#Overhead Obstacles

[fogaminghub]

🚀🌈 Ready to uncover the mysteries in Infinity Nikki? Our latest guide walks you through every step, from jumping over obstacles to purifying Esselings and entering the mystical Temple Gate! 🌌✨ Perfect for both newcomers and seasoned players wanting to brush up on their skills. Dive into the adventure now! 🎮💖

[mattzerella-sticks]

I think Dropout absolutely has the momentum to do a 'It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World'/'Midnight Madness'/'Rat Race' style movie at some point and I, for one, would not only watch it but buy the DVD.

[demonic0angel]

Can we get Young Justice's perspective in the ghost maze?

Part 1, part 3

"Why did we fall in love with ghost royalty again?" Kon asked.

"Because she's small, cute, and cuddly?" Tim replied dryly.

"Less whining, more butt kicking!" Anita snapped. "Slobo, can you—"

"Don't even mention it! Let's get these monsters and then we kill her bastich of a brother!" He said, before he lifted up by a harpy with a yelp.

"I'm not sure we can kill him," Suzie said with a sigh. She screamed at the kidnapping harpy, making her drop Slobo. Bart raced around and picked him up before he fell, just as he ducked, as Cassie flew overhead and punched another harpy trying to come near.

"Any moment now!" Cassie screamed at Tim, as the hydra started approaching them again, finally finding its way back to them through the maze with its heads poking over the walls.

"I deserve cuddles after this," Kon continued to complain. "Lots and lots of ghost cuddles. And hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies."

"Great, now I'm hungry, along with bruised, tired, and annoyed," Anita said, before she commanded a stray dinosaur bird thing to go away.

"Got it!" Tim shouted when he finally solved the puzzle and they all ran through the open door. This time, it was a pit full of snakes and the fliers of the group immediately grabbed their non-flying members and rose off of the ground. Kon in particular, sighed as he had to carry Slobo and Bart, who were already squirming.

They carefully flew down to let Tim solve the puzzle and then they quickly escaped, just as the manticore broke down a wall and rushed at them. They slid inside of the other puzzle room, locking the doors behind them. Harpies and other flying monsters still flew around in the sky.

"I hate this," Suzie said. "The Ghost Zone is terrible. Dani's brother is even more terrible."

"Speaking of Dani," Cassie said, looking up, "Look! She's in the stands!"

They all looked up, where they could now see Dani waving at them frantically. She was dressed in royal clothes and looked worried for them.

"Oh thank goodness! She's okay!" Anita said with a sigh of relief. "I thought her brother kidnapped her."

Tim hummed. "I'm pretty sure if that was true, we would've already seen her tearing her way through this maze for us."

Kon cracked his knuckles. "We have to get to her. This entire thing is a test for us, isn't it?"

Cassie nodded. "That's right. Alright, you guys, game faces on. Dani's counting on us and if we want to prove ourselves to her brother, we have to win this with flying colors! Even the Justice League is here, watching us! We have to prove to them all that we're heroes who can fight for the ones we love!"

Bart put his hand out. "For Dani?"

"For Dani!" They all agreed before immediately rushing out to solve the puzzle and take down the monsters and obstacles around them, determined to prove the adults wrong and show Dani that they could definitely be worthy of her!

In the stands, Danny looked at Wonder Woman and sighed. "Couldn't you have taught her to be less inspiring? I want them to lose."

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Mr. Mayor

✰ frank castle x fem!reader, matt murdock x fem!reader (platonic)

✰ summary: it always comes back to frank.

✰ warnings: language, violence, mentions of blood, dirty cops, wilson fisk (yuck), reader gets a bit sassy bc she's fed up, angst X 100.

✰ word count: 1.9k

✰ this is a two part series!! read the first part below!

part one

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

not my gif, credit to the owner!

A tense silence suffocated the two the moment you slammed through the door. Frank kicking a chair made Matt flinch. “Why did you bring her here?” Frank’s voice was dangerously low. His hands were on his desk, and his head hung low. “You thought she would be all smiles the moment she saw me?” He huffed a fake laugh and looked over at Matt. “You must be dumber than I thought.” 

Matt’s hands are on his hips as his mind recalls how broken your voice sounded. He’s not really listening to Frank, he never does, but especially now. He’s one more word away from crumbling, “I don’t know.” He was guilty. Matt knew that bringing you straight to the man who abandoned you wasn’t a great idea, yet he did it anyway. 

“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than ‘I don’t know,’ Red,” Frank’s voice booms. 

Matt’s head turned rapidly, his eyebrows scrunching in concentration. “Pretending not to hear me ain't gonna help you now–,” Matt shushes him.

Since the first day you and Matt met, his senses were always dialed onto you. He knew when you were about to enter the building to his apartment, five floors down. You two liked to joke that his senses were obsessed with you. The more time he spent with you, the more your ‘joke’ became real. 

Your rapid heartbeat has been drumming in Matt’s ear until it wasn’t. Your heartbeat slowed significantly and also hushed. “You think I’m an idiot? That’s fine, but we need to find (Y/N) now,” Matt is antsy; he’s ready to leave. Though the man in front of him was hesitant. “If you stay here, you’re abandoning her again. And a part of me knows that is the last thing you want to do,” he says sternly.

Pushing Matt out of the way, he heads for the door. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You knew your friendship with Matt came with obstacles. Long nights at the office and coffee runs were a given, but waking up in the backseat of a car was not on that list. The first thing you notice is that your hands and legs were tied, the rope began to dig into your skin, the friction making you wince. Whoever was in the front seat didn’t bother to cover your mouth with anything, making you sigh.

Your breath caught the attention of the man sitting in the passenger’s seat. His glance at your frame sparked a brief laugh, “She’s awake.” 

“Let him know we’ll be there in fifteen,” the other man driving responds. 

You can’t help but study the men in front of you, Matt unintentionally taught you this. They both sat straight, but the weight of the day was evident in their posture. Their hair was similar, and they dressed in casual clothing. Something caught your eye, something that made you shudder. The driver had a tattoo on his wrist, Frank’s symbol. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. 

They’ve taken your phone. So now there was nothing you could do but wait. The scariest part of it all was that you had no idea where you were. It could’ve been a few hours since you saw Frank and Matt, or it could’ve been a few days. 

It was dark out, the streetlights offering you the only light until you were blinded by a room of bright overhead lights. The ceilings were high in the building, the walls a pristine white. After parking, the two men pull you out of the car. They drag you to a table with two chairs, one on each side. The table was the last thing you noticed due to a private jet parked a few feet away from you. 

“If you think you’re gonna be able to escape, you’re fuckin’ stupid,” one of the men whispers in your ear as he begins to place you in the chair, cutting away your binds. Yanking your face away from his, you rub your wrists, trying to remedy the sting. 

It was only a few minutes before you saw who was supposed to be sitting across from you. “Mayor Fisk,” you announce, “I should be surprised, but in all honesty, I’m not.” You’ve never been more annoyed in your life. You’ve had enough of Fisk these past few years, and seeing him now was the cherry on top. If you weren’t upset already, you are now. 

“Miss (Y/L/N), I’m glad to see you’ve made it safe,” Fisk responds. He knew you didn’t have a choice. He knew exactly how to get on your nerves, and you hated him for it. 

A sarcastic huff of a laugh leaves your lips, “Oh, you mean those dirty cops you hired to snatch me off the street? Yeah, real safe.” 

Your mention of the cops made the air tense. Especially from the two who drove you here. “You’ve always had a good eye,” Fisk speaks just as his meal is put in front of him, “it makes me wonder why you haven’t joined Matt Murdock’s team. You seem like a good fit.” 

He picks up his fork and knife, waiting for you to respond. “It always comes back to Matt, especially with you,” you say, sitting back. You wanted to make him uncomfortable, he doesn’t deserve anything more. 

“Would you rather talk about Frank Castle then?” 

You’d rather die than show that Wilson Fisk had any sort of power over you, “Be my guest, Mr. Mayor.” 

“He left about a year ago,” he starts strong, but quickly corrects himself, “I’m sorry. He left you a year ago.” A short pause before he speaks again, “I’m not complaining, he was a liability with no way to wrangle him. He was a nuisance. But I know he was more than that for you.”

You cross your arms, “You’ve been keeping tabs on me? I’m flattered.” 

Fisk slams his fists on the table, causing the items on it to jump. You smirk, this is exactly what you were looking for. He stands up, pushing his chair behind him in the process before taking a breath, “We will speak again soon, Miss. (Y/L/N).” 

“God forbid you let Hector Ayala live, right?” you start, causing him to stop in his tracks. His fists squeeze together as he turns to look at you, “You and all these dirty fucking cops think you can just kill anyone who doesn’t bend the knee, and Hector Ayala was able to come out of his trial alive. Just to be shot point blank by someone who worships the nuisance you despise.”

Wilson Fisk’s stride catches up to you, grabbing you by the neck before muttering, “New York is my city, and I will do anything to protect it.” 

Your hands fly to his wrists, trying to catch a breath. “Your version of protecting a city that doesn’t even want you is pathetic,” you’re able to squeeze out before a few gunshots snap Fisk out of his violent trance. 

He drops you to the floor, leaving you to cough and gasp for air. You weren’t even given a chance to catch your breath before the two men from before dragged you back into the car. Even without talking, you could feel your throat becoming rough, it’s almost like you could feel the pressure still on your throat. 

The drive back was silent. This was the first moment of quiet that you had to think about the last few hours. You wish you could’ve just stayed home tonight. The car pulls up to a red light, the color flooding the entire cabin. “Gotta be at the station early tomorrow–,” the driver’s voice was cut off by the sound of glass breaking. 

Your eyes went wide at the sight of Frank pulling the man out of the car through the window. You knew that this was your opportunity to leave. Manually unlocking the door, you shove the car door open. It wasn’t long before you heard a voice calling out for you, footsteps following yours. 

You were never a good fighter; your words were often strong enough, so you ran. You ran until it took you to an alley, one similar to the one you were dragged into. The buildings alongside it made the walkway dark, too dark to see Matt in front of you. Two hands were placed on your shoulders, moving you behind him before he came face to face with the reason behind your panic. 

“Officer Powell,” he says, “good to see you again.”

“Murdock, get out of my way,” Powell pants. 

Matt folds his cane, putting it in his breast pocket, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He springs into action. You haven’t seen Matt do any of this in a long time, but seeing him now, it was almost like he never gave it up. 

With one last punch, Matt knocks the cop unconscious. He’s panting when he turns back to you, readjusting his glasses. You can’t help but hug him when there’s a beat of silence, his arms wrapping around you. It’s going to be hard to build trust between the two of you again, but you needed a friend, and Matt was always going to be there. 

Pulling away, his fingers touch your neck, causing you to flinch. “I–I’m alright,” a broken string of words escapes out of your throat, your voice cracked and rough. “Where’s Frank?”

The two of you walk out of the dark alley to see Frank standing over your other abductor. You quickly run to Frank’s side only to see the mess he’s made. His fist is bloody, shaking due to the trauma. In his other hand, he carries a small pocket knife, blood painting the silver. 

The cop on the floor had his sleeve rolled up to his elbow, a certain tattoo carved off his skin. “Oh my god,” you whisper, your hand coming up to your mouth. You look back at Frank, his eyes blown wide. Even though a year has passed, you still know Frank’s mannerisms as if he never left. 

You approach him softly, “Frank?” 

You can see the moment he snaps out of it, his shoulders relax when he turns to you. “Sweetheart,” he cries, wrapping his arms around you. His hug catches you by surprise, your entire body is overwhelmed. Tears fall down your cheeks before you even realize it, just before you crumble. 

You sob in his arms, the different color street lights illuminating the scene in front of you. Exhaustion coursed through your veins as you slowly fell to your knees, Frank catching you before you hit the floor. 

Quiet voices passed between you before you felt a hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze. You fell unconscious as Frank carried you back to his place. Only waking up when you felt him place you in his bed, “Lie with me, please.” 

He cradles your face, taking in the sight of you after so long. Taking off his shoes, he places himself next to you, “Rest, baby.”

You closed your eyes and had a dreamless sleep, only hoping that Frank next to  you wasn’t a sick joke your mind was playing on you, 

✰ author's note: HOOOO SHEEIT!! wrote this at work and i was so locked in LOL. this shit is angsty as ferk. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!! ily!

[p1astr81]

hey, as a psychology student, I barely see ff involving this area so what if a ff where yn is a psychologist in F1 and she ends up falling for oscar? but you can add some obstacles to make it more interesting haha

for the sake of this, reader is a sports psychologist!

ignore how this lowkey isn’t a psychologists job okay im sorry😭

As part of the sport’s initiate to protect all of its drivers—from Formula 3 to its top competitors in Formula 1–they’ve decided to hire a group of sports psychologists. The group was hired to work track side every weekend, and has their own individual offices in the Formula 1 hospitality. The FIA claimed their hospitality was too full.

You happened to be one of those psychologists.

You spent most days doing absolutely nothing. Most drivers were too embarrassed to pay a visit to any of your offices. Or too conscious of getting caught visiting one and getting blasted on social media.

Some did visit. Particularly the rookies. Lando was the only one to frequent your office. He’d pop in after particularly bad races just to rant to you. He liked how good of a listener you were and how easily you could soothe his worries.

Which is why when he noticed Oscar carry a bit too much tension in his shoulders, he recommended that he pay a visit to you. “One visit wouldn’t hurt.” He reasoned when Oscar was too hesitant.

The next weekend, there was a knock on your door. “Come in,” you called, closing out of your tabs.

“Hi,” you looked up at his quiet voice. Stood as he walked into the room.

“Hi!” You beamed. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. There’s snacks, water, take whatever you need.” You gestured to the cart beside the couch and you sat in the chair across from him.

Lando had mentioned how you were nice and a good listener. But he never mentioned how pretty you were, or how infectious your smile was.

“What brings you in?” You didn’t have an intimidating clipboard, nor did you ask him questions like he was in an interrogation room. You also didn’t have those obnoxious overhead lights on. Just the sunlight and a few warm lamps. It was a cozy space.

Oscar leaned into the fluffy sofa, sinking in it like a cloud. “I just feel stressed lately. It’s probably the championship but it’s really having a physical effect on me. I feel really sore lately.”

Still, you smiled. “Have you tried anything to manage the stress? Meditation? Relaxing music? Picking up a hands-on hobby helps a lot of people, too.”

“No.” He said flatly.

“Okay, well trying one of those could help, and I’m always here to talk if you think that might help.”

Oscar definitely thought your talks helped. He’d gone to you almost every single day. Most of the time, he wasn’t even discussing racing. He’d ask you about your life, tell you about his.

And the one day, after a month and a half of ‘sessions’, he’d asked you out for dinner.

He should’ve seen it coming. Your sigh. How you told him I’m sorry, we should keep this professional.

He avoided you for the following three weeks. Three long weeks of his mind plagued by the memories of you. By your laugh. Your smile. Then he decided he’d had enough of his torturous mind.

He went into your office without knocking. “I’m having difficulty focusing on my races because there’s this really cute, nice girl who I can’t stop thinking about, but she doesn’t seem to care about me.” He threw himself onto the sofa like it was another session.

You sighed, finding your usual place in the chair. “I do care about you, Oscar. But we can’t be anything more than-“

“Professional! I know, you’ve said that before.” He grumbled, then sat up. “Why?”

“Why do we have to be professional?”

“Yes!”

“Because we both work for the same people.” You sighed. You were too calm. He envied it. He was breaking down because he couldn’t have what he wanted.

And you were calm.

That should be him. He should be that calm, that composed. It usually came easy to him, but now it was taking everything in him to not get a taste of your lips.

“Last time I checked, you don’t have a contract with Zak brown.” He laughed, pacing the room now.

You tossed him the stress ball you kept on your desk. He took it and sat down, squeezing it like it personally wronged him. “Maybe not, but I can’t date any driver, it’s not just you. It’s not a good look. They’ll fire me for it, I know they will.”

He was thinking quick. “Does it say that in your contract?”

You thought for a moment, then, “no.”

“Then it’s wrongful termination.”

You chewed your lip. Still risky in your mind, but boy were his big brown eyes convincing. You sighed. “Okay. I’ll go to dinner with you.”

“Yes!” He jumped up with a pump of his fist. A bigger victory than you’d ever heard on his radio. “I’ll pick you up uhm- er- Sunday night?”

“Better win then.”

And win he did. Not only the race, but also you.

He married you four years later—and you still had your job in the paddock.

[madaqueue]

CARVE ME UP AND EAT ME

there was almost no information on the mysterious cult nestled into the mountainside near your hometown, with even less knowledge about its leader. curiosity sets you on your path to investigate, but something else manages to keep you.

pairing: vampire!suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. cult leader suguru, blood drinking/feeding, like mind control-ish? idk i was making up vampire rules here, pet names (little lamb), fingering (reader receiving), p in v (missionary). 18+, MDNI (wk: 7.6k)

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for getting freaky with me this month, it's been such a blast and i love you all!!!! hope you get to dress up and have lots of yummy candy tonight :) mwah!!!!!

quintober masterlist | main masterlist

People rarely came back from the mountains.

When they did, they were…different. Months, even years having passed from their disappearance, and suddenly returning with no memory of it. As though their time away suddenly ceased to exist. They couldn’t recall what they had done, who they were with, anything that could help the townspeople pin down the mysterious group making their home in the depths of the woods.

Any efforts to catch the so-called cult were obviously futile - the town lost enough soldiers that the leaders decided it was pointless to send anymore sacrifices.

So, there was a sort of peace. Well, less peace, and more a silent war, a battle of contempt, one that left everyone on edge. Whenever someone went missing, the entire village stood on edge, waiting but never searching.

But you were trained well, oh so well.

“Never go out at night.” “Never stray from us.” “Never get lost.”

“Never go into the mountains.”

They praised you for your obedience, feeding it to you from dirtied palms, making you kneel before them to drink from it. It felt good to be good.

Obedience is strength.

Their orders pulled at the strings of your muscles, dictating your actions, your movements, your very thoughts. They pulled and pulled and pulled until you were stretched taut, desperately tightening you into a form they deemed desirable.

It was only a matter of time before the strings snapped.

The fight was blurry now, nothing more than screams and tears and broken expectations so sharp you worried you may cut yourself. Your feet hit the ground outside your parents’ home faster than you could breathe in the burning air, cold in your lungs.

You had always obeyed.

So now, perhaps you could enact your final act of disobedience. The one thing that had been taught to you so deeply until it buried itself under your skin.

The path up the mountain wasn’t nearly as dangerous as others made it seem. Truthfully, it was shockingly well-maintained, the occasional branch snapping under your feet but no other obstacles.

What could even be so bad about this place, anyways?

The people who returned were never injured, always fed and clean and cared for. They always came back in a fresh set of robes draped over their skin, no signs of markings or damage painted across their bodies.

The options weighed heavy on your tongue. Either you’d reach the cult’s temple, or you’d die trying.

Either way, you’d be acting on your own. You’d be independent, free. With an exhale, you blew the remaining obedience into dust, joining the stars sparkling overhead.

The moon seemed pleased with your choice, at least, guiding your path clearly through the woods. Whenever the ground below your feet disappeared, you knew you had misstepped, returning easily to the worn-in gravel placed along the way. Eventually, the trees became sparse, no longer guarding you from whatever lays ahead.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust before focusing on the building before you, a gentle glow illuminating the temple through its exterior screens. It was certainly different than you imagined, expecting high stone barriers walling off a great fortress, leaving you to wonder: could masses of soldiers truly not pierce the paper screens protecting this deadly palace?

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel welcomed; it was unimposing, the warm lights flickering inside a definite sign of life. How many people call this their home? How many people serve here?

The wooden steps leading to the entrance creak slightly below your weight, palm hesitantly resting on the sliding door. Doubt flashes across your mind, the pull of your family threatening to tug you back home - should you turn around, forget this silly stunt and return to the life you had known?

Before you can move, the screen slides open in your grasp.

“Do come in,” a soft voice calls from inside as light floods your vision.

Your weight makes you stumble forward as your feet move on their own, carrying you into the room. It’s nice inside, the smell of sage lingering in the air as you make your way to the center. Before you is a man, his green and gold robes hanging loosely from his shoulders, the bare skin covered only by inky locks cascading down his back. His position looks almost leisurely as he kneels, his eyes scanning your figure.

“Sit.”

And you do - your knees buckle as you lower yourself to the ground.

A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he follows your motions. For a moment, his gaze locks on yours, deep purple eyes staring back.

“Quite an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” he purrs.

Air rushes into your lungs through a gasp, but you can’t stop the muscles in your neck from nodding.

What the fuck is happening? Why can’t you control your body?

As fear begins to course through your nerves, the stranger in front of you lets out a breathy giggle. “Good, that’s very good,” he muses.

When he rises to stand, your heart drops as you realize just how deeply you may have fucked up. He’s tall, easily towering over you. The bottom of his robes graze the floor as he circles you quietly - no, silently.

The sound of his humming vibrates in the air - you want to look at him, monitor him for any malicious intent, but you can’t bring yourself to turn your head.

When he’s completed his course around you, he returns to his seat on the floor. Perching himself on the balls of his feet, he leans forward. Cold fingers wrap around your face, pushing your cheeks together as he easily maneuvers you in his grasp. His eyes burn your skin as you realize:

He’s inspecting you.

With a pleased huff he releases your head, settling back across from you. That same smirk rests across his lips as he speaks. “Tell me, why did you come here, little lamb?”

The sound of your voice hits the air before you realize it’s yours. “I ran away.”

“Oh?” With a tilt of his head, his eyes crease. “Well then, I suppose you’ve found your new home. Welcome.”

Silently, he rises once more. This time, he extends a pale hand out to you. “I can show you to your room, if you’d like.”

At his words, the tendons within your body relax, more at ease. Finally under your own control, you raise a hesitant arm. Is this what you want?

Your palm rests lightly upon his.

He smiles.

“Good choice,” he whispers as you rise to your feet.

The temple’s grounds are beautiful, even in the dark. Flickering candlelight lines the stone paths as you walk through tended gardens, over wooden bridges and small streams. He guides you to a house near the back, tucked safely into the mountainside.

The paper slide shudders as it opens, revealing the outline of a bed covered in crisp white sheets.

“You can sleep here tonight. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call for me,” he informs you, each syllable floating through the night air.

With one swift motion he turns, returning down the path you came from.

“Wait!” you call - as the command settles, you sheepishly cross your hands. Dark hair falls over his shoulder as he turns to face you. “How…how will I find you?”

His eyes close as he laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find you.” And with that, he disappears into the darkness.

–

The sun rises hesitantly here. It peeks its head through the translucent screens, barely illuminating your room enough to rouse you. When you finally wake, your thoughts swirl in confusion for a moment - where are you? what happened? - before you remember the previous night, the path beneath the watchful moon, the man who led you here.

Despite the unfamiliar environment, the warnings carved into your skin about the dangers of this place, you can’t bring yourself to feel afraid - after all, if he wanted to hurt you, he surely would have by now, right?

There’s an ache in your muscles as you stretch your arms overhead, bare feet resting upon the wooden floor, cool from the morning air. Idle hands begin searching the room as you open the hand-carved drawers, the scent of pine still lingering on them.

In the first, you find fresh sets of sheets. Below that, cleanly folded towels.

Moving to the next chest, your eyes widen as you scan its contents. Inside lie beautiful silks in every shade - your palms run over blues that mirror the sea, pinks the color of sunrise, greens brought from the forest floor. Each one feels more extravagant than the last, and as your awe clears, you suddenly feel ashamed to be holding them. They slip through your fingers as you shy away in embarrassment, your dirtied skin unworthy of touching them. They aren’t yours, after all - you’re nothing more than a guest here.

Turning to the closet nearby, you swing open the heavy doors, only to be met with even more luxury, this time robes hanging in neat rows.

You shouldn’t take them, but then again, the man did say anything you needed was yours…and you could use a new set of clothes after your travels last night…

Hesitantly, you pull one of the kimonos from the rack - in your hands, it catches the morning sun, small threads of gold reflecting across the room interwoven with the purple cloth. Sliding into it, you can’t help but notice the way it fits you perfectly, the length extending to just above your ankles, the sleeves resting gently along your wrists.

It feels foreign on your skin, surely you look like a fool, nothing more than a child trying on their parent’s work clothes. Glancing around the room, you search for a mirror to confirm your suspicions, but none seem to catch your eye. Oh well, you sigh, you’ll just have to face everyone looking like a stranger.

Stepping outside, a cool breeze brushes past your cheeks, your arms wrapping the robes tighter around your body as you fight off a shiver. It must be colder at this altitude, no longer afforded the protection of the very mountain you now reside on.

Small pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you make your way along the temple grounds. You try to retrace the path you took from the main house last night, but it quickly proves useless, your memory already foggy. Maybe it just looks different during the day?

Nevertheless, you don’t mind being lost here - the area is truly beautiful. Flowers fill the green spaces, ones you’d never seen before, shades of purple and red dotting the meadows. In the distance, tall trees poke against the horizon, leaves dancing in the wind.

As you wander, you pass identical buildings to the one you stayed in last night. Had you walked past all of these on your way there? Surely you would have remembered them, right?

This time, of course, the lights inside are off. There’s no use for them under the sun that’s now settling into the sky above. There are fewer clouds up here, you realize, perhaps another effect of the altitude.

By the time you find your way back to your new home (only able to identify it by the screen door left ajar), darkness has begun growing along the grounds, insects chirping their nighttime songs from nearby trees.

Sliding your shoes off, the smell of something tantalizing hits your senses.

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you’re suddenly faced with the most delicious looking meal sitting upon the table. Steam rises from the bowl of salty broth, and for a moment you overlook the fact that someone must have been here to deliver it as you hurriedly shuffle to sit down, scooping noodles into your mouth with the chopsticks resting nearby. Finally, the ache in your stomach eases as you slurp the remaining liquid, allowing it to practically dribble down your chin.

A long shadow is suddenly cast along your room from behind you.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying dinner.”

Your spine shoots straight up as you turn, wiping your face with the back of a suddenly clammy palm.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, attempting to hide the utter lack of manners in how you had ravenously consumed the meal.

The man from last night stands in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms. That same smirk spreads across his features.

“Thank you!” you suddenly blurt, aware of your impoliteness. “It was…very good. Thank you.”

Another light chuckle dances across the air. “Please, no need for formalities. I’m simply glad you are enjoying the food. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to make something for someone other than myself.”

Questions lie along the tip of your tongue, but before they can escape, he turns with a wave. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait!” You internally curse yourself again for the interruption, but one question in particular was burning its way through your throat. “I realized I never learned your name…”

“Oh,” he smiles through thin lips. “My name is Suguru, but most call me Master Geto. You can choose whatever name you like.”

Warmth floods your face at the title, and further at his informality. “O-okay.”

With another small flick of his wrist, he continues the path away from your room. “Anyways, goodnight,” he calls into the darkness ahead.

“Goodnight, Master Geto,” you murmur to yourself.

–

Your second day is all too similar.

You wake.

You dress.

You wander.

You eat.

This time, Master Geto does not stop by your room at all. You’re beginning to wonder what he does all day - hell, you’re beginning to wonder what anyone here does all day, not having seen a single other person.

All that free time leaves you to fester on your thoughts.

When you were a child, you heard the rumors of this place. At first, it was a sort of commune, a community where disillusioned and lost souls could go to find purpose. But when they stopped coming back, the stories twisted into more sinister adaptations. It was a religious group, who worshiped their leader as a false god. Then, it was a sex cult, who offered their bodies to him as a form of salvation. After that, it was a political power who strove to overtake all of society and enact his rules as law.

Time after time, story after story, it was always him at the forefront: some mysterious man who cornered and compelled his followers to obey.

And yet, you find yourself doubting it. How could he lead if he was never present? More than that, who could he lead if there were no loyal servants here to be led?

It didn’t add up.

The townsfolk were known for fear mongering - perhaps it was nothing more than a way to avoid losing any more citizens, to prevent them, too, from joining the strange man in the mountains.

But then again, you can’t quite shake the power you felt radiating from him when you were in that room, the way he so easily manipulated your body (and your thoughts) with nothing more than his words.

The thoughts string together in your mind as you pace the temple grounds during your walks, the only routine grounding you to the passage of time.

Today the sun struggles to shine through the clouds, a general greyness cast upon everything. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’ve barely seen him at all. Occasionally he’ll stop by your room, but only hover in the doorway, never entering. His voice always seems so calm when he speaks to you, offering simple observations about your meals, as though he was slowly investigating your preferences (not that he needed to - you were grateful simply to be fed - but he persisted nonetheless).

Tonight, you return to find the entrance to your room closed, the candlelight from inside casting a welcoming glow. As you slide the shoji open, a familiar scent fills the space. Your mouth waters as your feet carry you forward on instinct.

With the first bite from the bowl, you nearly moan in pleasure at the taste.

“Is it good?”

This time, you don’t jump at his silent approach. Glancing over your shoulder, you smile through a full mouth. “It’s incredible.”

“Good,” he laughs softly, “I’m glad. I was worried it wouldn’t be as good as you remembered.”

“Master Geto,” you swallow, “this is delicious.” Through another bite, your voice lowers, “It’s just like the oyakodon my parents used to make.”

“I know.”

The statement catches you momentarily off-guard, questions catching in your throat making you nearly choke.

He senses the change immediately as your shoulders close off, confusion building behind your eyes. “I apologize if I overstepped,” he begins, uncrossing his arms and allowing them to hang loosely by his sides in the slightly oversized robes, “I remembered that dish being popular in town, so I thought it might bring some comfort.”

“Oh,” you hum, tentatively chewing another bite. It’s a reasonable explanation, you suppose, even if it leaves more uncertainty swirling in your lungs.

After a moment of silence, his presence in your doorway begins to feel…awkward.

Normally by this point he’d have left with a wave, fading into the darkness outside. But not tonight. Tonight, he stays, swaying slightly within the entrance.

As your gaze covers him, the traditional robes remind you - perhaps you were being even more rude than you expected. You still knew very little about him, but maybe he abided by more traditional laws, one that forbade a man from entering a woman’s sleeping quarters without her permission.

(You always thought those rules were a bit silly, but now was not the time for debate - now was the time to learn more about the man lingering outside.)

“Would you like to come in?” You place the question into the air as you swallow the final piece of your dinner.

His grin threatens to tear across his cheeks as he nods politely. “Of course.”

As he approaches the table inside, his presence suddenly feels overwhelming. Even though he’s not physically much larger than you, something about him suffocates the space, his soul spreading out until there’s no room left. It’s stifling.

But when he sits across from you, it gets sucked back into himself. You can breathe again.

“How is the temple?” he asks easily.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse, “but…where is everyone?”

“Everyone?” He cocks his head to the side. “Oh! You mean the others. They aren’t particularly active during the day - you know how hot it gets here.”

In an instant, it feels right - the memories of the brisk mornings become hazy in your mind, replaced with the sun beaming overhead. Maybe you even returned to your room with sweat glistening along your skin after a particularly long walk.

Suguru notices the way your vision clouds over as the experiences rewrite themselves. If you were more present, perhaps you’d be able to decode the emotion flashing across his face as his nose scrunches and eyebrows furrow.

He stands suddenly, pulling you from your internal trance.

“Well, I suppose I should be going now,” he hums, gliding seamlessly to the doorway once again. “Goodnight.”

Before you can breathe a question, he’s gone, the rattling screen door the only proof of his existence.

–

You think you’re going insane here.

When you fled, you wanted to find something exciting, a new experience, an act of defiance. You wanted something to fill the emptiness in your soul and make you into something else, someone stronger, someone braver, someone more than the obedient little girl you left behind.

But now, with every repeated step through the temple grounds, you feel yourself collapsing inwards. The support beams inside you aren’t strong enough, cracking under the weight of loneliness.

Why wasn’t anyone here?

Why wasn’t anyone helping you?

Even Master Geto’s presence became desired, in spite of the slight unease that brewed within your stomach when he was around. It was like an addiction, as though he knew just how to feed you enough of him to keep you coming back, to keep you starving.

Ironic, isn’t it? That here, in a place with all your needs met, with delicious meals and extravagant clothes and plush beds, you find yourself destitute. Hunger pangs shoot up your chest as you eat alone, the robes begin stifling each breath, too hot even as the days grow colder. Every night you become increasingly acquainted with the wooden beams drawn above your bed.

You’re empty.

On your thirty-first night, after hours laying alone in the dark, you wonder if perhaps the moon would have any advice for you. She’s always watched over you, maybe she could guide you.

Outside, the gravel shifts beneath your feet. The candles are lit once again, lining the paths throughout the grounds. You’ve never seen anyone light them, and yet every night, their flames continue to burn (not that you need them, of course - you’ve grown accustomed to this place, steps tracing it like palm lines).

So you trust your legs when they carry you forward. Until you’re once again at the entrance of the main temple, the same warmth flickering from inside.

The door slides open easily, the hesitation that used to live in your muscles now replaced with tired indignation. You no longer have to wait for Master Geto’s command to enter (even though you want it, you want it so badly, to be told what to do and where to go and how to act and what to think until you’re nothing but his little puppet because then at least you could be something).

A part of you expected him to be in his chambers given the late hour. But a more possessive part hopes he’d be here, waiting for you.

Your lungs breathe a sigh of relief as you feel his gaze. He smiles as you stand in the doorway.

“What’s my little lamb doing up so late?” he coos, beckoning you inside.

Rubbing your eyes, you take your seat on the floor next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

It’s been some time since you’ve been here, you realize - perhaps since the first night you arrived - but it feels comfortable, the scent of smoke lingering in the air. And Master Geto is here, too - that surely helps.

“I see. Tell me, would you like me to make you some tea?”

Your head nods on its own, perhaps an effect of your recent insomnia.

Silently, he rises, moving easily through the room to collect his arsenal. Armed with a maroon teapot and a single cup, he returns to where you rest in the center of the room. Dark liquid pours into the mug before he places it in front of you.

The first sip burns your tongue slightly, but you avoid wincing - you wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful. You wouldn’t want to push him away.

Deep eyes watch your every move, drinking you in. That quiet discomfort is back, but you shove it down with a forceful swallow. After all, if you seem distrustful, it may make him unhappy, or worse, leave you. After so long without him, you’re content to sit under his blanket of silence.

“How are you enjoying your time here?”

Your throat catches for a moment. Should you tell him it’s killing you, eating you alive and breaking you down? Should you tell him how much you’ve missed him? No - surely he’d think you strange, you barely know each other despite the time you’ve spent here.

“It’s been…comfortable.”

He tilts his head through a thoughtful hum. He allows the quiet to choke you for a moment before he continues. “And yet, you’re here at this hour. Tell me, why?”

Your lips are moving on your own, fighting against your better interest. “I’ve missed you, Master Geto.”

“Oh?” He seems pleased with your response, letting out that tantalizing little chuckle. “What is it about me you’ve missed?”

This time, you’re able to stifle your voice before it betrays you. Through another sip, you let the words simmer on your tongue before he speaks again-

“Tell me.”

“I missed being told what to do,” you blurt, nearly spilling the tea that had been resting behind your lips.

Thin lips tug into a smirk as he eyes you, and you can’t help but feel you’ve answered correctly, even if it was against your will.

That fear bubbles inside your chest once again, but this time it’s tainted with something else, something hot. Something you would be tempted to call desire.

Adjusting his weight, muscled legs sprawl before him. “Come here, little lamb,” he purrs.

So easily he pulls your strings. In an instant you’re crawling towards him, until you’ve settled upon his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps a month ago you would have been scared at how easily he maneuvers you to his will, but after countless days left with only your own thoughts to drive you, it’s a welcome reprieve. A body is a heavy thing to carry alone; there’s no harm in letting someone else borrow it for a moment.

Slender fingers card through your hair, melting you beneath his touch. Until all that’s left is a fluid form in the outline of your flesh; it makes it all the more easy to shape that way.

“You must be tired, poor thing,” Suguru hums into the crown of your head.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Go on then, sleep.”

And your vision melts into his darkness.

–

When you wake, everything feels stiff. The room, your body, the blankets cocooned around you. Stale air sits in your lungs as you rise from the bed.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, landing on wood floors and drawn shades. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust except you, the only living thing here.

Nothing moves except for your breathing, no sounds besides the mattress creaking as you stand. Your thighs are tense, aching with each step forward. At least your robe is comfortable, even if it’s not the one you remember falling asleep in.

That memory itself feels fuzzy - how long had you been here?

But the slippers on your feet are warm, and you don’t feel that gnawing ache inside your stomach anymore. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

Sliding the bedroom door open, you wander into the hallway. At the end, flickering candlelight casts a glow across the familiar carpet, the same as in the main building. Oranges and greens blur in your vision as you make your way to it, and your heart picks up its pace as you walk, drawing you in.

It lurches when you see him.

Master Geto.

“You’re finally awake, my little lamb.” His voice is smooth like silk, softer than the sheets that had cradled you as you slept. “Come in.”

The room is beautiful, dark reds and browns lining every surface, especially the bed he lays upon. The material is cool on your skin, flushed from sleep.

“You slept for quite a while,” he hums, beginning to slowly run his fingers over your hair. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Why thank me?”

“I think…I think it was because of you.” The sentence trails up at the end, leaving it a question. One he does not decide to answer.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Master Geto.”

His lips spread into a smile as he rises, silently moving to the teapot resting in the corner. With his back momentarily to you, it’s easier to remember all the questions you ought to ask - how long was I asleep for? where is everyone? why am I here?

But they’re too overwhelming, too big. You aren’t sure he’d answer them, anyways - you aren’t sure you’d want an answer. It’s easier to not ask.

“I’m not sure I should stay here anymore.”

His shoulders stiffen, just enough that the tea nearly spills over the edge of the cup. He sets it down on the table beside you.

“And why is that?”

“I just…” you trail off, holding the mug in your hands. It’s warm, making your palms itch. “I’m not sure there’s anything for me to do here.”

“You keep me company. Is that not enough?”

“It is, but I just…I guess I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job.” It’s easier to speak when you only have to face the steaming liquid held in your lap. “I feel lost without you. I don’t know what to do with my time. I mostly just wander around and hope I see you, or hope you give me something to do. I like that, but I’m not even doing anything. You’re never around during the day anyways, so then I end up festering with my thoughts and just feel worse. I’m losing my mind here.”

A slender finger traces up your neck, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at him. His eyes hold a dark ice behind them, the kind that would slice open ships and kill sailors in the middle of the night, the kind the sea only makes when it’s craving blood.

“You have a purpose here, little lamb, you just can’t see it.”

You can’t hold his gaze, so you allow it to fall to the pink and red of his lips. “Then tell me what it is! I want to do something, please Master Geto.” Nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin as you grip the teacup.

“I can’t tell you, not yet.”

“Either tell me, or I’m leaving.”

You aren’t sure where the words came from, but they shock you as they land. Perhaps some deep part of your soul, some part the moon uncovered on your walk to the temple, growing brighter under her protection.

Fire, then ice flares behind him. He forces his shoulders back, cooling his tone. “Why don’t you drink some tea and calm down a bit, then we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want your tea! I want to know what’s going on!”

“I said, drink.”

The muscles in your arms tighten to bring the cup to your mouth. Liquid is forced past your lips through a choke. It burns your throat.

Once it’s empty, you drop it, the mug clanging against the floor. Tears prick the corners of your eyes in pain, and Master Geto seems tense. Lowering himself to the ground, he gingerly picks up the cup, allowing his palm to graze yours as he rises. Silently, he glides to the corner of the room where steam rises from the still-full teapot.

With everything in you, you force your mouth to move. “How do you do that?” Your voice is hoarse.

“Do what?”

“That,” you stumble, trying to explain. “Make me…do things.”

Six seconds pass before he answers.

“Do you know what obedience means?”

You nod.

“Tell me, what does it mean to you?”

“It means to do as another person says, always.”

Glancing at you from over his shoulder, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Exactly.” He pours more liquid into your cup, a silent apology in his own misshapen way. “Some must be trained into obedience through leashes and chains, but others are born for it, their souls a softer shape, one that’s easier to mold.”

The mug is warm in your hands as your fingers wrap around the ceramic, accepting it from his grasp.

“Someone like you, for example, was made to obey. You feel it, don’t you? That emptiness when you aren’t being commanded?”

As you nod, something inside you aches, a hole where your autonomy should be. And here is Master Geto, so kindly offering to fill it.

“That makes it all the more effortless to follow someone, you see. I can sense it, the way your body practically begs me to control it.” He explains it easily with a wave of his hand, as though a few sentences could make you understand.

And yet, you do. It feels right to be led by him, molded by him, controlled by him. It’s the comfort you’ve felt, the warmth that clouds your thoughts whenever you’re near him.

“Is that…is that what I’m doing here?” A large hand reaches over to rub slow circles into your back through the robe - his robe, you now realize. “I’m here to follow orders and do whatever you say?”

“No, no, not at all.” A sound close to a laugh brushes through his throat at the thought. “You’re here for something else.”

You finish the second cup of tea - it’s easier to drink now that your throat has already been burned. “Please, tell me why. I promise not to leave, please, Master Geto.”

Dark eyes fall to the empty cup in your hands, then back to you. So powerless in his grasp, the smell of him lingering on your clothes, on your skin, on your breath. An impossible scent to lose, even if you were to run.

“Do you know what a vampire is?”

Confusion swirls in your mind at the question. “Yes? I’ve heard of them, of course. Creatures who live forever and drink blood to survive, right?”

“Exactly,” he smiles, voice smooth like the silk wrapping around your body. “There are other components too, of course. Other powers. The commands, for example. And you’ve heard of those coming back from my temple, yes? How they return with no recollection of their time here?”

“Yes.”

“They were ones who ran - who I allowed to run, of course. They didn’t please me, or they were too weak to keep my company. But as you can imagine, I couldn’t allow them to tell others of what they had seen here, regardless of how stupid some of them may have been. So, they may survive, but the memories must go. And that’s just a fraction of what I’m capable of.” His words rise and fall in pitch, the most visible sign of excitement you’ve ever seen in him, before it flattens again. “Many think vampires are dangerous, but they aren’t, not if they’re able to control themselves. It’s a matter of obedience, you see.”

“Obedience,” you whisper into the empty space.

“If one can stay in control of their desires, it’s barely any different than how a human lives.”

Your hands fiddle with the hem of the robe, teeth chewing on your lip. “Why are you telling me this, Master Geto?”

The finger on your chin trails up until his hand rests upon your cheek. When your eyes finally meet his, he smiles, a gesture you don’t return. Your heart beats loud, pulling you into him.

“You know why.”

And you feel it, in the depths of your stomach. The true weight of his horror, his power, settles like obsidian in your chest. A cough stifles from your mouth from the coal-black dust inside you.

His thumb runs over your lips, pressing down on the plump flesh. You should run, you should scream and beg for help and go back to your parents and pretend this never happened. You aren’t safe here, you shouldn’t stay a moment longer.

All your body can do is quicken your pulse, thrumming up your neck.

Your lips part. His thumb slides past them.

When he smiles, he seems pleased, and you feel warm like the tea spreading through your muscles with each breath. Flickering candlelight casts a shadow across his eyes, and they seem to glow with hunger.

“Are you scared?”

His skin tastes sweet as it settles on your tongue. You slowly shake your head, humming a soft, “No.”

A twitch of a smirk plays across his lips. He didn’t even have to compel you. They spread wider, allowing sharp, whitened fangs to poke through. Your eyes widen and pupils dilate as they dig into his lower lip, red blooming beneath the skin.

“You should be.” He’s leaning forward, until he’s so close you block the light from cascading across his face. In the shadows of your body, he looks monstrous, all flashes of black and white. “And yet, you stay. Tell me, why? What could you possibly hope to achieve?”

Air rushes through your lungs, and the words tumble out in a single breath. “I want to obey you, Master Geto.”

Tilting his head to the side, dark bangs obscure his eyes.

“Ah, I understand now. You really were made for this, weren’t you?”

Sliding his thumb from your mouth, he closes the distance between you. A long finger tilts your chin upwards, locking your gaze on him.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You nod. You can’t help it - you want to do anything he tells you; you will do anything he tells you.

“Good.” Pink lips brush against yours. His breath is cool as he whispers, “Then lay down.”

The sheets are chilled against your burning skin as your back rests upon them. It’s easier, now, the way you’ve accepted your muscles enacting his will. It feels right to let him pull your strings, letting him shape you into whatever pose he sees fit.

He doesn’t even need to command you to open your legs, large palms spreading your knees apart easily, allowing them to fall with the weight of his gravity. Your clothes are gone in an instant, laid bare before him, returned to your natural form before the god that granted it. It’s only natural.

Hot breath hits your core, cold eyes resting on your face. His thumb trails a path along your skin until it lands upon your clit, each slow circle another rotation around his orbit.

It’s almost too much, your body writhing under his touch, desperation making your hips rut uselessly into him. But he’s just…watching you.

“P-please,” you can’t help but whine, trying to grind into him for any additional ounce of friction. Master Geto simply continues his agonizingly slow pace.

Your gaze meets his for a moment, fire crackling beneath it as his lips tug into a sinister grin, a predator about to consume its prey.

Eat me, your body begs, I’m yours.

Oh, he knows.

His palm opens, sliding two fingers easily into your cunt. Just as he curls upwards, sharp teeth move from poking through his lip into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. For the violence crackling beneath his skin, he’s surprisingly gentle as his canines sink into you.

Because he doesn’t want it to hurt.

Not yet.

The prickling pain tingles your senses as he pulls your first orgasm from you, a faint moan humming in your throat.

When he rises from between your legs, red dribbles from his lips. He crackles with pride, completely unabashed; if anything, he’s proud.

Warmth blankets your body as he crawls on top of you, a wolf stalking a lamb. And you can’t bring yourself to run.

Muscled shoulders bare themselves under the flickering lights as he slowly sheds his robes, pale and morphing, too blurry to focus on. If you were more naive, you’d be tempted to call him an angel.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs, his face now mere centimeters from yours.

When he kisses you, a mix of metal and cum tangles on your tongues, intoxicatingly you. Every ounce of his weight rests against you until you can’t pull in a breath anymore, your ribs unable to expand below him.

But like always, he grants you mercy.

He pulls back, just enough to let air rush in through your parted lips. Your skin burns where he places a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth.

Because now, you want it to hurt.

And oh, he knows.

That devilish smile curls upon his lips, no longer hiding the fangs behind it. Every beat of your heart makes you dizzy, your vision pulsing with each reverberating thrum. You wonder if he can feel it in your chest.

(He can.)

(He wants to claw it from your body and eat it.)

The remnants of blood lingering on his teeth are wiped away as his tongue swipes over them, an innocent white left in its wake. How perfect a sinner’s body can be.

He’s shifting his weight above you, but you barely notice, too enamored by him, too lost in his eyes, in his depravity. The moment your eyes flutter shut to protect your soul, he’s reaching out to you.

“Look at me, little lamb.”

And then, your gaze is locked on him.

And then, his cock is pressing into you.

Lips part, fire shoots up your spine, a cry dies in your throat. It’s burning and tearing and it’s death and everything is too hot and you’re staring into those eyes with flames behind them and you think you’d let him kill you if he asked.

Not that he needs to ask, of course.

Your back arches off the bed as your eyes nearly roll back into your head but they can’t - because it’s not what Master Geto commanded. Because you always do as he says.

Because you always obey.

Instead, tears prick at the corners and your entire body trembles and he’s staring down at you with pity.

“There, shh, that’s my girl,” he coos. He wipes away a tear with his thumb but he doesn’t stop, not until his pelvis is flush with yours and all you can feel is him inside you.

Ragged breaths rack your core, your walls clenching around him from his size alone.

“You’re being so obedient, so good,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. And the sun bursts through your chest.

A slack-jawed smile spreads across your features at his praise, cheeks warm and full of pride. You’ve done everything you were made for - you’ve made Master Geto happy. You’ve been good.

When he drags his hips from you, his tip catching and pulling and gouging any remaining shred of disloyalty from your consciousness, you know you’re his: your mind, your soul, your body. All his, in any way he wants it.

When he thrusts back into you, the emptiness inside you is filled with him.

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Master Geto.

All you have ever needed.

All you will ever need.

Master Geto.

Warmth blossoms in your chest as he fucks you into the silk sheets. You are his. You were always made to be his. There’s no pain in it, no uncertainty. It’s as things were always meant to be.

But there’s still something missing, something lingering in the droplet of red beading at the corner of his lips.

Eat me, your body pleads, I’m yours.

“Master Geto,” you whimper, “I…I want…”

As he gazes down at you, there’s a reverence behind it - not to you, no, but to your servitude.

“Yes, my little lamb,” he breathes through the sound of skin against skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“Bite me, Master Geto,” you cry, “please.”

And you feel him laugh, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. “Well, how could I deny my most devoted?”

First, it’s the searing pain of his fangs sinking into your skin. An instant later, it’s the burning pleasure of it.

A moan bubbles from your throat, allowing your head to fall back into his waiting palm, cradling you above the respite of feathered pillows. Because for now, he will hold you; you should be held by him.

Suguru is greedy as he drinks.

Grunts and groans echo from his chest, his body never stilling as he plunges in and out of you in pace with his tongue lapping at your pierced flesh. Just as his teeth pull away he strikes them into you again, and again, and again. Puncture wounds grow across your skin, blooming hues of maroon beneath them, stars decorating the sky, each one a burning supernova moments away from exploding.

They mark you for what you are: his.

“You taste,” he pants, “fucking devine.”

Nails claw at his back, your head lolled back into the sheets, limp beneath him. Of course, you’d move if he told you to - you’d die if he told you to.

Each racing heartbeat makes your vision pulse, head swimming as he drinks from you. Your body melts inside him, warm in his stomach.

The friction of his hips between your legs only grows, until it’s burning like the teeth in your neck. Red flames prick your skin, Suguru’s tongue chasing each one to put it out.

His grunts grow animalistic, a beast pulling muscles and tendons until it’s out of breath. Shoulders tense beneath your palms, and your stomach begins to tighten.

“Master Geto, I-”

“I know,” he growls into your neck. Arms tighten around your body, until they cage in your ribs, until you can’t breathe anything but him. “Cum for me, little lamb.”

Warmth floods your senses, numb save for his cock twitching. He bites down harder as his claim shoots into you, thick and hot.

For a moment, you wonder if he tore flesh from bone. When he removes his head from your collarbone, blood dripping down his chin in thick rivulets, it seems all the more possible.

Licking his lips, he groans at the sanguine flavor pouring down his throat, sweet like honey. When he kisses you, his tongue presses against yours until it lingers in the back of your mouth. Sweet like him.

Low eyes meet yours, a thumb stroking your cheek.

“Stay here, with me.”

And maybe, you will.

It’s easier like this, to be his.

It’s easier to obey.

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ( a collection of date locations and things to do with your date. feel free to adjust the prompts as needed! do not add to the list. )

a relaxing date

quiet night. our muses snuggle up together beneath a blanket on the couch or in bed and listens as the other muse reads a book to them. bookshop. our muses go to a bookshop and pick out books for each other to read once they get back home. console. our muses play a casual and fun game on a console together, requiring teamwork and strategy. park. our muses take a relaxing walk through the park together to talk and get to know each other better. spa. our muses go to a spa to treat themselves to a day of relaxation and pampering. movie. our muses go to the local cinema to watch a movie together, where they can snack on popcorn and be transported to another world. beach. our muses go to a warm sandy beach, where they can soak up the sun and dip their toes into the sea for a swim or a splash.

a fun date

pins. our muses go to a bowling alley together, where they can play a casual game or aim to have the highest score. wheels. our muses go roller skating together, where they can race one another or skate hand in hand for a more relaxed date. rink. our muses go ice skating together, where they can show off their moves or wobble on the ice and tumble in unison. swim. our muses go swimming together, where they can playfully splash one another, go down the slides or brave the wave pool. shopping. our muses go to the mall together, where they can shop to their hearts content and find a new thing to take home. ride. our muses go horse riding together, either separately or together, and enjoy the sights atop their horses. hole-in-one. our muses go to a crazy golf course, where they must overcome obstacles and get the ball to its end destination. laser. our muses go to a laser tag event and test out their stealth and aim as they try to hunt one another down to tag them. paintball. our muses go paintballing together and form up to be a formidable team or test their skills against each other. rodeo. our muses attempt the mechanical rodeo bull, where one muse must hang on for dear life or try to stay on together.

a delicious date

restaurant. our muses go to a nice restaurant, dressed up and treated to vintage wine and delicious food. fast food. our muses go to a fast food place, where there are no expectations and the company is all that matters. café. our muses go to a homely little café, where they can enjoy a warm drink and homemade cakes. truck. our muses go to a local food truck, where greasy but delicious food is served up right in front of them. homemade. our muses have a home-cooked meal, where one muse cooks the other a delicious and intimate meal. baking. our muses bake something together, sending flour everywhere and bringing out the playfulness of one another. picnic. our muses go on a little picnic together, a quiet patch of grass beneath the warm sun. cold treat. our muses find an ice cream truck and decide to treat themselves to a cold treat. sweet treat. our muses go to a desert place where they can get waffles, crêpes and brownies.

a nature date

zoo. our muses take a trip to the zoo where they can admire all the various walks of life and get the special privilege to feed an animal. wings. our muses visit a butterfly sanctuary, where the air is filled with colourful wings and life flutters all around them. feed. our muses visit a park with a bag of seed on hand to feed the local wildlife, getting to see them up close and personal. sea life. our muses visit and aquarium together, where they can stand beneath a tunnel of water and see sharks and fish swim overhead. sun. our muses find a clearing or a good vantage point to watch the sunrise or sunset together. stars. our muses lay beneath the stars together, where they can try to catch a glimpse of shooting star or point out the constellations. garden. our muses visit a botanical garden, where vibrant colours and fragrant flowers bloom.

an entertaining date

play. our muses attend a play at a theatre, where music fills the halls and actors perform on stage. opera. our muses attend an opera hall, where classical music takes people back to a different age. ballet. our muses attend a ballet showing, where elegance and grace captivates the audience. sport. our muses attend a sports event with the best seats in the house, where they can cheer on their favourite team and have a beer or two. concert. our muses visit a concert together, where the crowd raves to the music and joins in harmony. amusement park. our muses go to an amusement park, where they can relax on a log ride or risk it all with a daring ride. night out. our muses go to a bar where the drinks never end and the party goes well into the night. prize. our muses visit the arcades where they can try to win as many prizes as they can or jump into a stimulation game. old games. our muses have a fun and competitive go at old board games, where it could bring them together or test the strength of their relationship.

an educational date

pottery. our muses attending a pottery class where one muse helps the other to make a pot, hands on. paint. our muses attending a painting class, where they can gift one another their painting or paint one another. dance. our muses attend a dance class, where they can learn a few new moves and share an intimate moment. axe. our muses go to an axe throwing class, where a professional teaches them how to throw axes. museum. our muses go to the museum, where they can learn the earth's history, admire the artwork or venture into space. castle. our muses visit an old castle, where history lingers and people can peer into the past.

a medieval date

renfair. our muses attend a renfair event, dressed up for the occasion and enjoy the festivities. joust. our muses attend a medieval restaurant where they can dine, watch knights joust and have a medieval experience. ball. our muses attend a grand ball, where couples take to the dance floor and let the music flow through them. masquerade. our muses attend a masquerade ball, where masks shrouds faces and scandals thrive. feast. our muses attend a grand feast, where jolly laughter and mountains of food await.

an adventurous date

climb. our muses attend an indoor climbing place or brave the mountains, to put their strength and resilience to the test. camp. our muses take to the wild and set up camp in the woods, putting their survival skills to the test. sail. our muses go on a cruise together, where they can kick back and enjoy a nice cocktail on the ocean waves. lake. our muses brave the brisk waters and go skinny dipping together for some naughty fun. rapids. our muses go canoeing in the treacherous waters of a fast running river sky diving. our muses take to the skies and go sky diving, either together or side by side, and experience the world from above. slope. our muses go skiing or snowboarding together, soaring past the snow covered trees and gaining air with ramps.

an unconventional date

heist. our muses go on a more unconventional date and go on a heist together to bring home a new, shiny and expensive addition. fight. our muses attend a fighting match where adrenaline is high and cheers fill the room. rage. our muses go to a rage room and smash things together, letting out pent up rage and stress in union. graveyard. our muses visit a graveyard at night, where they can try to scare one another with a scary story or visit the dead. ghosts. our muses try to find the paranormal in an abandoned place, where spirits are said to linger. hunting. our muses go hunting together, but what exactly will they be hunting? escape. our muses go to an escape room, where they will need to work together if they ever stand a chance of getting out. sacrifice. our muses perform a ritual with the intention of summoning something, but is it for fun or is it something all the more sinister?

[sikayeto]

[2000] Thursday the 27th

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

[michael robinavitch x offspring/daughter reader]

[tw: assault and violence]

[summary: another missed dinner, another gasp for air]

[a/n: this is unedited! but i hope you enjoy anyways!]

MASTERLIST

[1] [3]

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

There’s an overwhelming sense of relief. Hearing the words, “You passed,” come out from your instructor’s lips felt like a dream. A dream you’ve had for the past 6 months. And it came true. It’s a reality. Wet tears stream down your face. A choked sob escapes from depth inside of you. 

6 months ago, you failed your final nursing practical exam. Through constant practice, and weekly counselling sessions, you’ve overcome this obstacle that derailed you from your life plans. No longer would the label of “FAILURE” hang above your head. You’re back on track. Exactly where you need to be now.

Leaving the testing room, you pull out your phone and send off a text to your Dad.

[Hey! You’re coming home for dinner, right?]

[I sure hope so]

[Great! I’m making roast and veggies!]

[What’s the occasion?]

[You’ll find out soon!]

[See you at 8!] Read

Warmth rushes into you, and floods your carcass with each breath you take. The weight of the world placed upon your shoulders as you balanced on a delicate pedestal, no longer threatens to make you fall. The bright fluorescent overhead lights of the college didn’t burn your retinas. Instead they highlighted the shades and hues of the furniture and walls. Picked with the sole purpose of uplifting the moods of students. Is this what happiness felt like? Is this how normal people feel?

Ecstatic. Giddy. Delighted. Happy.

Excited. You haven’t felt excitement in who knows how long. You get to tell your Dad the good news. But first, you have to make dinner.

- - -

The apartment is bathed in the warm yellow of lamps and other light fixtures. Honey Glazed ham wafts through the kitchen and permeates the rest of the premises. Singing and dancing along to “The Winner Takes It All” harmonizing from the vinyl player, Reggie makes figure eights between your legs. You pause every now and then to stir a pot of sauce or saute a side dish on the stove. Eyes fluttering every now and then to the clock. Counting down the minutes to your Dad’s arrival. 

Good news. You get to tell him the good news. 

The oven timer reaches 0, and beeps. Snapping out of it, you grab the oven mitts nearby and take the roast ham from the oven. The glaze on the ham glistens and shines. Steam wisps from its flesh, teasing your olfactory senses with the promise of a sweet and savoury supper. Mashed potatoes are plated next. Whipped to perfection with thick cream and salted butter. A side of oil roasted seasonal vegetables are placed down on the dining table next. A fork stabs one of the carrot pieces and directs the morsel to your mouth. The carrots flavour blooms on your tongue. The texture, you find, is just right. Not too crunchy, and not mush either. 

Looking at the meal you’ve painstakingly prepared, another emotion emerges from you. Pride. You’re proud of yourself. It’s been so long, you’ve forgotten what that feels like. 

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your Dad is due to arrive home soon. 

You start cleaning up the kitchen. Washing the dishes you left in the sink, and wiping down surfaces. Losing yourself to the dulcet tones of the vinyl player and the peace that lays on you like a familiar blanket. 

Eyes instinctively gravitate to the clock. 

8:10pm

That’s not a problem. He’ll be here any minute now. 

8:30pm

He probably just got held up. Any minute now.

9:15pm

He works at the ER. If he’s late, there’s somebody’s life on the line. He’ll be here.

10:00pm.

You sit at the dining table. The ham’s gone cold.

The screen of your phone illuminates from where it lays on the table. Hope sparks from within. Picking it up reveals a text message from one of your classmates. 

[We’re at the Pearl celebrating! They’re playing Sabrina! Get here ASAAAAAAP!!!!]

      [...]

     [Be there in 30 :)]

- - -

“Busy Woman” blasted from the base speakers of the club. Bodies crowded each other on the dance floor, a flurry of motioning limbs. 2 drinks in and you’ve melded together with the rest of the population. The music replaces the neurotransmitters telling your muscles to contract and move to the beat. Bringing your cup to your lips, no liquid reaches them. Realization dawns on you that your cup’s empty. You grab the attention of your group of classmates on the dance floor with you, motioning to your empty cup, and then pointing at the bar. One of the girls nods in understanding. 

You maneuver around the people blocking your way to your next drink. Reaching the sticky front counter of the bar, you catch the attention of the bartender.

“What can I get you?” he yells over the music.

“Gin and coke please!” you shout back.

He gives you a thumbs up and starts making the drink. You busy yourself with your phone as you wait. A glass with bubbling dark liquid appears in front of you. A quick thanks and you’re back to the dance floor.

That last drink might’ve been too much for you to handle. The world spins more than you're comfortable with. There’s a heaviness in your gut, and the faint taste of acidic vomit in the back of your throat. 

Everything in slow motion. Strobe lights flash in and out of your view. Bones and sinew that used to be so hollow and light, are now made of lead. Trying its hardest in tandem with gravity to drag you down, down, down to the disgusting floor. Stumbling like a newborn fawn, making your best attempt at making it to the equally disgusting bathroom. 

With all your withered might, the bathroom door swings open and bangs against the wall.

Leaning against the wall, hands reaching for the cold porcelain of the singular sink. The press on nails you put on in a hurry before you left the apartment, dig into your fingers with how hard you grip the sides of the sink. You see glimpses of the sequins of your too short dress, in between leaning your head down and looking at the cracked mirror. 

Burning pain emerges from your scalp as your head is forcefully pulled back. A hand pressed against your mouth muffles your scream. In the mirror is the bartender. He grasps the back of your skull and slams your head into the mirror.

Everything goes black.

- - -

Regaining consciousness wasn’t a better experience. He straddles your prone body. You’re on the bathroom floor and his hands are wrapped around your throat. Every cell in your body burns because you’re starving for oxygen. Hands flailing to find some sort of relief or purchase. Trying desperately to pry away the bones that have viced your airway. Start patting aimlessly around the tiled floor. Pain shoots from the tip of your finger as it touches something sharp. The bartender looks as if he’s somewhere far away. You grasp on to the makeshift blade and stinging red blooms from your palm. With all your strength, you swing your arm towards the bartender. The large shard of glass you grabbed, deeply pierces the side of his torso. If you guessed, somewhere probably between the 4th and 5th left lateral ribs. The bartender falls back in shock at the sudden foreign body that entered his. Blood leaks from the open wound in steady rivets. You lean up on your elbows, gulping down gallons of air. 

Now, the bartender lays prone on the dirty floor. Hands weakly trying to stem the flow of life leaving his body. Everything stills, and the only thing you can hear is the sounds of your breathing and the beat of your heart.

The bathroom door opens, and a random girl enters. One glance at the scene in front of her, and she screams.

You don’t remember the ride to the hospital in the ambulance. You remember the sirens, the lights, but whatever you had in your system was still wreaking havoc.

Wheeled into the ER on a gurney, you hear the paramedic yell out, “21 year old female, drowsy but oriented times 3, possible head trauma. Respiration rate of 8 and O2 sats at 85% on 10L. Heart Rate is 115 and BP is 95/80. We think she got drugged with something and gave her intranasal naloxone but it’s not having any effect on her vitals”.

The ER lights forcefully invade your pupils, and you squint in an effort to adjust. You hear your name called out in surprise. Trying to focus on the source of your name, your eyes adjust to reveal a doctor.

“Uncle Jack?”

‐------------------------------------------------------------------------

comment, comment, comment, comment 🙏

Next

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having a great track day with Ghost but getting so exhausted that the two of you fall asleep on the gym floor.

Like, you aced the hurdles and the dashes with no issue. The obstacle course wasn't even that with how you breezed through it. You had some issues with the rope climb, but Ghost had taught you the technique last session. And voila! You beat your last time and came out on top of the rookies once again.

Ghost was built for his brawn. While he also aced his turn, it was obvious he didn't have some of the dexterity you possessed and therefore had to put more energy into not knocking into things. He also came out on top of the rookies and over your time. You scoffed but offered him some water.

The summer was upon you, and with it, it's gentle heat that quickly turned to burning rage. You could feel a prickly tightness on the back of your shoulders and neck. Not sunburn quite yet, but probably close. The drier air wicked the moisture from your mouth as you panted.

"M' gonna head in." You huffed, gesturing to the gymnasium's open back door. "Do n' equipment check."

He nodded at you, the front of his mask rising and falling quickly. Something about seeing him pant in his mask tickled you. You headed towards the gym and the moment you stepped inside you couldn't help but sigh. The air conditioning was cool and refreshing. Instantly, you could feel the heat in your bones being drawn out towards your skin.

With a soft hum you began an equipment check. The longer you stood at the racks, check marking boxes and organizing the weights, you felt heavier and heavier. You checked the time, 12:45. No wonder you felt so drained.

It was the midday slump.

Well, as soon as you were done you could get a shower and probably get a nap before mess. The sound of the gym's back door closing made you jump. Oh no....

"Please tell me you didn't close that door." You whined at Ghost.

Just as you suspected, he still had his hand on the door handle. You facepalmed.

"Gaz has the keys. And he's not coming back till three."

"Wot 're you talkin' about?" Ghost huffed, trying the other set of gym doors. Just as you suspected, yeah, they were locked. He jiggled them firmly, eyes dark with annoyance.

"Thanks, Ghost. We're locked in here for awhile."

He went to try the locker room doors and those too were locked. You raised a brow at him but opted to sit against one of the bare walls. There was no point in getting upset.

Gaz would be back in a little while. Besides, the gym had the best air-conditioning out of all the buildings since it'd been first on the list for an upgrade last year. Even if you went back to your bunk, the the likelihood of getting a comfortable nap would be low.

You could hear Ghost messing with the door locks but you knew it was a lost cause. He didn't have the tools to open it, and if he brute forced it open Price would be on his ass for repairs. Just as you expected, it didn't take him long to give up.

"When's Gaz getting back?" He huffed, rolling up his longsleeve just enough to get a glance down at his sports watch.

"Three."

He set his watch's timer with a few beeps before crouching into a sitting position next to you. The next few minutes were spent in a cool silence. Occasionally the a/c units would hum to life, drone and puff cool air over your still hot body, and then click off.

"Didn't bring your phone?" He asked, voice more tired than usual.

"Nope. Left it in the locker room." You shrugged. "Didn't bring yours?"

"No." He muttered, glancing at the locker room with his eyes only.

More minutes ticked by. The cool linoleum leeched even more heat out of your skin. The overhead lights were motion activated, and so most of them had flicked off awhile ago. It was cool and dim and your body was tired from exertion.

You couldn't help but start nodding off.

"Falling asleep, Sergeant?" Ghost mused, looking down at you through the holes in his soft mask.

"Oh, don't act like you're not feeling it too." You huffed, curling up into your arms. "M' tired."

Ghost hummed. Whether in agreement, you couldn't tell. You didn't really care. How could you when sleep creeped in from the edge of your vision.

"Can I lean on you?"

"Wot?"

"Can I lean on you?" You asked him again. "I don't wanna lay on the floor but I wanna take a nap."

"Sure..."

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on the top of his arm. It was a bit uncomfortable with how firm it was at first but it was certainly softer than the floor. It didn't take long for you to feel your lids drooping again.

Right as you were pulled under, you felt Ghost shift. There was a warm presence against the crown of your head.

If you weren't half asleep you might've thought he'd kissed your forehead.

[thetiniestrhino]

I pick you up, toss you on the bed. One hand pins your arms overhead, one leg pins both of yours down. Without hesitation, I attack. My fingertips torment your armpit until you writhe against me. My hand squeezes your ribs until you buck and scream. I work your thighs over like they owe me money... But then something changes.

I use a lighter touch, teasing your neck, your collarbone. Part tickle, part something else. Ever so gradually, my hand moves...

Lower.

Tickling and teasing around the edges of your breasts, trailing a lazy fingertip between them. Nothing overt, nothing obvious... Just enough to get your attention. Just enough to make you think... Thoughts.

Lower.

My hand caresses your upper ribs, teasing lightly, making you squirm. Slipping across the soft skin beneath your breasts - so secret, so seldom seen, so seldom touched... So sublimely sensitive.

Lower.

A finger circles your bellybutton ever so slowly, slipping playfully inside. I catch your look and grin briefly back at you. Surely this is not a suggestion... Right?

Lower.

My hand splays out across your lower tummy, gently tickling the soft skin there before moving to caress and enjoy the soft, sensual roundness of your hip. My thumb glides over your hipbone slowly, drinking in the way it feels.

Lower.

I feel your breath quicken against my cheek, anticipation building to a crescendo as my fingers finally encounter an obstacle. They slowly toy with your panty line, tickling softly, occasionally slipping just barely beneath the silky barrier - But not quite far enough.

Lower?

No. At least... Not yet. Not until you use your words and ask for what you want, of course.

Best ask soon, though. You're awfully tempting to tickle. And then we'd have to start all over. 😉

[brodygold]

Vengeance Served Rubbery

Brody stepped into the abandoned warehouse, the dim overhead lights flickering slightly. The air smelled of dust and faint machine oil, remnants of a past long forgotten. He wasn’t alone—standing in the center of the room was the man he had come to meet.

Nathan Locke.

A man who had managed to break a handful of Polo Drones free from the hive’s influence for his own rubber hive. An anomaly. An obstacle. One that Brody had no intention of allowing to continue.

Nathan eyed him with a cocky smirk. “You must be Brody. I was expecting someone… more impressive.”

Brody smirked back. “And I expected someone smarter.” He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his cleats echoing in the empty space. “You think you can stand in our way? That you can undo what’s already been set in motion?”

Nathan chuckled. “I think I already have.”

Brody didn’t bother with another word. Instead, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, silver device. With a flick, the spiral began to spin.

Nathan scoffed. “You think that’s going to—”

His voice faltered. His breath hitched. His words slurred slightly as his eyes locked onto the hypnotic pattern.

Brody watched as the fight in Nathan’s body wavered, his cocky stance beginning to weaken.

“Focus,” Brody commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering.

Nathan stiffened slightly, his eyes locked onto the spiral.

“Good,” Brody murmured, stepping forward, lowering his voice to something smooth yet commanding. “No need to resist. No need to think. Let it in. Let it take hold. Now get hard.”

Nathan’s arms twitched, but he didn’t move away. His posture slumped ever so slightly, his breathing slowing. He felt his cock gorge outward, leaving an impression in his jeans.

Brody’s smirk widened. “You feel it now, don’t you? The pull. The emptiness. Spreading through your mind. Sinking deeper. Wiping away all that nonsense you used to believe.”

Nathan let out a shuddering breath, a moan, his muscles growing slack.

Brody grabbed a hold of the erection with a firm grip. "It looks like you're enjoying yourself too. Give in to the pleasure. Let me take over."

Another moan. Nathan tried to struggle, tried to break free. But it felt so good. So good to watch the spiral. He was close.

Then, the first changes began.

A glossy sheen spread across his shirt, like ink bleeding through fabric. The texture thickened, smoothing into a polished black. The sleeves pulled tighter, hugging his biceps as the material restructured into a perfect, form-fitting rubber polo.

Brody watched with satisfaction as Nathan’s jeans began to melt, seams vanishing as the denim dissolved into a liquid-like sheen. The texture shifted, clinging tightly to his thighs, reforming into sleek, high-gloss rubber shorts. The transformation crawled downward, his socks vanishing while his shoes stretched upward, reforming into black rubber boots.

Nathan exhaled a soft, empty sigh and another low moan, his body standing more rigid now, his mind unraveling into pure obedience.

Brody reached forward, gripping Nathan’s chin and tilting his head slightly. “You are almost ready. I can tell you're close. I might even let you experience the pleasure of your orgasm.”

The final touch took hold—a sleek, black rubber mask formed over Nathan’s mouth and nose, sealing away any final traces of protest. His name. His thoughts. His former self. All erased.

And then, the mark of absolute submission.

Golden text shimmered onto his chest, embossed into the glossy surface of his polo:

PDU-314.

Brody let go of the drone’s crotch, taking a step back, admiring his work. He let the silence stretch for a moment before issuing his first command.

“Stand at attention.”

Instantly, the drone straightened, arms at its sides, legs together in perfect formation.

Brody folded his arms. “State your designation.”

The drone’s glowing eyes flickered. A voice, smooth and robotic, emerged from behind the mask.

“PDU-314, operational.”

A smirk tugged at Brody’s lips. “Excellent.” He took a slow, deliberate step around the drone, inspecting him like a freshly completed project. “You don't need physical pleasure. Drones only need to obey.”

The drone stood motionless.

“You belong to the hive now,” Brody stated firmly. “But you are special. You are mine. My personal assistant. You will serve me and ensure the hive runs efficiently. Do you understand?”

“Affirmative.”

Brody placed a hand on the drone’s shoulder. “From now on, you exist to obey. You exist to serve.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “And you will never question again. Less thinking, more doing.”

PDU-314 remained still, unwavering in his obedience.

Brody turned toward the exit, fully satisfied. “Follow.”

Without hesitation, the new drone obeyed.

The two walked out of the warehouse, the polo drone hive ever stronger. With the last major resistance faltering and under his control, Brody knew the hive could only grow.

The hive will grow.

Disciplined.

Focused.

Controlled.

[zfmda]

catch me if i fall

an ino takuma x reader fic

part one — collide

content — fluff, reader meets ino again, flirting if you squint.

word count — 2.1k

summary — wanting to try something new to take your mind off of the stresses of university, you decide to pick up skateboarding. not very good at it, you practice around your neighbourhood, until one day, you decide to go to the skatepark. visiting for the first time by yourself, you gain confidence to go more often. especially now that a guy like takuma ino has captured your attention. what starts off as a friendly encounter turns into lingering glances, and the dizzy feeling of his hands steadying yours, long after the board has stopped moving.

menu || drabble/intro || part two (coming soon)

──────────────────────

the sun shines overhead, its golden rays casting a warm glow over the evening as you make your way to the local skatepark. the air is thick, signalling the start of summer, though a light breeze brushes against your skin, offering some respite.

it’s been five days since your last visit, yet his image has lingered in your thoughts, unshakable. takuma ino—the name repeats endlessly in your mind, a quiet mantra you can’t seem to escape. in particular, the memory of his toned arms, unexpectedly strong despite his scrawny frame, steadying you when you lost balance after dropping in from the quarter pipe.

it shouldn’t feel like this, i only met him once. that’s what you tell yourself, but your heart answers differently, betraying your logic with every soft, insistent beat, echoing a memory you barely had time to hold onto.

weeks had slipped by, buried under the weight of coursework and never-ending deadlines. you rarely had any time to practice on your skateboard let alone go to the skatepark. today, however, you needed to take your mind off pages worth of readings. the need to feel the wind against your skin, the familiar pop of wheels against concrete. something real, something freeing.

arriving at the skatepark, your eyes scan the busy space, almost instinctively searching for a signature beanie covering shaggy, brown hair. you try to ignore the subtle drop deep in your stomach, a clear sign of disappointment at the lack of his presence. you swallow it down, tightening your grip on your skateboard before entering the park.

it’s particularly busy today, kids with scooters and teenagers with their skateboards making you feel less confident. settling at an empty corner, where the noise fades and the transitions give way to flat concrete, you practice ollies, an essential trick for jumping over obstacles. drowning out the noise of the people around, your fingers untangle the wire of your earphones, pushing them into your ears and letting the music flow through you.

two hours seem to pass by quickly and you decide to head back home, already feeling exhausted. your arm reaches up to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your brows from the fruitful attempts at landing an ollie. sighing, you skate towards the exit, when suddenly you slam into something—or someone, expecting impact.

instead, you collide with warmth.

a soft grunt is heard as you blink open to reveal a familiar pair of dark brown orbs staring back at you, the sunlight reflected off of his irises like pools of honey.

takuma ino.

dazed, you lay there for a second, heart skipping its rhythm entirely. he blinks, more surprised than anything, and a sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“you always greet people like that? ‘cause i gotta say, ten outta ten entrance.”

finally, you scramble off him, flustered. “oh my god, i-i’m so sorry!..i wasn’t looking—are you okay?” the words tumbling out in a rush as you hover, not knowing what to do with your hands. he sits up slowly, brushing off the invisible dust on his oversized jumper before picking up his board.

“don’t worry about it.” he says, one brow rising up, holding his board under his arm casually, “didn’t think i’d see you again though, you haven’t been around for a few days.”

pulling out your earphones, still breathless, you blush. a hint of embarrassment written all over your face and the dusting of pink spreading across your cheeks. “you... noticed?” you reply in disbelief, not thinking for a second that he’d remember who you were.

“course i did,” he replies, almost too quickly. “you were hard to miss. thought maybe i scared you off with the whole dropping in thing.”

you laugh, the sound coming out a little nervously. “um, i just had a lot of assignments to complete and no time to skate.”

“fair enough.” he looked at you again, more carefully this time, as if trying to place something.

“…y/n, right?” he says it gently, like he’s not completely sure, but hoping he is. there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice, like he doesn’t want to look too eager, but his eyes are searching yours, waiting for confirmation.

your heart races a little faster, chest tightening in that strange, electric way it does when someone remembers more than you expect them to. “yeah,” you say, the word soft but warm. “and you’re... takuma.”

“that’s my name.” he grins before letting out a short breath, shoulders dropping a bit in relief. “man, i was hoping i remembered that right. i’m usually better with faces than names.”

there’s a pause. he rubs the back of his neck, like he’s not quite sure what to say next but doesn’t want to just walk away either. then he tilts his head towards the ramps. “you here to practice? i could help you again. teach a few things, if you’d like.”

you glance down at your board, already exhausted from the past two hours of physical activity. “i was actually about to head out,” you admit, feet shuffling on your board. “i’ve been here a while already.”

his face falls for the briefest second, just a flicker, almost imperceptible, but then he nods, trying to act natural. “yeah, no worries. you must be tired.”

you shift on your feet again, the wheels of your skateboard moving quietly against the smooth ground as the late afternoon sun casts golden rays all around. you should leave. you were leaving.

but there’s something about the way he’s standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his black sweats, eyes a little too hopeful despite his easygoing demeanor. maybe it’s the way the sun frames his figure, or maybe it’s the quiet sense of comfort you feel in his presence.

ignoring the small ache in your legs, you shrug, trying to hide the sudden flutter spreading inside your stomach. “i mean... i guess i could stay a little longer.”

the grin that spreads across ino’s face is unforgettable, infectious, and leaves your mind reeling.

“yeah?” he steps a little closer, eyes lighting up. “you know i was about to head out too since it’s real busy today but now i feel like i gotta stick around, y’know... to make sure you don’t go crashing into anyone else.”

you roll your eyes playfully, a hint of a smile appearing on your lips. “you’re never going to let that go, huh?”

“never.” he grins, getting onto his skateboard and rolling forward with effortless ease, turning back to glance at you. “you were practicing ollies the last time i saw you, right? show me what you’ve got.”

you shake your head, letting out a nervous chuckle as you get onto your board, pushing off to follow him.

“there’s barely any progress so there’s nothing to really show.” you say, raising your voice a little while cruising around the park, following him.

he stops at a relatively quiet spot, away from the throngs of other skaters. “c’mon, i’m sure you’ve got something. you learn pretty quick.”

“fine, but don’t laugh.” you grumble, giving him a pointed look. “and catch me if i fall.”

he flashes a boyish grin, eyes glinting with amusement. “i got you, i’ll personally throw myself under you if i have to.”

shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh and push off your board to attempt the ollie. popping the tail, the board moves and your foot slides up. it’s clumsy, the board wobbles under you, but you stay on. barely.

you glance at him, your expression half-expectant, and half-flustered. “see? i told you it’s not great.”

but ino just whistles low, giving an exaggerated nod of approval. “not bad. seriously.”

you raise a brow and look at him funnily, in a sort of sarcastic way, like he just said something unbelievably stupid. “you don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“not lying,” he says, gliding closer on his board and stopping beside you. “most people can’t even get the board off the ground after a few tries. you’ve got the timing down. it’s the landing that needs work... and maybe your knees are too stiff.”

“my knees aren’t that stiff.” you quip back defensively, looking down at your stance on the board and bending down slightly.

“okay—not that stiff.” he chuckles, looking over your figure, the way you stand a little awkwardly like you’re not confident in your abilities makes his eyes soften. “wanna try again? i can walk you through the motion.”

there’s a beat of hesitation before you nod, and he steps off his board, crouching down beside you to demonstrate. you watch him closely, the concentration on his face is determined and endearing at the same time. he points to the tail of your board.

“right here. pop it like you mean it, and then let your front foot meet the board as it goes up. you’re focusing too much on sliding your foot. just commit to the jump.”

“easy for you to say.” you murmur, getting ready to try again.

he stands up straight again, looking at you with a shrug and a small, lopsided grin. “been practicing since i was ten. you just gotta keep trying.”

then, without really thinking, he steps closer behind you, just enough for you to feel the heat of his body.

“mind if i adjust your stance?” he asks tentatively, voice softer now.

you nod, and he gently reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm as he adjusts your posture.

“try now.” he murmurs, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath grazing your neck.

taking another deep breath, you try again, popping the board with more confidence. it’s not perfect, but your wheels leave the ground an inch higher. when you land, you glance up at him unsure.

“better?”

“now that’s what i’m talking about! you’ll be jumping stairs in no time.”

you snort, hopping off your board and turning to look at him. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

he leans in slightly, teasing. “too late, i can already picture it the next time we skate. you’ll probably surpass my skills.”

your heart stutters at the we, the possibility of a next time. you try to mask it with a light laugh, but it echoes in your ears a little too long.

“maybe.”

before either of you could say anything else, a loud voice cuts through from the other side of the skatepark.

“yo ino! you coming?”

both of you glance toward the source. a boy, who you assume is a friend of ino’s, with messy pink hair and a bright red hoodie waves, calling him over. another figure stands beside him, more brooding with a nonchalant expression as he stands with a hood over his dark, spiky strands.

he raises his hand and waves back, calling out, “yeah, i’m coming!”

the interruption settles between you, almost as if neither of you want to leave the other. you shift your board under your arm. “i should probably get going. been here for a while now.”

he looks back at you, and for a second, his easy smile falters, although you barely catch it. “right, yeah. makes sense.” he replies. there’s a brief pause, neither of you moving.

then, a little awkwardly, he nods toward you. “uh...do you have, like... instagram or something?”

you blink, surprised.

his hand reaches up to fix the beanie resting on top of his head, seeming to regret asking the second it leaves his mouth. “i mean, just so i can let you know next time i’m coming out here. or, like... we could practice again. if you want.”

that hesitation in his voice, careful and sincere, leaves your palms clammy, and heart racing. you’ve never felt this way before.

“oh! uhh, sure… here.” you take out your phone from the pocket of your baggy jeans, opening up the app and handing it over to him. he perks up slightly as he takes it, fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary.

once he types his handle in, he hands the phone back, his name now appearing on the screen: takuma_ino requested to follow you.

your thumb taps the follow request, confirming it and then following him back with a smile.

“cool,” he says, suddenly bashful. “uh. talk soon?”

there’s something in your expression. gentle and genuine, that makes his pulse quicken.

“yeah,” you murmur, tone tender enough to make his breath catch. “see you later, takuma.”

and as you turn and start to walk away, though you don’t look back, you can feel it. the unmistakable weight of his eyes lingering on you the whole way out.

──────────────────────

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt12

Familiar Winds

(Summary): After reaching Mondstadt you run into an unexpected hurdle but a few familiar faces are here to help you

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): traveler!Lumine, abyss prince!Aether, Paimon, Childe, ???, ???, ???, & ???

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, (y/n) used, reader knows some Spanish, cannon typical violence, & blood

(Word Count): 3.2 k

“Italics” = Non human speaking

The boat ride took days to reach Mondstadt from Inazuma, you can’t complain since luckily your boat hasn’t gotten struck by lightning. You haven’t experienced any storms on the trip, but you’ve been on edge since you remembered watching videos of random players trying to reach Inazuma with various methods and all end up getting striked by lightning back in your world. Perhaps Teyvat itself has decided to bless you with luck on your voyage, hopefully that luck continues

With that blessing a little obstacle presents itself. The large mountains that litter Dragonspine. It’s not as bad as it is in Liyue but with the snowy terrain it adds an extra level of danger

You turned towards your companions. “So, how are we going to scale this? I don’t exactly have the upper body strength like you all have.”

“I guess one of us is going to have to carry their Grac-” Childe was cut off

“I’ll do it.” Lumine said

You see the two men wanting to argue with the blonde but you shut it down. “Okay.” Said loud and clear

You get on Lumine’s back and spot the others hang their heads in defeat and start to climb up the side of the mountain

“I hope I’m not weighing you down too much.”

“It’s nothing, I stopped the hand of Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.” Lumine reminded you of her fight with Scaramouche when he was still a Harbinger

The trek up the mountain wasn’t too eventful, besides you telling yourself to not look down

Eventually you and company make it up and begin to walk to the Frostbearing Tree. During the walk you were surprised to see that the weather wasn’t as harsh as you expected. The wind swirled around you almost as if it was caressing your face

Finally in front of the tree you took a deep breath you put your hands on the tree and felt nothing

Confused, you take your hand off the bark and place it on a different part of the tree. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to concentrate but it felt like some force is blocking you from connecting to the elemental energy.

“Am I doing something wrong?” You said as you pulled your hand away. “I can’t resonate with the tree.”

“Don’t be sad, it might be because you’re tired and haven’t had a proper meal.” Paimon tried to reassure you

“Maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be better.” You said and out of the corner of your eye you see a flash of teal fly overhead

“Your Grace.”A voice reverberated through your head

“D-did any of you hear that?” You asked but was met with confused looks

“Come here.”

“There it is again, you guys seriously don’t hear that?”

“Are you sure it isn’t just the wind?” Aether said

“I know it’s not the wind.” You told

“I have to see you.”

You glance over to your companions who are none the wiser of the disembodied voice you’re hearing. Fed up you slowly make your way towards where the voice is coming from, the twins and Childe hesitantly follow you. Rounding the corner your greeted by the sight of the dragon, Dvalin

“Eek!! What is he doing here?!” Paimon screamed as she flew behind you

The twins and Childe quickly drew their weapon ready to charge at the dragon

“Fear not, for I have no intention of harming their Grace.”

“Wait, guys.” You said as you pushed through your companions. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do, I would be a disgrace to not recognize the mighty creator of this world. I do apologize for that fool Barbatos attacking you without any hesitation.”

“I don’t hold a grudge against him because my doppelganger uses the gnosis to control him, along with the other archons.” You explained and saw a look of anger and confusion fills the dragon’s eyes

“That insolent fraud! I should go to their floating palace and maul them!” The dragon roared causing your companions to cover their ears

“I get your frustration, but I beg you to not do anything rash. I’m currently in the middle of getting my old powers back and when I’m ready I will confront them and I will need all the help I can get.”

“If you are in need of powers I will lend you some of mine.”

“Are you sure? I just don’t want it to bite you later down the line.”

“Nonsense, it is the least I can do and you won’t get any power from it.” Dvalin gestured his head towards the direction of the Frostbearing tree. “That tree has been tainted long ago.”

You had an inkling that its corruption had something to do with the large pillar floating above it, but decided to leave that topic of discussion for a later date

“Okay, I’ll take some of your powers.”

You hesitatantly put your hand on Dvalin’s snout and you focused on concentrating your hand began to glow a bright teal color, you kept your hand on the dragon until the light stopped

You cup your hands together and started to imagine a small tornado. A little vortex formed in your palms and then quickly dissipated when you separated your hands

“I have a question, does Andrius know about my situation? Like does he know that I’m the creator?” You asked turning back to Dvalin

“Why would he not be knowledgeable about your predicament?”

“Just making sure, I don’t want to get my hopes up and for them to side with my doppelganger.”

“It’s such a sad situation for the divine creator to take such a precaution for fear of death in a world that is supposed to worthship them.”

“Don’t feel bad, some people know the situation, and I have another request, but I don’t want to seem like I’m asking for too much.”

“Nonsense, your request do not bother me in the slightest.”

“If you say so, then can you give me and my friends here a ride to Wolvendom?”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“Thank you so much!” You said and turned towards the others. “I don’t know how much of that you caught, but we’re going to Wolvendom to meet Andrius.”

The twins, Childe, and Paimon shared confused glances at each other but eventually hopped on Dvalin. With flaps of his wings the dragon was off the ground and took flight

Soaring through the skies of Mondstadt, the lights of Mondstadt city could be seen in the distance. You turn your head to see Dawn Winery and remember the servants and Diluc. Especially the kindness and respect they showed you, gossiping with Moco and Hillie, the motherly care from Adeline, and the kindness the master of the house, Diluc. You wish you could go and see what’s happening with them after you were labeled as an imposter, or at least thank them for their hospitality

Before you know it you find yourself in Wolvendom, Lumine offered you her hand to help you off of the dragon

“Thank you Dvalin.”

“It was nothing your Grace.” Dvalin flapped his wings and flew off

“Are you okay? You seem like there’s something on your mind.” Lumine asked

“I’m okay, just thinking about Dawn Winery.”

Before the conversation could go any further a whirlwind of snow suddenly appears and instantly becomes intense, more intense than the winds in Dragonspine. The snowy wind concentrates into one spot to reveal the Great Wolf King of the North, Andrius. The wolf looked majestic in front of you and towered over you and your friends. The air around him dropped several degrees to the point where ice formed around the arena, shivers wracked through your body despite the thick coat you have on

“Greetings, your Grace.”

“Uh, hello Andrius.” You nervously waved at the wolf

“There is no need to be fearful of me, your Grace.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just very different seeing you face to face, than to how I would usually see you. But I digress, I need to ask you something.” Your expression turned stern and Andrius’ ears perked at the change in your once shy tone. “Can I borrow some of your powers. If you can’t then I’ll understand.”

“The divine creator reborn into a human body was something I did not expect to happen, otherwise if me parting with a portion of my powers means their Grace returns to their former glory then it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

Andrius puts his head down for you to put your hand on, once you do your hand glows in a manner it did when you took some of Dvalin’s powers. Your hand stopped glowing you take it away from the wolf

“Thank you, I promise you once this is all over I will give you your powers back.”

“Anything for you, your Grace. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be able to speak to you like this. I owe you my life.” Andrius said and the wind began to pick up and before you could get a word in a gust of icy wind blinds you. “It was good to see you again.”, when the wind drops he’s gone

“He disappeared.” Paimon said

“Maybe he couldn’t keep his physical form since he gave me some of his powers.” You reasoned

“Anyway, see if you got some cryo powers, Paimon’s curious!” The fairy said as she kicked her feet

You look around to your eyes landed on a Flaming Flower Stamen. Raising your hand, you focused into concentrating your new powers until the side of your face felt the cold emitting from your hand. You flicked your hand towards the flower, the blast of cryo quickly dissipate before it can reach the flower. Confused you tried it again but the same thing happened, disappearing as soon as the energy leaves your hand

“Maybe I’m doing something wrong?” You said dishearted

“Try summoning electro.” Lumine said as she studied you intensely

You summon a spark of electro that was much larger than what you originally intended it to be

“Okay now summon some anemo.”

You do what she told you. “What are you getting at?”

“When you use either anemo or cryo the elemental energy flow is slower than when you use the other elements.” Lumine explained

“So what your saying is the powers their Grace got from Dvalin and Andrius is weaker than the elements they go from resonating with the trees?” Aether concludes

“Well it has to suffice since I don’t know long it takes until I can step foot in Snezhnaya.” You said as you put your hands in your pockets. “We’ll decide what to do in the morning, it’s getting late we should retire for the night.” Aether said

“Yeah, he’s right. We should get out of here, ‘cause I don’t want to run into any wolves. The last thing I want is to get woken up by some wolves.” You agreed

After some walk and climbing (well you were on Lumine’s back) you all find a spot that was perfect, it was on the cliff right next to the arena and no knights were stationed there. Best part it gave a beautiful view of Mondstadt city

“Stay here, we’ll gather some firewood.” Lumine said as she and Aether begin to walk away

“I’ll stay here to protect their Grace!” Childe said as he sat next to you

The twins rolled their eyes and walked towards some trees with Paimon following behind them

Once the twins were quite a distance away from the camp site

“So, how are you liking Teyvat?” The ginger asked

“It’s nice, besides everyone trying to hunt me down.”

“Yeah…”

“But I have notice some weird things.”

“Hmm, like what?”

“Mainly the moon.” You said was you leaned back with your hands propped up behind you.

“It’s so weird that the moon is constantly full here.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Back in my world it doesn’t produce light, the sun provides it. It even has stages called ‘phases’, a full moon happens every once a month or so.” You explained as you looked up at the moon. “But I find myself becoming mesmerized by it. The moon was beautiful back home but here, it fills me with a feeling of nostalgia.” You sighed blissfully as you rest your head in your hands. “It’s silly I-”

Suddenly your pulled towards Childe as a ball of fire is hurled at the seat you were once sitting in

You turn to see smoke coming from a giant claymore, wielded by a man with his long firy red hair tied in a low ponytail and some of his hair framing his face to show he’s wearing a domino mask

“Stay behind me.” Was all the ginger said before he charges at the masked redhead

Summoning his blades he makes swings towards his opponent which were expertly dodged by the Dark Knight Hero despite him hauling a giant sword

“Die Fatui scum!” He yelled as he swung his heavy claymore as flames bursts from the great sword

Childe uses his sword to block the attack, but the heat from the claymore quickly evaporated the hydro blade and thus sliced into the Harbinger, drawing blood

This is bad. With Childe’s bloodlust and the other’s hatred for Fatui, you know this will end in one or both of them dead. You got to think of something!

You could use cryo? No, it’s too weak to stop the flames

You could use either electro or pyro, but you can’t fight fire with fire and the electro might hurt Childe

So against your better judgement you take deep breath and yelled. “Diluc!” This caught the redhead’s attention

Shocked and mortified he swung his claymore at you, aiming for your face. You put your arms up to at least block a good portion of the attack. You hear the sleeves of your coat get cut. Blue beams shot past your head

“Your fight is with me!” Childe said as he shot hydro infused arrows at Diluc

Blood still gushing from his arm he draws another arrow and shoots. The redhead uses his great sword to shield himself from the arrows

“Take this!” Two voices yelled out in unison and a large sized tornado hits the masked hero

The redhead was pulled into the vortex and swirled around until the whirlwind stopped, disoriented Diluc tries to pick himself up but his arms fail him. He looked up at the direction the vortex came from and saw the iconic platinum blonde hair and white dress

“Traveler? Then does that mean…?” Diluc turned his attention towards you. “Me- Mentir?!” Diluc gasped, his eyes widen in shock as his eyes trailed down to see the golden liquid flowing from your arms. “Oh my Archons… Y-your Grace.”

You looked at your arms to see a decently sized cut on your right forearm, the left one was lucky cut not too deep. Upon seeing the blood staining your jacket Diluc instantly took a handkerchief and walked towards you but Aether and Childe step into front of you

“It’s alright you two, he means well.” You said as you pushed your way towards Diluc

“It’s not much, but when we get back to the manor, it’ll be treated properly.” He wrapped the cloth around your forearm. “I’m so sorry for harming you, your Grace.”

“You don’t have to call me that, we knew each other before things went sideways.”

“Of course, your- I mean Mentir.”

“Actually (y/n), is fine. Mentir is a fake name a gave you, sorrry…”

“Then what does ‘Mentir’ mean?”

“Funnily enough, Mentir means ‘to lie’ in another language from my world. I freaked out and gave you an obviously fake name, sorry again…” You explained fiddling with the fur on your borrowed coat

“We’ll talk about this more once we’re in the manor.” The redhead said as he gently took your hand and lead you to his home

Your face instantly heated up once you saw his features up close. Fluffy red hair framing his handsome face, sharp eyes with a chiseled nose and jawline

So focused on not drooling all over yourself you all made it to Dawn Winery

“It will be okay, most of the staff has retired for the night.” Diluc reassured as he slowly opened his front door. “Make yourself comfortable while I retrieve the medical supplies. Traveler can you help me with closing the curtains.”

You sit down at the table and watch Lumine and Aether close the drapes, soon Diluc comes back out with a small box that looked well used in his hands

You take off your jacket and the redhead kneeled down in front of you, Diluc makes quick work of your injury. Taking his gloves off he proceeds to remove the handkerchief that was a crude attempt to stop the bleeding. Once in his hands he tucked the rag into his pocket and turned his attention to you. Cleaning the wound with a gentleness that contrasts his scarred and callous hands, then wrapping your arm in gauze with a precision that came from years of practice, careful to not make it too tight on you

“There, that should be good.” Diluc stood up and took your jacket. “I’ll have this fixed and washed for you by the afternoon.”

“Thank you so much.” You smiled at the redhead

“Oh! It’s nothing, it’s the least I can do since attacking you without a second thought.” Diluc reasoned as a small blush crept up on his face

“It’s fine, I should have known, with your situation with the Fatui.”

“Anyway, what about sleeping arrangements?” Lumine said trying to steer the conversation away from the topic

“You can room with me, Your Grace! I can protect you better that way!” Childe smiled. And tonight’s is the perfect opportunity to showcase my stamina I told you about!”

The twin looked the ginger with disgusted looks that mirrored each other’s all the while Paimon looking clueless

“Ugh, can’t you show more respect instead of this degeneracy.” Diluc scolded

“If you didn’t run around playing ‘hero’ you would know a thing or two about bedding anybody, but you don’t.”

“Listen you Fatui scum-” Diluc stormed towards Childe but stopped when you stepped in between them

“Look! I will tell you what I told this one.” You hissed out while gesturing to Aether. “I am not in the mood to play referee between the two of y’all, you’re grown ass men, act like it!” Your eyes catch a glimpse of a wine bottle on the table. “Wait have you been drinking since I’ve been gone?” You walked towards it noticing it hasn’t been opened yet

Diluc turned his gaze towards where you’re standing. “I brought this down to the cellar, I do not know how this got up here.”

“Maybe you accidentally left it up here without realizing?”

“Maybe, but if that’s the case then why hasn’t any of the servants brought it down to the cellar.”

A sudden floorboard creaking catches all of your attention. Slowly creeping your heads towards the source of the noise and your all greeted with the sight of long navy blue hair, an azure eye with a four pointed star as its pupil. Holding an extra bottle of wine in his hand

“Hi…”

“Kaeya?!”

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @bore2808 @nickey-diano @transbirbboi @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @chocolatekuns @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @rebeccawinters @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7lowxr @blackcoffex @itz-luna @flowerypesky @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial @d4y-dr3am3r @yuriclouds @artwitchh @mercy-not-merci @xyaxyn

[madaqueue]

sugar and sea glass

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff (and a very brief whisper of angst). language, pet names (sugar, baby). 18+, MDNI.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this is my contribution for @storiesoflilies summer event ! inspired by the song "sweet / i thought you wanted to dance" x tyler, the creator

Hot wind rushes through your hair, each breath filling your lungs with sticky air. The sun glares overhead, music blaring through the crackling speakers of your car. Even the flowers along the side of the road wilt under the heat of summer, starved and sweltering.

Zipping through the empty streets, the trees cast a welcome shade as you make your way home, before a sudden obstacle appears along your path: a man walking along the side of the road, thumb held out. As you move to swerve around him, white hair catches your attention, the screeching of car brakes splintering the thick silence as you pull off to meet him.

“Gojo?!”

Turning to you, bright blue eyes catch yours through the dark shade of his sunglasses, a smile spreading across his face in recognition. “No way,” he smirks.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Walking towards your car, he leans his arms through the open window, elbows spilling into the interior. “Would you believe me if I told you my rental car ran out of gas?”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, did you fill it?”

His smile widens, perfectly white teeth catching the light. “No, but in my defense I thought the ‘empty’ light was more of a suggestion.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable.” A dramatic pout forms across his lips as he stares at you, tilting his head. “Get in,” you scoff.

He practically beams back the summer sun as he tugs open the car door, slamming it shut as he settles into the warm leather seat. “Thank youuuu,” he hums, batting his eyelashes appreciatively.

Even after all these years, it feels like no time has passed, easily falling back into the same banter, the same butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you. He looks shockingly similar to when you last saw him, the same boyish charm, the same cocky arrogance. Yet, it always worked for him, his dimples making you weak in the knees, unable to deny the way he made your cheeks flush and body run hot. There was always this silent back and forth, one neither of you dared to address, simmering just under the surface. When you parted ways after graduation you thought that was it, maybe he just wasn’t that interested in you after all, maybe your feelings were simply a result of your shared proximity.

Now, with the heat radiating off his bare arms, a faint floral scent lingering on his skin, it seems he’s pulled you back under his spell once again.

“You never answered my question, you know,” you pause coyly. “What are you doing here, in this city?”

“Oh!” He tosses his hands up - always a visual talker, always captivating in the way he moves. “I was here for a shoot - we finished up yesterday, but I really wanted to see the beach, so I extended my trip by a day. But obviously the fates decided I didn’t deserve it, maybe someone out there really hates me or something,” he laughs.

“A shoot?” you ask, confusing brimming.

Mischief twinkles behind his gaze. “I’m sure you can tell by looking at me, but I’m kind of a big deal now. I’m actually the main model for this new fragrance coming out, so we had to get some videos of me for advertising.”

A groan vibrates against your throat as you involuntarily roll your eyes. “There is absolutely no way you’re a model.”

“What?! You don’t think I’m pretty enough?” Leaning towards you, the cool scent of his cologne hits your nose as he sticks out his bottom lip.

Smacking his chest, you put the car back into drive, averting your gaze before you can react to his sudden closeness. “You’re plenty pretty, Gojo, but I just didn’t think you’d be pretentious enough to make a career out of it.”

Before he can respond to the backhanded compliment, your foot presses against the gas, accelerating your car down the barren roads.

Placing his elbow against the door, he rests his head in his open palm. “Am I pretty enough to kidnap?” he teases. “I’m not complaining, but where are you taking me, exactly?”

“To the beach, idiot. That’s what you came all this way for, isn’t it?”

A wide grin spreads across his features. “Even after all this time, you’re still too good to me, sugar.”

Briefly turning your head, you shoot him a glare. The nickname brings up too many memories, too many late nights spent with your limbs intertwined, too many lingering touches, too many brushes of your lips against his, too many please’s and I need you’s. Too many almost’s.

“Why do you always call me that?”

Turning to you, he placed a quick peck to your cheek. “Obviously because you’re so sweet, sugar. C’mon, I thought you were smarter than that,” he smirked.

“And here I thought it was just because you have the diet of a toddler and wanted an excuse to think about when you’re getting your next piece of candy,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

A toothy grin spread across his lips. “You know I’m not thinking of anything but you when we’re together, sugar.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your voice comes out icier than you intended, cutting through the warm air.

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby,” he whines, tossing his head towards you, his pale hair threatening to cloud your vision before you shove him off.

“Okay, ‘baby’ is definitely worse,” you complain, unable to hide the slight chuckle coming out concurrently. “You look ridiculous, by the way,” you tease, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

An annoyingly thin linen shirt clings to his body, the top few buttons undone revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. Light blue shorts adorn his lower half, his muscled thighs peeking out from the tauntingly short cloth.

Crossing his arms, he obscures your view, forcing your gaze back to the road. “Well, my personal stylist thinks I look quite handsome in this outfit,” he huffs.

A giggle erupts from your throat at his theatrics, the absurdity of seeing him like this - he’s still the same Satoru you knew. Maybe some things really don’t change.

Leaning back, he stretches his arms behind his head, biceps flexing through the nearly transparent material of his top. Even though his personality may be the same, his body certainly isn’t, having filled out beautifully since you last saw him. “Is it always this hot in here?” he sighs, fanning his hand against his face.

“Are you always this whiney?” you taunt, rolling the windows down further. “The air conditioning is broken, so unless you’re throwing the cash at me to get it fixed, you’ll take what you can get.”

Wind blows through his fluffy locks as he melts further into the seat, running his fingers through his hair to reveal the slightly sweat-slicked skin of his forehead. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

“And need I remind you, you were literally begging by the side of the road a few minutes ago until I picked you up.”

Smirking, he catches your lingering gaze from his periphery. “You’re my savior, sugar.”

Another groan echoes through the car as you navigate through backroads, cranking up the music and letting the warm summer air fill the space between you.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Aqua waves lap at the sand, small pebbles shifting beneath your feet as you make your way along the beach. Satoru immediately finds himself preoccupied, head turned downward as he scans the ocean floor. Reaching into the water, he pulls out a small blue orb, its edges cloudy and dull, proudly holding it out to you.

“Look! It matches my eyes!”

Stepping closer to him, your fingers gingerly wrap around his wrist, bringing his hand with the object in it closer to his face. “Hmm…it’s close, but not quite,” you observe softly. Turning your attention to the sand beneath you, you pull out another piece of sea glass, a slightly more vibrant hue. “See, now this matches your eyes.”

Gently setting it into his palm, you swear you see his cheeks blush, quickly brushing it off as a consequence of the summer sun. When his hand lingers on yours, slightly damp from the cool sea, your heart flutters in your chest.

The same damn Satoru.

Continuing your path down the shore, he makes a point to stop occasionally, collecting wedges of sea glass before shoving them into his pocket.

“Wait!” he suddenly exclaims, splashing slightly deeper into the water, now up to his bare calves. Rummaging in the sand, he finally tugs out another piece, holding it up to the sky and inspecting it. A proud grunt leaves his lips as he marches towards you, his fingers softly prying your hand open to place it in your palm. “For you,” he grins.

Glancing down, your mind processes the gift: the opaque shard perfectly matches your irises, nearly glowing against the skin of your hand. “Satoru…” you trail off, warmth flooding your face and up to your ears, burning hot.

His own heart flutters hearing you use his first name, a familiarity he had not often been afforded since you parted, one he didn’t fully appreciate how much he missed. Not only simply hearing his name, but hearing you say it - even in your bashful annoyance, the lilt of the vowels along the air makes him feel light, carried away in the soundwaves.

When his fingers hold yours a moment too long, you find yourself frozen, unable to move despite the gentleness of his grasp. Waves gently brush against your ankles, cool against the humid, stale air, a static crackling in the space between you. As his eyes meet yours, lightning shoots through your body, grounded only in the muddy sand beneath you.

“I missed you a lot, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft, bare. Gone is the teasing sarcasm, the honeyed compliments, leaving only the raw truth behind.

Unable to hold his gaze, you turn your focus to the bubbling water beneath you. “I, um, I missed you too.”

Fingers grace your chin, tilting your head up. Finally forced to look at him, a new determination lies behind his movements, his jaw tensed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I’m sorry for leaving things how I did.”

Memories come flooding back - the empty bed, the handwritten note, the unread messages. Sighing, you desperately attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. “It’s fine, Gojo.”

Something flashes across his face, a momentary sorrow? guilt? before he continues. “It’s not fine. I should have called, I should have given you some form of closure.”

“I got closure in the years since then, after you didn’t even bother to text me. I don’t need anything else now.” Your tone is firm, steady.

Yet, the softness of his skin as his thumb lazily traces along your palm threatens to collapse the walls you’ve painstakingly built during his absence. “I know you don’t need anything else, but…” he trails off, stepping closer until you can feel the warmth radiating off his body, “what about what you want?”

You don’t miss the way your heart picks up, beating like the wings of a butterfly as it carries itself to the newest, brightest flower. When he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, your body reacts on its own, melting into him, the firmness of his chest pressing against yours. “And what do you know about what I want, hm?”

“Maybe less about what you want, and more what I do,” he smiles, attempting to cover his nervousness with smugness. Kneeling down, he holds the piece of sea glass in his hand, the ocean waves dampening the cloth of his shorts. Shock spreads across your face as you watch him take a proposal stance. “Sugar, will you please, please, forgive me?”

After the initial stun passes, a bright laugh erupts from your throat, tears welling in your eyes at the surplus of emotions surging through you, some mix of reluctance and relief. “You are insane, Satoru,” you giggle.

He just grins below you, allowing the waves to ripple against his skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Reaching out your arms you shove against his shoulders, sending him toppling into the shallow waters. His hands shoot up and grab you, tugging you down with him as you scream in surprise. Cold water covers your body as you both drag yourselves from the sea, sufficiently damp with your clothes hanging loosely off your bodies.

Walking back along the shore, sand crunching beneath you, he hesitantly intertwines his fingers in yours; when you fail to push him off, he squeezes your hand, a bright smile plastered on his face. Upon returning to the warmth of your car, he rests his head against your shoulder, his hair leaking small droplets of water onto your neck. With the windows rolled down, the summer breeze tickles your skin as he contentedly sighs.

“I think I’ll extend my trip a few more days, if that’s alright with you,” he muses.

Leaning your head against his, you chuckle, the sound light against the heavy humidity. Squeezing his hand, a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “I think I'd like that, sugar.”

[notthecutesttrash]

Grey (Pt. 1)

Content: Miya Atsumu is a bully, and his fangirls are even worse. They make your life at school a hell.

Trigger Warnings: Verbal + physical bullying, language

Word count: 7.29k

PART 2, PART 3

The bell rings and you grab your books to sprint off. Frantically you open your locker, and as you do, a white crumpled-up paper falls at your feet. You open it and find angry scribbled words, all ranging from “Loser!” to “Get lost!” and “You're pathetic.” Exhaling a sigh, you place the books into the overhead space and grab the others. 

This all started a week and a half ago.

You had been in class and the exhaustion was creeping up into your mind. It was the last hour, the sun was lowering, it looked to be a moody day, and you could only hear the teacher every other time she spoke. This time she was chewing out Miya Atsumu over a wrong answer which then turned into a long lecture. 

All you could think at the time was huh, guess he only had one skill, and that was just wooing pathetic girls over. 

The class went silent for a bit, and you exhaled a sigh, turning to the main board, only to see Atsumu and what felt to be every woman in the class glaring at you so strongly it could pierce. 

You froze, sputtering a “s-sorry…” as you bowed your head. Ever since then, you could feel a heavy shadow looming at your back. 

It was just a fleeting thought, you didn’t mean it negatively. Well, maybe you did. You weren’t sure anymore, but you don’t think you deserved this sort of treatment for such a stupid comment. 

Every other girl you passed shot you a look like you were nothing but dirt beneath their feet, even a few men. 

Was the whole world on his side? 

You cradle your books to your chest as Atsumu begins to walk down the same hallway. Look down. Just look down and nothing will happen. He turns his head to look at you as you pass, and you can feel your breath stuck in your throat. Yet as you manage past him, nothing happens. Relief instantly follows. You were going to be all right, nothing big was going to happen. It was just a stupid little comment. Soon it will all be forgotten. 

Suddenly an obstacle blocks your foot as you absentmindedly walk. You stumble and almost fall face-first into the floor. The books in your hands drop, and luckily your free hands are there to brace you. You’re on your knees, nose nearly kissing the floor as you feel a crowd pause to get a good look at you. They were snickering, and when you look up, Atsumu’s down the hall giggling, a terrible grin on his face. There's a woman in front of you, the one who presumably tripped you, laughing. You sheepishly go to grab one of the books and she kicks it to the side. 

You can get through this, this was nothing. You were sure of it. 

It's even worse when you remember that Miya Atsumu is one of the best volleyball players ever. Of course, you on the other hand, on the girl's volleyball team, are the complete opposite. Although your team was nice, they didn't talk to you much. One of the middle blockers, Angie, was giving you side eyes and little glares whenever you missed a receive. When another spike came, you dove and missed by a few inches. 

"Sorry guys.." You exhale a disappointed sigh and the ones on the other side of the net are the only ones smiling at you. 

 "No worry Y/n! Maybe it's just not your day. That's okay, it happens!" Lucy shouts with a grin, giving you a quick thumbs up. You muster a begrudging nod. 

Angie harrumphs with her hands on her waist, scanning you. "And you have the nerve to judge an all-Japan camp candidate when you can't even get one receive as our libero." You frown and cast a glare on the floor. 

Lucy huffs on the flipside. "Stop it, Angie, we all know he's good, there's no need to shove it in our faces. The point is, he's not here, and he's definitely not going to be watching you, so move on." She gasps, and the other girls can't help but snicker. You're too exhausted to even pay attention to the conversation.

Your hands are on your knees while you desperately catch your breath. 

"Inarizaki has no place for weak players." A quiet but stern woman speaks. Miyu. Her palm is holding the ball you failed to receive. 

Lucy holds her hands up and waves them around anxiously, attempting to ease everyone. "Everyone has off days. let's not bully her about it."

Angie visibly rolls her eyes. "She's been having off days for like 2 weeks straight now." 

Lucy opens her mouth to probably defend you with another sentence you don't deserve, so you just speak.

"I'm sorry, I will do better." 

No one responds as you bow, but you can feel the irritation lingering in the atmosphere. 

After practice is finished and all the girls leave, Lucy meets you outside the entrance. She has this sort of pitiful look that sinks your stomach. 

"Hey.. listen, (Y/n).." she nervously trails. You had a feeling this was going a certain somewhere. 

"The other girls seem to be complaining a bit about your performance lately.. and you know… I don't want to do this but.. the coach thinks.." She's fidgeting, struggling to come up with the right words. 

You're pouting, tears pricking your eyes. "You're cutting me off..?" Your words leave in a choked whisper. 

"No! No.. well… you might be… but! You aren’t yet. You can still prove him wrong..” 

She sighs, and her hand gently holds your arm. 

"Listen… I know you're going through some things right now. So just take your time. "She pauses, then looks at you pitifully. "Hey.. maybe if it happens.. it won't be necessarily the worst thing right now. Maybe you might even need it." She is coming from a good place, but you're hurt. 

You fail to respond and that helpless look appears again. 

“I’m sorry (Y/n)..”

You're striving to keep your expression as blank as could be as you nod. “Thanks for letting me know.” You turn fast, hoping she won't continue anymore. You just wanted to go home now.

Though, when you leave the gymnasium, you hear the boy’s side practicing. They're always extremely intense, and many times their practice runs late. You had an urge, and you decided to follow it.

Mustering up all the courage, you go inside, up to the second floor as quietly as possible while they play. Two squealing girls are already watching, too captured by the scene to care about you. Atsumi’s twin brother Osamu was there. Admittedly, they were an impressive duo. You didn't have to be good at volleyball to see that. 

Osamu had a serene sort of confidence, while Atsumu.. well, he looked like the type to do a dump shot just to be petty because he knew he could.

You hated to say his sets were beautiful, perfect even. 

Michinari, the team’s libero, receives almost every volleyball that flows his way. Even if the serve was a floater, a jump spike, or a simple one. It was impressive, and you aim to study his movements.

The way he holds his arms, the way he moves, his focus, everything you didn't do. The whistle blows and they get back into position, and you meet eyes with none other than the blonde twin who is currently serving. He raises his brow, his cocky face almost disgustingly amused. You glimpse far away to avoid him. It’s not like you came for him anyway, god, you hope he didn’t think that. 

The whistle blows and he walks up 6 steps, jumps, and hits a powerful serve that Michinari almost wasn't able to bump.

“Nice receive!”

Michinari calls out, “Bit short, sorry!” 

Atsumi touches the ball, and you're confused. He can’t set it now. Why would he do that? 

Osamu is the one who jumps and sets the ball to Atsumi who runs to a side with no blockers and does an insane quick you've never seen before. The impact alone has the sound bouncing off the walls. 

“Ahhhh! God, they’re so cool!!!” The girls go crazy beside you. 

You hum to yourself.

You've seen enough. Besides you didn't want to be anywhere near one of the twins, so you left as quietly as you came. The gym was empty now, the girls were gone and you could practice without judgment. 

You bounce the volleyball on the wall and attempt to receive it. Still, even with it being much slower than the average serve or spike, you were slightly off. Huffing, you bounce it against the wall and it comes to you, you were sure you got it this time. Your arms attempt to tap it, but it awkwardly hits your neck and topples over. 

Maybe it was your position, either you were too close or too far. First, you try stepping a bit back and you serve into the wall. It comes at you fast, and you feel as if you could see it in slow motion. It was perfect, you were going to hit- it flies over your head and you're dumbfounded.

Okay, closer. Farther wasn't right. 

This time you run to where the ball is headed, and right when it's about to come to you, you position your arms perfectly just for it to hit your knee. The next time it hits you in your groin and you grumble beneath your breath. 

One more time. 

You serve to the wall and it powerfully bounces off. You were ready. You could do this. Just position. The anticipation rises, and you sidestep the way it moves. A large grin stretches, you got it! 

Your finger just barely graces the ball, but it sends it flying a few inches high and it hits your shoulder.

Michinari. Remember. 

Remember the way he stands, the way he moves, the way he reads its direction. 

Your arms attempt to replicate his, and your knees bend just a little. 

One of the volleyballs hits the side of your head, but you did touch it, so that was progress.

It makes you smile. 

Sure, you got knocked into the chest almost every other time, but all that mattered was after the 30th try, your arm made contact again.

The ball lifts only a few inches above your arms before it slaps you on the head and splats to the ground. It travels close to the other dozen that lay around the gym. You're groaning as another flies past you. 

Another serve, you could do it, just one more. You push it and it slams against the wall, rebounding your way. Perfect! Getting into position, your concentration narrows as it comes to you. A forceful impact meets your knee. 

You lift the ball and slam it with your palm. It was so fast you could barely keep up with it, and you were a second off from receiving it before it wacks your neck. Coughing out at the impact, you huff and try again. Just keep your arms down, don’t waver every time you see the ball coming towards you. 

It was slow, but it flew your way, and you remained patient. Just get the timing down, not too early, not too late. Now!

You bump the ball perfectly into the air and gasp at the contact. You could do it! You could finally do it! Your eyes remain on it, waiting for it to come back down, a massive grin on your face. 

"You're doing it wrong." A voice interrupts your concentration and the ball slams into your face. 

"Ow.." you rub your nose, whining. The ball thuds against the floor.

When you eventually look up to the cause of your lost focus, you instinctively step back. Atsumu is there, sweat dripping down his skin after a long practice, eyes judging you.

You don't speak, and you can't even meet his gaze for more than a second.

He steps to the bin and grabs a volleyball. He does a quick normal serve against the wall, and it bounces to him in a split second. He positions his arms and receives it perfectly. You glue onto the way it cascades so beautifully.  

He studies your look, amused at the ignorance.

"Bend your knees like this." He does the motion and you falter before hesitantly mirroring. 

"No. lower." You do it and glance at him for approval. "Arms like this. This side showing more than the back." 

He gets into a normal stance to throw the ball above your arms. You keep your arms together as you receive it, and although it wasn't very high, you couldn't help the happiness that befell on you. That was so much easier than all the other times. 

Atsumu humorlessly chuckles "To think you're on the volleyball team and you don't know this." Your view averts, arms cradling the ball you just bumped like a trophy. 

No matter the insult, you sucked up your pride.

You mumble a "thanks.." and he scoffs.  

“Yeah, I’m going.” He starts walking to the door and you nod.

“Okay.."

Today was a rough day, but tomorrow will be better, you repeat this continuously as a sort of mantra when you get home.  

Your parents greet you happily and there is a warm meal on the table. You slip your shoes off before stepping into the kitchen.  "We got one of your favorites!" Your mother chirps.

You can barely fake a smile. Most days this would make you happy enough to forget everything that occurred in the school day, but not this time. The happy grins fall and they become worried. 

Great, look what you did. 

"Is something wrong (Y/n)?"  

You swiftly shake your head at the tone. A smile spreads your lips wide, maybe a bit too forcefully. You sold that fake happiness by rushing to sit at the table.

"No, nothing serious. I was just a bit annoyed from practice today. I couldn't receive at all." Your dad raises a confused brow as he attempts to remember what receiving is.

"It's when you catch the ball, you know, like this-" you angle your arms down and put your hands together. He makes an o with his mouth and nods. 

"Everyone has their days." Your mother is as optimistic as Lucy. 

You share thanks and dig in. 

"Even candidates for that All Japan youth camp have their days you know, and they're the same age as you, so there's still a lot of growth there." You're silent, and you set your chopsticks down. There's a big inevitable frown plastered on your face. You knew it meant to cheer you but to think of Atsumu and how talented he was after you insulted him and him helping you learn basics you should already know.

"Yeah, you're right." 

Your mood drops significantly. They give each other a side-eye.

When you're done you clean your dishes and head to your room. Wrapping the blankets around you in a sort of burrito you sigh as a few tears slip down your cheeks. You wish you hadn't said that. 

Back to another miserable panic-inducing day. 

Before class, you open your locker to now see two notes falling to your feet. You stop and stare while some girls giggle maniacally behind you. Sighing, you pick them up, crumbling the paper beneath your fingertips. Grabbing your books, you head to class and ignore how it feels like all eyes are on you when you pace.

"Look, it's the  libero who can't even receive a ball." Someone starts the moment you walk in. Frowning, you hold your bag tighter as Atsumu's eyes glue to you, a smirk dawning on his expression. 

"She-"

His words are interrupted by a shy woman who is holding a cute pink-wrapped box in her hands. A blush dusts her cheeks, and she crosses her legs. "I-I.. made this for you Atsumu… I-" An eek leaves her as Atsumu scowls hard, an expression that could terrify just about anyone. Class starts and she nervously bolts to her seat.  

You never liked long lectures or busy classwork, yet now you've learned to appreciate it. This was the only peace you'd get until you had to traverse the hallways or go to practice. You should just feign sickness, it's not like they'd miss your presence anyway. 

For lunch, you typically sit outside on one of the benches in the shade. You liked being here lately. It was nice, and when the wind rustled the trees nearby, the sound would calm you.

You lean against the bench and sigh, placing your bento atop your lap. You undo the cute little cat wrap your mom gave you. It did cheer you up a bit. You open up the box to see your favorite. You smile sweetly.  

"Look who it is, little miss (Y/n)" A sudden catty voice alerts you. 

Panic rises, and you shift your view to the sound. A group of girls known as the cheering squad for the boy’s volleyball team are walking toward you.

They have angry expressions, and their hips jut to the side as they near.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?" The "main" woman in front, named Kiyoko speaks to you like some dog. You tilt your head, anxious and confused. What was the right answer here? 

You shouldn't be scared, you wanted so desperately not to be, but instead, you're cowering under their scowls, holding your lunch tighter to you.

"For what..?" You genuinely ask.

They growl like mutts, and suddenly the open box in your hands is viciously yanked from you. Before you can register what was happening food began dripping down your hair, a weight on your scalp tumbling. 

"Did that jog your memory?" 

You're quiet, and your teeth grit against one another, hands bawled into fists. Don't say it. Don't say it. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

A thick sauce drips down your hair. 

Kiyoko leans down, cupping her ear. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." You suck in a sharp breath. 

"Aw look she's going to cry." A voice in the group erupts. 

"Whose pathetic now?"  

They giggle together, and your knuckles turn white. 

You speak louder. "I'm sorry." 

"That's what I thought." She pats your cheek condescendingly. "Have fun cleaning that up." 

They leave as quickly as they came, and you dissociate as they laugh horridly while walking. Food begins to fall onto your jacket. If you didn't clean it up now, you would just be more of a laughing stock later.

A gust of wind flows, and the tree sways. Yet not even that makes you feel at peace right now. 

Water runs down your neck as you're in the bathroom, attempting to scrub the smell of curry out of your hair. The stickiness is hard to get out, and your scalp looks like some mangled mess. You pool warm water into your hands and splash it over the grains of rice that are glued together. It takes pretty much the entire lunch period until you get it all out. 

Luckily you have your volleyball jacket in your locker that you can swap out for the other. Fortunately, because it's a little oversized, it falls at your sides, just enough to cover the splotches of stains on your skirt.  

The teacher furrows her brow at you when you walk into the deafened room. "(Y/n).. you're la-.. why are you wet?"  Your hair is drenched and tangled as you walk to your seat. The girls who know what happened are snorting to themselves. 

"I fell into the lake." It was a stupid excuse but it was enough for the teacher to awkwardly continue with the lesson. That was until a loud laugh cuts the tense atmosphere.

The teacher sighs, “Yes, Atsumu, do you have a question?" You turn to the sight. At the opposite end of the class, there he is, poorly stifling a laugh.

Atsumu is chortling as he talks. "I guess not even that can wash away your horrid smell." The girls in the class laugh a little too hard at that.

"Enough. I didn't want to start it now, but since you two have a problem, you will be assigned together for the new project coming up. You will work together and makeup, whether you like it or not. I will not tolerate unkindness in my classroom. I don't want to hear any ifs or buts." The teacher calms before continuing. "Now, make sure you all listen up, I will now say the rest of the assigned partners." 

You meet Atsumu's instant cold glare and your eyes widen in fear. A jolt of anxiety rushes to your stomach. You feel sick.

"Now, we will use the rest of this time today and tomorrow to come up with a plan. You should be about halfway done at that point. This is due next Tuesday. Do whatever you need to do outside of the time, go to the library, discuss outside of school, meet up, exchange emails, whatever, but you will only have these 2 days in class to work on this." Great, a worse sentence couldn't have been said when your partner was Atsumu of all people.

The teacher gives you and Atsumu a firm look. "Do I make myself clear?" He's annoyed, you're terrified, yet you both nod either way. 

"Good, now disperse." She flicks her hand and everyone begins moving. 

Most of the girls in the class, or all, including Kiyoko and her group, send you angry glances. It's not like you wanted to be paired with him either. 

You're anchored in your seat, too scared to move. Would he come to you? Would you have to come to him?

Will you just not at all talk for these 2 days and do the work independently? Will you-

"Let’s get this over with." Atsumu has his hands in his pockets, his eyes refusing to look at yours. You nervously clear your throat. 

"R-Right.." 

It's a bit begrudging, but he sits near you and starts to work in his notebook. You do the same, occasionally not aiding the way you're examining his hand move so efficiently. He even had pleasant handwriting.

He doesn't glimpse your way, but you can tell he's getting peeved. “Are you going to keep looking, or are you going to work?"  You swiftly avert, awkwardly beginning to mimic the speed at which he writes. Your hands are shaking but you become so adamant you can't even focus on the way there are stares and whispers behind you. 

"Does she even shower, why does she smell like that?"

"She's such a loser." 

"Did you hear she can barely even receive the ball?"

"As the libero too, it's literally her job. Talk about lame. The audience would probably cheer if she got switched out."

"Seriously, I don’t even know why she's the main one, the other one is so much better." 

Atsumu side-eyes you for a second, then goes back to his writing.

The bell rings, and your focus ultimately gets cut off when he begins packing. You mutter an oh and do the same.

You're getting dreary thinking about going to practice now. Your stomach grumbles and you hold it. Maybe you could go to the vending machine, the one with milk and protein drinks so you can get some energy.

Yeah, with what money? 

Rushing into the hallway, you ignore how Atsumu is still standing outside until he calls you.

“Hey (Y/n).” Atsumu sing songs eerily, and you halt, fear swarming inside you. 

He wouldn’t do anything to you like the girls would right? You could deal with a few prissy ladies shoving you to the side, tripping you, and grabbing your lunch, but him? 

You timidly rotate his way and he's holding that usual pompous sneer. 

His tone is sadistic and light. “I heard you might get kicked off the team, what a shame.” 

Small tears brew in your eyes at the mention, fingers bawling into a tight white-knuckled fist. 

“Oh? Did I strike a nerve? But really, I think it’s a relief, don’t you?” He continues, “I couldn’t imagine getting kicked off my own team." 

Atsumu snickers and his orbs quickly darken. "But that would never happen, because I’m more than just a guy who can swoon a few pathetic girls over you know. You though.." He fakes a pondering gesture. "I wonder. Are there any skills you possess?" 

There's a lump in your throat that you can't bear to swallow and he chuckles. "Right. That's what I thought." He turns to leave.

“Well, at least the female side won’t have to be ashamed anymore.” 

Tears meet your cheek. An inevitable sniffle escapes when the tightness in your throat closes. You wish you could scream out how much of a jerk he was, but all you did was whirl around and run away. 

A hand touches Atsumu's shoulder, pulling his focus away. “Don’t you think that was a little mean?” Osamu is gazing at him seriously. 

Atsumu scoffs. “Anyone who can’t take the truth doesn’t deserve to be playing a competitive sport, especially if they suck.” 

Osamu wacks his brother’s head, and the blonde-haired twin growls, raising his fist to do the same. 

The next day you smell like soy sauce.

Though, at least It was a lot easier to clean.

You rung your hair of water. Your hands press against the sides of the sink, and you gaze at yourself in the reflection. From staying up late crying, not eating breakfast in the morning because you had to rush out, to not being able to eat lunch, you're a mess. The bell rings and your expression darkens.  

Maybe if you pretend you didn't hear it... Maybe if you went to sleep in the stall you could just rest for a bit. 

The bell repeats its terrible tune.

You pat your face dry and force yourself to return. On this occasion, you're on time so no one would notice you. Or so you would've thought. 

"Did you enjoy your lunch (Y/n)?" A girl speaks, a snarky trail at the end of her words. There is laughter amongst another little side posse. You turn to her, quiet, and staring.

She zips her lips and you go to your seat.  

"What's her deal?" 

"It was just a joke." 

“You know the whole ordeal. Everyone, get with your partners. This is the last day in class to talk with each other." 

With that, everyone gets together and unfortunately, yours does too. 

Atsumu is sighing as if completely forgetting the day before. “Let’s get this done, the last thing I want to do is meet up.” 

You nod and open your notebook. It's silent for a couple of minutes until one of you ruins it. 

“Why is your hair wet again?" 

Atsumu raises a snide brow. "Go for another swim?" 

"Yes." 

He didn't expect that straightforward answer but still chuckles. 

It doesn’t get to you, and you keep writing. He appears amused that he wasn't managing to aggravate you. You’re not surprised. This is Inarizaki, the school that tries to make other teams cheaply mess up by booing or playing loud music when they serve.  

A moment passes and you tiredly declare, “I’m sure neither of us wants to talk to each other, so let’s just focus, then we won’t have to meet up later.”

He looks amused. “You’re a lot of how I expected you to be.” You turn to him, and he shrugs. 

“A teacher’s pet.” 

You frown, mumbling mainly to yourself, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Atsumu chuckles. 

“Of course, you don’t” 

You fixate on him, and his expression remains.

You just had to get this done, then he wouldn’t be at your side bothering you any longer. 

The time is ticking, and the last thing you want is to have to text him. You’d rather take a 0 then do that. 

Well, maybe not to that extreme, but you sure as hell didn’t want to be in contact with him, or worse, have him come to your house.

He would have that annoying smug gleam as he sits at the table and makes conversation with your parents. Your mom would be so charmed, and she’d be nice enough to make him dinner. Then he’d eat it and make dramatic gestures about how good it is, meanwhile, deep inside all he wants to do is probably throw it at you.

A shudder cascades just thinking of it. 

The more time passes, the less confidence you have in finishing this project today. There was maybe a quarter left, and that would’ve been fine if again… it wasn’t a team job.

Maybe if he was doing his side, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

You're writing faster, while the pompous ass turns in his seat and starts cracking jokes with the pair behind him. If you could just finish these parts.

You just need to do a few more. Your breath catches in your throat the more you glance at the clock. With a few minutes left, there was surely no way you could finish. Albeit, if you give up now then it'd only prove that. You just have to keep writing and hope.  

Anxiety is pacing your heart, and you're getting sloppier and sloppier the more you go. The laughs of the row behind you, the tick of the clock, the sound of your pulse expanding and expanding drags you to the edge. 

The bell rings, signaling the end. You slump in your chair, defeated. Atsumu grins and grabs his bag, considering he didn’t even take anything out, all he had to do was just get up and leave while you pack. 

What a jerk.  

Somehow, he still manages to take his sweet time, and he practically traps you in, making it irritatingly impossible to leave. You throw your bag around your shoulder and stuff your fingers in your pockets.

Your head hangs low as Osamu is at the door again, waiting for his obnoxious twin. You didn’t know who was a little older, but god you hoped it was the grey-haired one. 

"Hey." Atsumu starts, and your heart speeds up. This was going to be just like yesterday, wasn't it?

You nervously fixate on him. He's tall, much more than you remember, maybe around 180 cm. 

"Give me your phone number." 

You're taken aback, tilting your head confusedly.

"F-For.. what?" You blank and he impatiently glowers. 

His voice is deep when annoyed. "What else for? The project." 

You quickly nod. "R-Right.. sorry. It's um.." You nervously push your hands into your bag, struggling to find your phone. Most are already out of the classroom at this point and he's becoming more visibly impatient. 

You feel it and immediately pull it out. Opening your contacts list, he yanks it out of your hand and starts typing. Once finished, he throws it at your desk and you fail to catch it as it slams against the wood. He casually turns to leave. 

He suddenly rotates his head over his shoulder and gives you a sharp look.  "You should quit volleyball," he says.

"Everyone has a job on the court and you can't fill yours, because you suck." 

You're frowning again.

Osamu gives you a momentary glance before leaving. You're frozen in place, his words echoing in your head. 

On Thursday, you feign sickness to stay home.

You wrap yourself in a burrito of blankets while you watch TV. At least at home, you can eat freely. You also won't hear mean gossip behind you. You're never absent anyway, so one day was easy. Just one day to yourself. One day without seeing either of the twins’ faces. No fangirls, no volleyball team, no stress, just one peaceful weekday beneath the sheets.

You sleep until 10. 

Although a bath sounds wonderful, it's refreshing to just walk downstairs with pajamas and messy untouched hair. “Good morning.”

You yawn, grab a cup, pour yourself orange juice, then sit down at the table. It was a nice day to eat breakfast together without any rush to be somewhere on time. 

Rubbing your eyes, you set a plate down and stare at the empty chairs beside you. That's right. You're alone, your parents are off to work. 

Once done whisking together a lovely omelet, you eat peacefully savoring every bit of silence. This was nice. 

You can do anything today. Maybe even go to the market and get yourself a little desert. Milk bread, curry donut, strawberry shortcake, whatever. Your mouth waters at the thought. 

Though rest sounds nicer still. 

That project wasn’t due till Tuesday, and it should take you about 2 days to complete alone, maybe 1 if you were going to meet up with Atsumu, but that wasn’t going to happen. 

Faceplanting into bed, you moan at the feeling of the bedsheets. They surround you like a heavenly cloud. Yes, this is what you needed, an escape into bliss. 

You wake up again at 12. 

Stretching wide, you exhale a yawn. A bath would do good now. Your hair probably wasn’t completely free of food anyway. 

You take off your shirt in front of the mirror, revealing a few bruises on your back, knees, and thighs. These most likely occurred when you fell to the floor a few times after being tripped. They're tender, but nothing too big. You didn’t want to think of it now anyway. 

The warm water envelops you and you draw out a whispered moan. You stay like that for who knows how long until you're aggressively scrubbing all the smells out of your hair. You lean against the rim, lids closing blissfully. 

The next time you open your eyes you feel groggy. You don't know what time it is. Your fingers and toes are all soggy, and the water isn’t hot anymore.

You drag yourself to bed after drying off, closing the door to seal the darkness in. A buzz vibrates your phone, and you pick it up, tiredly blinking at the brightness. It was probably your mom trying to see if you were okay. 

“When do you want to finish the project?” 

Why would your mom text that? 

You scroll to see the name Miya Atsumu, and you stare for what feels like a minute before finally gasping.

You didn't actually expect him to go for it and text.

What do you say? You begin typing, then stop, then start, then stop.

Tomorrow? The weekend? Monday? No day in reality makes a difference. You just don't want to work with him.

A part of you is relieved you wouldn't be doing the rest of the project alone, but another side is terrified at the idea.  

You bite your lip and write “Tomorrow..?" 

Maybe that was too direct, maybe you should’ve sent a "haha", or a "anytime that works for you."

What if he’s not available Friday? What if you just assumed? No no, it should be fine, he asked you, besides, it isn’t going to be a hangout, just a quick 1-2 hour session of working.

You groan, your brain going into circles. The anxiety that fled you today begins revisiting in vicious waves. You’re going to go to school tomorrow and he’d ask you the same question if you don't text back. You can’t avoid him, nor the deadline. The girls will pick on you again, you won’t be able to have lunch, you’ll be hungry, you’re about to be kicked off the volleyball team, everyone hates you, every-  a notification makes you blink to reality.

Miya Atsumu: “Sure. Time?” 

You let out a shaky exhale and type, “Whatever is fine with you.” 

Miya Atsumu: “6 pm, after practice.” 

6 pm?? That was a bit late.

You’re about to type a denial until you remember that you're the one who said whatever is okay. You can’t just complain now. 

“Sounds good.” 

He doesn’t respond. A few minutes pass and you’re still staring at the screen. Fretfully you type, “.. where.?” 

A bubble pops up, then disappears. You’re anxiously biting your lip, waiting. The bubble comes up again, jumping for a few seconds then going away. You hold your phone to your chest and groan, your other hand draping across your forehead. You hope it’s somewhere decent, really the scariest thing he can say is "My place."

A few tantalizing minutes pass and you hear a ding.

Miya Atsumu: "Wherever you want.” 

That response didn't settle your nerves at all. Why did you have to pick? 

Hovering over the letters on your phone, you think hard. 

Your place won't be as nerve-wracking as his, and besides it’d be weird if you text that anyway, like “Hey let’s go to your house.” Not only would you just be dealing with him but a duplicate as well. (Though you heard Osamu was a bit nicer.) Still, they probably live in some fancy house with a beautiful mom who makes amazing food. If he comes to yours he'd probably be judgemental as it was nothing lavish.

Where else could you pick? The library? It's a lot more peaceful and less scary than your house. Here, you imagine him, arms crossed, judging your stuffed animals and colorful sheets, saying, "What are you, a kid still?" 

A shiver runs down your spine. 

But in the library, Kiyoko and other girls are bound to be working on their projects as well.  

Nowhere was safe but your home, and besides you had your mother and father there if anything went wrong. Mustering up all the courage you write.

“You can come to my house..?” No that sounded too provocative. 

Holding the delete button, the sentence is wiped. 

“What about my house?” 

Too direct, what if it comes up rude or even flirty?

“We can go to the library?” No that sounds like you're avoiding the situation now. 

You hover over “Maybe-“ then delete. Too indecisive. “How about-“ too decisive. “What about-“ too shy.

It’s already been more than a few minutes and the phone buzzes impatiently.

Miya Atsumu: “Well?” 

The fear in your stomach is worse than when the girls would bully you. Which is ridiculous considering you're only sending a text. 

What if he shows it to all his friends and makes you a laughingstock? 

You ease your stammering. Relax (Y/n). No one can harm you here. You're not gonna hear his laughs directed at your face. You’re home in your safe space. It’s just you, and it’s just a text. 

"My house?" You press send and hold your breath. A minute passes and now the doubt explodes in you again.

God, why did you type that? That sounds way worse than the other ones, it's almost creepy even. You stuff your face into your pillow and groan loudly. 

A soft vibration takes you out of the self-loathing cycle, and it reads, Miya Atsumu: "Sure." 

Your heart pounds and anxiety floats into your stomach as you think of tomorrow.

You wish you used your sick day for then.

Although in the end, it wouldn't have made too much of a difference. It's bound to happen. At least you had until tomorrow to plan, to think what you were going to wear, and what spares you would bring for whatever was going to be dunked on your head. 

You hear the front door open and close. Your mom always gets home first. You're timidly stumbling down the stairs when she sees you. 

 "Hey, sweetie. Are you feeling better?" She hangs her jacket up and takes off her shoes. 

"Oh- Yeah.. um.. so.." your lips purse as she strides into the kitchen, already planning on dinner even if exhausted. You appreciate that. You just wish you had the guts to tell her what happened to those cooked meals at lunch. 

She grabs a pack of spaghetti and fills a large pot of water to boil. She raises an expectant brow.

"Yes?" 

You fidget, averting your gaze. "Um.. so I have a project due Tuesday… it's with a partner.. but our teacher is not allowing any more time in class. So-" 

"Oh okay, yeah, that's fine. When do you want her to come?" She grabs a few spices and herbs while talking, and you nervously clear your throat. 

"It's.. a guy.." She halts for a moment and you can see her mull over your words. 

You continue hesitantly, “So... he's coming tomorrow around 6, you know.. after practice usually ends." It's silent for a few seconds and you're pursing your lips, scared. 

There's a bright beam stretching her lips wide. 

Oh no, it was either this reaction or disgust. You didn't even know which you wanted. 

You start again, mainly to cut off whatever she was going to say. 

"By the way.. you don't have to pack lunch for these next few days." She raises a thoughtful look.

"Why? Have you been dropping it lately? Do you not like it? Is that you've been smelling like it when you come home?" 

Tensely giggling, you curl your hair behind your ear. "No Mom.. I just.." You trail off, unable to think of a perfect excuse. Nothing to resemble reality. Eventually, her lips curl again. 

"Ah.. so it's all to do with that boy."

What? 

You're surprised, rushing to stammer out a no, but she's set in her thoughts.

"I've been wondering why it's emptier than usual, you've been sharing it with him, hm?" She has that trail in her tone as if she caught you. 

"No! A friend has just been giving me some of there's so I haven't been able to eat mine." She laughs and your face is pink. 

"Ah I see, so you've been swapping lunches? How cute" You huff at this reasoning, giving up.

Maybe you should just let her believe this anyway. It'd make her happy.  

"Nothing’s happening with us Mom, we're just school partners. He's not even all that nice, you know," you mutter that last part to yourself. 

She snickers. "Men struggle with their emotions a bit more than we do when it comes to love-" 

You shout, "It's not love!" 

She waves her hand, gesturing for you to calm down. "Right right, well maybe he's just struggling to convey it to you." Huffing again, you cross your arms. That's not it. She's not listening to you, and you sigh angrily. Seriously, if only she knew. 

"I promise you, Mom, that's not it, just believe me okay? We're going to do the project and that's it, he won't be here ever again.." You pause, then point accusingly toward her. "And no being weird!" 

"Fine fine, I’ll act normal don't worry, I would hate to embarrass you in front of your crush." 

"Ugh, just.. no lunch tomorrow please!" 

You squeak out an awkward "thank you!" and she hums, a grin still lingering. 

Stomping off to your room, you lightly slam the door and stuff your face into the pillow. You could hear the front door open again, and you're sure your mother is now going to start talking about this mystery "crush" to your father.

You let out a frustrated sigh. 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What do you think about Dumbledore giving Harry and co. so many points at the ending feast of the Philosopher's Stone? Do you think slytherin (and who I think are the poor first years) got cheated?

I mean, Harry deserved some house points for what he pulled off (even though he shouldn't have had to but it's not his fault Dumbledore built him an obstacle course), but yeah, I think they were cheated because of how Dumbledore did it. Yk?

It would've been one thing to give Harry and Co points in the week before school was over and Harry was in the hospital wing. Then everyone would've arrived at the Great Hall when it's clear Gryffindor won, that's fine, yk, happens, I'm not inherently against Harry and co + Neville getting these points. But making a whole spectacle of Slytherin winning and then snatching the victory away by giving Harry and Co + Neville just enough points to surpass Slytherin, yeah, that's a dick move on Dumbledore's part (not just for the first years, for all of the Slytherins).

Like, if we're talking favoritism practiced by Hogwarts faculty, this is definitely an act of Dumbledore showing disdain toward Slytherin. I mean, he 100% planned it to go down the way it did to spite the Slytherins and Snape:

“Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.” The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. “Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… [...] Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. “There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.” Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn’t have looked more stunned and horrified if he’d just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. “Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, “we need a little change of decoration.” He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry’s eye and Harry knew at once that Snape’s feelings toward him hadn’t changed one jot.

(PS, Ch17)

Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing and took joy in the spectacle and embarrassment of Slytherin.

Also, I just wanted to note Percy being adorable in the above scene because I read it so you deserve to be reminded of it too:

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!”