheeks or the hot water.

Sukuna slides his hands up your waist, under your wet t-shirt and lifts it over your head, throwing it outside the cubicle. The t-shirt lands with a wet splat to the ground, now looking like a tiny drenched rag. If you weren’t drunk off of Sukuna’s dry-humping, you’d be worrying about what you’d wear when you’d be leaving the locker room.

He nearly rips off of your bralette when your straps slip from his pruned fingers. He finally turns you around and you tug at the boxers he was wearing at his fight.

But he slaps your hand away. “You don’t get anything till I’ve checked on my girl.”

In a haze, you mumble out a breathless ‘huh’ till he shoved his hand into your tiny panties strokes two fingers from your slit to your swollen clit.

“She’s so wet, fuck,” he says before sloppily kissing down your neck. His canines dig into your collarbones and you whine, trying to push him off to give yourself a break, but his unparalleled strength keeps him in place.

“I just need to know if it’s the water or if you’re just excited to see me,” he rasps, squeezing your breast with his other mitt. He presses deep on your nipple, and the stinging pain elicits a yelp out of you which he kisses away with a suck on your bottom lip.

“Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me that this pretty pussy wanted to be touched by me.”

You breathing goes ragged at the lewd sounds his fingers are making. You can clearly tell he’s trying not to lose his mind and shove his cock into like a madman because of the way the nerves in his neck bulge out.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make me come—oh—I’ve wanted your fingers in my cunt for three months.”

He rubs a calloused finger over your sensitive pearl and you grind onto his hand for more, but he moves his hand from your breast and uses it to press your waist against the wall.

“My gorgeous girl, if it were up to me I’d have you coming on my fingers already, but I’m an asshole who wants to do nothing but drive my dick in your cute little hole,” he confesses, taking your stiffened peak in his mouth, teeth teasing you.

“Then do it,” you huff out, fingers daring to reach down to his cock. “Fuck me.”

Sukuna sucks a kiss onto your breast before pulling away, and holds your cheeks tight, making your lips, protrude out. “If you say that again then I won’t hold back,” he says as he looks into your eyes with a darkened, heady gaze—the same look he had when he had won.

The killing machine was back, only, the adrenaline wanted him to drill his cock into your pussy till you fell apart limp and needy in his arms.

“Then don’t. Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you whisper against his lips.

Sukuna’s frown deepens as he slowly lets go of your face. His hands rest themselves on your shoulders before he slowly drags them down your body till his fingers slot themselves on the elastic band of your panties.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles is too loud to the point where you don’t hear him rip your flimsy panties and throw them near your t-shirt.

You gulp for what’s to come.

“Remember: you asked for this,” he whispers dauntingly in your ear before nipping at your lobe. You shiver when you meet his gaze again because staring back at you is an apex predator, addicted to the scent of his prey.

With no warning, Sukuna lifts your knee and wraps your leg around his waist as he shrugs his boxers off and plunges his hard cock into your wet, warm heat. Your mouth parts in response as you try to take in him entirely. He stretches you good as his fingers go back to your clit, rubbing it as he rocks his hips against yours. The overstimulation is too much: the hot water, his veined cock enveloped by your velveteen walls, and his natural scent. You wrap your arms around him and pull his mouth close to yours, kissing him hard when he begins to pick up speed.

“Oh, fuck, it feels good to be home,” he sighs into your mouth. You’re too fucked out to reply anything snarky, his cock filling you to the hilt, so deep that it almost feels like the head of his cock is kissing your cervix. “You fit so well around me, baby.”

You can only reply to him in strangles moans.

You cry out your release when you reach the edge, hips moving away from the wall, and to his body, chasing the feeling of tightening around his dick.

You nearly black out as Sukuna begins to chase his high too, fingers still not leaving your sensitive clit. You try to move his hand away, but he doesn’t budge. “Come on, baby, you can give me one more.”

You cry as he bites down on your neck. You don’t have much of a say when your body convulses, giving into your lover’s (commanding) request.

Sukuna hips slow down, now only hitting single hard thrusts each time he gives you his release, hips stuttering with every pump. You take it like a champ, even when your legs have no strength to keep you up and the only thing stabilizing you is Sukuna’s weight pushing you against the wall.

You both come back from your sex-crazed high, eyes looking around the cubicle, chests rising and falling simultaneously. When your eyes find his, you shyly smile, moving his wet hair away from his eyes.

Sukuna only grabs onto your hands, leaving you to look at him inquisitively before he slots his lips against yours.

‘He’s smiling,’ you think as you kiss him back, mirroring his happiness.

When he pulls away, you peer over his broad shoulder, to see your clothes in tatters outside the shower cubicle.

“I can’t go out naked,” you nervously chuckle out. Sukuna, who is still half hard inside you, sips a hard kiss from you before pulling you into a hug. “You can wear mine. I brought extra clothes.”

“Wait you planned for this?” You try to pull away but he only wraps his arms around you tighter.

“Shush, I need a minute with you in silence.”

----

taglist: @7haze @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord @miakxn @sunasgf1 @lolilewenk @clp-84 @sodapop182 @therealjustpeachesback @msanimeotaku181 @aerareads @rebels-rewrite @emochosoluvr @justlia110 @thejujvtsupost @lulunx

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader fluff

140 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Hunter + Separated

Hunter x fem!reader, established relationship

This was written to answer @leotawrites request from... like a year ago: They get separated during the battle on Tantiss and find each other again after it's all done.

I realized way too late in the process that I didn't need to write what she was doing during the battle itself. 🤦 But this got me through the worst of my writer's block, so thank you!

Word Count: 3,100

Warnings: Spoilers for the series finale of Star Wars: The Bad Batch, references to battle, mentions of torture and myriad injuries, guilt, and grief.

Masterlist

---

Hunter scanned the dark treeline over and over, calling your name as loudly as he dared.

“Shut up!” Crosshair hissed, shoving at his shoulder. “You’ll give away our position.”

Hunter glared at his brother. “Pretty sure those bolts mean they already know our position.”

Crosshair gave him a mulish look. “Not exactly. They have an idea, but everyone who actually saw us was neutralized by Wrecker’s new friend.”

“Wouldn’t call it a friend,” Wrecker muttered, gripping his shoulder. The unknown beast had done its best to take a chunk out of him before Wrecker could fight it off. Even through the cover of his helmet, Hunter could tell that Wrecker was wincing.

“She’s gone,” Hunter told them both, not needing to explain who exactly ‘she’ was. You were the only unknown in the situation outside of Echo and Omega. And the Batch was closing in on their location as quickly as possible.

“I saw,” Crosshair agreed. “She went after Rampart.”

Wrecker scoffed, glancing out at the forest. “Rampart? He’s not gonna last ten minutes out there with those things.”

Hunter could feel the look Crosshair gave Wrecker, just as he could sense Wrecker’s sheepish regret. “Not that she won’t- She can take care of herself. She’s fast.”

“I can find her,” Hunter insisted. It wasn’t a lie, or even an exaggeration. The two of you had been dating for some time - well, as much as anyone could find time to date around the horrors of fleeing the Empire. He knew your face, your voice, your scent, the vibrations of your footsteps.

He knew where you were at that very moment. Not an exact location, since there were a lot of people in these woods, but he could get within a few yards of your trail and track you from there.

Even as Wrecker and Crosshair glanced at each other, Hunter scowled behind his helmet. He could find you with his eyes closed, even on Tantiss, but there just wasn’t time.

“But we’re here for Omega.” The gravity of the situation dripped from Hunter’s tone, mingling with frustration and a tinge of defeat. “We need to get her out of there while we still can.”

“You two track her and I’ll go get Omega,” Crosshair offered. “You can get past the creatures and Wrecker can guard your back from the reinforcements that were sent out.”

Wrecker froze. “Wai- What? No. We need to stay together.”

You were getting further away. Hunter could feel it, sense the way your footsteps were heading deeper into the forest. He listened until the sound of his own heartbeat covered the sound of yours. It seemed… empty without the steadily echoing thump of your heart behind his.

“Clone Force 99 died with Tech,” Crosshair snapped, and Hunter pulled his full attention to the conversation at hand. Crosshair was… offering to go retrieve Omega. Without backup. He would be totally alone, all so Hunter could search for you with Wrecker along for backup.

“No,” Hunter refused, drawing on the familiar authority he’d held when he was the sergeant of the squad. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he slipped into the old role like it had never left him. “Omega needs us. All of us. So we’re doing this together.”

Hunter glanced between his brothers, seeing the ghost of a goggled face among them. “Let’s go get Omega.”

—

You were so sick of Rampart.

The man had never been anything other than a thorn in your side, but you had agreed that capturing him was your best chance of finding Tantiss’s location. That didn’t mean you had to like him.

Still, you weren’t willing to let him run off and die horribly… or, as a bigger concern, tell the Empire about the Bad Batch’s location. That would be exactly something he would do, you thought grimly, give up everyone else in a last-ditch effort to save his own skin.

And then you had to try really hard not to think about parallels, because you watched a group of troopers capture him, and you did nothing to help. You reasoned that there wasn’t much you could do against a whole platoon, but you really didn’t feel guilty in the slightest as you watched them attach the binders to Rampart’s wrists and march him roughly onto their waiting transport.

At least you had done your best to recapture the asset.

You turned, fighting the urge to literally dust your hands free of the situation, but you froze soon afterward. You… had no idea where the rest of the Batch could be. Rampart had run in a reasonably straight line, but there weren��t many distinguishing marks in the forest. You had no idea whether you could find the others and, even if you could get back to the right clearing, whether anyone would still be there. It wasn’t like they could wait around forever.

Traveling with the Bad Batch had honed a lot of your skills, especially in choosing a path and executing the right steps for it, but you froze for a moment as you weighed the pros and cons of the different ways you could handle the situation.

A loud, horrible crack drew your attention toward the mountain. You had half a moment to wonder whether the Empire would be stupid enough to build their ultra-secret laboratory into an active volcano, but a rush of sound told you something else was happening.

You picked your way through the trees, moving gingerly to avoid the hyper-alert troopers. Eventually, you made your way to a ridge tall enough to look out over the mountain. There, so far around the other side that it was nearly out of view, you could see an interruption in the otherwise-uniform silhouette of the mountain’s slopes.

Squinting didn’t help much in the dim light of the moon, but you tried it anyway. Was it a landslide? That would be an incredible coincidence, and you were starting to doubt that those ever truly happened.

Your eyes widened when you finally saw the towering creature fighting its way free of the mountain. You hadn’t the slightest clue what it was or how it had gotten there, but it had to have something to do with the Bad Batch. There wasn’t enough coincidence in the entire galaxy to explain that away.

At first, the giant hole in the side of the mountain seemed like an ideal place to get inside, but then you saw a swarm of troopers descending on the area.

You ducked for cover as an approaching ship hovered lower and lower until it gently came to land in a nearby clearing. The doors opened, releasing another platoon. Every trooper took up a position, aiming into the forest. You held your breath to cut off all movement, but you noticed that they weren’t aiming at anything in particular.

“Make for the entrance, men,” the leader ordered, his voice slightly rough through the distortion of his helmet’s external speakers. “We got warning that some of the insurgents are trying to infiltrate through it.”

One of the other troopers piped up: “Sir, we don’t have the men to build a formation big enough to-”

“Then we’ll start a partial formation,” the leader said grimly. “Our backup can fill in the gaps when they arrive. Understood?”

A chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’s met him, then they clattered their way off through the dark forest toward the smoking ruin that formed a large chunk of the mountain’s base.

You eyed the now-empty ship. There was a pilot onboard, and you didn’t think you could do anything as wild as capture a transport before he alerted the chain of command about what was happening. But you could sneak on, especially since he was only just starting to prepare the ship for takeoff.

A low, scurrying run wasn’t elegant and you knew that Crosshair would mock you mercilessly if he ever saw it, but it got you to the ship before the doors closed, and the pilot didn’t seem to have seen you. There were holorecorders in the main section of the ship, but their activation happened fairly late in the pre-flight process and you were pretty sure the pilot hadn’t gotten there yet.

The small corridor built for droids would work to shield you from the holorecorders, as well as anyone who might board the ship. If you were lucky, you could get off the ship between landing inside the mountain and the next group of soldiers getting onboard. And if you were unlucky, you could ride comfortably in the corridor. It wasn’t pressurized, but you would be fine as long as the ship didn’t break atmosphere.

However, when the ship landed, the pilot powered down the ship and left. You sat huddled in the droid corridor for a count of three-hundred, but didn’t hear any sounds. Not on the ship, anyway - distant explosions echoed through the hangar.

Finally, you emerged, checking carefully that you were alone. You were, but you hesitated before you left the dubious shelter of the LAAT/i. It wouldn’t be impossible for the Batch to blow up Tantiss entirely, in which case, it would be smartest to take the ship and leave.

But they could also need your help. And if they did, you couldn’t bear to leave them behind and risk them being injured or worse.

So you stepped off the ship, reasoning that they wouldn’t have had time to evacuate all of the troopers yet. Still, there was an extra energy in your step as you raced toward the action. You needed to make sure they knew you were there so they didn’t leave you behind.

When you were close enough to smell the smoke, a skull emerged from the shadows.

You gasped, freezing in place with your hands raised defensively. With more than a split second to look ahead, you could see that it wasn’t a skull at all, but a dangerously emaciated clone trooper.

He was watching you, sunken eyes wary. You kept your hands where they were, though you were less concerned about ghosts than you were about the DC-17M blaster rifle the trooper held pointed at your heart.

“Who are you?” he demanded, a reedy edge to his harsh voice.

You gave your name. You were only dimly aware that there were other troopers approaching behind the one with the rifle - your entire focus had narrowed on the muzzle of the blaster and the wild eyes of the clone trooper. “I’m with-”

“Stand down, trooper,” a more familiar voice ordered.

“Echo!” you greeted gratefully. A glance to the side made your smile grow. “And Omega! Good to see you both.”

“What are you doing here?” Omega asked, watching the unfamiliar clone trooper lower the blaster.

“Looking for the others,” you explained. “I lost them outside of the mountain. Have you seen them?”

“Captured,” Echo said grimly.

Your heart squeezed with fear and horror. Some of that must have bled through to your expression, because Omega gave an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry - we’re going to save them now. We just need to get these injured clones to a ship.”

“There are a few LAAT/is in the hangar,” you remembered, hooking a thumb back over your shoulder. “That’s how I got here.”

“You can fly a LAAT/i?” Echo asked.

You shook your head. “I stowed away.”

“I can,” one of the other troopers volunteered. “I can fly any ship in the Republic fleet. Just get to me to it and I can do the rest.”

There was a sinking feeling in your gut at that. Sure enough, Omega was watching you hopefully when you turned around.

“Omega, I-”

“We need you to,” Echo interrupted firmly. “I’ll take a volunteer group of troopers to go save them, but we need you to get these men to a ship.”

“I can’t just leave,” you argued.

“No one said you have to leave,” Omega corrected. “Just take them to the hangar and get them on a ship. Then come find us. You have Echo’s comlink frequency. Track it and that’ll show you where we are.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Echo said, looking uncomfortable at the idea of bringing someone new into whatever situation he expected to find.

Omega shrugged up at him. “We need all the help we can get.”

Echo’s sigh only served as a wordless agreement.

“Fine, I’ll see you both soon,” you decided. “Everyone else, follow me. I’ll get you to the hangar.”

The process of guiding the troopers wasn’t quick, but it was remarkably efficient. They had already figured out who was well enough to help the others and who should be at the front of the group to help set the pace. That was especially convenient, since it allowed you to help the troopers who were struggling the most without having to leave your place leading the group.

At long last, you had helped everyone load onto a LAAT/i and passed along the coordinates Echo had sent to get them to a safe system. The instant you were safely off the ship, the pilot deftly flew the ship into the pouring rain and you rushed back into the belly of the mountain.

Echo’s comlink frequency wasn’t moving.

That wouldn’t have been too concerning, but it continued not to move for most of the time it took you to reach it. You sent up a prayer to whatever gods were listening that he had simply dropped the comlink. The idea of something worse happening was enough to send you into near-panic.

The sound of your name being called behind you made you freeze. “Hunter-?”

When you had passed the large door, it had been closed. You hadn’t actually known that it led outside, but with the door panel standing open, you could see the long path to a landing platform fading away behind sheets of rain.

More importantly, Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega were just inside that door, dripping wet and looking exhausted.

“What happened?” you demanded, rushing to them. “Are you hurt? Crosshair, your hand… We have to go! Hemlock could be here any moment-”

“Mesh’la,” Hunter cut in, grasping your shoulders so you would pay attention. “We don’t have to worry about Hemlock. Not now. Not ever again.” He took a shaking breath and hugged you close. “We’re finally safe.”

You cradled him against you, nodding in acknowledgment as Omega gestured that she was going to find a ship. She and Crosshair moved around you both, headed toward the hangar.

Hunter smelled like sweat and electricity, his body trembling like a leaf. He pressed his face beneath your jaw and took a deep breath. You could feel the heat of tears against the skin of your neck. Even there, in the horrible aftermath of a long and painful battle, you found a moment to soak each other in.

Later that night, you jolted awake in your bunk aboard the Havoc Marauder. The lights of hyperspace flashed beyond the viewport covers, but that wasn’t what had jarred you back to consciousness - the bed was empty.

It didn’t take long to find Hunter; he was in the cockpit. There wasn’t any manual flying to do, since you were in hyperspace and would continue to be for hours, but he was staring through the viewport as if he was concentrating intently.

“Hunter?” you asked gently.

With his enhanced senses, there was no way he hadn’t heard you approaching, but there was something odd about the set of his shoulders. You wouldn’t risk startling him, not after he had been through so much so recently.

He hummed softly in answer. You took that as an invitation and stepped into the cockpit.

When you were sitting in the copilot’s chair, you let yourself look over at Hunter. His eyes were aimed out of the viewport, but they weren’t as sharp as you thought they would be. Instead, he seemed to be staring through the transparisteel blankly, his focus clearly aimed at his own thoughts instead of at the stars rushing past.

“Are… are you okay?” you asked, fully knowing how silly the question was but unable to articulate it any other way.

“I don’t know yet.”

The answer was quiet and soft, more thoughtful than dismissive. You nodded understandingly.

“It’s hard to believe it’s all over.”

“Is it over?” Hunter shook his head. “Every time I think about… about today… I have to wonder if there isn’t something else going on.”

You frowned. It was hard not to ask too many questions, especially when he was saying things that made you worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hunter sighed lightly, little more than an exhale through his nose. “Not much to talk about. The Kaminoans could break us down and put us back together by the molecule. Hemlock had to do it the hard way. Shocks, beatings, psychological reprogramming. He wanted to turn us into his own soldiers.”

Your throat went tight at the dismissive tone he used. You reached out, closing the distance between your chair and his to hold his hand. Hunter accepted the touch easily, slipping his fingers through yours and giving a little squeeze.

“You want to know the worst part?” Strictly speaking, you weren’t sure that you did, but you nodded anyway. “There were others there that were Hemlock’s soldiers. He had a team he used to capture us and I couldn’t stop thinking… What if he did that to Tech? What if one of those men was my own brother?”

Hunter’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, his voice tight. You stood, wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage. Even as he returned your hug, Hunter choked out, “How can things be over if Tech could still be out there?”

“Let’s get everyone to safety first,” you suggested slowly. “When that’s done, we can go wherever you want. We’ll find him.”

“And Omega?” he asked, almost desperate. “She finally has a chance to be a normal kid. How could I take that from her?”

“Stars, Hunter, we have contacts across the galaxy.” You stroked gentle fingertips through his hair. “We can gather leads from Pabu and, if we find something solid enough, we’ll go check it out. You can decide then if you want to get anyone else involved or not.”

Hunter’s laugh was teary but sincere. “How do you make it sound so simple?”

“Because it is,” you reminded him. “We’re together and we’re alive. We can figure out anything else.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your palm. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I love you, mesh’la.” “I love you too, Hunter,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. “Everything will be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

---

Author's Note - As you can probably tell, I lean toward the theory that Tech isn't perma-dead. We'll see!

Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who made requests and is being so so patient while I work through my insane number of wips.

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb hunter #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #echo #omega #hunter x reader #hunter x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #fic requests #ink's fics

69 notes · View notes

cheemscakecat · 2 months ago

Text

Thoughts on Conquest (Invincible Spoilers)

I’ve seen people annoyed with the “I’m so lonely” speech, so I wanted to talk about it.

All but 50 Viltrumites died because of the scourge virus. Conquest was one of the infected who survived, but he was sent on a dangerous mission before his healing factor was back to normal. That’s how he lost his arm and got all those scars.

“This time.. This time I’ll make sure she’s dead.”

Conquest doesn’t actually like taking a lot of damage himself; he immediately locks in and goes to kill Mark after getting that bite taken out of him. He isn’t playing games anymore when he says he’s gonna kill Eve again.

Conquest’s healing factor is back, but he still remembers what happened on that mission, and it probably makes him paranoid about serious wounds. The bite surprised him, it showed that Mark was capable of damaging him. Eve’s energy beam really shook him up.

He says he isn’t usually allowed to cause wanton destruction on missions; there’s people and infrastructure he’s forced to spare. This mission to take Earth is a very, very rare opportunity for his favorite brand of violence; and it’s one he intends to savor since he doesn’t know if or when he’ll ever get another like it.

This is a day he’ll be drinking in the new memories to look back on fondly; he’s practically giddy with excitement at the idea of ripping Oliver in half. Makes you wonder how many rules Conquest has tacked onto his normal missions, because he’s the one guy in the ranks who finds new ways to make problems with his destruction.

This mission was supposed to be his chance to be unapologetically himself; to bask in the carnage he wants to cause but usually can’t. And for a lot of the fight it’s exactly that.

But just because Conquest is addicted to his own bloodlust, and free to indulge it like a kid in a candy store, doesn’t mean it’s everything he needs or wants.

This ecstasy is fleeting; even if he’s holding back to let the fight go on, he’ll eventually have to leave and go back to craving more. And then he’ll just be alone again.

I imagine that celebrated generals and heroes and soldiers at the height of the Empire’s strength were surrounded by praise and attention. There were ceremonies where they’d be decorated for their achievements, weaker civilians who held them in high regard and wanted to meet them.

Some of them would have been like pro athletes; their kids would want to make their own legacies to live up to the family name. Some would also have been grandfathers whose grandkids hung on their every word as they told stories about their adventures. Grandkids who wanted to be just like their pee-paws someday, heroes of the Viltrumites.

Conquest wouldn’t have been one of those family men, but he had peers. There were more than enough of them to have comrades on missions, fighting alongside him. Friends. There was a time he would have had friends.

Friends who saw that he was addicted to destruction, and were able to keep him in check affectionately, not with a laundry list of ground rules. Because they weren’t afraid of him, they were his equals and they knew him outside of work.

Friends who were there when the virus began, not really able to speak much on the trauma of loss, but who went through it and knew the same pain. Friends that died from the virus one by one, until Conquest was the only one left.

He’s not just suffering from being a successful fighter; he’s suffering from surviving the scourge when most did not. He’s one of the oldest living Viltrumites left. The youngsters don’t relate to him, don’t remember the old days because they weren’t there with him.

He wouldn’t have been the only one who got tore up on a mission before his healing factor recovered. How many of his comrades died because they just weren’t as fast, or as strong, or as lucky on those missions? How many were assigned to a separate mission halfway across the universe when they died, leaving Conquest to wonder if things would have been different had he been there?

He can’t talk to anyone about this. It’s considered weakness. And he’s old and grizzled enough ti see just how stupid that notion is. But what is he supposed to do about it? Challenge Thragg? He’d die, and his life is one of the few precious things he has left.

Sone think Conquest tells all his victims what’s on his mind before he kills them. Like a human serial killer. But I doubt it. Why would he tell a non-Viltrumite, they’re bugs to him. No, Invincible is a Viltrumite, and one he’s allowed to kill so he isn’t labeled as weak.

Earth isn’t just the place where he can let loose and kill, it’s the place where he can confess how lonely he is without consequence. And he’s not gonna pass up a chance to do that, in this era it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“I am so lonely. All the other Viltrumites are scared of me. No one talks to me. No one wants to be my friend, they think I am unstable. “

“They send me from planet to planet committing atrocities in their name. And as I get better at it… they fear me more and more.”

“I am a victim of my own success. Conquest… I don’t even get a real name.”

“Only a purpose.”

“I am capable of so much more and no one sees it.”

“Some days I feel so alone I could cry, but I don’t. I never do.”

“Because what would be the point? Not a single person in the entire universe would care.”

“Take it to your grave.”

Conquest isn’t the equivalent of a serial killer, he’s the equivalent of a veteran that lives for the thrill of battle. One that should have been retired and have people who care about him and check up on him. But he’s still in service, and nobody is there for him and he’s painfully aware of it.

They gave him a replacement arm. But he can still see, so he doesn’t get a replacement eye. His teeth are clean but broken from years and years of the fight. Nobody is offering to get him veneers or dentures. I guarantee it.

I wonder if we’ll get to see how he got the scar and if he was the only one assigned to that mission. He might have lost somebody there.

I also wonder if he’s an orphan, or if he had a name that nobody else remembers. :(

#Invincible #Invincible season 3 episode 8 #spoilers #invincible spoilers #Conquest #Conquest’s speech #thoughts #His eye color is gold/amber. But we keep looking at the blind eye. Interesting.#Wonder if we’ll get a lot of Viltrum flashbacks from before the massive losses. I hope so.#Animated gore #cw: gore

57 notes · View notes

magnificentmiraclenacho · 4 months ago

Text

The sister of the winner

Part 2= The salesman

Summary: When gi hun wants to take down the games he faces a lot of problems. But one problem he also has is his relationship with his sister minji ( reader ). Gi hun dosent want to tell her about the games do to her innocent. But what happends when the salesman lores her into the games, and the siblings finds them self fighting for their lifes

---

The dim kitchen light flickered softly as you and Gi Hun sat at the small table, finishing dinner. The smell of warm rice and grilled fish still lingered in the air, but there was an unusual silence between you two. It wasn’t the easy comfort you usually shared while eating—something felt off.

You took a bite of your food, glancing at your brother. He seemed distracted, his usual bright energy absent. His eyes kept flicking to his phone, then back to his plate, and there was a quiet tension about him you couldn’t ignore.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Gi Hun broke the stillness, his voice low but casual. “I have to leave tomorrow for a few days… business trip.” he lowered his head and avoid your gaze.

You paused mid-bite, looking at him with surprise. “huh? A business trip?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the sudden news made you uneasy. “What business? Since when do you go on trips for work?” laughing a little.

He shrugged nonchalantly, pushing his food around on his plate. “Just something I have to take care of. It’s not a big deal. I’ll be back soon.”

You studied him, unsure of why his words didn’t feel reassuring. There was a weight in the way he said it, like there was more to the story. But instead of pressing him, you just nodded. You’d gotten used to him shutting you out in recent months, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Okay,” you said, forcing a smile. “A few days isn’t that long.”

Gi Hun looked up at you, a small, almost apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. You’ll be fine while I’m gone, right? You don’t need to worry about anything.”

You felt a flicker of frustration rise in your chest. Why does he keep saying that? You opened your mouth to say something, but you hesitated. He was already shutting down—again.

Instead, you swallowed your words, giving him a tight smile. “I’ll be okay, Oppa. You don’t have to worry about me.”

There was a brief silence as he met your gaze, and for a moment, you thought he might say more—maybe explain a little more about why he was going, or at least reassure you in a way that felt real. But instead, he just nodded, his eyes flicking back down to his food.

“Good,” he muttered, his voice softening. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just keep an eye on things, okay?”

You nodded again “Sure” you said quietly.

---

The conversation went back to small talk after that. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, something he wasn’t telling you. The way he kept avoiding your eyes, the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes—everything about this felt different.

But for now, all you could do was nod and pretend it was normal.

---

The evening had been quiet after dinner. He seemed distracted lately, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d been under a lot of pressure, and you knew it.

Minutes passed, and you lost track of time, consumed by the quiet hum of the television and the thoughts swirling in your mind. You couldn’t focus on anything for long.

You settled down on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through channels on the television, but nothing seemed to grab your attention.

Just as you were about to put the remote down and head for bed, the sound of the front door opening caught your attention. You looked up to see Gi-Hun standing in the hallway, his coat on, keys in hand.

“I’m heading out to see someone. I won’t be gone long,” he said, his voice unusually calm, as if trying to sound casual. You smiled and said goodbuy and he hurried outside.

Something about the way he said it made your heart tighten. You’d never been a particularly suspicious person, but now, for the first time, you found yourself feeling unsettled. His tone was too indifferent, too distant. And the way he said he wouldn’t be long—yet didn’t explain where or who he was seeing—set off an alarm in your mind.

You couldn’t just sit there anymore. You needed to know what was going on. You stood up quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of panic, and excused yourself from the room.

You stood in the hallway for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, without thinking, you headed toward Gi-Hun’s room.

You hadn’t snooped around before—never had the need—but tonight was different. You had to understand what he was hiding.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open, not wanting to make a sound. Gi-Hun's room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on his nightstand

Everything looked normal at first glance—his bed neatly made, his clothes folded carefully in the closet—but as your eyes moved across the room, they fell on something that sent a cold chill down your spine.

The closet door was slightly ajar. A glint of metal caught your eye. You hesitated for a moment, but then your curiosity got the best of you, and you walked over, your breath shallow in your chest.

You opened the closet door fully.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the sight before you. Hidden behind a pile of neatly folded clothes were several guns, knives, and other weapons. The metal gleamed under the faint light, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a step back, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

What is this?

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but none of them seemed to make sense. Gi-Hun had never been violent. He was kind, protective, but this... this was different. A sickening thought crossed you mind

Is he in a gang? No. No he can't be.. you try to tell yourself.

But it would explain the sudden money, the secretive nature of his actions. But the idea of Gi-Hun—the brother you’d always trusted—being involved in something so dangerous was almost too much to bear.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your frantic thoughts, but the fear you felt was palpable. Your hands trembled as you closed the closet door quickly, but it didn’t help the sense of panic that was now rising within you. You couldn’t stay in the room, couldn’t breathe in the thick tension that now hung in the air.

You needed fresh air. You needed to clear your head.

Your heart was still racing as you grabbed your jacket, not caring that it was still chilly outside. You needed to get away from the house, away from the thoughts that were spiraling out of control. You didn’t even think twice before stepping out the door and into the night.

The cool air hit your face, and for a moment, it helped calm you. You walked down the street slowly, hoping that some distance from the house would give you clarity.

Was Gi-Hun really involved in something dangerous? Could he be in trouble? And why hadn’t he told you any of this?

As you walked, the quietness of the night felt overwhelming. Your footsteps echoed in the empty street, and you found yourself drifting toward the nearby park. You had always found solace there, the trees and quiet paths a comforting escape from the chaos that life sometimes threw at you.

But tonight, even the park couldn’t soothe you.

You sat on the park bench, staring blankly ahead at the empty pathways stretching out before you. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The cool air helped calm your racing thoughts, but the knot in your stomach still lingered.

Gi-Hun’s secret, his weapons hidden in the closet, haunted you. You couldn’t understand why he would hide something like that from you. You were his little sister. You’d always been close, and yet now, you felt like there was an impenetrable wall between you two. He had his own problems, sure, but you had your own fears—fears about money, about not being able to make ends meet. And worse, Gi-Hun had no idea just how deep in debt you really were.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, even though he had done so much for you already. He was stressed enough, with his own burdens. The thought of adding to them felt selfish. But the bills piled up, and the creditors kept calling, sending threatening letters you couldn’t afford to ignore. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay.

The weight of it all pressed on your chest, suffocating you, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you saw him.

A man in a dark suit, walking toward you with a casual yet purposeful stride. You hadn’t noticed him before, but he seemed to appear out of nowhere, his gaze locked on you. His expression softened, and he smiled as he stopped in front of the bench.

“You look like someone who could use a little company,” he said smoothly, his voice calm and inviting. There was something comforting in his presence, though you couldn’t quite place it.

You didn’t respond immediately, unsure of whether you wanted to talk to anyone. But his smile seemed genuine, and something about him made you lower your guard, even just a little.

“I’m… fine,” you said, forcing a smile, though you knew it probably didn’t reach your eyes. “Just… thinking.” as you sighed.

The man nodded knowingly, as if he’d heard this a thousand times. “Thinking, huh? Sounds like a heavy load.” He lowered himself onto the bench beside you without asking. His presence was calm, almost serene, but you couldn’t shake the odd sense of curiosity that had stirred inside you.

“You seem troubled,” he continued, his voice gentle but probing. “Something weighing on you?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. Was it that obvious? You’d always tried to keep your worries hidden.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I just… feel stuck, I guess. My brother’s been helping me out a lot, but the debts… they’re just too much. I don’t want to tell him, he’s already dealing with so much. But it’s like no matter what I do, nothing gets better.”

The man’s eyes seemed to sharpen, though his expression remained warm and understanding. “It can feel like you’re trapped in a cycle, no matter how hard you try to get out.”

You nodded, your heart sinking. That was exactly how it felt. Trapped. And Gi-Hun—he didn’t know how deep the problems went. He had been so generous with what he could, but the amount of money you needed to fix everything was far beyond anything he could provide.

The man leaned in slightly, his gaze intent on you. “You know, I’ve helped people in situations just like yours. People who feel stuck, who can’t see a way out. And there’s a way to break free from all that fear, all that uncertainty.”

You looked at him, confused but intrigued. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, almost knowingly. “There’s a way to escape the burden of debt. A way to stop living in fear. A way to take control of your life, once and for all. The only thing you have to do is take a chance.”

“A chance?” you echoed, your brow furrowing. What was he talking about?

The salesman reached into his pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper. He held it out to you, and despite your initial hesitation, you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his as you did.

“It’s an opportunity,” he continued, “an invitation to a game. A game where you can win enough money to change everything. To leave all your worries behind. Money, freedom—it’s all there for the taking, if you’re willing to take the leap.”

You stared at the small invitation in your hand, still unsure of what he meant. A game? How could something like that solve your problems? But the desperation inside you began to outweigh the doubt. Maybe this was the way out you’d been looking for. Maybe this was the answer you didn’t even know you needed.

“What kind of game?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, though your mind was racing.

The salesman’s smile never wavered. “It’s a game that changes everything. It’s not easy, but you’ve got nothing to lose, do you? The money, the freedom—it’s all there. You could leave all this behind. No more struggling. No more worrying.”

He was right. You had nothing to lose.

You looked down at the invitation in your hand, diffirent shapes printed across it in simple black ink. The strange promise of money, of an escape, tugged at you. Could this really be the way out?

“I… I don’t know,” you said quietly, uncertainty and fear mixing with a glimmer of hope. Placing the card down“What if it’s dangerous?”

The man’s smile softened, his eyes gleaming with something almost... reassuring. “Life is always a little dangerous. But sometimes, you have to take a risk to get what you deserve. Think about it. The game could give you everything you need. A fresh start. A life without the weight of all this.”

You held the invitation tighter in your hand.

“Think about it,” he repeated, standing up slowly. “The game is waiting for you. You’ll know what to do.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the invitation in your hand, the promise of something better, and a choice that would change everything. You placed the card in you pocket and went back home.

From author= i hope you guys liked it. If you want to be tagged say it in the comments❤️

Masterlist=

#squid game x reader #gihunxsisterreader #gi hun x reader #gihun #squidgame

85 notes · View notes

spookypete-94 · 9 months ago

Text

Dark Horse-Matching Bands

Chapter 8 (Final Chapter)

PriceXFem!Reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

This is it! This chapter is lots of fluff, happy ending. After this is completed plan on working some more Simon things and then have an idea of returning to this, but writing it through Price's POV. Will be darker in influence than this one however. Think our Captain is a little more selfish then what this story portrays. Kind of like the other half of the coin thing.

Thank you all for taking the time and reading this series, just really wanted to do something sweet. <3 I truly do appreciate this fanbase and its readers.

Adrenaline had worn off by the time you had reached your bed. Body heavy like someone had tucked concrete into it making relief fill you by the time you had hit your pillow. After it all, you really thought sleep was going to be hard… but honestly it was the easiest that had been delivered to you all night.

In fact, when you woke up in the morning, you felt so far out of it. Honestly, you probably could have slept for another 5 hours. Finally forcing yourself to come to, you realized it was your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Quickly picking it up, you palmed it until it answered.

“Mornin’, lovie.” Your heart mended and melted at the voice.

“John.”

“How’d you sleep love?”

“Honestly… not terrible.”

“Best you have in a while, huh.” He had wanted it to sound like a question, but instead it came out as a matter-of-fact statement. You both know why you slept so well. You had no reason to fear anymore. Your biggest fear was dead.

“Yeah… How’s Abel?”

“Still sleepin’, him, Johnny and Kyle stayed up late telling ghost stories.” There was a joke hidden somewhere in there, sleep just kept it hidden from you.

“He catch any fish?” You asked instead.

“He did, learned to clean them too. Had a proper day of teaching with him.”

It made you smile. The idea of Abel spending time with a male figure that was teaching him real life lessons.

“Good.”

“I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Think you should probably go make a cuppa’ and turn the news on for now love.” A hint. An order what had been done last night.

“Ok, see you in a while John.”

Finally doing what he advised, you sat with a cup of coffee in your hands steam still rising off the top. The remote was on the table in front of you, parallel with the TV.

It seemed so far away and the thought of picking it up to turn the TV on almost too heavy for you. Like the concrete from last night had returned all at once. A heavy breath in, you reached for it, powering it on and flipping on the news.

The very first headline BODY HAS BEEN FOUND.

Instantly, you shut your eyes, seeing the murder scene all over once again in your small bathroom. Forcing them back open, you watched. Listening intently while the newscaster explained that a male body had been found in an alleyway after what looked like a bar fight gone wrong.

The face was so mangled from a beer bottle they assumed; they were having a hard time identifying the victim. Your heart pounded so loudly, Blood trying to reach your head filling your ears, rushing like an ocean and beating like a drum. You had done this. You had destroyed any facial recognition of him… all by your hand. The thoughts came in like a flood. The father of your child. What kind of monster were you?

A loud knocking on your door brought you back, making you jump and spill coffee down the front of John’s shirt. Quickly jumping up to look through the peephole, two officers stood waiting. Like the good girl you were, you opened the door for them.

“Morning Ma’am, may we come in?” They politely asked. Giving a wide birth on the door, you obliged.

“We’re here to notify you of some news…”

Afternoon had rolled around. You sat outside waiting for their vehicle to pull up. John had kept his promise to you, and Abel had called you shortly after the officers left. After Abel had passed the phone back to your husband he asked about your visitors. Finding it strange that you had not told John about the officers stopping by yet to give you a death notification, you still told him about it.

One of the officers had known John, his name Alex Keller, a detective for the force. Alex had called you by your maiden name, politely you corrected him and explained how you were freshly married, what your new name was and who you married.

“Have known John for a long time. Good man.”

Maybe Alex had called John to let him know he met you and what had happened…

Seemingly they asked a few questions about your personal life with your ex. How long you had known him, how you had known him. The basic stuff. News to you however, your ex had been estranged from his family for years now. He had no relationship with them whatsoever. They had tried to reach out to his parents, but they had cut him off due to behavioral problems. How ironic his own knew what kind of person he was and chose to do nothing about it. All the officers were looking for was a few answers and a place to do a proper death notification.

“Do you see it possible that he could have been in involved in a bar fight?”

“Yes,” you honestly nodded.

“Did he have anger problems?”

“Yes.”

From there you told the tale of the physical and verbal abuse from the very beginning… all the way to his untimely end.

“Well Mrs. Price, we are sorry for your loss. At this time, it is still under investigation, but it appears to us that he was involved in a bar fight. Was attacked with a beer bottle and then strangled. His wallet was left behind with his ID, but nothing else in it. It looks to be a murder and mugging. Here’s our contact if you need anything else from us.”

It seemed so routine for them, like they had expected this outcome from you already. The innocent baby momma rid of the evil that plagues her and her child. Towards the end, it was like someone had held up a seashell to your ear. You could hear the conversation… but it was like they were so far away at the same time. Shock was settling in. Thankfully it wasn’t long after that, they had left your humble abode. Pleasantries exchanged and not even a suspect on the list… How was this possible?

And there you sat on the porch, waiting in a chair outside… Counting your lucky stars you were not placed in a jumpsuit behind bars. Still wearing the guilt all the same. Your happiness finally arriving on 4 wheels as a little boy jumped out to greet you.

“Mom!”

John had stopped to pick up dinner. Your favorite to try to cheer you up and thank you for letting him go on a trip shortly after you were married.

Finding the words finally at the dinner table, you explained to him to the best of your ability about his father passing.

Abel took it in stride. Yes, he was hurt and disturbed someone could do this his father, but he was the sweet boy you had raised after all. Abel did start asking a few questions, where John thankfully took over for you. He could tell it was hard for you to lie to Abel about what had really happened. It was something you would never ever tell him, wanting to take it to your grave now. John and his boys being the only ones who knew what had happened. Of course, none of them saw the sin in it like you did, they only saw justice. Simon, in fact telling you once that if was not you that really killed him, it was Ghost himself that had. Like it was a joke, trying to make you feel better. All it could do was place a sad smile on your lips.

“Worlds better of without him.” John had grumbled into your ear once you were both settled into bed, hand rubbing up and down your sides. That was the moment you tried to explain to John, it was not the fact that it was the man that had hurt you over and over since you were a teenager, but the fact it was a human life in general.

“Happens every day. Eventually bad behavior is answered one way or another.”

“But it makes me bad too.” You argued in a whispered hiss to him.

“No, it makes you a mother willing to defend what is hers. You really expect me to believe that you were goin’ to let him take you away from Abel and I? He paid his consequence. We could have worked it out like adults.” His hand had found your ring finger on your left-hand stroking over his mother’s band, something he seemed to do when you or he needed soothed.

Reaching for his hand, you realized it had a wedding band in return. Pulling it up out of the sheets glancing at it, knowing you had not given him one yet. It was opal on set in gold that matched yours.

“Had it made with the stone that Abel got on his field trip. The maker rushed it for me so we could match.”

“It’s pretty…” you whispered, holding it up yours. Husband and Wife finally made whole. Married for convenience for you, convenience you would ironically not need any more since your ex was dead.

It wouldn’t change anything for you though, you would pick John over and over in this lifetime and the next. He had shown you loyalty and love in a time and place no other stranger would… Except the other three of John’s that made it clear they envied their Captain that is. Who knew a group of men could care so much for a woman in dire need of it. Perhaps soldiers made the best lovers when created correctly? Who knew.

Life had changed so much in just a few years. Thinking back, you had always just pictured yourself working and slaving away at the diner. Yes, you were grateful for it, but a part of you would always want more for yourself and Abel. Here it finally was. In a new strong and sturdy house John had built for you. Working part time at the diner now, home at night with Abel and John. Sometimes John would be gone for months at a time, not always able to communicate with you either. Worry sometimes would fill your mind, but he always found his way back to you.

On one of his returns, he had given you a child. Now round with his seed, ready to pop he sat with you at the hospital. This time was entirely different. Instead of having to do it alone here John was with you. Not able to go to every appointment, he at least made the milestone ones. When worry and panic would rise within you from the pregnancy, he would quell it down. Thumb rubbing across your wedding band making you reach for his to do the same. Life was perfect. Honestly it left you confused on what exactly you had done to deserve such an outcome, but maybe if you didn’t question it, whatever greater force was out there would let you keep it.

Being thankful rewarded you with a healthy, beautiful little girl, a branch off John’s tree. Her bright blue eyes identical to his with his heavy brown locks. After all John had given you, you let him name her. A man of pattern and devotion, he named her after his mother. Sarah. So here you sat… babe bundled into a blanket in a rocking chair watching John and Abel out in the yard. No longer haunted, you were protected and loved. More importantly though, Abel and Sarah would be defended for their childhood. Something that was not provided to you or John.

Life is good.

Masterlists

Previous Chapter

Dark Horse Chapters

Taglist:

@cutiecusp @angeldemon28 @simplyymee98 @beebeechaos @cadotoast @talooolaaloolla @lhhlver @hon3y-cloud @spktrgantenk @generalruinsexpert @freshlemontea @hearmesingoutfromthelostandfound

120 notes · View notes

pileofmush · 1 year ago

Text

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood.

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.”

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?”

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.”

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts.

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yeaaaah. It’s true.

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.

…You don’t know if you want to.

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.

You scrub, and scrub.

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting.

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—”

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.

You look at him.

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #jjk #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3

365 notes · View notes

rookinthecrownest · 6 months ago

Text

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 3: The Girl Who Knew Despair (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

*Endgame spoilers for Veilguard ahead

** No seriously if you havent played to the end of the game dont read this

Soft candlelight flickering. An exuberant chorus of voices outside the door, celebrating victory. The smell of alcohol and Embrium and Elfroot in the Diamond’s infirmary. The Cantori Diamond, still standing like the rest of Treviso. Free of the Blight and the wrath of a God’s anger.

Thanks to Rook.

Madeleina.

Lucanis sits on a wooden chair by her bed. He asked Teia for a private room in the infirmary – a request she was happy to accommodate for Treviso’s saviour.

As grateful as he is for her help in Treviso – and he is incredibly grateful, he’s equally infuriated by her recklessness in battle. Not many can claim to have injured a Blighted dragon and lived to tell the tale, but even fewer would have been stupid enough to try and conceal a mortal wound until they were bleeding out on the ground.

He remembers the blood spilling like a crimson waterfall from her mouth. Choked gasps for air as she drowned in it. The thud of her body as it hit the ground while Viago was mid-sentence thanking her for her help.

A shard of ice from the dragon’s last attack before it fled had lodged itself into her chest, piercing her right lung. She must have quickly removed it before anyone else noticed, and her thick mage’s overcoat hid the worst of the damage. The dragon’s attacks only left them with enough time to worry about their own survival – hurling cold, sharp death their way with brutal force and terrifying speed. Even with Spite’s wings, he was barely able to dodge them.

He and Davrin quickly dragged her back to the Diamond, with the help of Teia and Viago to clear the way for them.

Madeleina was still choking on her own blood.

Hemothorax, he thought bitterly. Mierda.

The idiot actually apologized to him for getting her blood on his nice coat while her death rattles filled the air. He is fairly certain he told her to shut up. He desperately hoped those were not the last words he would ever say to her.

Lucanis started barking out orders for supplies – alcohol, a thick needle, and a mage who could heal. He needed to decompress the pressure on her lung and get the blood out before it completely collapsed. One of their mages, Lucrezia, stood at the ready to assist. She had given Madeleina a cloth to bite down on. Davrin, Teia, and Viago stood around the bed and held her limbs down.

Mercifully, Spite was quiet enough to let him get through the procedure. One he hadn’t done in a long time, but still remembered well enough.

He poured alcohol over exposed chest to sanitize the skin.

He inserted the needle through the fourth and fifth ribs in the mid-axillary line. The mage sucked the blood out of her chest, using wind magic to create a vacuum. The blood came flowing out and spattered onto the floor. Agonized cries through the fabric of the towel. Terror on her face, limbs shaking, while he stitched her back up. The mage casts a healing spell to help mend the rest of the damage and hopefully restore some of what was lost.

Then, silence as she finally fell asleep.

Davrin, the new member of the group, stood beside her after Teia and Viago had left.

“Is she going to be alright?” He asked quietly.

Lucanis didn’t have an answer for him. He was fairly certain she was out of immediate life-threatening danger. But she lost a lot of blood, and nearly lost a lung. Only time would tell how well she would recover. If she would fully recover.

“I’ll watch over her – you should go back to the Eluvian. See if you can help Neve and the others in Minrathous. It might not be too late” He answered, nodding towards the door. “We’ll meet you back at the Lighthouse when she wakes up”

When, not if, because he refused to let her die for the crime of choosing to help him. He didn’t need that on his conscience.

Mercifully, Davrin didn’t fight him on it and left soon after.

He’s not sure exactly how much time has passed. There’s no windows in the infirmary, so he measures it in forehead towel changes. Four by now, at least. Maybe a few hours he estimates.

A soft and pained groan, and the rustling of bed sheets fill the quiet room. He looks up to see Madeleina’s green eyes fluttering. She hisses and holds her right side, her face twisting with pain. She coughs, but this time, no blood comes sputtering out of her mouth. The warm towel on her forehead slips off.

“L-Lucanis?” she asks quietly, blinking at him with glassy eyes. She groans again “Ahh… Venhedis…”

“Hey, take it easy” Lucanis holds a hand in front of her, “Try not to move too much right now”

Madeleina frowns, and speaks with no small amount of strained effort “We … won … right?”

“We did. But you almost died” He points to her chest, “Would have died, if that wound kept bleeding out. Why did you try to hide it?”

“Didn’t want … to ruin the … ‘we survived… a Blighted dragon attack’… party” She smiled weakly. Her voice was raspy and uneven. She was gasping between words. “You … know me … I hate to bring… down the mood…”

Lucanis clapped a hand to his forehead, “Mierda… unbelievable”

His frustration only grows when he sees her trying to sit up, grunting with effort. “What did I just say? You’ll rip your stitches.”

I worked hard on those, he wants to add.

“Min…rathous …. Need to get … back” She winces as another wave of pain sweeps through her body. Madeleina manages to get herself upright and leans against the headboard of the bed. “Neve … Shadow Dragons…”

Lucanis frowned deeply, “You’re not going anywhere. And if you are, it’s back to the Lighthouse.”

Madeleina sighs and leans her head back, hitting it against the headboard softly. She looks utterly defeated.

“They need my help Lucanis…” she whispers, staring at the opposite wall. She’s starting to blink away tears. “I … I left my city to burn”

He’s not sure how to comfort her. He settles by saying what is in his heart, uncertain if it will be enough to assuage her guilt.

“But Treviso lives to fight another day because of you. Free of the blight, free of Ghilan’nain” He pulls his chair closer to the edge of her bed. “And none of us will ever forget it. I won’t forget it”

Lucanis realizes she was forced into an impossible decision. Madeleina was a Shadow Dragon, she was from Minrathous. He didn’t expect her to aid Treviso. But the relief that flooded his chest when he saw her come to his home’s defense was indescribable.

A tense quiet passes between them. He watches, helplessly, as she bites her tongue to keep a deluge of tears from streaming down her face.

“You saved a lot of people today” Lucanis says quietly.

Madeleina shuts her eyes tight and bit down on her bottom lip. Her voice is quivering as she replies, “And doomed so many more.”

“You don’t know that” He leans forward. “Davrin left some time ago to help, he might have- “

“Don’t” She hisses, her chest heaving. “Don’t … do that”

His brows lift in surprise, taken aback. “Do what?”

The defeated look on her face as she turns to him makes his heart sink into his stomach.

“Give me hope …” Madeleina says weakly, as her shoulders start quaking. “I … I don’t … deserve…”

He isn’t sure if letting her cry it out is the right thing to do, but lets the sound of her quiet sobbing fill the little room. The weight, the magnitude of the choice she had to make is not lost on him. How unfair it all was. Few things in life are fair, he knows that better than anyone. But forcing someone as young as her make that kind of choice had to be up there.

He sees Spite manifesting beside her bed, a purple doppelganger of him. Spite leans in closer, it’s face – his face, twisting with anger.

Smells like salt and ice and smoke. Not right. Not RIGHT. The demon howls. Lucanis pinches his nose bridge and sighs. Spite’s gaze drifts between Madeleina and Lucanis. He frowns at Lucanis, Make. Her. Right.

“Mierda, not now Spite…” Lucanis whispers, exasperated.

Madeleina sniffles and stops crying for a moment. Her eyes are red and puffy. She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her tunic. “Spite’s bothering you?”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns, “Don’t worry about Spite. You have enough to deal with right now”

She looks around the room, as if she could see him.

“Would Spite … like a story?” Madeleina asks, after a few moments of silence.

Spite tilts his head and leans in closer to Madeleina. He grins maniacally and nods. Yes. Story. That will make her Right.

Lucanis is quick to answer, “Absolutely not. You need to rest, Madeleina. Leave Spite to me”

He’s still not used to the feeling of her name on his tongue.

She sucks in a deep breath, one hand holding her right side. Then, she’s looking at him with an uncharacteristically stern look on her face. “You … always say that”

“Say what?”

“That Spite… is only your problem” She grips her blanket tighter.

“He’s my demon. Of course he’s my problem”

Madeleina sniffles again, her brows drawing together. “That’s not … how being on a team works, Lucanis. We help each other”

“You’ve helped me more than enough” He replies, gesturing around the room, “You saved my home. I can’t ask any more of you than you’ve already given”

Madeleina blinks slowly and draws her knees to her chest, considering his words.

“I … want to help …” She frowns, and she’s staring at the opposite wall again.

Spite’s apparition has disappeared, but he can still feel the demon rattling in the back of his mind.

“You can help by resting” Lucanis rises from his chair, “Are you hungry? I can bring you something to eat”

Madeleina shakes her head. “No… but … will you stay? Just for a little bit”

He stands above her for a moment, letting the request hang between them. He knows he should let her get some rest before they make their way back to the Lighthouse. Before she has to face the other side of her decision. Yet, he finds himself increasingly unable to say no to her bright green eyes and tired smile, and that worries him deeply. What it means, what it could mean.

He sits back down in the small wooden chair, and she gives him a weak smile.

“Thank you”

“It’s the least I can do” he returns the smile in kind.

Madeleina is quiet for a moment. Thoughtful.

She raises one hand, and it starts glowing a familiar blue.

“Madeleina – “

“Please – just let me tell the story” He knew her well enough to know that tone would brook no argument. He can do nothing but gesture for her to continue.

“At least one person ought to know”

Her face awash in eerie blue light, Madeleina flicks her wrist.

She looks like she is struggling to keep the illusion alive. He sees a bird’s eye view of a small village, nestled between a dense forest and a mountain range. It flickers in and out and lacks the usual care and detail of her illusions.

“Once… upon a time … in a land far, far away…” her voice is shaking, and she’s using her free hand to keep pressure on her right side. “There was a small farming village. And… in that village… lived a family.”

Another flick of her wrist and the mountainside village vanishes, now replaced by three figures. The man is tall and lanky. He has a lyre strapped to his back. His hair is wild and curly, much like Madeleina’s. His eyes look like hers too. The figure of the woman is maybe a head shorter, with long, pin-straight hair. She has Madeleina’s high cheekbones. The same nose and lips and heart-shaped face. Finally, he sees the figure of a young girl. A young Madeleina. All wiry limbs and wild curls.

“Eurydice, Orpheus and their daughter”

The figures rotate in the air between them.

“Eurydice ran the town’s bakery, and Orpheus played at the local tavern”

The figures ripple and a young Madeleina is now helping the figure of her mother bake bread.

Madeleina’s glassy eyes looked sorrowful.

“They didn’t have much. The village was small… there were no mages … only regular people.”

She smiled ruefully. “But they were happy. Orpheus,” She paused and waved him back into existence, “Kept their home alive with music and stories” He’s playing the lyre for his wife and daughter, while he chases her around an invisible room.

“And Eurydice made sure a warm meal was always on the table”

Her mother brings a plate of something to the young Madeleina, who wastes no time devouring it.

Madeleina sucked in a deep, shaky breath, before continuing.

“One day, their daughter discovers she can use magic”

The figure of young Madeleina is laughing as blue spheres of light dance around her. The figure of her mother brushes a hand through her unruly hair and pulls her into a tight hug. The figures ripple, and she furrows her brow to concentrate harder. They become solid again.

“Her parents are so happy for her. It means she will become Laetan, instead of Soporati. A chance for a better life. Her mother wants to do something for her”

Madeleina winks out of the scene, and Eurydice is pulling a garment out of a small chest.

“A new dress, she thinks… One from her youth. Her daughter is finally big enough to wear it” Madeleina blinks another tear from her eyes. “But wants to dye it her daughter’s favourite colour. She can’t afford a fancy dye but can make her own. Her daughter wants to help. She’s old enough to go pick the elderberries deep in the woods.”

The figure of the mother disappears, and a young Madeleina is in the forest bordering the village, placing berries in a large wicker basket.

“But the girl didn’t know what was coming for them, or she never would have gone to the forest that day”

He frowns, and a feeling of dread takes hold deep in his chest. He knows that whatever comes next is not likely to lead to a happy ending.

“A Venatori blood mage had escaped capture in Ventus.” The young Madeleina flickers out of existence and is replaced with a tall, cloaked figure, holding a stave in one hand and an amulet, glowing bright crimson, in the other.

“He held a dangerous amulet in his possession. The Amulet of Liberum” Madeleina whispers, “Forged by a Dreamer centuries ago, it held a pocket of the Fade inside it. Allowed the wearer to store an infinite number of demons and summon them at will with blood magic”

The cloaked figure arrives at the border of the village, her village. It takes a knife and runs it across his hand. The blood seeps onto the amulet in the other. The bright red glow becomes even more intense, and a horde of demons springs forth. They rampage through the streets, tearing the nameless and faceless villagers apart.

The scene shifts to her parents, backing away from the demons. The father, Orpheus, stands in front of the mother with a small dagger. It does him little good. They are both swiftly torn apart by demons.

The figure of the mage comes back into view, and sucks them back into the amulet, before disappearing.

Madeleina’s expression shifts between anger, grief and sadness. Something he is intimately familiar with.

“The girl comes back from the forest to see her entire village slaughtered”

The form of young Madeleina drops the wicker basket. She is walking through the main path of the village, by ruined houses and bodies torn apart. Bodies of people she once knew.

She comes to a lone house on a hill. Her home.

Madeleina breathes in sharply.

“Madeleina – you don’t have to …” He begins, but she holds a hand up to stop him.

“Yes, I do” she says, resolute. She shifts on the cot and brings the illusion back to life.

The young Madeleina is standing over the bodies of her parents, mutilated beyond recognition. She falls to her knees, and the figure starts screaming. He can almost hear it. The raw anguish rippling in the air like a shockwave.

“She screams and screams until her throat is dry” Madeleina says quietly, “Keeps going until she’s cried herself to sleep.”

The young Madeleina is still on her knees, her eyes closed, and the bodies of her parents disappear.

“In her dreams … a voice finds her in the Fade”

A faceless figure, layered in several layers of tattered cloaks, hovers above her.

“‘Have you lost all hope, child? Has it become too much to bear?’ The voice asks her. And it was … it was all too much …” Madeleina says, her voice barely above a whisper. “The voice offered to take her pain, her regret – everything, away. ‘So much for one so young’ it said”

Lucanis frowns. Spite’s rage prickled under his skin like a starved beast gnawing at the bars of its cage. Spite hates Despair.

He watches as the familiar blue glow of Madeleina’s figure starts to change colour. Veins of black light crawl up her legs.

“The Demon’s name was Despair. And it would eat everything she was, everything she would be”

As the tendrils of black light crawled further and further up her body, Madeleina continued.

“It ate her love, her hope, her joy” her lip quivered, and the figures flickered again. “It ate up her life until nothing was left”

Lucanis made a fist as waves of rage surged through the back of his head, the pressure behind his eyes mounting.

The tendrils were now creeping along the left side of her face. The figure only looked up at the Despair demon above it and continued to be consumed.

“But the girl didn’t know that the Templars who had tracked the maleficar had arrived at the village. One of them, a young man by the name of Tiberian Mercar, found her” She waved the figure of a tall man, adorned in Templar heavy plate armour, into existence.

“He would have been right to strike her down where she stood. She was becoming possessed. She was becoming an abomination” Madeleina wiped a stray tear from her eye with her free hand.

“To this day, she’ll never understand why he didn’t.”

The Templar, instead of drawing his sword, steps closer to the young girl. Lucanis watches with bated breath as he pulls the girl into a hug.

“’It will be alright child, you are going to be alright’” She says, her voice hitching. “Whether he really meant it, or he was just trying to comfort a girl moments away from dying, she’ll never know”

A bright, golden light shines from the figure of the Templar, and then slowly envelops the young Madeleina. The black light is dying out, overcome by the warm glow shared by the two figures.

“But that simple act of kindness brought her back from the brink of despair, from the brink of the abyss” Madeleina’s lips quirk into a sad smile. “He saved her that day, in more ways than one”

The Templar and the girl stand and begin walking away from the cloaked figure.

“The Templar couldn’t take care of her, so he asks his brother to adopt her into his family” She waves to life four new figures – a man, a woman, and two small boys. “His brother agrees, and she goes to live with them” The young Madeleina walks away from the Templar and towards her new family.

“The Mercars are a military family. One of a precious few non-mage families in Tevinter who enjoy more than a modest life” Madeleina explains, “She’s given an education, nice clothes, and a seat in the Circle of Minrathous. But everything comes at a cost”

The figures all wink out of existence, and are replaced by Madeleina, in apprentice robes, standing alone amongst a sea of other robed figures.

“She can never whisper her old name – the one her parents gave her. She can never tell anyone she’s not a true Mercar.” She fists her blanket, gathering the fabric in her right hand. “When the family agreed to take her in, they erased all of what she was. She was not a foundling, but a long-lost member of the family. She’s named after a great-great-great-great-grandmother, the last in their lineage to be born a mage. It gave them more legitimacy that way”

Madeleina’s eyes fall and all the figures disappear. “And in time… she forgets who she was before she joined them. Forgets her own name”

She brings her knees closer to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Lucanis releases a breath. He wants so badly to reach out. A hand on her shoulder. A hand on her arm. Anything to provide some kind of comfort. But all he can do is listen, as if some invisible rope binds his arms to his sides.

Madeleina gestures with her left hand, and a young Madeleina is standing next to an older, tall, rather handsome man.

“But she wants to help, so she finds those in the Magisterium working for the greater good” She continues. “She finds Magister Dorian Pavus, and he brings her into the Shadow Dragons. He gives her a cover to use so her family doesn’t grow suspicious. She tries to do good, tries to make use of the second chance she was given”

The figures blink out of existence a moment later. Her face falls. “But she never feels like she’s ever going to get there. Always feels like she's falling short of some unattainable goal”

“Madeleina…” Lucanis starts, but he doesn’t know where to go from there. What to say.

“That’s why I chose to come to Treviso” Madeleina is looking at him now. “I… I didn’t want another defenseless city to suffer the same fate as my home town – as Arvanitum did”

Lucanis clasps his hands together in front of him and leans forward.

“Whatever the reason you chose to help us … just know we’re grateful” He gives her a small smile. “Thank you for sharing that with me”

Madeleina gives him a weary smile in return. “It feels nice to have someone know … the Shadow Dragons, Dorian, Neve – I was never able to tell any of them. On paper, there are no survivors from Arvanitum. On paper, I am dead”

Lucanis rises to his feet and takes the towel from her pillow.

“For whatever it’s worth …. I’m glad you’re only dead on paper” He chuckles and twists the towel in his hands. “But you need to stop tempting fate, hm? Contract is no good if the employer dies”

Madeleina snorts, “I promise if I get another mortal wound, I’ll come right to you”

Lucanis grins, “Deal”

He motions to the bed, “Get some rest, we’ll go back to the Lighthouse when you’re ready”

Madeleina groans as she slithers back down into the bed. She yawns and turns to her side. “Alright … I should… need…. to check in with Varric soon ….”

Lucanis hesitates a moment before leaving the room. As he closes the door, he wonders to himself.

Who is Varric?

#datv #datv spoilers #dragon age veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #lucanis x mercar #rookanis #shadow dragon roo #oc: madeleina mercar #fanfiction #haha psych you gets angst AND a story #spite #fic: bedtime stories for a demon #as always i super appreciate all your comments/likes/reblogs #thank you for all the love on this story #angst #hurt/comfort

81 notes · View notes

anpanman95 · 6 months ago

Text

JACK AND JOKER: Sacrificing Love against Tragic Love | Old Love vs New Love

They did it again.

Well, they’ve been showing us these contrasting parallels ever since the beginning.

Showing us that Jack and Joke’s new love is all about (self) sacrifice, and Hope and Save’s old love is all about tragedy.

I already knew this, but it hit me hard towards the end of episode 11 with this moment:

First of all this whole scene was an absolute masterpiece. I’m a music composer for the media, I write, study and analyze music for a living, and let me tell you this scene might be one of my top 3 moments of this show just because how the music was treated here. (The music actually adds on to the point I’ll make in a bit, by the way)

First, we have our self-sacrificing lovers. Jack and Joke’s love has been all about self sacrifice since the very beginning, starting with Joke turning himself to the police to set Jack free

and coming to a full circle moment when he gives the ring to Boss in exchange for Jack’s freedom, once more.

Joke has sacrificed himself, their love, and their happiness for the sake of others (in this case, Jack) twice.

They fight for the world. Their love is new love. They have a lot they need to go through to put themselves first, to put their wants and desires first.

Then, we have our tragic lovers. Their love is old love. They’ve been fighting against the world for each other, to finally be together and free, for a long time (even if it isn’t explicitly said, it’s evident when you see the lengths they’ll go for each other)

They don’t sacrifice their love, they sacrifice the world. And it has nothing to do with their personalities, or that they are bad people. It’s just they are so damn tired of everything they only have each other to rely on. They only have each other.

But where does that lead them?

To more tragedy.

[the music on this scene was impecable]

Jack and Joke’s new love still has room to grow, which is why they can sacrifice it. They let the world come in between them for the sake of others, while still loving each other dearly.

But again, their love is new. Fresh, still technically untouched and unharmed by outside things out of their control. Yes, the world is against them, but their reluctance to choose each other relies solely on their own fears and sense of responsibility to the world and their loved ones.

Hope and Save do not have that luxury, and don’t even want to have it. Their love comes first, because God knows how long they’ve been fighting for it. Old love that certainly already went through everything you can imagine.

It’s true we don’t get much of their backstory, but through their actions we can tell why they won’t sacrifice their love for anything.

Can you imagine what they might have gone through? What their love has faced?

Of course, they choose each other above all things, they had enough.

Jack and Joke will choose each other in the end, but they still have a long way to go (season 2? haha yes i’m delusional)

This doesn’t mean Jack and Joke don’t love each other enough. But even though they’ve known each other for a long time, they haven’t loved each other for that long.

Their feelings appeared five years ago in a little spark of life but it was so short lived they simply didn’t get the chance to even acknowledge it before the world came in between them full force.

The spark was only re-born and ready to be noticed when they finally had a moment to breathe, a moment of peace with no other worries coming in between.

Hope and Save have already gone through all that, have truly gone to hell and back.

Hopefully they’ll get their heaven soon.

Honestly I did not feel so much for them in the beginning. Their scenes felt underwhelming, and I wasn’t keen on them. But this episode left me absolutely in pieces. My opinion on them did a full 180.

They broke my heart.

I do hope they get their happy ending. They deserve it as much as our main couple.

Thanks for reading! Leave your thoughts, I love reading them❣️

65 notes · View notes

jujumin-translates · 4 months ago

Text

[A3!] Sakuya Sakuma | [SR] Bright Star of Blooming | My performance memories ~Sakuya~

Sakuya: Huh…? It’s morning, but why is it still kinda dark outside…?

Sakuya: (Seems like I woke up a little too early. I could probably go back to sleep, but since I’m already up…)

Citron: Sakuya…? Is it morning already…?

Sakuya: Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up! There’s still some time for you to sleep, Citron-san.

Citron: Ohh, you are right! But you are up quite early, Sakuya.

Sakuya: It’s probably because there’s the screening party today.

Sakuya: To be honest, I was already kinda feeling restless before I went to bed last night…

Citron: That reminds me, you were very nervous during the previous screening, were you not, Sakuya? I remember the way that you stumbled over your introduction even during practice very well!

Sakuya: Yeah. I couldn’t even say my own name right back then. But at least I managed to get through the actual thing.

Sakuya: That’s why I’m thinking of practicing for the talk show, just in case. And thanks to me waking up early, it seems like I’ll have a little extra time for that.

Citron: Then I will also help you with your morning practice, Sakuya!

Sakuya: Really? Thank you so much, Citron-san!

Citron: You are welcome~. Also, I have an idea!

Sakuya: Wait, an idea?

Citron: I think we should invite Tsuzuru and Itaru and all have morning practice together! I will message them on LIME right away~!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Hello, everyone!

Sakuya: Thank you very much for watching today’s screening of “Romeo and Julius ~Rosso e Blu~”! I’m Spring Troupe’s Sakuya Sakuma.

Itaru: Yep. Seems like your intro is already perfect, Sakuya.

Sakuya: I’m glad. I’m sure it’s all thanks to everyone in Spring Troupe rehearsing with me.

Sakuya: Thank you so much for rehearsing so early with me this morning, Tsuzuru-kun and Itaru-san!

Tsuzuru: Nah, don’t mention it. I just so happened to be up early this morning too.

Itaru: And I had an alarm set early so I could spend stamina for a social game event.

Tsuzuru: That said, it was kinda unexpected to see Masumi and Chikage-san come to a morning rehearsal.

Tsuzuru: I mean, I did let Masumi know, just in case, but it’s still pretty rare to see him actually get up at that hour…

Itaru: Real. Senpai was already awake when I found out, though…

Itaru & Tsuzuru: …

Sakuya: What’s wrong, guys? Is there something bothering you?

Tsuzuru: Nothing, it’s just… I know it’s kinda late to say this, but I’m worried about whether or not what we did this morning was really that much of a rehearsal for you, Sakuya…

Itaru: I mean, I don’t really think it was bad, but it was kinda just us talking to Citron and the others like they were the audience.

Sakuya: Yeah. I’m glad that I was able to say my own name right when I did my introduction during rehearsal this morning!

Tsuzuru: The problem is what happened after that. As soon as we finished our introductions, our audience members, Citron-san and Masumi, started fighting for some reason…

Itaru: And by the end of it, Senpai was acting as a security guard and was forced to subdue them. Sure was one hell of an etude.

Sakuya: But I still had a lot of fun doing an etude with everyone, and I feel like it really helped me relax.

Tsuzuru: Well, I guess I can’t deny that.

Itaru: Yeah, I think it really did help you relax, Sakuya.

Izumi: The screening party is done, so it’s about time to be on standby. Make sure you’re ready, guys!

Tsuzuru: Alright. Guess it’s time for us to do this thing.

Sakuya: Yeah!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Itaru: So do you guys have any kinda behind-the-scenes stories for the RomiJuli sequel that you can talk about now?

Tsuzuru: Right. I dunno if I’d call it a behind-the-scenes story, but…

Tsuzuru: The idea of doing a sequel for RomiJuli actually came from doing a workshop aimed at beginners that Spring Troupe did.

Sakuya: Yeah. The people who participated in the workshop were nervous, but it seemed like they were enjoying performing…

Sakuya: That allowed us to go back to our beginnings, too. And that’s why we ended up talking about doing our debut performance RomiJuli again.

Tsuzuru: Yeah. So, after talking it over with everyone, we decided to do a sequel showing the future of RomiJuli, which is something that only the current us would’ve been able to do.

Sakuya: By the way, are any of the people who participated in the workshop here right now?

Audience Member A: Yeah!

Audience Member B: I did it!

Itaru: I can see a handful of you are raising your hands. Then do any of you wanna share what you thought about participating?

Audience Member A: It was so exciting to play a role like that!

Audience Member B: Being under the spotlight like that for the first time was so hot!

Audience Member C: But it was super fun, so I’d love to do it again!

Audience Member D: Same! I’d love it if you guys did another beginner’s workshop!

Itaru: Gotcha. Thank you so much for all those positive feelings, everyone.

Tsuzuru: It was a great experience for us too, so maybe we’ll do one again.

Sakuya: Yeah!

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Izumi: Good work, guys! Seems like everyone was really excited to talk about the workshop.

Izumi: Alright, are you ready to take your instant photo, Sakuya-kun?

Sakuya: Sure. I’m supposed to do a heart pose to show my thanks, right?

Izumi: Yeah, that’s right.

Sakuya: Got it! Okay, I’ll give it a shot.

Izumi: Alright, ready? Three, two, one…

*Camera clicks*

Izumi: There’s that wonderful smile of yours, Sakuya-kun! I think this should be good.

Sakuya: Good! All I did was think about the talk show earlier and I was able to just smile naturally like that.

Tsuzuru: I get that feeling. The audience seemed to respond well and it was a lot of fun.

Itaru: Seems like we were all able to just talk and relax from start to finish. Maybe that morning rehearsal really helped after all.

Sakuya: Yeah. I’m sure it did!

Sakuya: Yawn…

Sakuya: …Ah, sorry! I don’t know why I’m yawning all of a sudden…

Izumi: Hehe, don’t worry about it. You work especially hard today, so you deserve some rest, Sakuya-kun.

Sakuya: Yeah, thank you so much.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Dream starts*

Sakuya: Huh, where…?

Sakuya: (I’m pretty sure I went back to my room to rest after the screening party today, but… It almost feels like I’m in some sorta foreign country.)

Sakuya: (But somehow this all seems kinda familiar to me…)

Romeo: What’s wrong? You’ve been in a daze for a while now, but are you okay?

Sakuya: Wait, you’re…

Sakuya: (Romeo!?)

Sakuya: (I get it… Now that I look a little more, this is one of the cities Romeo and Julius stopped in during their journey.)

Sakuya: (I guess my dream is being influenced by the RomiJuli sequel because of the screening party today.)

Romeo: Are you not feeling well? Should I call a doctor?

Sakuya: Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you! I’m okay.

Sakuya: I just never thought that I’d be in a place like this, so I’m just kinda surprised by it all.

Romeo: It is pretty surprising when you first arrive at an unfamiliar place, isn’t it? But that sort of thing is just one of the wonders of traveling…

Sakuya: Huh?

Romeo: I’m also on a journey to see the world, so I sort of understand how you feel!

Sakuya: (I guess Romeo thinks I’m a traveler just like he and Julius are.)

Sakuya: Thank you. Has your journey been fun?

Romeo: It’s been incredibly fun! I mean, it’s not always easy, like when we have to fend off burglars in the middle of the night, and such.

Romeo: But when I was back at home, I had no idea that the world was so big and full of so many things.

Romeo: That’s why I’m so glad I get to experience so many different things every day!

Sakuya: (Romeo’s eyes are sparkling so much. I’m sure he’s really enjoying his journey with Julius.)

Romeo: …Ah, sorry. For some reason, I feel like this isn’t my first time meeting you, and I just wanted to tell you about all sorts of things.

Sakuya: I feel the same way. It’s really fun to talk with you, Romeo.

Romeo: Wait, how did you know my…? I haven’t told you that yet, have I?

Sakuya: You haven’t. But I know you really well.

Sakuya: That’s why I hope you and Julius keep having lots of good times together on your journey, Romeo!

*Dream ends*

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Hn…

Sakuya: Huh? This is my room…?

Sakuya: (I see, I must’ve already woken up from my dream. But it was really nice that I was able to meet Romeo in my dreams.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Door opens*

Sakuya: Good morning!

Tsuzuru: Morning, Sakuya.

Chikage: Morning. And good work at the screening party yesterday.

Masumi: We heard from the Director that everyone was really excited to talk about the workshop at the talk show.

Tsuzuru: Yeah. And it was really nice to get some feedback from the audience.

Itaru: Oh, and it seems like that ridiculous morning rehearsal we all did was surprisingly helpful.

Citron: …Hm? You seem to be happy about something, Sakuya. Your face is very smiley~!

Sakuya: Yeah! Actually…

Sakuya: (I’m gonna tell everyone about the dream I just had!)

#a3!#a3! translation #sakuya sakuma #tsuzuru minagi #citron #itaru chigasaki #// I LOVE YOU ROMEO MONTAGUE (A3!) <3 !!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway. fighting for my life trying to get two more sakuyas for that romijuli 2 bad ending #oh also sakuya messing up his own name is a reference to 3rd anni if anyone was wondering

48 notes · View notes

talshiargirlfriend · 22 days ago

Text

Day Twenty-Three of the 30 Day Writing Challenge

I wanted to hide under a blanket today. The no-one-likes-you demon was whispering in my ear. I told her to fuck off and tried anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️

—

Afternoon thunderstorms

—

Most of the numbness that had carried them through Elizabeth’s funeral had worn off. The past two days at his parents’ house had been extremely quiet. Polite. Avoidant. The tension was heavy.

Trip hadn’t felt like eating lunch, but he’d sat at the table and complimented the potato salad he couldn’t even taste. His mom and dad made polite chitchat while casting him worried and sympathetic glances. On one hand they could relate to his loss all too well, but really no one could understand what he was going through. No one except T’Pol, who hadn’t come downstairs.

She was still sitting on the bed meditating when he returned, at a loss for how to occupy himself. Maybe he’d buried his heart and attention span with the baby.

“You could try actually talking to me, you know,” Trip muttered under his breath.

Surprisingly, T’Pol rose to the bait. “Would you actually listen to what I say or would you simply fill in what you expect to hear?”

“Oh right,” he sneered. “Because you’re so open and honest with your words. Must be my human ears misinterpreting everything again.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

“When I have tried to be direct with you, you have either refused to speak to me or lied about your feelings,” she snapped back.

“Oh, I’ve lied about my feelings, huh? You just had a little emotionless sexual exploration with a colleague and haven’t had a single feeling about anything ever. Certainly didn’t miss me when I was gone. And yet here you are in my head with some mystical psychic bond!”

T’Pol stood and mirrored his posture, breathing hard.

“You gonna run away now things are getting real?” Trip goaded her.

“I suppose it is my turn,” T’Pol replied acerbically.

That hit like a slap upside his head. He barked a laugh and then deflated. “I don’t want to do this, T’Pol,” he admitted with a sigh.

He could feel her strongly for a moment: rejected, hurt, scared.

“No, I mean, I don’t want to fight with you.” Trip sat down heavily on the bed. “You’re in my head and it’s like I still don’t know if you want me. And as hard as I tried not to, when I held Elizabeth I pictured this whole future with us together. I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to force you into anything. I just want to know what the hell is going on.” Suddenly he was exhausted again.

T’Pol eyed him warily before gingerly sitting beside him. “I find the situation similarly confusing,” she confessed.

“So let’s talk about it,” he suggested.

They talked. They asked some difficult questions and admitted some painful truths.

They argued. They had sex on the floor.

They talked some more. They each made some concessions.

Trip found himself agreeing to try meditating with T’Pol. “I just need to get a drink and something for this headache first. I’ll bring you a cup of tea. Be right back,” he promised with a kiss on her cheek.

He was standing at the sink waiting for the kettle to boil when his dad walked in.

“Hell of a thunderstorm this afternoon,” Charlie said conversationally.

Trip tried to keep the deer in the headlights expression from showing as he glanced out the window guiltily. He hadn’t heard anything, but it was pretty wet outside… “Mmm,” he answered noncommittally.

“We needed a good storm. The air feels a lot clearer, don’t you think?” his dad went on, passing him a mug from the cupboard.

“It does,” Trip agreed.

“All that rain, it’s good for growing things,” Charlie said as he leaned back against the counter and watched his son carefully.

Trip felt a small smile tug at his lips as he turned and risked facing his father. “Yeah, Dad, it’s good.”

Charlie nodded, “Good.”

#30 day writing challenge #my fic #star trek enterprise #trip x t'pol #post terra prime #grief #hope #afternoon thunderstorms

29 notes · View notes

witchygagirlwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader

Part 2 of Dynasty

Can a broken heart still beat?

Warnings: Character death, depression, drug use, suicide, reading of a suicide note, true love not letting death get in the way? Idk where this came from, no wait I do! blame @desimarie12

Mouse sat in the chair next to your bed, eyes never leaving your face. The solid sound of the machine helping your lungs push air through your body was the only sound in the room. Every moment that ticked by and you clung to life was a moment he managed to draw a breath. Twenty four hours, that was what the doctor told them. You were closing in on eighteen hours and still holding on.

The door cracked open and he didn’t have to look up to know it was Erin and Jay. They hadn’t left the hospital either but they’d stayed in the waiting room throughout the night until visiting hours rolled back into effect or well until Sergeant Benson called in a favor and suddenly it didn’t matter if the three of them were all in your room or not as long as they stayed out of the way. “She’s still holding on man” Jay spoke softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded slowly “Holding on is a lot different than waking up Jay. She’s strong, she’s so damn strong but what if her body can’t handle this?” even simply giving voice to the thought was enough to force another round of tears from his eyes, they slid silently down his face. Erin stepped up next to him, slipping her hand down in his and squeezing it gently “If there’s any way for her to find her way back to you she will. She loves you so much”

He squeezed her hand back, wishing he could offer her some word of comfort. You would want him to, that was your best friend but any word fell flat on his lips. He didn’t blame her by no means, he would never do that simply because he knew you. If an innocent person was in danger around you, especially a kid? Nothing would’ve stopped you from saving them. Even at the expense of yourself. “This isn’t your fault Erin” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly and he could hear her inhale sharply before she said “I called her to this task force Mouse”

He cut his eyes up at her and saw tears sliding down her face “Don’t mourn her yet Erin, please. I can’t…I can’t handle that” she nodded, wiping at her eyes “I’m sorry” and turned to walk out. Jay looked back at him then at the door “I’ll go check on her. If you need anything man, just yell.I’ll be right outside”

Mouse listened to Jay leave and thought to himself, how would Jay ever give him what he needed? What he needed was for you to wake up. For those beautiful eyes to be looking back at him, that smile you had anytime you were hurt and trying to hide it plastered on your face and you joking about the fact that you wanted a vacation to New York City but maybe not like this. That was what he needed.

He leaned up to let his hand brush against yours, fingers curling around yours “Baby, I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m here. Jay’s here too and Erin. The moment Erin called me and Jay got on a plane. I haven’t left your side. I’m not leaving your side. You are everything to me, you hear me? Everything. So I really need you to wake up. Whatever you want is yours. Every argument the rest of our lives you’ve now won before they ever start. You want to steal my coffee every day? It’s yours. Hog the blankets? Please take em. Have the water so hot in the shower I swear it’s gonna scald us both? It’ll be fine, we know plenty of good doctors. I just need you to wake up..Please baby wake up” he could feel the tears flowing down his face but he didn’t care you were still holding on for something, he was praying for the first time in his life that the something was him.He was praying that you were fighting to come back to him. He couldn’t do this without you. He didn’t want to.

When the twenty four hour mark hit, doctors swarmed your room. It seemed like you shocked most of the hospital by making it that long. Mouse stood back with Erin and Jay watching as the doctors went over your injuries with each other, talking about running more tests and further treatments.

“What now?” Jay asked, breaking their conversation because so far he’d been the one out the three of them to talk to the medical team the most. He had no choice but to hold it together, for Mouse and Erin both. “Detective Halstead, we’re doing everything we can for her” the doctor assured them but about that time your hand twitched.

“She moved,” Mouse whispered and stepped forward. The doctors all turned towards you but to Mouse’s horror you started to seize, he could see red stains start to seep through the bandages covering your body and something started coming out of the tube down your throat “Get them out of here” the doctor told Jay nodded towards Mouse and Erin.

“Fuck you, I’m not leaving her” Mouse fought, struggling against Jay who was trying to grab his arm. He’d promised you he wouldn’t leave your side. “Officer Gerwitz you don’t want to see this” a nurse assured him, grabbing his other arm he turned to look at her and saw the tears in her eyes and this time when his legs went out from under him no one was there to catch him. His knees buckled and he hit the floor on them, watching as the doctors and nurses moved around your bed.

He was helpless to move, hell he couldn’t form a thought as he watched them shock your body, it jolting off the bed. “Greg, come on man. Don’t be in here for this” Jay tried, choking back a sob as his wide eyes landed on the bed as well. “I’m not leaving her” he whispered, even as the movements of the medical team ceased and they called the words that stopped his own heart beating in his chest “Time of death one eleven p.m.”

Mouse sat on the front pew of the church in his dress uniform, staring at your casket that was covered in the CPD flag. The unit was sitting around him, Erin was on his left side and Jay was on his right. He could’ve cared less. He was alone. You were gone.

He gripped his dogtags in his hand, the ring he’d never given you now rested on the chain. He had planned to slip it on your finger the moment you got home from New York. He’d never dreamt you getting home would’ve been in a body bag. The little girl you’d saved, Clarissa. She’d gotten her parents to fly her out for the funeral. She’d spoken with his blessing.

She’d hugged him and told him she was so sorry you were gone. He’d tried to act like anything she said mattered, Erin had given him a small nod so maybe it had seemed like it did to him. He was glad the little girl was safe, that much was true. These niceties, the apologies they wouldn’t bring you back. They wouldn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest. They wouldn’t give him a reason to get up every day.

Hank stood at the front of the church and nodded to the unit. They would carry you out to the hearse then carry you to your grave. The last time Mouse would have you in his arms in any way would be helping to carry you to your grave. They’d wanted him to not help but what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t carry the woman he loved to the end?

He stood with his team, positioning his cover on his head, tears streaming down his face as they all took their positions on your casket. Him and Erin were in front. They lifted you up and walked as one out of the church. Nothing had ever felt heavier than the weight of that casket, knowing it carried you inside.

_________________

At the cemetery they spoke of you. How you lived, how you loved. How you died being a hero. Mouse stood to the side, blue eyes glued to the light grey casket. One by one those of your unit were allowed to place a photo or something inside. Erin placed a photo of you, her and Nadia. Jay put his lucky keychain, Adam put a coin Makayla had asked him to give you, Kim had a stuffed animal from their niece. Kevin had three red roses. One from him, one from his brother and one from his sister.

When Hank looked over at him he walked over to the casket, footsteps slowing when he got near it. The dress Erin and your aunt picked looked exactly like something you’d wear and the funeral home had done a good job. You almost looked like you were asleep. Almost. He laid the dogtags across your chest “I’m sorry you never got this ring. I’m sorry I never made you my wife. I love you and always will” he whispered then slowly closed the casket, staring at your face until the last moment possible.

Mouse sat on the bed, photos of you scattered around him. Your smiling face looking back at him from every one. Your pillow still vaguely smelled of your shampoo, your coffee mug was still in the strainer, the last load of laundry you’d asked him to get out of the dryer and he’d forgotten still sat in the machine. The candle you loved sat half burnt next to the bed, the movie you and him planned to finish when you got home was still saved on the dvr.

He tried. He tried for weeks, he tried. The pain was ripping him apart more and more every day. He found a new dealer, it was fairly easy. He was high more days than sober now. The very thing you’d always feared, he’d gone back to his old ways but who was there to care? He’d lost the only reason he had for breathing, the very air in his lungs. He clicked his laptop, watching the video of you and him Jay had taken at the halloween party a few months before. You were laughing, arms around his waist and looking at him like he was the most important thing “Forever and a day Gerwitz?” just hearing your voice over the video made tears hit his eyes as he heard his own voice reply “Forever and a day love”

He stared at the bottle in his hand. It was enough, he’d made sure of it. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to be with you. The pain was too much. He’d considered just using his gun but he knew Jay would find him and he couldn’t do that to him. This way he’d just go to sleep and wouldn’t wake up. A lot less for Jay to find.

He sat the envelope with Jay’s name on the laptop and opened the bottle along with the bourbon. He’d see you again and the pain would stop. That was all that mattered.

Jay walked slowly into the apartment, calling Mouse’s name out. He knew something was wrong but he hadn’t expected what awaited him either.

______________________

Jay and Erin sat together between yours and Mouse’s graves. Hank had pulled some strings, his death had been ruled a heart attack so he’d gotten a proper CPD burial and they’d made sure it was right next to you where he belonged. Hank had even footed the bill for your headstones to read “Loving Husband” and “Loving Wife” ; it was only suitable. Not even death stopped the love you two had for each other.

“Have you read his letter yet?” she asked and he shook his head and fished it out then held it out to her “Here, you do it” she took it then cleared her throat:

Jay, I’m sorry that I know you’ll be the one to find me. I wished there was someone else but we both know with her gone there isn’t. I’ve tried man, I really have. I can’t continue to live in a world she’s not in. She was always the air in my lungs and every day without her I suffocate more and more.When I met her I found my reason to keep going and the day I lost her I lost that reason. If there’s a life after this I will find her in it and love her it it, if there isn’t at least the pain will stop. Please don’t hold onto guilt over me and don’t let Erin hold onto guilt over her. We both knew our best friends loved us. Be happy man, if you find love don’t wait for anything. See you in the next life brother, Mouse

They were both crying by the time Erin was through reading. Jay slipped an arm around her and pulled her over onto his shoulder “I just hope they’re together” she whispered. “Me too” he replied, the wind catching their words as it blew past your graves maybe carrying that message on.

One moment Mouse was swallowing a handful of pills and not fighting against the urge to close his eyes, the next he was laying on a patch of grass. Grass? How did he get outside? “Wake up Greg” he heard your voice and felt your hand on his face and for a moment thought he was hallucinating, the pills hadn’t worked. They’d just caused this.

He felt the air move around him then your other hand went to the opposite side of his face and he heard your light laughter “I swear if you don’t open those gorgeous blue eyes Gerwitz” he slowly opened his eyes and you were kneeled in front of him, real as day. Your hair was in a braid like you always wore it during summer, you were wearing a light blue shirt with cut off shorts and sneakers. You looked happy and healthy.

“Sweetheart? Is that really you?” you nodded, tears shining in your eyes “It’s really me Greg” he pulled you into his arms and you laughed, letting him wrap both arms around you. “How? Baby, where are we? What happened?” when he rolled so he was holding his weight on his arms and you were under him in the grass you smiled sadly up at him, running your fingers up into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten at feeling your touch “Why are you here so soon? You had so much life left” you whispered and he opened his eyes, looking down at you.

His girl. Whole and here with him. Wherever here was, it didn’t matter. He had you in his arms. “No I didn’t love. My life ended the day you left” you smiled “I love you Greg” then pulled him down to you. The moment your lips met his both of you let tears slip free. When you pulled away from his lips he leaned his forehead against yours “I love you so much” you grinned “Forever and a day Gerwitz?” he nodded “Forever and a day baby”

#greg mouse gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz angst #greg gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz drabble #mouse gerwitz x reader #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic #greggerwitz x reader

33 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 2 years ago

Text

old flame, same glow

pairing: sex worker toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: old feelings spur you on a wild journey of paying for sex with your high school crush but you find out in the process that maybe those feelings aren't as long forgotten as you thought.

contents: nsfw - mdni. no curses au, reader and toji are similar in age (i imagine reader to be late 20s/early 30s and toji to be early/mid 30s), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots and lots of pining from reader, reader is very pathetic it's very sad but she's my most special meow meow.

notes: this is a repost of the sex worker toji au on my old blog - full and final, with pretty extensive edits to make it flow better. i was personally asked to repost and who am i to say no? be warned tho, for being a fic about sex work this is surprisingly sexless and for that i apologize but i wanted to focus more on the feelings rather than the smut.

thank you for your support and for reading and i hope you enjoy it!!!

dividers are thanks to @/saradika

“Is it because I’ll never be him?”

The words your now ex-fiance spit at you during that fateful last fight echo in your mind as you splash cool water over your face, the strap of your purse sagging over your shoulder. A sigh escapes as the droplets run down your nose and lips.

Him. Toji. The man became a constant issue in your relationship that never seemed to reach resolution the moment you admitted to a one-sided crush you had on him years and years ago, long before your fiance entered the picture. You hadn’t spoken to him since before his first marriage and only knew about his life through social media and occasionally running into each other at the grocery store but your ex took exception after a single cursory glance through Fushiguro’s photo sharing app feed, each picture one of him with his shirt either lifted at the bottom or so tight you can make out each and every divot of his defined core.

Exhaling out of your mouth, droplets go flying against the surface of the bathroom mirror and you fight the urge to scream or cry or maybe both looking at your soggy reflection. You’ve never felt more pathetic in your life and now the outside matches the inside.

The memory couldn’t have surfaced at a worse time and it forced you to excuse yourself from the polite man sitting across from you in a crowded restaurant, shifting through the too small gaps between tables and refusing to make eye contact with anyone else currently sitting in the restaurant as he watched you retreat.

He was introduced to you by a coworker who spent most of the week wondering why you haven’t put yourself back out there after a year of single life, but you regret saying yes. Not because you don’t enjoy his company - he’s smart, quick witted, and handsome which are all things regularly you’d be enchanted by.

Truthfully, you know it’s because he isn’t him either.

Digging your phone out of the pocket of your dress, you sigh and open your most recent conversation thread. The bold letters of his name stare back at you, an F in a circle above his last name. Fushiguro.

Free later?

Toji texted you earlier today, while you were still at work, and you opted to ignore him in preparation for tonight. The intention was to clear your mind of distractions or any entanglements you may have lingering, even those with almost unimaginably broad shoulders and green eyes that twinkle mischievously with every salacious wink and smirk he tosses your direction but you didn’t realize you’d fail your mission before 9 pm.

The sun has only barely set and here you stand in the bathroom of one of the nicest restaurants on this side of the city planning to meet up with your high school crush to pay him for sex.

Perhaps pathetic is too light of a word for how you feel but you don’t make eye contact with yourself in the mirror for long enough to think about it, gaze darting back down to the backlit screen in your palms.

Your thumbs begin to work before your mind can catch them and you stop yourself, brows furrowed as you press down to highlight the text and delete it altogether. Rubbing your free hand over your face, you sigh and glance down at the text bubble indicating he’s typing on the screen.

You know I can see you typing and deleting?

A knock on the bathroom door makes you yelp as you look over the message, dropping your phone in the still damp porcelain sink with a clatter while uttering low curses under your breath. You hear your name from the other side of the door and in your rush to grab and dry off your phone, you slip the droplet covered device back into your pocket and rush toward the door to see the waitress assigned to your table standing there.

“Uh, he asked me to come let you know that he paid the tab and you can go.”

Panic rises in your chest and your stomach turns as you gaze around her shoulder and look around the restaurant, spotting the table you were just sitting at with its unoccupied chairs.

“Fuck,” you spit before gnawing on your lower lip and the waitress watches you as one would witness a slow motion car crash - incredulously, as if this is something she has never seen before. Part of you wonders if she hasn’t ever seen a woman struggling this close to her, the youthful round of her cheeks convincing you she can’t be old enough to have a lot of life under her belt.

You shoot her an apologetic glance and she nods curtly.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” your voice is muffled by your own shoulder while you dig through the purse and pinch out a banknote with enough zeroes to make her happy. You think it’s a 10,000 yen note but you can’t be certain and the embarrassment of the evening is carrying your feet toward the door too quickly to verify.

The door spits you out into a balmy evening but you don’t notice, filling your lungs to the brim with fresh air that feels restorative despite the heat. Patting around your body, you ground yourself with the knowledge that your phone is in your pocket. Pulling it out, you click your tongue at the new notification alert on the left side of your screen and exit your conversation with Toji to look at it.

The number isn’t saved in your phone but the words make you hiss as you look over them, shame making your face heat in a way that a warm summer night cannot even begin to replicate.

Hope dating gets simpler for you. Have a good night.

Sighing, you dawdle for a moment wondering how to respond, shifting your weight from foot to foot. People pass you on the street and you worry they’re going to start to wonder why you’ve been standing in front of the restaurant door for so long, dejectedly staring at the glowing screen in your palms.

Taking a few steps, you begin to walk in the direction of the train station and exit out of the conversation with your date, opening Toji’s contact info and holding down on his number until you hear your phone dialing him.

“Was wondering when you’d get back to me,” he doesn’t hesitate to speak as soon as he picks up the phone and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut the moment you hear him. This is so bad, you contemplate with the click of each of your steps. So so bad. “Where you at?”

Humiliated, you dare to feel almost a little comforted by how happy he sounds to hear from you. You’re certain that this is how he sounds with all of his clients, everyone who hires him for a good time, but you want to believe so badly it’s just for you. The lilt at the end of his sentences that you know mean he’s smirking, one corner of his mouth turned up.

“Do you want to hear the truth or to hear a carefully made up lie?”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone and you wish you could listen to no other sound for the rest of your life.

“Tell me the truth. You’ve never been a great liar.”

A deep exhale deflates your posture and your gaze snaps to your feet as you make your way off to the farthest part of the sidewalk, your voice lowering to keep some shred of your dignity intact. It’s bad enough you’re venting your frustration to the man you pay for sex, you don’t want to think about how mortifying it would be to have a stranger overhear your woes.

“Well, I was on a date and got walked out on so now I’m heading toward the train station.”

A sympathetic hum and shuffling come from the other end of the line, Toji absentmindedly flicking the lighter he keeps in his pocket while you speak. The silence, no matter how momentary, makes you feel awkward and your brain leaps to overcompensate.

“Did you still want to meet? I don’t have a ton of cash but I do have time.”

Another chuckle. You hate that you feel like it’s directed at you rather than to be shared with you and the hot flush of embarrassment makes you reach for your sleeve with your free hand uncomfortably. It was too hot to wear this dress. It was a stupid idea to even come out but his voice keeps your rapt attention, his next words making you genuinely smile for the first time in hours.

“I can’t make you pay full price after getting walked out on. Come over, we’ll work it out.”

Thanking your lucky stars, you shut your eyes tightly and use every ounce of willpower inside of you to keep yourself from crying. Moisture pools at your lashline and you choose to ignore it, relaxing your jaw as you respond.

“You mean it?”

He hums affirmatively and you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel further south at the sound.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t. See you in thirty.”

The call drops from the other end, your phone beeping to signify the ending but you can’t keep a giddy smile from creeping across your face as you press your phone against your chest and open your eyes. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, embarrassment gives way to something you haven’t felt in so long outside of these meetings with Toji that you wonder if you’re about to have a heart attack or something equally disturbing - the familiar flush of affectionate love.

The unimpressed gaze of your coworker follows you all the way to your desk as you make your way through the rows of desktops on Monday morning. You shrink beneath the weight of it, the wool of your pencil skirt suddenly itching more than it ever has while brushing against your legs with each step.

She must have heard about how well your date went.

The text message sent from the man still sits, unanswered, in your phone. Shame sits like a brick in your stomach and you keep your head down, even as you sit and the hydraulics of your chair squish beneath you with a “whoosh”. Bouncing back up, you refuse to make eye contact as you get settled, logging in.

“I am never setting you up again,” she spits in a hushed whisper as soon as you sit down next to her, pulling her can of coffee away from you and setting it on the opposite side of her keyboard.

“If you weren’t ready you should have just said so.”

It’s not like you can defend yourself. You weren’t and remain unready to see anyone else yet it didn’t stop you from immediately stuffing bills in Toji’s hand, legs still shaking while he helped you button your pants and sealed your goodbye with a wink and a kiss on the forehead.

This time, though, was the first time the two of you kissed outside of sex and you’re still reeling. Head fuzzy as you recall the way his scar felt brushing against you for more than immediate sexual gratification. Soft lips, firm flesh, warmth. You swear you feel a ghost of the kiss itself as you sit, surrounded by buzzing overhead fluorescent lights.

The two of you have had sex a dozen times now, once a month your usual schedule, but this time felt different. Maybe it’s the fact that you paid less than usual, maybe it’s the tender way he placed kisses from the underside of your breast clear down to your mound, watching your every move with those glimmering peridot eyes.

“Are you going to say anything?”

The accusatory voice of your coworker interrupts your reverie and you blink before turning in your direction with your head bowed. Words stick in your throat and you aren’t able to swallow so you mumble a simple “sorry” with nothing further. She scoffs and turns back toward her computer, typing loudly to indicate her annoyance as you click around your desktop.

“He walked out on me, to be fair,” you finally come up with after falling short on a near infinite amount of apologies in your head and she turns once again to stare at you. Her gaze burns and you shift in your seat, the same shame you felt at the restaurant weighing your limbs and keeping you pinned in place.

“He left because you were in the bathroom for 15 minutes with no explanation.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, typing away for a moment before turning toward you again, still unfinished with her thorough lecture about the wrongs you’ve committed. Your body still feels heavy, frozen with embarrassment of your own making, but you manage to sigh and fold your arms over your chest unenthusiastically.

“I was hoping you’d at least tell me you had an accident or something.”

Without thinking, you laugh the hardest you have in awhile and several heads peek above their desktops to glance at your unusual display. They probably think you’re losing your mind and if you were to be frank with yourself, you aren’t convinced that isn’t exactly what’s happening.

You are fantasizing during work about a man you pay to have sex with, pretending you’re anything more than a client with a little cash to blow and he’s a man with a lot of free time and a natural gift for cunnilingus.

Hiccuping, your laughter subsides and your unimpressed coworkers return to their tasks, the one sitting next to you still eyeing in a way that is borderline venomous at this point. You don't blame her, though. You fucked up and can't bring yourself to own up to it when your head is too wrapped up in remembering every peak of Toji's arms wrapped around you.

How the fuck did this happen?

She says nothing further, instead turning to her computer and leaving you to sit staring at the blinking cursor on the screen in front of you. You can unpack every single choice you've made since 16 right now and it still wouldn't lend any clarity as to why you are willing to fuck up every relationship around you for the sake of sleeping with a man who you mean nothing to.

Of course, you don't know that, but it's a safe enough assumption given the dynamic itself.

You swallow thickly, pride sliding down your throat like something you may choke on, and turn your chair toward your coworker.

"I handled it poorly and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

She scoffs, dipping her head low.

"The only person who should be embarrassed here is you."

Accepting the criticism, the truth, you plaster a smile across your face and nod once. Any argument you may have tied together at another point in your life dies and you instead turn back to your work, looking at the little clock on the bottom corner of your screen.

9:15 am.

So many hours left for shame to simmer between your ribs, a molten pool of your own failure to swim around in until you drown.

The lewd pop of Toji releasing your clit from between his lips and your panting are the soundtrack playing through his otherwise quiet apartment. Darkness envelopes both of you, so insatiable by the time you made it back here there wasn’t time to turn on the overhead lights.

I need to stop, you think in the afterglow of another orgasm delivered by the impressively skilled mouth of the man whose green eyes are fixed on your face. You take in the sight of him, chin and lips soaked from your last release that drenched him.

“Never seen ya do that before,” Toji remarks from between your thighs. Your muscles twitch on either side of his face and you giggle weakly, tired from being thoroughly fucked and devoured. He places a kiss on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he does so.

You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, softening with every ounce of care he gives; the way his thumbs assuredly massage the outside of your thighs. It’s all so…tender. It feels like it's meant for a lover, someone you wanna fall asleep beside and rise with in the morning.

Something meant for you and someone else.

If you weren’t so tired you’d already be gone. Instead you groan softly as he rubs a final pair of circles on your skin and sits up, wiping his face across his bicep. He stands and he feels you looking at him, scoping out every nude sculpted inch of him. How is it fair that he not only fucks like a god but looks like one too?

Truly, some people get all the luck.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Shrugging flippantly, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his bedding, getting too used to feeling it beneath you at this point. You've increased your visits from once a month to once a week, twice if you're particularly stressed, and he certainly will never turn down a chance to make some good money.

"How many clients do you have?"

The question leaves your lips before you can really think about the implication of what you're asking but he chuckles, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else over his softening cock. You can still make out the print of it clear as day and it makes your face heat, looking away and feigning interest in the peeling skin around your unkempt cuticles.

"I'm sorry, that was intrusive," you clarify, gaze flicking up from your nail beds to where he fills two glasses of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. You dare to indulge yourself by continuing to look at him rather than away, his hair falling in his face.

For the briefest moment, you think you'd like to be the person to brush it off his forehead forever but he turns to you with a smirk and holds out a glass of water before you can go any further into the delusional fantasies your mind keeps providing to you without asking.

"Why are you asking?" He drinks after asking, finishing his glass in one gulp and setting it back down next to the pitcher. You take the glass extended in your direction, sipping to try and wash down the lump in your throat before it can fully form. "You like me or something?"

Immediately you shoot up, hauling the blanket over your naked form ready to explain away your questioning and he sits down on the edge of the bed with a smile, reaching out and grabbing your covered thigh with one of his hands.

"I was just kidding, don't get jumpy."

Fighting the urge to fidget, you stay sitting up and sip from the water cautiously again, small mouthfuls at a time to keep from feeling overwhelmed. You're so anxious despite having cum so many times you truly lost track and Toji wishes he didn't find it so amusing that after all these years you still manage to be as neurotic as he remembers.

You were a good girl back then, scared of getting caught running around with the delinquent, but you still puffed each time he'd hold the cigarette to your lips. You still tagged along when he would skip class.

He wondered what happened to you when the two of you lost touch. Figured you'd ended up married with a kid or two like him, waiting for the next day and getting through it to the best of your ability.

He was shocked when you messaged him from your social media profile, the photos displayed on your page less than interesting. You standing in front of a shrine on vacation, you smiling next to your family on your grandma's birthday, you looking lonely with a smile that never reached your eyes in photo after photo.

The rest is history, as they say, and you rush to fill the silence.

"Curiosity got the best of me, that's all."

"Five."

You look up, reaching across the bed to slide the water onto the table beside it and he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"Four occasionals, one regular."

Eyes widening at his words, you point to yourself.

"I'm your regular?"

He hums and nods and you take a moment to process the information for what it is. A surprise, certainly, and you can't quite figure out how you feel about knowing he sees four other women even if it is just occasionally. Logic smacks you in the face as you realize you hardly have the right to feel jealous over him doing his job but you let that feeling turn in your head for a moment, wondering what he'd do if you admitted how you felt to him.

Would he stop seeing his other clients? Would he let you take their occasional spots, making sure he's making the same amount of money regardless if it's all coming from you?

"My occasionals don't live in the city so we only meet up when they're in town."

Why he feels the need to explain himself is as lost on him as it is you, your head tilted to the side in confusion. Can he tell this is what you need to hear to quell your own wandering mind or is he simply indulging you to ensure that his regular stays a regular? You hate to think the worst of him, knowing he's a good man beneath the antics he has always managed to get wrapped up in, but the ever shifting boundaries between the two of you get less and less comfortable with every session.

"How about you?" He asks while you slide your knees up and tuck them into your chest, his hand falling to the side in the process. "You paying anyone else for sex?"

Giggling, you shake your head. It's embarrassing to even be asked, your desperation as apparent as your skin itself, but you feel like if there's anyone you can joke about it with it's the man whose face is still sticky with your release.

"Nope, one is plenty. I'm not rich, you know."

He quirks a brow and crawls onto the bed, making his way to hover above you with a smirk and that same hair hanging over his eyes the way you always seem to see it in your daydreams.

Without thinking, you reach up and brush it off of his forehead, your fingers gliding across the sweat slicked skin of his face. You look at him for a moment, the way he looms above you, and your stomach turns.

This is too much. Your fingers tremble gently as you trace them over the bridge of his nose while dragging them off of his face, hand flopping down at your side while you struggle to shift from beneath him to get out of the bed.

"You alright?"

You nod and he backs away, sitting across the bed rather than lingering over the top of you. Sliding your legs off of the bed, you stand and feel him looking at your back as you bend and scramble to grab your clothes.

"Yeah, just realized it's super late."

Hurriedly pulling your pants up over your legs, you stop when you realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you left his bed. His gaze burns and you wither beneath it, burning out like a shooting star as you stand still as a statue.

“Just stay,” he offers as if it isn’t the most self destructive option you could possibly choose. Stay and what? Chew on your nails the entire night until the sun finally rises and you can blissfully leave? Watch morning cast a warm glow over his sleeping body while birds chirp outside?

A persistent echo of the word idiot dances through your head as you briefly consider his suggestion, wondering if it would truly be so terrible to bury your head against his side and sleep soundly for the first time in months.

You can’t do this. The night feels suffocating, like it’s smothering you rather than enveloping you gently, and you pull your pants all the way up and fasten them while throwing your shirt over your head and pulling it on in a surprisingly fluid motion.

“I gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

Bustling out of his apartment, Toji watches your back head toward the door and can’t help but feel as if that was your final goodbye, gone in a flash the same way you returned to him.

Hey stranger, what's up?

The latest in a series of ignored messages pops onto your screen before you can close out the notification, today marking 21 days since the fateful night you cried in the back of an overpriced car the entire way back to your apartment leaving Toji’s behind you.

The messages are all the same - nonchalant and non committal, unspoken business proposals - but you scroll up through them anyway with a broken sniffle. How you’re still managing to cry over this three weeks later is beyond your own understanding but your fingers reach out to brush the screen of your phone regardless, just as they did the smooth skin of his forehead that fateful night.

Life has been normal without him, you reason. You go to work, keep your head down, come home and fall asleep in front of the TV. You’ve been too depressed to even masturbate but you’ve tried, crying through the measly two orgasms you’ve managed to pull out of yourself halfheartedly.

Part of you wishes you’d just die and end this misery once and for all, the other wants to die thinking of how someone would feel looking at your browser history. “Green eyed guy big dick”, “big dick DILF” , “toji big dick”, the terms thay would haunt you enough you worry they’d emblazon them on your headstone if you were to perish.

It’s dramatic, sure, your world has imploded in on itself more than once already but this hurts with the intensity of three broken engagements. Your heart feels like it could give out at any moment and it nearly does when your phone begins to vibrate and ring. Dropping it to the floor below, you sniffle again and feel another round of sobs bubble up in your throat at the name on the screen.

Toji Fushiguro. Clear as day.

You let it ring and ring until you know your voicemail will pick up and you’ll delete it. Fuck, you should really delete his number as a whole but even that feels too permanent.

How did it hurt less when you left your old apartment with an empty ring finger and a few boxes full of your meager belongings than it does to ignore a man you paid for sex?

Truthfully, you know it was never about the sex and you were treading in deep dangerous waters from the start.

You love him.

You loved him back in high school when he was a bad influence, you loved him when you’d open your hidden photos folder to stare at pictures you screen captured from his social media as soon as your fiancé rolled over to fall asleep, you loved him hovering above you with moonlight illuminating every shadow of his face.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you and through a flood of hot tears, you close out the open adult website on your phone and pull up a search tab, typing the words that will lead you to listings for apartments for rent as far away from here as you can possibly get.

Your time here is done and you know it, the ding echoing from your phone letting you know you have a voicemail almost sounding exactly like a timer would but you look at the notification anyway.

It's curious he left you a voicemail but you watch as your screen loads from the browser to the one unopened message in your mailbox. Taking a deep breath, you press play and hear his voice drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, uhh...I dunno what I did to piss you off but maybe we should talk about it. I'll be at the usual spot tonight if you wanna meet. Hope to see ya."

It ends as unceremoniously as it started and you cry harder, rewinding to start it over again. Listening to his voice, you trace your fingers along the screen of your phone a final time before deciding to take him up on his offer.

Closure will only help this process, you think, ending it all and closing this chapter for good.

“Look who it is.”

You recognize the voice coming from behind you but refuse to turn in your chair to greet its owner, instead sipping from your cocktail before tossing your napkin down unceremoniously.

This isn’t your first time at this less than reputable establishment but you hope it will be your last, ready to get away from the shit in this city you wished you would’ve left behind a long time ago. Him included.

“Toji,” you toss from over your shoulder and the man himself enters your peripheral vision. Refusing to give him the smug satisfaction of turning to look at him, you simply nod and begin to tear the napkin you tossed down into little pieces. You’ve always loved how easy it is to transform things with your hands, from whole to broken and back again. It reminds you of yourself in a strange way.

“I could make some time for you,” Toji sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes at the sound. “If you want.”

A shake of your head is all you offer as you continue to throw bits of paper in front of you, a small pile of bits, all that remains of what once was whole. The metaphor dies as you think about it and you sit quietly as he settles in beside you.

“What would it cost me this time?”

Toji shrugs, the already clinging fabric of his short sleeved shirt gripping him tighter with the motion. You swallow thickly seeing the muscles move from the corner of your eye. He’s gorgeous and you hate it, reminding yourself that loneliness is what led you in his direction in the first place. Or at least you’re still trying to convince yourself of that.

You wish you could have stuck to your guns when you promised yourself you’d stop seeing him.

“I can make a deal for my favorite even if she has been avoiding me lately.”

A laugh escapes before you can stop it and you turn to look at him, taking in the deep jade color of his eyes and the dark lashes that frame them.

What point did you start looking for the mischievous little sparkle that lives inside of those irises? What point did this become more than transactional?

You always have and it never was.

You sigh, tipping your head back to look at the dim modern-attempt-at-vintage overhead lighting and he sweeps his large hand across the bartop to sweep your bits of napkin into his palm.

“No charge, actually.”

Making a show of considering his offer, you squirm uncomfortably at the boundary that has been firmly broken by it. He has given you discounts, sure, but to offer a completely free no strings attached session is almost more than you can reasonably deny. You have been suffering in his absence, self imposed exile keeping you locked inside of your apartment when you aren’t at work. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, you’re just trying to exist as simply as possible.

Even the most upright girl needs to have a little fun sometimes, though, you think. Especially since this will be the last time before you go and leave him to his life. You have no place in his world and he no place in yours, two paths that intersected briefly but have to diverge eventually the most the two of you will ever be.

Despite your better judgment, you look at him with a bittersweet smile and he finds the look puzzling. There’s still the ever present softness you hold for him deep in that gaze but there’s something else he hasn’t seen before.

His heavy stare makes you interrupt with a question.

“What did I do to deserve a free one?”

He shrugs, dropping your bits of napkin into your drained lowball glass where they soak up what’s left of the water. The cycle into something new begins again.

“Feelin’ generous. You in or not?”

Dragging it out for a moment longer, you wonder if you should tell him this will be the last time. You’ve known him for such a long time there’s an element of obligation but you shrug it off and rise from the barstool, smoothing down the fabric of your pants.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Toji doesn’t bother to hide his smug half smile, tossing down a few bills to cover your drink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you start and he cuts you off as the two of you walk so close your shoulders brush. “Told you I’m feelin’ generous, quit making me regret it.”

He’s teasing but you flinch a bit at his words despite yourself.

What if he regrets this? What if it hasn’t been as mutually beneficial as you originally thought, you’re just another face with disposable income that wants to see what it feels like to fuck a man with reckless abandon? Isn’t this why you walked away in the first place?

The what ifs will drive you crazy if you keep it up so you let the cool night air clear your mind, gasping as he pushes you against the driver side door of your car.

“Toji,” you warn but his hands glide up your sides and you lift your chin to expose your neck, his lips and teeth easily finding the column of your throat. The vibrations of your voice feel good against his mouth and you yelp as he scrapes at your skin using his front teeth. “Someone could see us.”

He scoffs and lifts his face away from your neck, lips mere inches away from yours.

“Would that be so bad?” You nod emphatically and he rolls his eyes, dark brows knit together as he considers what you’re saying. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” Your shoulders slump and he presses his lips against yours so quickly you wonder if you imagined it and you sigh. “No, I’m not. Just would rather people not know I’m paying some dude I used to go to high school with to fuck me.”

There’s too much truth to your words for him to argue so he simply leans in against, pressing his lips against yours for a moment longer than he previously did. You feel the corner of his lip rise, a little smirk, and you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Don’t seem so ashamed when you’re screamin’ about how you can feel me in your….” he feigns thought for a moment and you feel your face heat, knowing what he’s about to say next. “What is it you always say? Ah, yeah…tummy.” His lips press against yours again and you kiss him back this time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his dark hair around your fingers. The two of you separate before the dry humping starts, catching your breath as you wipe remnants of chapstick and saliva from your lips.

“Get your ass in the car before I change my mind, Fushiguro.”

He smiles at the sound of his name on your pretty lips. There’s no going back now and he knows it as he squeezes your ass once before rounding your car to enter the passenger side. A glance up at the night sky allows you a moment to clear your mind before you enter the vehicle yourself, shutting the door behind you as you fire up the engine.

Something new begins again, the night revealing thing you know to be true.

You love him too much for this to be the last time.

#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #kendall writes

330 notes · View notes