#Really if I just had a powered chair I think that would solve a lot of problems for me

[rubberduckyrye]

I'm thinking of how I can get myself to the library by myself and I'm just, scared of doing it tbh? Like... idk I hate going out by myself, I am afraid someone might try and hurt me if I'm by myself...

A far cry from the me who used to leave the house and walk to the gas station and buy myself snacks and food at 3 AM, huh... where did THAT me go? I'd like for them to come back.

I guess to be fair the gas station wasn't even a block away from the apartment but still. 3 AM??? Insane.

There are two buses that I can take to get to the library, but... idk if I want to like, bring my wheelchair. I struggle to get on the bus with it by myself... I'm just not strong enough to pull my own weight I don't think. And also lining up my wheels for the tiny ramps is so annoying. Also PEOPLE ARE SO WEIRD ABOUT WHEELCHAIRS.

I can walk for about five minutes before my back gets bad... idk.

It's just a struggle to try and come up with a good enough solution to this stuff.

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but��� that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[indiecries]

Random assorted Obey me headcanons..✦

Lucifer:

Literally smells so good all the time, as in he could not shower for a week and he'd still smell like Cinnamon and Petrichor, Everyone questions this yet they don't have an answer. The only person who seems to have a clue is Satan, Who believes its an enchantment or a 'charm' as he called it that makes him presentable to people all the time.

As mentioned before, He smells like Cinnamon and Petrichor, but he also picks up the scent of Coffee after a couple hours because I think he drinks it to a point where it makes him agitated. He's always working if he's not shouting at his brothers for small trivial things and he needs to stay awake, Coffee is his go to and the smell is so strong people swear they get buzzed just by walking past him.

Heels. He wears a small heel on his shoes, why? to appear taller than his brothers therefore making him seem more powerful (even though Beel still has a solid 7 inches on him because he's like 6'9 in my head)

Can play the; Cello, Violin and Piano though he favours the Piano since he can always sit and lift up the fall board and start to play. He finds it comforting when he does so, mostly because it keeps him occupied and drowns out the noise of his brothers' antics.

Has his ears pierced and exclusively wears peacock feather earrings with gold hooks, makes him feel more regal and important.

Also he wears glasses more than he does in the games... Thats it. Thats the headcanon.

Mammon:

Is really skilled at maths, Very very quick with addition and multiplication, Even Satan asks him for help sometimes with work due to him being quickfire with solving. He had this skill before the gambling but that's where he utilizes it the most.

After meeting Mc: every time he sees rings in a jewelry shop he thinks of them, not necessarily in a marriage context but more so "I wonder if mc would like this?" or "I bet mc would like this,". He's very considerate of others despite his theiving habits, He could see expensive perfume and buy it for Asmo whilst he settles for the cheap stuff, or he could buy Satan the expensive books whilst he buys the cheap ones with barely any plot.

Takes long strides as he walks, hands in pockets, You can always hear him approaching because of the amount of jewelry and keychains he has strewn about himself always make noise when he walks. I also believe he fidgets with necklaces when he has them on, especially when he's flustered or he's thinking about something.

Stretches a lot, Cracking his knuckles or stretching before leaning back on the chair he's sitting on, I could make a joke about him doing the fake yawn thing so he can put an arm around you but I think he does it shamelessly, Mammon may get flustered easily but I don't think he has any shame in wanting to have an arm around you, I also think he does this to his brothers a lot because they're usually looking at stuff on their D.D.D's and he needs to look over at what they're showing him.

White eyelashes, theyre long and pretty and Asmodeus is definetly jealous of them, I also think he has a piercing on his face somewhere but I constantly falter between him having a lip piercing or an eyebrow piercing.

Leviathan:

His hair is shaggy and grown out, and littered with little orange streaks that contrast with the pale purple. It covers his eyes, which I think he likes because it means he can't see too many people at once (a little bit like Kenma from Haikyuu). I also think it comes down his neck, a little bit like a Mullet.

Hands are fidgety and shaky, always holding his D.D.D or his Console, if not those some kind of fidget toy. His hands are always in his pockets if theyre not actively doing something, I think he also picks at his nail polish which Asmo gives him an earful about because he worked hard on picking the perfect colour for him.

Has gauged his piercings to at least a 10mm because he thought it was cool (and it is) but he whined like crazy because it hurt as he was doing so. His ears are sensitive because theyre not really ears theyre more like fins that help with swimming when he's in his demon form.

Blushes like CRAZY like his whole body turns bright red, he'll most likely do the hand over his mouth thing but sometimes he gets so bad he has to pull his hood up over his face so no one can see him freaking out. Gets so defensive if someone brings it up though, has lead to him getting into a fist fight with mammon multiple times.

Also has long eyelashes but theyre lilac like his hair, His eyes glow in the dark, it scares everyone par Satan because his do the same. Leviathan also has sharp teeth like a sharks but he doesn't like people.pointing it out because it makes him insecure and he'll worry about it for the rest of the day.

Satan:

Hands on his face a lot, whether it be pinching the bridge of his nose when he's annoyed, hand on his chin when he's thinking or resting his cheek on his palm when he's reading or uninterested. He also has this habit of running his hands through his hair when he's trying to calm down.

Has fangs. very long fangs, they're noticeable when he's biting his lip in anticipation or shouting at someone, also a habit of when he's getting annoyed he'll clench his jaw or bite the inside of his cheek trying not to burst but if he's getting sadistically angry he'll run his tounge across his top teeth threateningly....(COUGHS)

His pupils dialate significantly when he's happy, He also purrs which makes cats like him because the cats know that he likes them. He didn't notice it for awhile until Belphie commented on it after resting on his shoulder one day, now it's actually apart of himself he enjoys. He tends to purr when you're around also just because he enjoys your presence that much. And as aforementioned his eyes glow in the dark and reflect in certain light.

Paces when he's thinking or taps his foot when he's getting impatient, he just can't sit still sometimes and those are his two ways of letting that agitation out, Mammon also takes him out on walks sometimes, through trials in nature or will take him for a car ride so he can just get out of the house and vent out his frustrations.

Wears a lot of rings, mostly gold ones with green gemstones but there's this one ring he got from Asmo, its definetly his favourite, Its a gold ring and in the center there's a fluorite gemstone in the shape of a cats head. It was a birthday gift and he smiles whenever he puts it on because of how thoughtful it was. His hands are also littered with scars, mostly because he punches stuff when he's angry but also because he gets a lot of paper cuts.

Asmodeus:

Collarbone Piercings, They make him look elegant get also sensual and he loves them so much, thinks theyre so pretty. Theyre silver bars with Rhodochrosite gemstones implaced onto the ends, they match his eyes!

Two Beauty marks, one under his eye and one under his mouth on the left side, they make him look dignified and like the work of a sculptor...(in his words). He actually used to cover them up until he forgot to one day and his followers thought he was so pretty with them, he hasn't covered them up since.

Affectionate but not always in the touchy sense, He listens a lot, though he's extroverted he stays quiet sometimes when his brothers are talking amongst themselves. He'll listen to them talk about what they like and pick it up for them and say "oh its nothing!" But he knows deep down how happy his brothers are about it.

Enjoys his weekly nail painting sessions with his brothers, loves catching up with his brothers since he's always out partying or in different classes. The most supportive person ever and will always back up them on their opinions, Asmo will always ask them their opinions about celebrity drama or their classes, or he'll stay silent when Belphie is sleeping as he does it. Asmo cares for his brothers deeply.

Sensitive cheeks, kiss him on the cheek and he'll turn red and starts giggling.

Beelzebub:

Really tall, Tallest out of all of them standing at an impressive 6'9. Belphie is significantly shorter at 6'1 but that doesn't matter. Beel is big, tall and built, he eats a lot and works out a lot, causing him to be really well built.

A really good cook actually, The HOL get excited whenever he cooks because his pallate is insane, he can just eyeball ingridients and it'd be perfect. Mammon especially enjoys it because he loves supporting his baby brother in the kitchen, he's on stirring duty and Is usually the one fetching utensils for Beel so he doesn't have to move from the stove.

Hates wearing jackets, Is usually just in a tank top because he likes having the cool air on his arms and back, it stops him from getting annoyed or agitated easily, but despite hating heat his favourite season is summer.

I don't think He has any piercings but if he did they'd be snakebites or double eyebrow piercings, he wears eyeliner rarely because Belphie does and he's curious. He doesn't really think about his physical appearance that much because he believes it isn't relevant, his hair is long and he has small amounts of stubble on his face.

Hates wearing rings because theyre usually too tight for him.

Belphegor:

Wears Eyeliner, literal edgelord, Piercings, Gauges, rings, edgy band shirts, that's him, he's the edgy one. He also enjoys wearing fingerless gloves like the literal 2000's goth he is.

Loves claw machines, they keep him on the edge and they actually require thought and then at the end of it all he gets a soft toy and pillow out of it! Its like a double win for him, gets excited when he sees them, not quite so visibly but his eyes light up and you can see the pep in his step.

He prefers the cold to the hot, he enjoys being warm but there's something about a cold room that really makes him drowsy, especially if its like a rainy day, cold room and he's perfectly warm.. and if you're beside him.. He rubs his eyes a lot after he wakes up though, it causes his eyeliner to smudge and he looks really hot..

really enjoys boba, all he has to do is walk up to Levi and grab his arm asking to get some, and despite Levi being anti social he agrees because Belphegor is one of his favourite little brothers and he likes speaking to him. Belphie definetly likes Ube the most because its purple... and he likes purple.. though he also enjoys strawberry flavors, he finds them refreshing.

Not very fidgety but does toss and turn without you by his side.

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

This is Her Trying

sum: she sold out every value she holds dear, even a person. That happens to be you. So, one night after Voit’s little game, she speeds to your apartment in hopes you’ll still want her.

(is there a lot of music references? Yes.)

WARNING: BIG ANGSTY, smoking, some fluff?

Emily saw this coming, with the way everything was happening. The BAU hadn’t taken up a case they couldn’t solve, it just seems that now they’ve met their match. Emily didn’t want it to be true, no, she just couldn’t accept that. She was too prideful to give up.

That also meant doing everything in her power to solve this case, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of the law. She hated that she even considered doing it, so why do it at all? That was a question she asked herself often. Sometimes she sat in her chair wondering if Hotch would be disappointed in her. Or if he would tell her that she ‘needn’t worry’ even though she should.

In the midst of all this ‘Gold Star’ business happening, she was also pushing you away. Not noticing the hurt facial expression you made at her clearly not wanting your presence. She pushed you away so much that she had forgotten how much peace you’d bring her. Even Rossi had warned her to go home but she never did listen, she did what she thought was best. But sometimes she couldn’t think for herself.

—

“Shouldn’t you head home to see the Mrs?” Rossi asked, driving them back after Emily had gotten arrested. The truth was, she wanted to go home, she was just too scared that you too would be disappointed in her, and she’d rather not have the person she loved the most think ill of her. “She knows I’m out, it’s fine..” The silver-haired woman grumbled, picking at her thumb nail again. Someday she’d get over the whole thumb thing but now was not the time. All that she was focused on was Brian Garrity being on the top of her list to be killed off if she ever did spiral into madness; which she was already on the brink of.

Dave looked at her with this face, it was his ‘I know you better than you think, please don’t lie to me right now’ face. Emily huffed, groaning as she flopped her head into her hands. “It’s been almost a week and a half, Emily. A hello or hug would suffice” He tutted, even after all these years he still had to teach her fatherly advice.

“She’ll survive, Dave, she’s not going anywhere” Emily seethed, her emotions slightly breaking loose, the Italian took note of her behavior. As he pulled back into the parking lot, he stopped the engine, turning to look at her with a soft expression.

“If I’ve learned anything from my marriages is, never make them wait for you. Because the hardest feeling is choosing whether to wait or give up” He says, exiting the car first to let Emily think.

—

The Unit Chief sat on the rooftop again, the cigarette she was smoking, balanced between her fingers. She only smoked when she was really stressed, that seemed to be almost every day now. You had told her to stop smoking but, old habits die hard.

Ever since that call she had about being on restricted duty she felt like she was completely under the water, she couldn’t breathe. The feeling on being dragged down over and over again was starting to get to her. This definitely wasn’t her first rodeo but it was starting to feel like her last. She kept telling herself to keep pushing and they’d solve this but maybe, for once, they’ve gotten a case they won’t figure out.

The BAU was crumbling around them, the public was already trampling on the name. But if they didn’t figure this out, what was the point of anything? What was the point of all this work if she couldn’t even save herself?

How could she protect her team when her choices were the ones hurting them? She’d been dying inside since Bailey’s death. She couldn’t give up now, she had to figure this out so he didn’t die in vain. But she wanted to give up, it was so much easier to lay down and die.

This isn’t how she imagined she’d end up. A broken marriage, at least she thought so, a broken team, a broken case, everything was tumbling down and she didn’t have the energy to build them back up anymore. She always wondered how some people could die with so much happiness accepting that they didn’t do everything they wanted to. That was one of the qualities that made you fall for her.

She didn’t stop till she got what she wanted. That’s how you agreed to go on one date with her. She was insistent that she was the one for you. At first you didn’t want to, not wanting to be with someone so ambitious since it could end badly, later she showed you that you were the only one she wanted.

Letting out a shaking breath, Emily looked below, the who-ing of the owls seemed to be her only company that night. The stars were shining above her, she was jealous of them. How could they live so peacefully without worry. They were taunting her with their beauty.

Almost like the first time you and her met. She smiled at the memory, her time of youth escaped her but she never seemed to forget it.

~~

You were one of Garcia‘s friends, she met you during one of her baking lessons, and got to know you during one of her cooking lessons. You were skilled in both, your nimble fingers kneading the dough, your hands holding the sharp knife as you made precise cuts on the vegetables.

Emily could’ve never been prepared for the day you’d given Penelope a visit at work. She practically choked on her coffee the moment you walked in. You were stunning, your eyes soft like the morning rain, your face free from blemishes and impurities, even your hands looked extremely agile. Your presence alone cast an ethereal radiance around the room. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Your brow arched, signaling her to introduce herself, Emily quickly stumbled to her feet with a goofy smile. She was enchanted by your shining grin. Internally, she was panicking so bad she couldn’t even think about what comes out of her mouth next, she was too busy staring at your tits.

“Prentits, Emily” she said a little too confidently, she slapped a hand over her mouth as Morgan barrel rolled on the floor in laughter. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope were snickering in the background. Hotch and Reid stood with shocked expressions, for once, Aaron had cracked a smile.

”I’m sorry! I meant Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you as well” her voice got more silent with each word, the red hue over taking her face. You laughed, “it’s okay, Emily,” you leaned into her ear, “but next time just ask to look at them.”

~~

Emily snorted to herself, still looking into the dark nothingness below her. A soft chuckle escaped her, even the darkness seemed more peaceful than whatever she had going on. In those few minutes that she had stared into the oblivion, she realized, it wasn’t too late to fix things. At least with you anyway, she just hoped that you’d still want her after everything she had put you through.

The guilt of leaving you alone for so long clawed at her. As she now hurried down the halls, she thought of you. That smile that could make her melt, the laugh that could infect anybody, and those arms that held her close when no one understood her.

Even in the car, the first thing that played was your favorite song. She slammed her fist against the console, the pain was agonizing but that was the least of her problems. Her fingers gripped around the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and cramped. As she speeded home, she realized that she dearly missed your lips. Your soft, delicate, and loving lips. Even the first time the both of you had said you loved each other, she knew that you were gonna kiss her in a way that was gonna screw her up forever.

At the door of your shared house, she felt a sinking feeling in her chest, her hands turned clammy. It was like she was sent back to when she was ask you out on a date again. Except this time she was asking for your forgiveness.

She brought out her house keys, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The inside was still dimly lit so she knew you were awake, probably staying up late again. “Baby? I’m home!” Emily called out, shutting the door behind her, making sure to lock it before venturing deeper into the home. She heard shuffling from upstairs, it stopped for a moment before the sound of your footsteps made their way down. She was nervous, the smell of smoke on her clothes. It stood out from the scent of the rest of the house.

It smelt of you and your soft smelling vanilla perfume. You smiled seeing her, though the emotions in you remained conflicted. “Em, you’re home, I thought you were gonna be working late again” You chuckled lightly, nothing was funny. She messed up and you knew it, she knew it. So, why couldn’t you just go ahead and scream your feelings out. That’s what you wanted to do days ago, but not now that you see her face…you don’t feel so angry anymore.

“No, I needed to come home. I needed to see you, I’m-” Emily abruptly stopped her sentence to swallow the sound of her breaking voice, she never minded being emotional in front of you. Now, she couldn’t bear to cry in front of you. She felt she didn’t deserve to, you’re the victim here, after all. It was selfish to take that away from you. She was selfish. That’s all she had been for weeks now.

“I’m going insane, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m not alright.” She admitted it, she was scared and confused. She felt like some little kid in the corner after doing something bad and not knowing it was. She didn’t know how to cope with any of this. It was too big to do alone. She couldn’t ask you to help her, not when she’s already taken so much from you.

As Emily’s eyes began to sting, the tears pooling. Yet, she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, it wasn’t right. “You smell like smoke again, what happened this time?” You asked, brushing past her and walking into the kitchen. You fixed Emily a glass of cold water, “I messed up some case, I’m on restricted duty. The BAU is Dave’s now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She said through a shaky sigh, leaning on the kitchen island, the marble cold to the touch. You were slightly shocked that she would actually tell you, most of the time she wouldn’t tell you anything. You understood that even knowing a little bit could endanger you both so you never pressed. “Have you eaten?”

Emily crossed her arms, sniffling and looking at her with a blank expression. You knew that look, she was trying to profile you. “Emily, if you’re trying to profile me, it’s not gonna work.” You said sternly, getting the ingredients out for beef and broccoli, one of her favorites.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” she replied, biting her lip. “No, I haven’t” she added after a moment of silence. You smiled to yourself, “Good, I haven’t had dinner yet”

The silence was oddly comfortable, it gave Emily a sense of false comfort. She watched you cook as she idly played with her fingers. You could’ve called it a night ages ago and gone to bed not talking to her at all. Instead, you chose to stay and make food. You always stayed silent when you were mad, you came from a home with screaming being the norm. You hated yelling at someone out of anger, you hated it with your heart and soul. Even now if someone yells at you in anger, the tears will pool and won’t stop streaming down your face. Your breathing turns shallow and the tightness in your chest the least of your concerns.

As you finished cooking the food, the steam drifted into the air, eventually filling up the whole kitchen. Both of you quickly ate the food, silently glancing at each ofher when the other ‘wasn’t’ looking. Emily didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything.

The older woman went upstairs to change, and hopefully get a shower. It had been a few days since she’s had a good shower. One where she felt relaxed and fresh. You washed the dishes, humming to yourself as you thought about the situiation you were in. You wanted so badly to be angry with her but, there was something that kept you from feeling anything about what was happening. Your face would contort into an expression of anger but you didn’t feel it.

You completed the rest of the cleaning and headed upstairs, maybe you’d be able to get a good sleep tonight. You always slept best with Emily in bed with you, she just gave you a sense of comfort that no one else could give you.

Already in some pjs, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your body up to sit on the counter. You had grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media as you flossed with a floss pick. You heard the shower stop but you didn’t look up, too interested in a News article you read. It was an article about ‘Gold Star’. A case Emily was on, he was clearly dangerous and had already killed the spouse of one of his latest victims who was also a cop. That must’ve been why she’s been down at the office, at least, that’s what you heard from Pen.

“Damn it…” Emily muttered, pulling a silk robe over her thin pjs. Her hair was soaking wet, and her face free of makeup, she was looking for something. “Have you seen my towel?” She asked, looking at the rack then back inside the shower. You looked down and saw you were sitting on it, lifting a thigh, you grabbed it and handed it to her.

She smiled at you, drying her silver locks with the towel. Walking over to the sink, she began doing her skincare routine. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face, she looked so focused.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch her face when she finished, she looked like a supermodel in this light. I’m any light actually, she was a timeless beauty you couldn’t get enough of. That was when you felt it, the subtle shake of your hands, the sting of your eyes, the flips of your stomach, the drowning feeling, and the way you bit the inside of your cheek.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror before looking over at you with concern, your eyes filled with hurt. She hummed softly, placing a hand on yours, squeezing it as a way to ground you. “I love you, Emily Prentiss…so much that you piss me off,” You said with a hushed tone, as if you’d be scolded for speaking normally.

“I love you more, my precious girl” Emily kissed each of your knuckles, kissing up your arm as she moved to slip herself in between your legs. She eventually got up to kiss your lips, it was quick, a big dose of comfort, for Emily at least.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true…” You insisted, placing your hands on her shoulders, the robe damp from her wet hair. “You left me, for almost a whole week and a half with minimal to no contact, you didn’t even check in with me so I knew you were alive and breathing.”

Emily looked down in shame, she wished to take it all back. “I had to hold on to the hope that you were okay, and I had to get updates from the team, who you never seem to interact with anyway.” You sniffled, toying with her hair. “I know about this whole ‘Gold Star’ thing. The information went public, most of it anyway. So, please tell me what’s bothering you. Please…” You admitted, holding her face so she would look at you.

“Baby, Gold Star…he’s a dangerous man, after what happened with Don Bertoli” she paused, wiping her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She’s been doing that often now, you noticed since she was always comfortable crying around you. “I couldn’t handle you living in fear, I couldn’t handle us living in fear. A part of it was because I was so focused on this case, I hardly thought about anything else other than the case, and you. I know that sounds weird but, every decision I made was made because I thought I could protect you.” She kissed your palm, looking at you with the same adoration and love she had been for years, “If Don, this big muscular man, can’t stop him from killing his wife. How can I stop him?” She sobbed, hugging you close.

“Ever since this case even started, I changed so much. I hate it. I let a serial killer out of his cage to work among profilers like he meant something. I kept a secret from JJ that I shouldn’t have, I ruled over my team like a tyrant instead of working with them. I’m…turning into my mother, just like I thought I would. But the only question I have is…why haven’t you left me yet?” Emily sniffled, tears stains on your sleep attire. You pulled away from the hug and held her head, wiping away the tears with your thumbs.

She looked so fragile, like could crack of you touched her. You rarely saw her break, Emily was always the strong one even in the relationship. She took pride in opening jars, carrying bags, doing any sort of lifting. She also compartmentalized like her life depended on it because it kind of did.

”You are not going to be like your mother, you are my wonderful, amazing, ambitious, smart, hilarious, stunning, annoying wife. You’re my everything in one and I love you for it. I haven’t left you because I made a very important promise to be yours forever. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. Also, last time I checked, you have the most awesome team. So, if you fess up and take responsibility, they’ll accept you. Remember that you have to earn that trust back but, I know you care.” Emily let out a choked sob, she loved you more than anything. What did she do to deserve you?

“When you were gone that long, I didn’t mind that much. Until you stopped texting me back, I didn’t hear from you for days. I panicked, thinking you were mad and I spiraled, every possible out come in my head played out beside for this” You said, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“What I mean is, I’m not going to tell you that this was okay, what I am gonna tell you is that I love you despite what happened.” You pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, she was hurting, you could tell from her face and mannerisms. You felt like you had spent a whole lifetime memorizing everything about her. Sometimes, it scared you. You knew things about her that even her team didn’t know, for you knew they’d never know.

With that, Emily burst into tears, hugging you tightly, pulling you as close to her as she could.

You’ve missed her dearly, nothing in existence or nonexistent could keep you from loving her. You feel every emotion at once yet none could rival the pure love you felt for the woman. She’s gone through hell & earth to have you. Now, you were ready to do the same for her.

She’s saved you from a maniac serial killer once, the least you could do was be here when you needed her. You knew she’d return the favor, you preferred to have her be alright before returning anything. After all, you taught middle schoolers for a living, you had your moments but thankfully there was never anything much.

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry” She sobbed, her head buried in between the crevice between your neck and shoulder. Her body slotted so perfectly with yours that you were convinced she was made for you. “I forgive you, always”

You felt her arms tighten around you, she sniffled looking up into your eyes. Pressing a kiss to your lips, she played with your hair, twirling it between her fingers.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the future, she was unsure of a lot of things. One thing was certain, that you were hers, and she was yours. She’d find a way to cross realities if it meant being with you.

As the night went on, both felt as though they could stay their forever. Intertwined. Sewn together. Forevermore.

—————

UHM. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.

This is a nice appetizer for all the fics I’m about to serve to you guysssss. I hope you enjoyed restricted duty Emily :)

[hayanwulf]

“How much do you love Pepper?”

The question came out of nowhere. Tony pulled himself out from where he was neck-deep in machinery, and looked up at the Wizard who sat occupying one of his several workshop chairs, his eyes still fixed on the book in his lap.

“More than the world,” Tony replied honestly. “It’s scary, honestly.”

It truly was scary, the lengths he knew he could go to for the people he loved.

Stephen did look up from his book, then.

“Let’s just say, hypothetically—” Tony raised an eyebrow at that, “—that Pepper was in love with someone else. And they loved her. And they were very happy as they were.”

Tony could sense there was something deeper going on here than simply hypotheticals. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Yet.

“And let’s say,” Stephen continued, “that you had the power to change that. You had the power to keep her all to yourself, to make her forget all about that person, and that person all about her. Literally. And no one would ever know what you had done, or that things had ever been any different than the reality you fabricated. She would love you, would never know what she has lost, and you’d never give her a reason to feel any less happier. And before you ask, no, it will not create any unfortunate side-effects for anyone or anything.”

Tony’s brows progressively creased at the very dubious description of this hypothetical.

“If you had the power to do all that,” Stephen concluded, “Would you?”

Tony opened his mouth to give the obvious answer that no, I wouldn’t do that, because that’s wrong.

But then he paused, jaw snapping shut, as he realized something after rerunning Stephen’s words through his head.

Stephen was talking about a scenario where consequences stopped mattering. Where, perhaps, morals stopped mattering. Because no one would ever know that Pepper’s life had been manipulated — not even Pepper herself — not only that, but Tony knew he would treat Pepper the way she deserved, would give her all his love, his soul, heck, the world if she asked for it.

He knew that he would keep her happy, and that she would do the same for him. Because that was how it was, in present, in the reality.

So, with all that in mind, even if it was morally wrong to play with someone’s memories, to fabricate a reality that hadn’t always been the truth, did it really matter that those things had been done? Because at the end of the day, there would be no consequences, no repercussions, nothing negative that would come out of it.

Suddenly the question felt a lot more terrifying. It almost felt like a test, of sorts, of a person’s integrity. And Tony did not have a lot of integrity to spare. No, he was more than willing to bend the rules sometimes if it meant that it would help him achieve what’s best for this world.

(Except, he wasn’t very good at telling what qualified as ‘best for this world’ either, now, was he?)

So.. if he were to be tempted into it.. wouldn’t he give in? Wouldn’t he want to have Pepper? He wanted to say no, that he wouldn’t let himself fall into that pit, because there was no getting up from it ever again. But..

But power corrupts.

It would corrupt him, too.

Tony bit his lip and focused back on Stephen.

It was then that he realized that Stephen had his eyes keenly fixed on Tony throughout the silence of contemplation. There was something in his eyes.. akin to anticipation? Except, it was way more intense.

Something clicked in Tony’s mind. Or perhaps it was several pieces clicking together, solving a puzzle that had been right in front of his eyes all along but he had somehow missed for so long.

The question wasn’t hypothetical. It wasn’t hypothetical, because Stephen had that kind of power. Didn’t he? Tony would think so, after he’d watched the man take down a Titan with 4 infinity stones, prevent their planet from being eaten by a planet-eating cosmic entity, and defeat a witch who could warp reality and create kids out of nothing.

Stephen was in love. Stephen was in love with someone who he couldn’t be with.

The thought made something constrict painfully tight in Tony’s chest. But there would be more time, later, to think on that.

Right now.. right now Stephen was on the verge of falling apart. He loved this person so much that he was willing to go to any lengths, if it meant he could be with them. (The vice around Tony’s heart tightened even more, but really, this was no time to process that.) Even if it could be considered extremely immoral. And..

And he was, in a way, asking Tony’s permission for it. Perhaps to assuage himself that it was fine to do it. Perhaps to convince himself that it wasn’t wrong, that anyone would want to do the same.

Tony swallowed. The workshop’s air, that had been cool and pleasant just a minute ago, now hung with a damp sort of heaviness.

This was extremely hypocritical of Tony, given that moments ago he had admitted to himself that he.. that he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to using that kind of power to have Pepper to himself.

But Stephen.. he couldn’t let Stephen break. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not for this. Losing morality was a slippery slope. You couldn’t stop once you’d started.

He couldn’t let that happen to Stephen. He couldn’t.

(And if a small, insignificant voice in his mind screamed, you’re doing it only out of selfishness, he shut it out.)

“No,” Tony said. “Because.. even if no one would know the truth, I would know.”

“Because it would haunt your conscience forever?” Stephen asked.

Oh, Tony had no doubt that it would. He also had no doubt that his own conscience would slowly convince him that ‘it’s fine’ that he ‘did the right thing’. It would feed him lies, and he would make them his life’s truths.

That was, in essence, how the slippery slope of amorality started. Always.

Tony shook his head. “No. Because the Pepper that lives in here?” He tapped at his chest, right where his heart rested, “She’d hate me for it.”

Stephen’s eyes traced down to that little hand gesture, and stayed there even after Tony’s hand fell away. For a second that seemed to stretch for hours, Stephen simply stared at the spot where Tony had tapped his finger, and Tony grew just a hint distressed, that perhaps it hadn’t worked. Perhaps he didn’t manage to convince Stephen. That he would lose Stephen into this spiral of wrongdoings and never be able to recover him—

Stephen’s eyes flickered up to Tony’s, and something flashed in his expression, gone as quickly as it had come. Tony still caught what it was, though.

Self-disgust.

Before Tony could speak again, Stephen interrupted him, getting up as he shut his book with a slam. “Apologies, there’s an emergency at the Sanctum.”

And before Tony could do anything else, Stephen was already disappearing through a portal.

“Stephen!” He called out as he stood up, but it was no use, the portal already closed, the last of orange sparks showering down on his floor.

Stephen was gone. Stephen was gone, and Tony knew that no immoral reality-bending, mind-altering magics were going to be performed today. But Stephen was gone, reeking of shame and disgust for himself, gone to lament in whichever secluded place he always disappeared to, not to be found by any force of the universe unless he wanted to be found.

That hadn’t been Tony’s intention. That hadn’t been Tony’s intention.

But he could do nothing but watch at where the sparkly portal had stood, wishing that it had been him who Stephen loved with such intensity.

[radiation]

Ok here are my brief thoughts on Mouthwashing. SPOILERS WARNING And mostly negative sorry. Lots of things i liked but i think most ppl have said that stuff already so i wont repeat it

Loved the art direction, really loved the dialogue, I enjoyed the game a lot in the first half. Unfortunately towards the halfway point where it began leaning further into the horror game shit it really started losing me. The gameplay segments where you get chased around by something or other were seriously just horrendously, horrendously badly designed and a lot of the puzzles felt repetitive or inscrutable (Altho keep in mind I'm terrible at solving puzzles/finding shit in video games. When people talk about "yellow paint" I'm 100% who that shit is for)

It wasnt just the gameplay though, I also just wasn't a huge fan of the metaphorical / scary visuals / out-of-body experience stuff. I felt it slowed down the pace of events and put a barrier between me and the reality of the story being told. It rarely communicated new plot points and ideas and mostly restated information I'd already received verbally in an abstract way. Yes they were visually stunning, very technically impressive, and a few felt genuinely novel and well-placed (the reveal of the mouthwash ad on the TV fucking ruled), but I feel like for the most part those moments were almost obligatorily following modern indie horror game trends. I understand the point of that kind of stuff and it definitely can be effective, but idk i see it so much Im just personally very tired of it unless it really justifies its own existence, and in this case i unfortunately felt it didnt

I also didnt find the sort of "twist" with the main character very compelling and the more extreme his actions became the more I became disappointed. Like once you start getting a guy feeding another dude his own leg at a table with a bunch of dead ppl set on chairs with party hats on (even if its intended to be metaphorical) you have killed my suspension of disbelief. Especially since the character work at the beginning of the game felt a lot more grounded it was just like really. I get its horror but thats trite as fuck sorry.

A lot of this comes down to personal preference but if it were me Id have pared down the gameplay so its more towards the visual novel direction and made the scenario and character behaviors toward the end more grounded/real world so the horror comes more from the Real Fucked Up And Horrible Shit That Is Actually Happening, not the abstraction of it. I really found the character dialogue so much more compelling, original, and better at communicating ideas than the metaphorical visuals, so just own that instead. Like i personally wouldnt have had much of this stuff or any at all but again, definitely personal preference, so if it we're going middle ground -- horror visuals can still exist in some form, but i think would be better as a backdrop that fades in and out rather than being something that, in order to experience, you have to totally disengage with the story at hand for long stretches

Another thing I felt and like, sorry this is pretty mean, but as much as people praise the story it really isn't doing much of anything new or different. It's largely well-executed, but as far as sci-fi and horror goes, it's really quite generic. A well-put together combination of a handful of movies and games and whatnot, but rarely much more than the sum of its parts. The moments where it went beyond that were in the very real-life themes and the character work, which again got lost little by little due to its increasing insistence on being an indie horror game. The point for me isn't that everything has to be totally original and not at all contrived, like familiar ideas being well executed can be really really powerful, its more that with all the issues there were i didnt feel the story was strong enough to completely redeem it

Also slowly dawned on me that Anya is pretty much just shelley duvall and it started bothering me like i couldnt stop seeing it

+ I found the writing kind of misogynist. Anya isnt a bad character but if you look at all the individual points of her character its like wow you had to have the singular woman in the cast have literally all of those traits and all of those things happen to her? Its very like 1980s male auteur movie director type shit. And if the shelley duvall thing wasnt a total coincidence that like, especially does not put a good taste in my mouth

Also Swansea fucking rules best character eva

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - First Encounter

Because we all know. I have no self control :D

I don't know if this will become a serie like RealAgeAU.

This drabble is more of a thank you to all the lovely people who interacted with me over this idea and added their own little ideas and headcanons <3 So this is for all of you <3 (also i named Ghost Papyrus Ash because I like the name combination of Dust and Ash. Dust to dust and ashes to ashes kinda deal/joke)

*---------------------*

Dust taps the steering wheel as he drives through the town. Many people shoot his van worried and suspicious looks but he really doens't care that much.

Ash does not agree.

"If they know what is good for them they will stop this idiotic behaviour!" Ash huffs and grumbles as he floats around the top of the van, only his skull and hands available to him in this phantom form. "They are already lucky we are willing to give them our presence!!"

Dust hums as he follows the road "It isn't big of a deal."

Dust stops their van at the end of the road and grabs his laptop. a beat up old model but it works for what he wants. He only uses it for work stuff anyway. he opens his email and checks the address "We are here." he looks up and spots the house the email describes.

Ash huffs but floats near his shoulder "stupid white family who moved into an obviously haunted house again?"

Dust snorts and shrugs "Maybe. The man didn't specify. still." he grins at his brother "wanne bet?"

Ash looks unamused "I don't bet with you anymore."

Dust shrugs "your lose. Either way. I bet that this is the same old story. a white family moved to this very cheap mansion because the father was convinced this change of environment would solve all their issues, which are mostly that he cheated on his wife with his twenty year younger assistant."

Ash huffs unimpressed and just points pointedly at the house "Do your job. What can we expect here?"

Dust sighs but focusses on the house in the distance as he slowly opens his aura and soul for influence. Doing this near a lot of spirits leaves him at the risk of being possessed. which is why he does this only from a large distance and when he doens't sense other spirits nearby.

Dust hums as he focusses "okay... I think this may be a poltergeist? Though a very powerful one." he shoots Ash a look "best you dont go on a recon mission." he turns his driver's chair around and gets up to look through his shelve.

Ash grumbles behind him but doesn't fly off to investigate on his own. Ash as phantom is very stealthily and able to get anywhere he wants. But it leaves him weak to other spirit types.

Dust first grabs the pendant to strenghten Ash, which he tugs away in his scarf. Next he grabs a notebook and pen. An ouija board. a ghost radio.

He considers his tools before also grabbing the EMF meter and a handheld thermometer.

Ash laughs "You don't need those. if you are right and it is a poltergeist you just need to follow the floating and throwing objects to find it."

Dust shrugs "They may not be active. and stop calling your fellow spirits 'it's. it is rude." he gets out of his van and locks it before walking the last bit of the distance towards the house. Ash grumbles unhappily but follows him.

They get to the mansion together and find the family out in the garden. camping. huh. Honestly good idea on their part. just camping just outside the house.

The man had been holding a sniffing girl before catching sight of him.

The man looks excited as he hands the girl to the grown woman. the wife then it seems.

The husband rushes over "You are here! please help us!"

Dust tilts his skull and studies the scene before looking back at husband "hello. How long have you been having this spirit in your lives?"

The man sighs and moves to speak but the wife gets to his side "please love. lets first let our guest sit and we can all tell him what we saw."

Dust tilts his skull at her "Normally people don't believe in what i do."

the wife laughs but looks tired "I didn't believe in ghosts before until my house suddenly got haunted out of nowhere. And the priests we hired started to lose their minds. You get more openminded after that experience."

They end up sitting together in the grass as they explain that this was a house they bought about ten years ago. and that they never had these problems before until a month or so ago. that knives started flying and attacking them and how they couldn't feel safe anymore. How many had tried to demand the ghost to leave or tried to make it leave but nothing worked.

Dust looks at the small list he made and nods "i will need to find out why they dont leave." normally something keeps a spirit anchored to this realm and reality. it is strange that this spirit moved in without having a reason.

or at least it seems like that.

Dust asks if there seems to be a room where the spirit is most active and the family tells him it seems to be the living room though they have also been haunting the master bedroom a lot.

Dust nods and walks towards the front door. Already noticing the presence of the spirit as he gets near. He opens the front door and waits for a moment.

silence. No movement. an unnatural darkness.

Is the spirit taking energy from the environment to get this powerful? Normally they tend to feed on fear or memories. taking it from the environment is rare but not unheard of.

Dust makes sure to keep his voice calm and even "Hello. I am coming in okay?" he waits for a moment before nodding and stepping inside.

The door slams shut behind him and Dust nods "fair enough. can't have a draft form." he glances around. He needs to make a choice. living room or bed room.

He goes towards the living room. That one is generally more socially acceptable to visit on a first visit.

He gets to the room and looks around. It is a mess of furniture thrown over and broken things. The TV is static and everything is lit up with that greyish light.

Dust takes a moment to get comfortable at the coffee table as he sits with his legs crossed on the ground "Hello. I would like to ask you some questions if that is okay."

More silence but no hostile auras around him.

Dust nods and takes out the ways to help the spirit communicate "Do you have a prefered way to speak?" he points at the notebook, the radio and the ouija board.

A laugh in the air and Dust searches for the source. The longer he is near spirits the easier for him it becomes to hear and see them. He can see the outline of the spirit and watches them.

The laughted stops and the spirit floats closer to the offered items. they seem to nudge some of them before huffing.

Dust nods "no preference? we can try to just communicate as is then?"

The other stops and turns to face him. More details are becoming clear to Dust as the spirit remains near. They seem to have been a skeleton before, or they just prefer that form now.

The spirit chuckles and leans on their fist as they lay on their front in the air "sure. sounds fun."

their voice is still a little hard to understand but Dust can manage. He will have a headache after this however. That always happens when he communicates like this with new spirits.

Dust nods before putting the offered tools away before grabbing his own notebook for his personal notes "Hello, do you have a name that i can refer to you with? and do you have a preference in pronounce or gender to be referred with?" and he waits.

The spirit, becoming more and more clear to him, stares at him before speaking with that crackling and static voice "Killer. I am a guy."

Dust nods and notes it down "Killer. Hello. I am Dust. I was hoping you could answer some of my questions." more of a statement but an important one to make.

Killer nods and shrugs as answer. Okay that is good. no obvious hostile air just yet. Killer is also becoming more and more visible the longer he is not hostile. Dust can make out the skeleton with a bright red target in front of his sternum. the sweater and pants he is wearing. most telling however? the dark and empty sockets adn the black tears.

spirit forms usually say a lot about how a spirit died. The best way to make a spirit leave is to help them move on which is about 9 out of 10 times connected to their death.

So... no eye lights... hopeless situation? black tears. very traumatic? that is all he has so far and that is just speculations.

Dust asks his first question "How long have you been a spirit?"

Killer blinks before shooting him a grin "Checking if i am legal? Don't worry! I am well beyond the legal age." and he winks.

Dust blinks as Ash is silent by his side. okay. not the kind of answer he had been expecting. but better than being hostile...

Dust gives a slow nod as he makes a note "so you have been a spirit for a while. how long have you been at this place specifically?"

Killer shrugs as he thinks "little while. a month ish? so i am open to running away wiht you." and he grins at him again.

Ash grumbles angerly behind him "I think a murderous spirit is better than whatever is going on here."

Dust decides to not pay much attention to the flirsts and stay on track "Where were you before you moved here?"

Killer grins "In some other house with other people."

dust nods and continues "Why did you leave that place?"

Killer grins as he leans on his fist. staring at him "They moved and no one new moved in."

Dust frowns and asks "isnt that your aim? By haunting them? To make them leave? To have your own place for just yourself?"

Killer freezes for a moment and seems to grow a bit more static. Then he grins wider and leans closer to him "I mean. I would love to have my own house! Especially as that is seen as hot right? Having your own place." Killer winks at him again "Make sure no one interrupts our alone time?"

Ash makes gagging sounds behind him as Dust notes down 'doesnt want to be alone.'

Dust thinks for a moment before speaking again "You seem very focussed on being near others. does that mean you regret being alone?" just get more information.

Killer grins "The only thing i regret is not meeting you earlier."

Dust hums as he thinks. He doesn't seem to have any regrets. So his death and lingering isn't regret related.

It goes on like this for hours. Dust asking Killer questions and Killer replying with somekind of pickup line or other flirt with tiny bits of informations within those answers.

By the time it is evening Dust has a small list of things that seem to be trauma related but not any closer to actually getting the spirit to move on.

Dust says his goodbye as he moves towards the door only for the door of the living room to slam shut. Dust looks at it before turning back to Killer "Yes? Was there something?"

Killer looks downright panicked "Where are you going? Don't leave!"

yeah that is very obviously trauma related to being alone. maybe left behind? abandoned by someone Killer cared a lot about? Maybe that explains the flirting?

Dust speaks "I was going to go eat and sleep. I need to it to live." and he waits.

Killer frowns as he rubs his arms and eyes the door "And you will be back?"

Dust nods "I was planning on it. If i am welcome."

Killer thinks but nods. the door behind him unlocks and opens and Dust hears a second door do the same in the distance.

Dust nods and leaves the house. he gives the family a quick update that it may take a while longer as he tries to figure this out. then he goes to get his van and park it closer.

This may be a bit of a tricky case after all.

*---------------------*

and then in the end dust never managed to get killer to move on and killer ended up stalkign him instead <3

A drabble for this silly au!! I love seeing everyones ideas and headcanons and i hope this helps you guys to also keep interacting with me about this :D <3

part 2 - New Haunting

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 11 thoughts (pre-interludes):

Taylor's dad sees his daughter for the first time since she ran away. Since the fucking Endbringer attack! And literally says the line "“I need to go handle this" about a fucking work thing. No Danny. You do not NEED TO HANDLE THIS. God damn. It is fucking hard to be a co-parent for Taylor when I'm the only one doing any parenting!

Speaking of parenting - Taylor, you really should get some therapy. That was a pretty detailed level of fucked up nightmare you had. I love you and just want you to take care of yourself.

Skitter just like "all right, for day 1 I'm going to gain complete fucking control over my territory and establish myself as an unkillable bug goddess". And then she worries if she is doing enough!

Seriously though, letting that guy stab her and counting on her costume to block the knife? Fucking baller move. Also stupidly risky. So pretty much on point for my wonderful but stress inducing bug daughter.

And then she just sits in her chair drinking tea while she destroys two groups of Merchants? Doesn't just beat them, but absolutely terrorizes them. Lights one of them on fire with their own matches! WITH BUGS! I love her so much.

She also gained two minions as a side bonus to controlling her territory. And ensured their loyalty and dedication to her.

For real. Sierra would take a bullet. She'd die for Taylor. But Charlotte? Charlotte would kill for Taylor.

The speech Taylor gave Charlotte when giving her the options "leave town" or "work for me" was so well done! Came across as incredibly fair so Charlotte couldn't complain, but also just tied her in a little bundle all nice and neat. Set her up to want to work for you. Very nicely done. Taylor clearly has been learning from Lisa.

We're just pretty much giving up on that whole secret identity thing huh? It just started cascading out of control quite quickly. I don't expect Taylor and Skitter to be different people for much longer.

Lisa and Taylor went to a party together! A shitty villain party that was dangerous and almost killed them. But villain prom is villain prom. GAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

Just a number of good Chatterbug (Smugbug) moments here.

Lisa has a MURDER WALL! AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I love her so fucking much and I will just sit in there with her working on the murder wall for hours. (She isn't trying to solve a murder so I know it isn't technically a murder wall, but it's a murder wall cause that's the best name.)

Fucking Bryce. Sure went through a lot of trouble for that asshole.

Skidmark just doing a thunderdome up in here. Some people use their powers for cool things and others build a fence.

Also really not seeming to do great for loyalty. Like ya you get a cape or two out of it but it left everyone in your gang not trusting anyone else.

I love everyone in Faultline's crew. Newter was my favorite but Shamrock may have beaten him out. I always loved Domino and Shamrock gives the same vibe.

Newter got a few good Nightcrawler like moments here too which was fun (grabbing things with his tail, talking to people from weird perches).

God DAMN Labyrinth is powerful. Like I knew she was but getting to see it. Holy shit. That was so fucking cool. Literal goddess of reality right here.

I'm really excited to learn more about Cauldron and the superhero in a can stuff. Very Weapon X with the memory wiping and such. (I'm just really on an X-men comparison thought process right now I guess)

Taylor "I'm not a skilled combatant" Hebert over here as she dual wields knives and successfully fights off multiple people, most bigger than her, while specifically using non-lethal attacks on them. Taylor that isn't what "not skilled" means!

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHILD, STOP GETTING HIT IN THE HEAD! I WORRY!

Seeing the trigger event thing was really cool. I don't think the fact that any cape near a trigger event appears to almost pass out has been mentioned before. Obviously in universe know one would know anything beyond them appearing to stumble, but still. And we got to see more of the higher dimension beings. We in Flatland now.

Oh god there is so much more I think I'm missing huge amounts. AHHH!!!

Oh, this is important. While describing Mush Taylor says "He bore a resemblance to a particular pink skinned, scrawny goblin of a creature from those fantasy movies." That open endedness of that context made me decide she must be talking about The Goblin King in Labyrinth. David Bowie. But to keep things simple, since it might seem like she is talking about Gollum, I decided that on Earth Bet David Bowie played Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies. This is canon as far as I am concerned.

That does also mean Mush looks at least a little bit like David Bowie.

[cherryeol04]

In Darkness (M)

➻ Pairings: Minsung x Jisung

➻ Genre: paranormal au, horror au, psychic bond au

➻ Additional: humor, lust at first sight

➻ Word Count: 3.7K

➻ Warnings: N/A

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

"This is going to be so easy." Jisung grinned as he reread the email for what felt like the millionth time. It was a simple request from a corner shop owner needing Jisung's help to figure out why “unexplainable” things were happening. Jisung was sure it was probably just another prankster ghost that didn't want to move on for one reason or another and a simple talking from Minho would get them to move towards the light. They had done it a dozen times.

Or maybe this time it would be a hoax - a rare situation but one that Jisung thoroughly enjoyed exploiting. It was fun watching the hoaxers trying to keep up with the lie when Jisung had an actual ghost with him that could cause so much more chaos than any human.

Speaking of Minho...

"What do you think?" he asked as he turned around, eyes meeting nothing. Yet the air around him crackled with electrical static that assured him Minho was there. Or at least listening. "Minho?"

"I think fame is getting to your head. No case should be easy, Sungie."

The words echoed through his ears as if spoken aloud, but Jisung had long since realized that Minho was only speaking in his mind. A neat "ghostie power" that Jisung loved, though it had brought up concerns that Minho could read his mind. 

He couldn't, thankfully.

"What do you mean? All our cases have been easy. A poltergeist that needed to be cleansed. A weeping mother reunited with her dead child. A young woman's bones finally found and laid to rest. Cut and dry cases, my man." The earring dangling from his left ear twirled and swung at Minho's obvious displeasure.

"I am not "your man"."

"You're right. You're my kitten." The static around him faded and Jisung could just picture Minho standing there flustered beyond belief, his ears a pale shade of red. Jisung never would have guessed that ghosts could blush, but ever since discovering Minho, he was learning a lot about the paranormal that he never knew before. "Your silence says it all, my cute little kitten." He cooed.

"Jisung!" Jisung winced at the sudden hiss, recoiling violently because fuck if that wasn't right in his ear brain. "Shut up and we're not doing this case. We need to stop."

"Why?" Jisung asked, confused. "I just said he was going to be an easy case. We go in, you do your ghostie thing, I tell the person the deed is done and we're out of there."

"Mmm." Jisung didn't like that noise. It never bolded well for him. "Yes, that's how it'll go. I'll do all the hard work and you'll take all the credit."

"Well duh, it's not like I can just say 'hey my ghost friend is gonna speak to the other ghost and get rid of it'. They would lock me up so fast." Jisung frowned as a thought ran through his mind. "I'm not crazy anymore," he muttered.

"You could be a little more appreciative of what I do, instead of jumping onto the next case."

"I tell you "good job" all the time!"

The air around him suddenly turned stale and Jisung realized that perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say. Sighing softly, he turned back in his chair and leaned back into it. "Min, come on. I'm sorry." He quickly apologized, swallowing thickly at how dry his mouth felt. "Babe, please? Let's just do this one more case."

"Do it yourself."

The finality in the tone that rang in his ears was chest clenching. Jisung hadn't meant to piss off Minho, but surely the other knew how much Jisung appreciated him. He really couldn't do this ghost-solving all on his own. 

Or could he? 

It shouldn't be that hard. Sure he wouldn't have an actual spirit to tell him what was going on, but Jisung had done enough cases to know the basics of it. It shouldn't be that hard then. Grinning, Jisung sat forward and hit reply on the email, typing a quick message agreeing to come out to the shop and do an initial consultation and walkthrough.

He's got this.

----

Jisung winced as more fireworks went off above him. He completely forgot that Saturday was the Cherry Blossom Festival. If he had remembered, he certainly wouldn't have scheduled the walkthrough that night. At least the roads and sidewalks were practically empty, the majority of the city folk were at the national park to celebrate. The walk from his apartment to his destination was made in silence, his earring dangling lifelessly. Minho had been giving him the cold shoulder for a few days now and Jisung was really starting to miss the spirit. It was like a part of his soul was missing, even if they were still connected through the earring.

"I can do this. I'll show him. I'll solve this case all on my own." It was a useless pep talk, but somehow seemed to encourage Jisung regardless. Checking the map on his phone, Jisung stopped in his tracks and looked to his right. There stood a moderately sized building with a neon sign reading "Red Lights Toy Shop." The windows were tinted, so Jisung couldn't see what was inside, but just from the outer context clues, he was pretty positive that this wasn't a kid's toy store. With a deep breath, Jisung walked up to the door and opened it. He was greeted with bright lights and shelves of vibrant adult toys.

"Just my luck," he muttered as he stepped inside and looked around. Right off the bat, he could see rows of dildos and vibrators, a few shelves of lube, and a couple of glass cases that held some sort of weird medical devices, or so he assumed. Jisung wasn't too versed in all the types of sex toys in the world. He was only familiar with the basics and the sizes they can range in.

"Hello?" Jisung's voice seemed to echo in a way that wasn't possible, but perhaps that was just his own mind playing tricks on him, making him believe the place was just as empty as how his head and heart felt without Minho being around. Or maybe that was just philosophical bullshit and the acoustics in the shop were just shit. "Anyone here?" Jisung trekked deeper into the store carefully, eyes drawn to the multitude of pretty colors on display, one in particular catching his eye. It was a ghastly pale dildo, unnatural in both length and girth. The name on the box read "Ghost Rider" and just under it was a small sticker exclaiming that the toy glowed in the dark.

There was an obvious reason Jisung was drawn to it, mind wandering right back to his ghostly partner. Reaching up, he touched his earring gently, a small crackling sizzle sounding as an electric current coursed through his fingers causing them to tingle. It was a small sign from Minho that he was there and the weight that Jisung didn't even know he was carrying was lifted. Relaxing slightly, Jisung grabbed the box off the shelf and turned it over, reading over the item description and functions.

"That's one of our most popular items."

Jisung let out a terrified and high-pitched scream, dropping the box in his hands as he whipped around quickly, eyes landing on the man standing behind him. A tall, blond and handsome man that hadn't been there fifteen seconds ago.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He sounded concerned, but the bemused smirk gracing his plump lips said otherwise.

"F-Fine." Jisung squeaked out, heart hammering in his chest. He took a deep breath and swallowed, trying to will his fear away. "Warn a guy next time."

"Sorry, thought you heard me." Mr. Handsome shrugged. If it wasn't illegal for someone to be so breathtakingly gorgeous, it should be. And Jisung just may start that petition. But at a different time, he needed to focus on the job at hand.

"It's fine." He cleared his throat and dusted off the front of his white shirt. "I'm looking for Mr. Hwang."

"That would be me." Mr. Handsome Hwang flashed a charming smile.

'Don't swoon. Do not swoon.' Jisung chanted over and over. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jisung."

"Ah!" Recognition flickered across Mr. Handsome Hwang's face. "Mr. Han! Thank you so much for coming. Please, call me Hyunjin." Hyunjin grabbed Jisung's hand and shook it enthusiastically to the point that the rest of Jisung's body was shaking with it.

"Pleasure's all mine." Jisung carefully extracted his hand from the other's grip, shaking some feeling back into it before letting it fall. "So, would you like to give me a little bit more backstory?" he asked.

“Of course, of course.” Hyunjin ran his fingers through his hair, simultaneously looking so innocent and hot. The man should honestly be a model. Why was he running an adult shop anyway? “Let’s go to the back room.” The shiver Jisung experienced was completely involuntary, or at least that’s what he told himself as he nodded and followed Hyunjin to the back room. 

The moment he entered the room, another shiver ran through Jisung, and not a good one. It was so cold, unnaturally so. Though Hyunjin just waltzed in seemingly unaffected. Maybe this was the normal temperature of the room? “Have a seat.” Hyunjin motioned to the empty computer chair. Jisung hesitated for a moment before walking over to it and taking a seat. “So, where should I start?”

“From the beginning.” Jisung grinned. “When did you first notice things happening?”

Hyunjin hummed as he moved to lean against the edge of the desk, facing Jisung. “About six months ago.” His expression was pensive. “I bought this place second hand and at first everything was fine. I had it remodeled for a better layout for the toys and I’ve seen enough ghost shows to know that activity starts when remodeling happens.” He snorted. “So imagine my surprise when remodeling finished and it took another three months before anything even happened!” The longer he talked the more animated Hyunjin became, arms flailing and Jisung was a little scared he would get hit. 

He did want to interrupt him, however, letting him know that not all activity starts when the resting place of a spirit is disturbed. It could take any amount of time. But Jisung felt like if he did interrupt Hyunjin, he would somehow be on the receiving end of an accidental blow from excitement. So he thought it better to just stay quiet for now. 

“But once it got started, it really took off.”

“What exactly has been happening?”

Hyunjin paused, staring long and hard at Jisung, unnerving him. It almost felt like Hyunjin had just ‘shut down’ in a way. Like he was a robot. After a few long, suffering moments of silence, Hyunjin blinked and nodded his head slowly. “So at first it was just items being moved to different locations. Like instead of a bottle of lube being on its shelf, it was actually at the checkout counter.” he explained. Jisung reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening his note app and jotting down the activity.

“I just thought maybe I forgot where I put something.” Hyunjin shrugged. “Then it increased to the alarms going off at night. The motion sensors would be triggered and I would get calls from the alarm company and police and after reviewing the security cameras, there was nothing suggesting someone tried to break in.”

“No blind spots?” Jisung instantly asked, brow arching though he never looked away from his phone.

“None.”

“How often did the alarm go off?”

“At first it was only once every few weeks, but recently it became a daily occurrence to where I had to get rid of the alarm system altogether.” Hyunjin sighed heavily, shifting his position to lean the majority of his weight on the arm propped up on the desk.

“That sucks.” Jisung frowned and looked up at Hyunjin. “Anything else?” It really seemed like a simple case of a trickster ghost. One that just enjoyed playing pranks on the mortals and probably would easily move on if cleansed. Of course, cleansing was something that Jisung hated the most because it was difficult for him to get the ritual right. It was always easier to just have Minho convince the ghost to move on, but Jisung didn’t have Minho for this case. 

“Well, yes.” Hyunjin whispered and the hesitation in his voice had Jisung perking up with curiosity. “More recently the activity has grown…physical.”

“Physical.” Jisung repeated, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “H-how so?”

“Employees would get pushed or scratched. It’s cliche I know.” Hyunjin shook his head. “And at first I thought they were just joking. It’s a running joke at the store that it’s haunted. But then one day I came in early to help with a shipment we just received and in the middle of taking inventory, I watched as my employee was shoved to the ground.”

“Shoved? Like, shoved?” Jisung asked stupidly, demonstrating with his hands a pushing motion.

“Yes. They were standing there and I could see their shoulders suddenly lurch forward and down they went.” Jisung nodded, making more notes. “They said they were pushed and their back was on fire. I was worried they had hurt themselves when they landed, so I went to look and there were four large scratches running from the top of their right shoulder, all the way down to the left side of their waist.”

That was just great. Scratches. That was more than just a ghost. Not that a ghost couldn’t be mean and physical. It wasn’t uncommon for intelligent hauntings to have some sort of physical activity but the scratches felt so malicious. But Jisung didn’t want to just jump to the conclusion so fast that it was a demon or something. If it was, then that meant this wasn’t an easy case and couldn’t be solved. Jisung had no experience with demons and had no religious affiliation. 

Taking a few calming breaths, Jisung locked his phone and stood from the chair. “That’s quite a long list of activities and since it’s physical it’s really important that I start now to figure out what is really going on here and how to cease the activity.”

“Do you really think you can do that?” Hyunjin asked, eyes shining with skepticism that Jisung didn’t take kindly to. The other was the one who reached out to him in the first place. Why would he be skeptical that Jisung could help?

“Of course! I’m sure you’ve read on my website, the extensive experience I have and the many people I’ve helped. I’m confident I can help you too.” Hyunjin smiled and Jisung’s heart fluttered. God he really was a beautiful man, and so tempting. So so tempting.

“Alright, if you think so, then I’ll believe it too.” 

“Great, so then if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just wander around a bit and get a reading of the store.”

“Sure, just be careful though. I’ll be back here if you need me.” Hyunjin moved and took a seat at the computer chair, waving to Jisung as the younger man left the room and headed back into the store front. 

For a split second, the air sizzled and moved before dying down. Jisung looked around carefully, searching, but saw nothing. Reaching up, he touched his earring, but unlike earlier, he was greeted with stillness. He had hoped that the sudden current had meant Minho manifested and was ready to work with him. He was wrong. Minho was still avoiding him.

“Fine, I’ll do this myself.” he muttered lowly, flicking the earring in spite. It was stupid to fight about this, and Jisung knew it. But his pride wouldn’t let him apologize properly to Minho. The other really was just trying to look out for him, for them. Jisung wasn’t a greedy person, really he wasn’t. He hardly charged enough for the trouble they went through when confronting ghosts to get rid of. It wasn’t about the money. It was about helping others rid themselves of their paranormal nuisance. 

No. That wasn’t right.

It was about helping the dead finally move on. To break their earthly ties so they could finally find peace. It’s what they all deserved. 

It’s what Minho deserved.

Walking back into the store front, Jisung scanned the open area. It was the typical boxy layout, shelves lining the walls with a few free-standing cases in the middle of the room. There wasn’t a lot of product, but it was certainly enough variety to keep people coming back for years (or days depending on how quickly they went through toys). Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and while the place had a ‘creepy’ vibe, there was nothing that screamed “ghost!” Jisung sighed, shaking his head. This was usually the point in the investigation where Minho would walk around and tell him what entities were residing in the place, what their motives were and the best way of getting rid of them. This was definitely going to be harder than he thought. 

“Okay, so if you were Minho…” Jisung trailed off as he wandered to one of the shelves in the middle of the room, taking in the various types of lube displayed. Flavored, silicon based, water based, even anal specific. It still amazed Jisung of the variety that exsisted. He always thought there was just one type of lube, but that’s what he got for shopping for lube at the local grocery store. As he was staring at the product, a chill ran down his spine - so freezing cold that his teeth chattered.

Turning quickly, he had expected to see Minho hovering behind him, but there was no one. From the corner of his eye, Jisung thought he saw something move, however, when he looked over, there was nothing there. Another chill ran through him, though it was less cold this time and more paralyzing. As if he were a deer caught in headlights, pinned down under an unseen stare. No matter what he tried to do, Jisung just couldn’t get his body to move, eyes locked on the corner of the room where he had thought he had seen movement. 

Fear gripped his heart as he watched shadows crawl up the wall. A swirling mass of inky blackness that coiled and morphed into a figure. At first glance it looked like a solid mass, but the longer Jisung stood there, the more he could see that it wasn’t solid. The shadows were still swirling, twirling about in a mesmerizing rhythm. He felt like he was falling into a trance, the fear that once gripped him slowly melting away. Jisung knew this was bad, and that he shouldn’t be giving in. He should be fighting, but the shadows were calling to him, beckoning him to join them.

He took a step forward and the shadow creature growled, low and guttreal. The hairs on the back of Jisung’s neck stood on end at the sound. Another step and another growl followed, this time even deeper than the last - something Jisung didn’t think was possible. He could feel the rumble of it in his chest. A third step and Jisung knew this was it. Silence suddenly fell over him and not just the typical silence any person could find themselves in - this silence was devoid of any white noise. The absence of sound unnerved Jisung. He felt like he was in a void and maybe he was. This creature - entity - had sucked all the life out of the surrounding area, leaving him in an empty abyss. While he could still see the store, it was like he wasn’t physically there. 

The entity growled again and against his own will his body took a fourth step. That was his undoing. The entity lurched forward and in a split second it closed the distance between them. A searing pain knocked the wind right out of him and Jisung was all too aware of the large fist now embedded in his chest- right over his heart - the pain radiating from it. Weakly, Jisung reached out and wrapped his fingers around the shadowy wrist. To his surprise, they didn’t phase through. 

“F-fuck off.” he struggled to get out and while there were no noticeable facial features, Jisung could feel the anger radiating from the entity. The hand tightened and Jisung cried out in pain - his heart stuttering and struggling to continue pumping. His vision blurred, the edges growing black. The only thought running through his mind was that this was the end, this was how he was going to die. He really should have listened to Minho. God, he was such a fool!

“Jisung!” 

As the world faded to black, Jisung felt the pain in his chest disappear.

----

Jisung groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, pleasantly surprised to find himself in a dark room. Yet the cold water of reality washed over him as the previous events came rushing back. Jolting up, he looked around frantically, searching for the entity that had tried to kill him. He realized, probably a little too late, that he was laying in his bed, in his room. How he got there, he had no idea, but at least he was safe. 

“Fuck.” he whispered, reaching up to rub his chest lightly. It was still sore, a faint ache throbbing as a reminder of how close to death he had been. The thought frightened him, but what terrified him the most was that Minho had been right. They shouldn’t have taken the job and it wasn’t as easy as Minho made it seem. Jisung had been so stupid to think he could do it on his own, and he nearly paid the price for it. 

…

But he didn’t? He wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t he? The entity had literally been squeezing the life out of him, but he had somehow survived? It wasn’t adding up. Closing his eyes, Jisung thought back, shuffling through the fury of memories and emotions in hopes of figuring out what happened.

“Jisung!”

The scream echoed in his mind, Jisung’s eyes shooting open. “Minho.” he whispered.

“Finally awake?” Jisung screamed at the sudden voice sounding next to him. His head whipped around, eyes narrowing as they landed on Minho’s face, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!” He gasped out, wincing as he clutched at his chest, a sharp pain shooting through it before dulling.

“Jisung.” Minho whispered, the bed dipping around Jisung’s body as the other climbed on. Minho reached out and swatted Jisung’s hand away, replacing it with his own. Warmth spread gathered under the touch, slowly spreading outwards, Minho’s hand glowing in the process. It eased what dull ache was left and Jisung had to wonder if this was just a ghostly power or if Minho had been a healer in his past life. Silence fell over them, the light slowly dying, the warmth waning. “I’m sorry.” he whispered softly. 

The apology caught Jisung by surprise. Mainly because he thought he should be the one apologizing. He was the one that had been stupid and got himself nearly killed. Reaching up, Jisung rested his hand over Minho’s for a moment before pulling it away so he could lace their fingers together. “Don’t be sorry.” he whispered, lifting his gaze to meet Minho’s. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I-I should have listened to you. I was stupid and thought I could do everything-” The snort Minho let out had him pausing. 

“Yeah, you were stupid.” Minho scoffed before sighing. He moved himself into Jisung’s lap, sitting down carefully on him. “But I’m still sorry. I should have-” he stopped and Jisung could see him struggling with the words he wanted to say next and Jisung was pretty certain he could see some wetness welling up around the rim of his eyes.

“I should have stopped you the moment you walked into that place. Should have told you to just leave.” Minho lowered his head, brows furrowed. The temperature in the room started dropping and Jisung flashed back to that entity. But unlike that creature, this temperature drop was all Minho’s doing and that was the only reason Jisung freak out. He watched as ice and frost slowly began creeping along the walls. “But I didn’t because I was still mad and you nearly di-” Minho’s voice cracked, and with it the ice on the walls as well. “I should have done something sooner!” Minho forced out as he tried to swallow his sobs. Jisung wrapped his arms around Minho’s shoulders and pulled the other against him. Minho latched on easily, burying his face in Jisung’s neck. 

Jisung’s chest ached for a different reason this time around. It wasn’t often he saw Minho upset and emotional. The ghost was usually very calm and collected or spent most of his time invisible to Jisung, the only giveaway of his presence being the static emitted from the earring Jisung wore. In the time he had been with Minho, Jisung couldn’t recall a single time the other had cried. This was a whole new territory for them, but Jisung wanted nothing more than to comfort the other. “It’s okay Min.” he muttered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “I’m fine.” 

“Only because I intervened.” Minho sobbed, fingers curling into the material of Jisung’s shirt. “If I hadn’t … If I had been one second too late,” Jisung hugged Minho tighter as his sobs grew in intensity. He didn’t need the other to finish the sentence to know where he was heading. Jisung was thankful Minho intervened when he did, grateful to be alive and able to hold the other like this. “I’m so sorry.”

“Min.” Jisung frowned and tried to pull the other away from him. Minho fought, struggling to stay cuddled against Jisung’s chest, but he gave up after a few seconds. “Baby,” Jisung started as he slid his fingers under Minho’s chin and lifted his head. Minho’s cheeks were ruddy and tear stained, eyes red and swollen, and yet he still looked absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m the one that’s sorry. I shouldn’t have upset you and I shouldn’t have let our argument carry on for so long. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.” 

“Yes it is.”

“Don’t argue with me, Han Jisung.” Minho snapped. Jisung stilled, staring at Minho cautiously. “I’m the one in the wrong.” The finality in his voice gave Jisung the urge to disobey, but he held back - this time.

“Okay fine.”  Leaning in, Jisung brushed their lips together in a ghost of a kiss. “Thank you for saving me.” 

Minho snorted and rolled his eyes, looking away. “It’s not like I was just going to let you die,” he muttered. No, Minho wouldn’t let him die. There were various reasons for that, Jisung was sure, but the main reason was that Minho loved him, at least he hoped it was. Because Jisung was absolutely head over heels for the ghost. It hadn’t been something he wanted to happen, it just did.

“Thank you, Minho.” he whispered. Leaning in, Jisung kissed him softly, a hand cupping Minho’s face gently. He could feel Minho melting into him, body leaning heavily against him. On any other occasion, Jisung would be able to support the added weight, but given the circumstances it came as no surprise that he fell backwards on the bed, Minho following. His hands rested on Minho’s waist as the older male settled over him. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Minho sighed, resting his forehead against Jisung’s. Jisung took the time to look him over, the way his brows were still creased together. He could tell that Minho was still blaming himself, even though Jisung never thought it was his fault. He wasn’t entirely sure how to get that through Minho’s head though. He did notice that the temperature in the room was slowly rising once more, an indication that Minho was calming down. That was good. Jisung didn’t want a repeat of the last time Minho was angry and he broke every mirror in the house. 

“Ji-” Jisung cut Minho off with another kiss, not really wanting to hear what the other had to say. If he had to guess, it was going to be another apology and those were just getting boring now. He had already forgiven Minho, even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. But they were both stubborn and getting Minho to understand it wasn’t his fault was like talking to a brick wall. Breaking the kiss, Minho huffed, sitting up fully as he stared down at Jisung, eyes lidded with an almost unreadable expression. “I love you.” 

The words echoed in Jisung’s mind, sending a shockwave through his system. Not because Minho confessed his love, but because he had never heard Minho speak in his head while staring directly at him. Another ghostly ability that Jisung hadn’t been aware of. Everyday he discovered something new about his lover. “I love you too.” He replied easily, smiling at him. Minho gasped softly, face softening, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles that would have easily been missed if Jisung didn’t know what he was looking for. His hands left their perch on Minho’s hips, slipping under his shirt and dragging slowly up his sides, pulling his shirt up in the process until it suddenly disappeared, along with the rest of their clothes. 

Sometimes Jisung wondered if there were any limitations with being a ghost, because it just seemed like Minho was able to do magic. But there was a limitation to all the ghostly powers. Minho could only do things for so long before he needed ‘recharge’, which usually meant he returned to the astral plane and communication could only be made through his grounded object - talking in Jisung’s mind. It wasn’t a horrible trade off, considering Minho made it hassle free to have sex. 

“Min, you know we don’t have to do this. I kinda almost died earlier and-” 

“I need to.” Minho whispered, his voice cracking once more. “Need to know you’re still here.” He swallowed thickly, voice shaking. “Need to know you’re still alive. Please?” Jisung honestly couldn’t say no to him. Not when he sounded like that - not after everything they’ve been through. And truth be told, Jisung really wanted it too. He just wasn’t sure he had the stamina to please Minho at the moment. 

He nodded. “Of course, baby.”

Minho grinned, rocking back against Jisung, pulling a strangled moan from him. “Just lay back and let me handle everything.” Jisung was more than okay with that. He could handle Minho taking control and doing everything right now. Minho rocked his hips again, Jisung’s cock nestled snugly between his cheeks. Occasionally the head of his cock would catch on Minho’s rim, pulling shuddering breaths from both of them. “Fuck.”

“Please Min.” Jisung whimpered, hips lifting slightly. Minho’s eyes narrowed and he raised up onto his knees. The sudden lack of warmth against his cock had Jisung whining, a pitiful pout on his lips, though Minho didn’t appear to be swayed by it. Jisung jerked at the cold touch to his legs, eyes widening as he looked down but saw nothing. It slowly climbed up his thighs, to his hips with a great force, pinned them back down on the mattress. “Babe.” he gasped out, trying to lift his hips, but they wouldn’t budge.

“I told you to let me handle everything.” Minho replied sweetly, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair a few times. “Are you going to be good and listen?” The sickening sweet condensing tone in his voice had Jisung shuddering, head nodding rapidly, eager to please the other. “Words.”

“Yes.” Jisung exhaled.

“That’s my good boy.” Cooing, Minho slowly lowered himself back down, hips rocking against Jisung’s achingly hard cock. And despite just promising to be good, Jisung tried to gain more friction only to find his hips still pinned down by the ghostly force. 

“Aw baby.” Minho tsked, shaking his head. “You promised you would be good for me.” The disappointment was evident and Jisung wanted so much to make back his actions. But he couldn’t help it, Minho just felt so good against him and he wanted so desperately to be buried inside the other. “I guess you don’t really want this.”

“I do!” Jisung shouted, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as Minho raised a brow. “I’m sorry for being bad. But it just felt so good. Please, I need you Minho.” Jisung wasn’t above begging, that was for sure. But he doubted he needed to do any real begging to get Minho to actually move this along. Minho hummed in thought, and for a split second Jisung thought he might actually deny him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” It wasn’t an outright no, which Jisung was thankful for. He watched with bated breath as Minho lifted himself just enough to grip Jisung’s cock and position it at his hole, a wanton moan falling from the other’s lips at the touch. It still amazed him at how much and how quickly Minho could turn him on - leaving him a leaking and aching mess. Minho waited for what felt like an eternity, and when Jisung finally looked up at him, he smirked - sinking down down on him, his hole stretching easily around the other and engulfing him in one go.

“Oh fuck.” Jisung gasped out in pleasure. Minho seated himself fully on Jisung, Jisung’s hands shooting out to greedily grab and palm over any bare flesh within his reach. His fingers sunk into the soft, supple flesh of Minho’s ass, squeezing a few times. “You feel so good baby. So perfect around me.” he babbled. Minho groaned softly, swirling his hips slowly and pulling another moan from the male beneath him. “Please baby, please.” Jisung whispered, biting his bottom lip in an effort to keep himself still. He wanted so much to just start thrusting into Minho. But he promised to be good and besides, his hips were still being pinned. “Don’t tease me.”

Grinning down at Jisung, Minho lifted himself before sinking back down - a shuddering breath escaping him. The drag of his cock against Minho’s walls felt incredible, his length twitching and pulsing almost uncontrollably. Jisung knew he was probably leaking copious amounts of precum, not that Minho needed the extra glide. Minho repeated his actions again, going incredibly slow and driving Jisung slowly crazy. His hands squeezed Minho’s ass again, following Minho’s movements. He thought about guiding the other to make him go faster, but Jisung was afraid it would have the opposite effect and Minho would stop completely and now that they started, Jisung wasn’t sure he would be able to survive if Minho suddenly stopped moving.

Leaning down, Minho brushed their lips together in a tease of a kiss, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched Jisung’s face. His eyes were so dark and intense and Jisung found himself suffocating from the stare. Minho was gorgeous, but up close like this he was breathtaking. “You’re doing so good.” Minho cooed, grinning as Jisung preened at the praise. Sitting back up, Minho braced himself on Jisung’s chest, hands careful to not press directly over his heart. “Remember, don’t move.” 

The reminder fell on deaf ears, Jisung barely able to process the command before Minho was impaling himself on his cock, over and over again at such a rapid pace it left Jisung dizzy. His lips parted, desperate cries leaving him - body pulled taught as he fought to keep himself still. It was a difficult challenge with the way Minho was riding him like his life depended on it; or more appropriately, his afterlife. “So good Ji.” Minho moaned out. “Filling me so good.” 

“Ah, fuck!” Jisung gasped out, his hands shifting from Minho’s ass to his hips, gripping it tightly - nails biting into skin. He tried, he really really tried but Jisung just couldn’t keep still any longer as more beautifully filthy words fell from Minho’s lips. Arms flexing, Jisung helped to lift Minho up before guiding him back down, dropping him harder than the other had before. He felt himself slip further inside, something he didn’t think was possible and Minho tightened around him - a startled cry echoing in the room. Jisung expected Minho to stop and scold him, but it never happened. In fact, it seemed like Minho gave up all control, letting Jisung guide him over his cock. There was a gentle pressure against his hips before it disappeared, warmth flooding the area once more. Jisung gave a small buck, hips free to move. 

Staring up at Minho, he grinned at him before reaching up and pulling him down into a deep kiss. Minho barely caught himself in time to keep their heads from colliding, arms shakily holding himself up. Jisung carded his fingers through Minho’s hair, gripping the brown locks at the base of his neck to keep him locked in the kiss. Lifting his legs, Jisung planted his feet on the mattress and gave a quick thrust up. He swallowed the choked moan from Minho, arms wrapping around him when Minho’s own arms gave up and he collapsed against Jisung, subsequently breaking the kiss.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jisung groaned deeply, burying his face in Minho’s neck as the other chanted in his ear. He was getting lost in the pleasure of fucking Minho, driving his cock hard and fast in the other. He was so close to the edge already, he knew he wasn’t going to last but he didn’t want to cum before Minho. Reaching between their pressed bodies, Jisung managed to wrap his fingers against Minho’s cock. It was hot and heavy and pulsing and with one stroke Minho was crying out into his shoulder as he came. The rhythmic clenching of Minho’s hole sent Jisung into his own orgasm, burying his cock deep inside the other and filling him with his cum.

With the last twitch of his cock, Jisung went lax on the bed, panting heavily. His hand tiredly ran up and down Minho’s back, the other relaxing against him as well. Jisung was content to just lay there with the other, despite the mess coating their stomachs and his hand. Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to Minho’s temple, the other grumbling and hiding his face further into his shoulder. “Fuck that was so good.”

Minho hummed in response, but still refused to lift his head. That was fine with Jisung. “We should shower.” Minho mumbled and Jisung shook his head.

“Don’t wanna move.”

“You’re going to hate yourself later.” 

Jisung shrugged and sighed. “That’s a future Jisung problem. Current Jisung wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.” Minho snorted and finally lifted his head just enough so Jisung could see him roll his eyes affectionately. 

“Fine, whatever.” Pleased to get his way, Jisung planted a wet kiss into Minho’s cheek, snuggling closer to him. “Silly brat.”

“But I’m your brat.” Jisung snickered. “Love you Min.” Minho only hummed in acknowledgement, curling up further on Jisung. “Say it back.” he whined.

“Love you too.” Minho paused before sighing. “I guess.” Jisung couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the comment. It was so Minho to have such a sarcastic response, but Jisung surely wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Tags: @jisungsjheekies @hanjisungismybaby @sauceracha @babyskz @slinekyu @schokoshaker @rejemi @bxddiebang @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @3rachasninja

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed ahead of the miami grand prix [part 2] - may 3, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "Yeah, sounds cool. Back to what you were saying earlier about getting in an F1 car; there's nothing quite like it. You have done some pretty cool things. You've been in a fighter chair. Has anything ever come close to that feeling of being in a car? Can anything come close to it?" Lewis: "I'm sure there will be... I think you can always... It's all about mindset, right? I mean, when I'm skydiving, you can get close to the excitement run that you get, but, for me, because it's what I do, racing a car, there's something I'm able to do in the car that I've not been able to tap in, in anything else. I'm not as good at anything else as I am at the connection I have with the wheels and the engine, and so no, I don't think there's anything that matches that. But all these other little things I do fill in the gaps. We're not racing every day, right, so in the winter break, when I'm surfing, yeah, it's perfect. It's just enough. It's not too hardcore for me, unless I get on the crazy big waves. Skydiving... Yeah. I like trying everything." Interviewer: "This is a stupid question, but can you explain why you're so good in a car? You've tried all these other things. You're good at it, but you're not exceptional at it. You're not, like, the number one in the world. Can you explain what it is about you and four wheels, steering wheel, two pedals, that just clicks so well?" Lewis: "It's hard for, I think, anybody that's good at something to explain... There's the innate ability, naturally, that I was definitely born with the ability. I think it's how you perceive things, and your depth perception. It's how your mind's able to compute... Like, I'm not great in a classroom. I can't sit in a meeting and come up with... I'm not great at maths. I can't solve the greatest equations. I can't draw amazing art. But when I'm in the car, that's like my paintbrush, and it just flows out of me, I think. It's always meant to be. That's what I was supposed to do. And there's something, when you're at the edge, when you're close to a hundred percent, just over a hundred percent capacity within the car, the way the brain's function... Everything quiets down and you're in a realm that... I mean, you feel like you're on your own in that realm, but it feels like it transcends you to some other part of the universe for a second, you know? It's a really, really strange experience, but pretty powerful." Interviewer: "Sounds a little bit like what Ayrton Senna used to say about that out-of-body experience: all of a sudden, a lap around Monaco, he's seeing it from almost a different perspective than..." Lewis: "Yeah, well, a quote that I really love is that we're not humans having a spiritual experience. We're spirits having a human experience. And so yeah, just thinking how big the universe is and just... We're all shining stars and I think, for me, I'm just trying to be the best I can be with what I have. This is what I was meant to do, this is what I was born to do, and it won't last forever. There's gonna be lots of young, up-and-coming bright stars. I love seeing these kids here 'cause I'm so excited about their future, about what they could do. And I love that [unintelligible] is giving them an opportunity to get into STEM, which they may have not known that that was important for them, and what that could lead to in 15, 20 years' time, what they'll next be doing. They'll be the next leaders, hopefully, whether it's government, game changers. Maybe they'll be working at an event like this, which is even more diverse, and encouraging an even bigger audience of young kids to have a better education." Interviewer: "Yeah, I hope so. One last question on Miami: I remember, I think it was around 2017, first race of the season, Liberty had just taken over the sport, and you were asked where would you like to race anywhere in the world. You said Miami, Daniel Ricciardo said Las Vegas, and here we are. How cool is that?" Lewis: "Yeah. I mean, I've been shouting about having a race in Miami, and the next one I've been talking about is South Africa, and that's what I'm pushing for in the background, so hpoefully you'll see that come to light soon, as well. And that's a real big dream for me. To have raced in South Africa, and in Africa, during my career is a huge, huge dream for me. So I know we have a big following out there-or I have a big following out there-and I know a lot of people are into Formula 1 out there, so... And that would be amazing, because when we go... The work we're doing here with IWC and [unintelligible] dreams, just imagine what we could be doing when we're in South Africa, and the work that needs to be done there, and also just highlighting just how beautiful that continent is, so I'll be pushing for that." Interviewer: "Is that something you're talking with Stefano and trying to help out?" Lewis: "I'm pushing as hard as I can in the background. I've gone high up to make sure we have that race happen." Interviewer: "I quite hope it happens. Alright, well, thank you very much, Lewis. Good talk." Lewis: "Thank you." Interviewer: "Cheers." Lewis: "Cheers."

[biblioflyer]

Picard s1e1 Rewatch: How and why did the Federation fail the Romulans (and itself)?

Power does not always come hand in hand with perspective.

This is part of a series of essays reevaluating Star Trek Picard and interrogating the widely held fandom criticism that Picard made the Federation into a Dystopia.

Here there are echoes of Kirk’s warning: don’t let them promote you, don’t let them do anything that takes you out of the chair. In a lot of ways it’s prophetic. Had Picard had the resources and autonomy of a starship and a crew willing to rebel against Starfleet for him, there’s every possibility that in the grand tradition of TNG, Picard could have solved the Synth mystery and in doing so found a classic Star Trek positive sum outcome that Star Trek is famous for.

Mars avenged, Zhat Vash exposed and defeated, and the Romulan rescue effort pursued with gusto leading to a more stable and cohesive Romulan successor state and perhaps even a lasting peace. Perhaps even Admiral Picard in his fondness for historical analogies viewed this not just as an echo of Dunkirk, but as a potential for history to rhyme with Khitomer.

Instead Captain Picard had become Admiral Picard. 

Theoretically this is a place where he ought to be able to do maximal good. Instead of the resources of a single ship and crew, he can direct much more than that. However, I think anyone who knows anything about large organizations whether its educational, corporate, political, or military understands intuitively that as you move up, the layers of abstraction and simplification between you and what’s really going on grow. It’s a fine and appropriate thing to hate politicians, generals, and CEOs and yet at the same time, it's important to understand the information space within which they exist and their dependence on intermediaries to enact their mandates.

A leader is extremely dependent on the information provided to them, their ability to understand at a very granular level what is “really going on” is limited by a variety of factors ranging from their grasp of the subject matter which in turn provides them with the insight to ask the right questions, to how many hours there are in the day. A leader cannot be maximally attentive to everything that matters. 

The people in your chain of command matter too. Deep States are real for a given definition of real, they’re the layers of assistant secretaries and office managers of this or that whom some of us cheer and some of us rage at when they shirk, malinger, and creatively interpret their mandates to avoid doing things they find inconvenient or distasteful.

With the benefit of 24th century technology, what Admiral Picard has access to are ever more well calibrated big pictures, the ability to call up individual reports, and see through the electronic eyes of individual sensors but this all takes knowing where to look, what questions to ask, and time. 

Given that truly sentient AI would seem to be outlawed, we must assume that Picard’s surface level information is being compiled for him by a mix of subordinates and a 24th century analog to the now infamous ChatGPT. It is important to understand that this sort of AI is only as smart as the data available to it, how it interprets that data depends on gray/black box “training” of the AI, and ultimately the capacity of the user to make the right demands of the AI.

Further, what of Picard’s chain of command? Enamored as they were with serving under a legendary hero, might well intentioned Starfleet officers be reticent to chase outlandish theories about the Synth attack or abandon the defense of civilians for an extended deployment to Romulan space on a humanitarian mission? 

As such, might good, decent and moral Starfleet Officers who followed orders that ran contrary to their intuition reluctantly and failed to ask the sorts of questions that would put them on the trail of Zhat Vash? With the advent of Season Three, Captain Shaw comes to mind as just such a risk averse individual who is not so enamored with heroes that he’s willing to set aside his own biases about how to pursue the good of the many.

We might also recall that Federation culture is usually presented as very open and reacting rather harshly to anything that feels like a witch trial, so this would have aided Commodore Oh and other deep cover agents of the Tal’Shiar and Zhat Vash in avoiding scrutiny. This openness has been weaponized against the Federation by Section 31, the Romulans, and the Founders among others but there has rarely been any sense that the Federation views these incidents as anything other calculated risks that are permitted in order to avoid the greater abuses that come with being a more suspicious and closed society.

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 5: Tinker Tailor (Movie Version)

Just finished re-watching Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. That was... an interesting experience. Last time I watched it, it was before reading the book, on purpose to see how well I could follow it blind, and this time I just finished a re-read.

Overall impression: this was made for people who've read the book. It's not that it was difficult to follow exactly... that's too hard for me to judge at this point. It's more that I think it might be hard to see the point or to really get invested without the book. But maybe I'm wrong because I think I was pretty invested after my first watch, with just the movie to go on.

Often times, what it reminded me of was a sort of summary, picking out the most important part of each section or scene and presenting it with minimal context. When I was a kid, and the internet had like 3 sites on it, I would amuse myself sometimes by using the summary function in Word to make summaries of various lengths of things I had written. This movie felt at times, especially early on, like such a document. It was accurate in picking out the most important bits but they weren't presented with much context and they had no particular room to breathe, no time for excess detail. (Which is sort of understandable because it's a 2 hour movie but also not understandable because there are a lot of quite random interlude scenes of Smiley... walking? swimming?)

I did think it did a good job of compressing important plot points when necessary. For example, cutting out Dani and her mother but still having a reason for Guillam to suspect Tarr was lying, or simplifying the confusing situation with Haydon at the club.

The relationship between Smiley and Peter was so good, and I thought there was a subtlety to the performances that really brought a lot that was unique while still being in keeping with the book. Smiley's "You're going to do something for me" really sent me. He didn't get to show off that much of his softly powerful interrogation style, but he had moments--"Yes, I am a better spy than Bill Haydon" moments--like that one, or like when he had Guillam pulled off Tarr, that really drove his character home.

The Karla encounter story was also really well done. That's a long story that seems like it should be a flashback in a movie, and yet it can't be a flashback without showing Karla, and they way it was done here really solved that problem beautifully. The smoky brown room and they're both fucking plastered and Smiley's re-enacting the whole memory to a blank chair on the second half of the screen... Karla is the empty space, the eye of the storm, the vortex around which everything else whirls.

I really liked Tom Hardy's portrayal of Ricki; it seemed a stand out performance to me this time around. He's certainly more sympathetic, but he still retained that coiled up nervous energy.

In general, a lot of the characters came off more sympathetic here, in particular Ricki, Connie, and Westerby--though Westerby was arguably just a name, really, since he didn't have either actual Westerby's personality or the personality of Sam, the actual duty officer on the night of Jim's shooting.

There were some bits that were added that I liked quite a bit: in particular, Haydon bringing his bicycle into the Circus, because it was a quick, fun way to show how quirky and likable he is; Tarr using the mirror to draw light on Irina's face, because it made them both sympathetic very quickly and it was beautiful; and the use of the Mr. Wu song while Guillam was stealing from the Circus. It's hard to depict on screen the sort of paranoia that is so obvious on the page, especially in Guilliam's arc, but having him pass by Roy singing on the stairs did that super well, and in a way that fit the medium. Is he singing it because he was listening to the same radio station, or because he was listening to Guillam on the phone? You simply can't know!

I'm also pro-recurring Christmas party scene, though I wonder if that's a controversial take.

Though there were places where I felt the summarizing was well done, there were other places where I felt like shortcuts they'd put in created inconsistencies, or where things were cut I would have liked to have seen kept in. For example, Smiley tells Jim when they meet that it's presumed that he blew his networks to save himself--no, it's presumed he died immediately from being shot. You can't have both. Seems a weird thing for Smiley to lie about and yet it doesn't fit with the movie timeline. It makes sense in the book--but then the networks were a much bigger deal in the book as well. Similarly, I get why they depicted Karla shooting Irina in front of Jim--it established she was dead and showed what kind of torture he endured, two birds, etc.--but the timeline, fudged as it is, doesn't make sense. Either Tarr sat on his info for even longer than in the book, or she hadn't been captured yet.

I also think the movie was too coy about Bill and Jim. I've heard both takes--it was too coy and it was (somehow) too explicit--but I'm bothered that one completely legitimate interpretation of this movie by itself is that Jim's feelings were not requited. It's true Bill takes the photo of them, and that he mentions having both a man and a woman he's attached to in England (aka canonically is bisexual) but the Christmas party scene makes it look perhaps like it's only Jim who has those feelings. Also, the truly fucked up relationship between them and the depth of Haydon's betrayal are not clear enough in my opinion. It wouldn't take much to make them so. It could be as little as adding "because he loved you" in the middle of the line "He came to warn you. Because he knew all along it was you."

On a related note, I think it was important to make clear that Operation Testify was not a legitimate operation that the mole fucked up. It was a set up from first to last. Again, there isn't a lot of excuse for keeping this unclear in my opinion. Smiley's last talk with Haydon is extremely short--very much one of the 'summary scenes'--and adding in a few more lines wouldn't have made it run too long. They do talk about it! After Haydon saying "Dammit I got him back," Smiley could have asked if the operation was ever real, for example, and he could have said no.

I also think it was unnecessary and mean to make Jim reject Roach at the end. That's completely made up, not just truncated from the book, and I think both characters deserve more than that.

I realize I'm harping on Jim stuff (I wonder why) but it also bothered me that the kids talked about his hunchback but he absolutely did not have one??? Am I just not seeing it? He seemed fine to me.

Another nitpicking detail: Witchcraft was the name of the intelligence product, and Merlin was the name of the source. I don't get why they didn't differentiate those two things. Jarring to hear "Witchcraft" used as the name of a person.

Overall.... the structure of the film seemed softer and less precise than the book, and I realize this is book bias talking but... I was a little frustrated. Why does Ricki tell his story so late? Why isn't Operation Testify given its due? There was a real build up to Smiley and Jim meeting in the book; in the movie it's just another interview, like with Connie or Westerby. Even really big scenes, like the Jim interview, or the reveal of the mole (which could have used more violence imo), or the Haydon scene at the end, seemed like, eh, just another scene. The pacing was too even, I suppose is what I'm saying, and the placement of scenes too random. I think that's what people find hard to follow: the when of each scene seems quite arbitrary most of the time. It isn't always, but I think if the movie followed the larger structure of the book, which is really quite smart and well thought out, I mean it's all done for you right there, it might have been easier to parse.

But that's easy for me to say as someone who's never written a screenplay I suppose.

Now where's my movie that's all about Thursgood's?

[beommiya]

The sound of hands clapping and a slight chuckle came in response to the young man's panicked outburst. "Ah, look at him! Not so brazen now, are we, little pup?" Xuan smirks as he finally comes to a stop in front of Kibum's chair crouching down in front of him to be at a somewhat similar level with him. "What I want from you, you say? Are you really going to ask that after our conversation earlier? Come on now, you can't be that fucking messed up to not remember shit from not even 30 minutes ago!" The green eyed man sighs. "I told you, didn't I? I want to get rid of you, pests, from my land! You, drug dealers are nothing but troublesome leeches that ruin the flow of business! What will my business associate think if they hear about drug dealings taking place on my property? They'd just think I became one of you, annoying fuckers!" Xuan sighs again and reaches to grab Kibum's face, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You bastards dared trespass onto my land and do your shady business without any permission, reason for which I'll now have to teach that idiotic boss of yours a little lesson and you'll play an important role in that." He pats the younger's cheek in an almost mocking way. "Don't worry now! You'll see, were going to have 'lots of fun'!" The green eyes glow with a rather sinister mischief before the man lets go of Kibum's face and get's back up again.

"Now don't make me laugh, kiddo! Do you really think your stupid little boss has any power over me, a gangster ten levels above him in the social hierarchy of the underworld?!" Xuan starts laughing upon hearing Kibum's sad attempt at threatening him. "Though, I must give you that, you're really bold, kid. To be in your position and still dare defying me... Not many would be able to boast about doing that and getting out of it alive!" A mocking snort. "Go on, cry for your boss as much as you want! He won't be coming here to save you any time soon, not if he knows what's best for him once he'll receive the 'little gift' we'll send his way." Xuan grins. "To be frank, I even doubt he even cares about you since he sent you unarmed and unprotected right into a lion's den."

The world was being ruled by dugs, both pharmaceutical as well as narcotics and psychedelics'. Who in their right minds would try to stop a world wide phenomenon that was growing exponentially year after year? The man was insane to believe that just by capturing someone like Kibum, he could solve an issues this big in the world. If it was not for Kibum to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, there would be another one like him and another. He was simply just a pawn in a game bigger than he could ever comprehend.

In his attempt to avoid eye contact, he tried to shake his head and free himself from the other's touch. He didn't appreciate the closeness, it felt too invasive at this point and he had no way of protecting himself from anything. "What business do you even have that we make so much damage for someone so important like you?" he spat his words, trying to gather as much information as he could so he could to report back to his boss. His loyalty towards his own job and to his boss was much higher than the fear in his veins. The laughter sends shivers down his spine, the sound of it echoing and bouncing off the moldy walls. "What are you even going to do? Send him my head as a present?" The final sentence made his heart sink and swallow back his words. How dare he talk this way about the man that saved him years ago? The words alone made his blood boil, fists clenching behind him but without result. "I trust him more than anyone in this goddamn world" he was confident Ian was going to save him again, hence him daring to speak this way in such circumstances.

[arzuera]

Part 2

“Dad… what were you thinking?” Barbara whispered as she closed the door to the guestroom. The boy had caved to sleep not long after treatment and eating. She rolled her chair down the hall to the kitchen where Jim was cleaning up the remains of dinner. He smiled softly at his daughter as he put away a bowl.

“I was thinking that a boy needed help.”

“Then why didn’t you take him to the hospital? They could have taken better care of him.” Barbara sighed heavily as she reached for her coffee on the counter.

“I highly doubt he would want to go. Which you probably have a guess with those observant eyes of yours.”

Barbara’s eye twitched but she didn’t deny it. The boy had been tame during the entire checkup but his sudden appearance was suspicious. “But he could have hurt you! That boy is obviously some kind of meta. When I was treating him I could see the wounds in his throat repairing themselves. Whatever he has been through, he should be fully healed by tomorrow.”

Jim sighed softly as he put the last dish away and turned to fully face his daughter. “Now you and I both know that is a lie.” He poured his own cup and moved to sit next to her on a stool. “His physical wounds may be healed but that doesn’t mean his mental or emotional ones are. One just doesn’t scream until their throat bleeds for no reason.”

“We know nothing about him-“

“And that will probably be solved by morning won’t it?” Jim gave her a knowing look as he stood back up and finished his coffee. “I have to leave early tomorrow. Mind hanging out for a little bit so that he isn’t alone?”

Barbara shook her head and started heading over to her room. “Yeah, I can call someone to open the library for me. It’s been a while since I had a day off anyway.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I don’t know his name but he had a different form. It looked like his colors were inverted. His hair was white, his eyes a glowing green, and he was wearing a black and white jumpsuit with a logo on the front.” Jim walked over to his own room and opened the door. “Try not to stay up too late now. Have a good night. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” She watched as her father entered his room and then she went into her own. It wasn’t a lot of information but she had worked with less. An unknown meta boy that had the ability to change forms. So far his only known power was advanced healing, which was pretty common, but the white hair and glowing eyes were unique. She could work with that. “Hey, RR, are you busy right now?” Barbara asked as she loaded up her computer after turning on her comms.

A long yawn greeted her before the teen responded. “Not really, O. Something you need a hand with?”

“Just trying to find information on someone. Nothing urgent of note yet but, if possible, try to keep this away from B.” The redhead’s fingers were flying across the keyboard accessing different algorithms and traces to see if they could find anything on the boy in the other room.

“Why?”

“Because you may end up with a new sibling before this is over. Besides…” The poor boy had looked haunted. When he had seen her initially he hadn’t called her by name… he had called her Jazz. He had been exhausted and a bunch of wounds littered his body. Despite her paranoia, it was obvious the kid needed help. He looked like he had reached the end of the line. There was hardly any light in his eyes and what was there had probably been brought about thanks to her father. Not to mention he looked so familiar with the black hair and blue eyes… how could she not become protective of him? “At this rate, he might become mine.”

~*~

It was his stomach that woke him up. He must have forgotten to eat enough again. Jazz will probably rip him a new one once she found out. She always told him that he needed to take care of his human half as well as his ghost half but when the ectoplasm in his body made him have no appetite it was hard. Danny rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Today must be a good day. He actually felt rested. Had Jazz allowed him to sleep in? He must have looked downright haggard the other day if she had called him out of school. His sister fought tooth and nail so that he could have some semblance of normalcy in his life, which he respected as much as he despised. Well, he was up now. Might as well go thank her for giving him the chance to recuperate. Danny grumbled and lightly rubbed his aching stomach as he sat up from bed and froze.

This wasn’t his room.

It looked like a simple guest room. Sparsely decorated with the basic furniture, not his messy room with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Where was he? Whose house was he in? Just what happened- at that moment, everything that had happened the previous night resurfaced making fresh tears trail down his face and the back of his throat throb. A phantom pain since the wounds he self-inflicted had long since healed.

That’s right. He wasn’t in Amity anymore. He was in Gotham, in Commissioner Gordon’s house. His daughter had treated him, he ate some soup and must have passed out. It wasn’t surprising. Danny had stretched his body to its limits during that mad dash to get away. If Gordon hadn’t found him then some other probably would have. He should thank him. Thank him for the hospitality despite how he had treated the man and then leave. Just because Batman wasn’t going to kick him out of the city didn’t mean that he should just hang around. The question was… where would he go?

He had no money, no relatives that could help, and, if his parents have anything to say about it, he would be considered a fugitive. Vlad was a no-go. As tempting as it was, Vlad hadn’t had a change of heart. Dan would become a ticking time bomb if he caved and went to Vlad for help. Danny couldn’t let that happen. Without much of a plan, Danny stood up and made his way to the door with resolve. It would be better if he could get this over with so that he could get out of their hair. It was dangerous to house him. What would the GIW do if they found him here?

When he rounded the corner, Danny stalled as he saw long red hair being pulled up into a messy bun. “Jazz…?”

“Nope! Not Jazz.” The cheerful woman replied as she finished fixing her hair and turned in her wheelchair to greet him. “I introduced myself last night but you were kind of out of it. My name is Barbara, you can call me Babs.” She held out her hand for him to shake and with trepidation he did. Danny kept his head down and eyed the floor. He couldn’t see Jazz anymore. Not until she left Amity. IF she could leave Amity. He felt a squeeze on his hand and he looked up to see a pained small smile on the woman’s face. “Hey, it’s okay. You slept for quite a while. I bet you are hungry.” She moved with expert precision around the kitchen. Leaving Danny standing where he was.

He raised his hands in an attempt to help but Barbara clearly didn’t need it. If she needed help she would ask. Danny sat at the kitchen island counter and watched the woman go about making scrambled eggs with bacon. Enough to feed a small army by the looks of it. “You don’t need to make that much.”

The redhead fixed him with a look that was so reminiscent of Jazz’s that Danny sat a little straighter in his seat. “You are a growing boy and I’ve been around enough of those to know that this is the minimum. Plus you used a lot of energy healing and you’ll need a hearty meal to restore those reserves. So you are going to eat this massive breakfast, mister, and you are going to like it.” Danny nodded his head with no argument. He sat and twiddled his thumbs, unsure of what to do in this situation. She decided to take pity on him and gave the teen a soft smile. “If you want Danny, you can grab the plates in that cabinet over there. Cups are in that one and the coffee in the pot is still fresh.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Danny dashed at the chance to do something. Together they worked in silence and soon two plates were set out. Danny tried to eat slowly. He really did. But it felt like his stomach was eating itself and soon he was tearing through the plate of eggs with reckless abandon with Barbara chuckling at him. After he demolished his first plate, he noticed that she had hardly touched her own. Instead, she was observing him. However, it wasn’t like the GIW or his parent’s gazes. Clinical. No, hers was looking at him as if she was trying to figure him out. That’s when he realized what she had said prior. “You… know my name.”

“I do.”

“I’ve never told you my name.” Danny put his utensils down and eyed the woman sitting across from him warily. She just grinned like the cat that caught the canary and chuckled.

Barbara took a bit before replying to him. “That’s right you didn’t. But it would be rather odd if I didn’t when you think about it.” When Danny didn’t say anything, she took that as she could continue with her explanation. “My father has been the police commissioner since I was a little girl. Being a detective runs in the family. Plus this is Gotham. I do trust my father’s instincts but weirder things have happened. It’s nothing personal. I wanted to make sure my Dad didn’t get hurt because of his bleeding heart.”

Danny relaxed a small bit, idly picking at the eggs on his plate. That actually made sense. If he was in her situation and had the capabilities to look into things like Tucker, he would as well. “So how much do you know…?”

She hummed to herself in thought for a moment. “Enough. I have to say, using your last name as a pun for your superhero name was a bad idea. Though Nightwing would probably respect it.” The color drained further from Danny’s face when she said that and Barbara was quick to keep talking. She saw the boy start to tremble and she gently took his closest hand in hers. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I was able to get a hold of someone in Amity called FriarTuck. He told me what happened and why you ran. He wanted me to tell you that everyone was okay. No one else was hurt.” She rolled around the island so that she was next to Danny. Gently pulling the trembling teen into her lap with practiced ease and holding him close. “They won’t be able to contact you for a while without your parents noticing but that’s okay! We can find a workaround very easily.”

“We?”

Danny’s voice cracked on the word and Barbara held him tighter. Her heart dropped at the very tired, very hurt child in her arms. “That’s right, we. You aren’t alone. It hasn’t been long yet, I’ve taken a liking to you and I know my dad has as well. You can stay with us for as long as you like.”

He looked at her with wide disbelieving eyes. Unearthly blues searched hers for an ounce of a lie. Danny found none. “You mean that…?”

“Of course.”

He broke. Danny clung to Barbara and cried as she gently held him. This wasn’t at all how he expected this to go. He was just supposed to thank the Gordons and leave. But now… he didn’t think he could.

------

Part 3 in the works.

Taglist

@rosecinnamonbun @amercurio @snowy-butterfly @malice-of-the-sunrise  @dragonborne-writer​ Sorry lordgrimoire, emergentpanda, and idfk-man10 for some reason I can’t @ you.

Once Danny was far enough he broke down crying, he knew he shouldn't, he was expecting this. But in the end it still hurts.

Was it so wrong for him to hope for a different outcome? To be fully loved by the parents that he loved all of his life. That loved HIM for all of his life. Only to be cast out and hunted for fate accidentally turning him into the thing that they despised the most? Was it truly such a sin? Did the universe hate him that much?

Lightning cracked the sky as a thunderous roar followed. Rain poured down in sheets, erasing any traces of his frantic flight away from his hometown. Away from the ones who sought to kill him a second time. Away from the people he loved.

Danny allowed himself to fall fully to the ground of this little field. His parents had long since given up trying to chase him down. He had been too fast for the GAV to keep up with through a densely packed forest. Even then, he had kept going. Minutes turned into yards, hours turned into miles. He had fled as far as his body would allow and it had been a lot farther than he thought it would be. Danny had no idea where he was at this point. Not that he cared.

Anguish gripped his core hard as he let out a cry that would have brought anyone nearby to their knees. It wasn’t quite a wail but it was close. He shoved all of his pain and sorrow for the fact that his entire life had been ripped out by the roots and thrown viciously aside. It wasn’t the Nasty Burger accident but this was just about as bad. They weren’t dead but, in the end, he still ended up alone. So he continued to scream. His cries turned into minor wails at times but since he was screaming to the sky nothing was destroyed.

He didn’t stop until his throat bled and the screams turned into nothing more than strangled sobs. White rings flashed around his midsection as the last of his powers gave out. Leaving Danny with nothing other than his human side. The one that still existed, despite what his parents claimed. With no strength left, he lay in the mud unable to move. Vulnerable. Anyone could walk up and just do what they wanted and he wouldn’t even care. What was the point? There wasn’t any reason to try anymore. If only that portal had finished the job-

“You’ll catch your death laying on the ground like that.” A long trenchcoat came into view with a middle-aged man looking down at him from under his umbrella. “What’s a kid like you hanging out in a park so late at night in Gotham?”

Danny didn’t respond. His eyes were unfocused with his vision blurring around the edges. So he was in Gotham. Wonderful. Somehow he had managed to fly several states away in just a few hours. If he could, he would have excitedly called Sam and Tucker about this new record but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

The man sighed heavily when he realized that he wasn’t going to get an answer. So he sidled up and crouched down closer to the teen’s eye level while holding his umbrella out so it protected them both. “Look, kid. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous Gotham is at night. Especially to a kid like yourself. Is there somewhere I can take you to… or-” He stopped when the lights in Danny’s eyes dimmed even further than they were. “Mkay, guess not.” The man looked around the immediate area before settling on Danny again. “All right, bud, can you stand? We’ll get you back to my place until we can figure something out.”

Danny laughed bitterly turning into a coughing fit. Blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth making the man look at him with even more concern. “Isn’t it dangerous to go with a stranger this late at night in Gotham?” he rasped out and it only made the coughing worse but Danny didn’t care.

Instead of taking offense like Danny thought he would, the man smirked at the teen as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Well, we can’t be strangers if you know my name right? Name’s James Gordon, friends call me Jim. Now let’s get you out of this cold and your throat looked at. I doubt you want that getting worse.” With great care, Gordon picked Danny up and held him close. Finagling the teen around so that the umbrella wouldn’t fall out of position. Danny was too surprised by the fact that he was suddenly picked up to notice the frown that briefly crossed the man’s face at how light the boy was.

“Wait… what? What are you doing-” Danny weakly struggled against Gordon and failed since his strength was entirely spent.

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything bad. As Commissioner of this lovely city, the only safer hands you would be in is Batman, himself.” Gordon started to head out of the park towards a vehicle parked nearby. Danny gave up trying to resist, opting to just let things happen. “We’re just going to stop by my place and get you looked at. My daughter might not be a doctor but she’s pretty good with a first aid kit.”

“Why do you even care?” Danny couldn’t help but blurt out. A small pang of guilt crept into his heart from how he said it. From what little he knew, Commissioner Gordon was one of the few upright people in Gotham. One of the few people that was trying to keep the city safe… Just like Danny had tried. Only Gordon didn’t have powers at his disposal. It would be weird if the man didn’t care.

“A lone, possible meta, child screaming until his throat bleeds in the dead of night with no one around? I think you are smart enough to figure that one out.” Gordon positioned the teen in the backseat of his car before getting behind the wheel.

Danny tensed at the implication. If he thought he was a meta then he probably saw him de-transform. “…how much did you see?”

“Enough and don’t you worry about it. Big bad Bat isn’t going to kick you out as you think. If you are worried about me judging then please let me remind you, I’m the Commissioner of Gotham. A kid with powers isn’t anything new.” Gordon started up the engine and they were off. A brief silence descended on the two while Danny struggled to stay awake.

“You aren’t… you won’t turn me in?”

“Did you do something wrong?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then even if there is a law saying you shouldn’t exist, I’m not going to turn you in. If that were the case, the only person I would turn you over to is Batman and that’s because he would have a better chance at protecting you from outside forces than I would.” Gordon stated with full confidence as he pulled into the parking spot next to his building. “Here we are. Now while Barbara is checking you over I’ve got a mean vegetable stew my friend gave me. Want me to warm some up to see if it helps your throat any?”

When the man turned around he was greeted to the watery eyes of his newest charge looking at him with the smallest glimmer of hope that he had seen the entire time. Danny kept his gaze on the Commissioner. “Yes, please.”

[llycaons]

At the end of the second book of the English translation of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian tells us that his injury is "just hole in his body." He's wrong. This is what it would take to save him.

this fic is pretty fun actually. like genuinely a really good time

a blood pressure somewhere around 60 over zero is really too low for effective standing.

to put it mildly

The only hitch was that the guy didn’t seem to understand how to sign the permit. He looked at the offered pen as though he’d never seen one before. Dr. House merely ordered another dose of morphine, after which they couldn’t get the guy to do anything but moan. “Problem solved,” Dr. House said, “He’s unable to sign and this is an emergency.” At least he was interested now.

yeah. in-character. I fully believe that wwx could figure out what a pen was if he wasn't like, dying of sepsis though

they are putting him in restraints just because the think he'll try to leave after surgery :( that's such a depressing image

he was wearing Lan blue, so Wei Wuxian said, “No running in Cloud Recesses.” But there was no way Cloud Recesses had a room this ugly.

ha

“Do you remember me? I’m Travis, short for Travesty.”

WHAT

“Don’t distract me. Was it a knife fight?” The man—Mr. Wei, assuming he wasn’t lying--stopped smiling. “It was a sword. I will not tell you who wielded it.” “Fair. I don’t actually care.”

yeah wwx would not rat out jin ling

Though Lan Wangji had no desire to change, it was a relief to get away from the confusing crowd. They offered him tea there, too, which he drank gratefully, even though it was terrible. The chairs were uncomfortable, so he sat on the floor and meditated.

yep

she found [wwx] smiling and flirting, too effectively, with the floor nurses. He kept calling Dr. House “the great and powerful Oz,” and within a few hours most of the staff was telling stories about “Dr. Oz” and giggling.

yeah he's so charming and funny...he would

The ride to the hospital with Mitch was one of the most horrifying events of Lan Wangji’s life so far...His mind could not organize the images that flashed by. Everything was too big and too strange and too noisy. He gripped Bichen tightly. It took all his control not to draw the sword every time another “car” came near.

hang in there, lwj!

The hospital was an enormous brown building with no grace to it whatsoever.

judgy!

[House] radiated a dissatisfaction that seemed dangerously close to erupting into violence.

astute

After a while, he remembered the rice. It came with a spoon, so he ate the rice with a spoon like a child.

never thought about it like that

Dr. House turned a furious gaze on Mr. Wei, who shrank away from him. Gloria knew he would never harm a patient, but Mr. Wei would not know that. The musician, still unmoving, said, “It is a real sword.” The tone was mild, a mere statement of fact, but the threat was unmistakable.

house definitely harms patients. anyway I love the mental image of lwj stabbing house

I really want to give WangXian a little house in Princeton, New Jersey, with a white picket fence, a lotus pond in the backyard, and bunnies all over everything. But, sadly, between the two of them, they do not have a single marketable skill.

yes to them not having skills they can sell in 21st century america, no to new jersey. you want to set them up in NEW JERSEY??? honestly they deal with a lot of shit in their canon universe but I still feel like it's better than dealing with late-stage capitalism in the usa. this place? yeah no

[workofheart]

extra help | gojo satoru

what’s a teacher to do when his student is building up so much cursed energy? help her get it under control, of course.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), teacher/student relations (reader is of age), fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, unprotected sex (do not do this), lowkey corruption, squirting, exhibitionism (?), creampie, gojo refers to himself as “teacher” because i said so

note: barely edited, something to ease the brainrot. gojo satoru hollow me challenge. 

“Can you maybe, I don’t know, shut the fuck up?”

The jab spews out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your filter is long gone, the thoughts that pop into your head forming into verbal words without the chance to even process them. Once you hear it, you mentally slap yourself. Now you just look like an asshole.

“Jeez, no need to be a bitch about it,” mutters Nobara. She rests on the concrete steps on her elbows, appearing utterly disinterested with her head tossed back and eyes closed, soaking in the fresh air.

“I’m not being a bitch.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!”

“You kind of are,” Megumi says quietly, shrugging slightly when your incredulous expression finds his to be stoic and unmoving. He leans down to scratch behind one of his dog’s ears. His nonchalance boils your blood even further, effectively working you up past your melting point. A bitter laugh leaves your mouth.

“...You motherfucker-”

“Good morning, everybody!”

You sigh, lips hanging open with the rest of your insult frozen where it was interrupted. From over the small hill behind you, Gojo Satoru greets everyone with a bright energy you aren’t capable of returning this early in the day. 

You try your best to shake it off. The other students wave back happily as you sulk, aimlessly stretching your arms over your head in an attempt to push out the thousand things running through your mind, not one of which you’re capable of dealing with.

And maybe it is a good morning - the sun is out, the air is cool, there’s not a breeze passing by to mess up your hair. It’s a lovely day to be training. Megumi has been walking his dogs around the field, Yuuji has been racing himself from one end to the other, meanwhile the others take turns sparring. The springtime weather is rewarding, which is why it’s such a shame you can’t enjoy it.

Gojo reaches up a hand to lift one side of his blindfold. Though he’s standing all the way over on the steps, you can see his eyes clearly, crystalline blue and staring with scrutiny. The man leans forward into his gaze, and the way he’s inspecting you soon irritates you further.

“What’s with all the cursed energy?” he asks, letting his blindfold fall over his eye again. 

Yuuji perks up at the comment from where he’s been sitting after his run, pulling out blades of grass between his fingertips. “So it’s not just me?” he pipes up, pushing himself up to his feet. He seems relieved, turning his attention to you. “I thought maybe you just had a bad day but it seems like it’s seeping off you all the time now.”

Your lips press into a thin line as your eyelids droop in annoyance, trying to think up a reasonable answer quick. Unfortunately, you don’t get the time to do so.

“I don’t need to see it to feel it,” Maki adds. She finishes tying up her laces, objectivity unmoving with the deadpan spreading across your features. Your jaw tenses. “Didn’t want to say anything in case it would make you angrier.”

“Too late!” you snap, huffing as you place your arms over your chest. The number of eyes on you has your cheeks burning, and paired with your current vexation, makes you feel even worse.

“Well, what are you angry about?” Yuuji asks. 

“I’m not angry about anything.”

“That sounds a little defensive,” Gojo comments.

“You seem frustrated, that’s all.” Yuuji looks at you with a genuine curiosity that makes it hard to be mad at him. His doe eyes couldn’t possibly imagine what the real issue at hand is.

“Yeah, she’s frustrated all right,”  Nobara juts in. Her tone is whiney and annoyed, and you hope the glare you send her will shut her up, but she acts as if she doesn’t see it, only looking down at her nails in distaste. Then comes the zinger. “It’s because she hasn’t gotten laid in months.”

“That is not true!” you yell, but the obvious rage bubbling out of you gives it away. 

“Cursed energy can build from that?”

“It would explain a lot.”

“That sounds definitely defensive.”

“Shut up!” you shout, throwing your hands over your face to hide your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Then you’re sitting back on the field, hanging your head low over your knees. Quietly, you mutter, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

☆☆☆

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

The walk here had been nerve wracking enough. Your heart had been stuck in your throat since the track this morning, if not from the sheer embarrassment of Nobara telling everyone you were sexually frustrated, then surely from the way Gojo had asked you to meet with him later in an old classroom rather seriously before walking off.

It scared you half to death upon hearing it, and just thinking about it scared the other half, so you’re hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The others comments hadn’t helped either, teasing about the frightening methods he’d use to dispel the energy, or how he’d berate you for being so stupid, or whatever else the maniac of a man had to offer.

Gojo leans back lazily in his chair, long legs thrown over the desk for his comfort and leisure. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan with his arms straightened behind his head as you close the door behind you. 

“About time you got here. Been waiting forever.”

The lights are off, but evening sun pours in through the wall of windows that look out over the courtyard to brighten the room. He tosses a small apple plush above him with a smooth flick of his wrist, catching it on its down arc with ease. It looks like a marble with how it sits in his massive palms.

“Well, this wing is on the other side of campus,” you swallow, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. That reminds you...“Why are we this far, anyway?”

He sighs, placing the toy back down at the top of his desk and resting his chin on his palm. You can feel his eyes on you through his blindfold. “To solve your problem, of course.”

“My… my problem? No, I don’t have any problems,” you say with a shake of your head as genuine as you can muster, a nervous smile flashing across your expression as he stands. His hand trails along the desk as he moves around it. When you get the feeling he doesn’t believe you, you start again, “If it’s about what Nobara said, it’s really no big deal-” 

“While you’re a talented sorcerer, you’re not a very good liar.” He comes to a stop in front of you, towering over your small frame. His head is turned down toward you but you refrain from making eye contact. Trying to maintain your composure, you look straight into his chest and then avert your eyes to the sid, looking anywhere else in the room but him - the chalkboard, the windows, the posters on the wall - that is, until he takes your chin in his hand and tugs your face up to look at him directly.

He’s taken off his blindfold, the black cloth crumpled in his palm and already tossed to the floor.

The way you’re staring at him, that desire that lies just below the fear, has his dick tenting in his pants. When he focuses, he can see the cursed energy radiating from your body, dark and cloudy as it surrounds you. “Yuuji’s right, it’s practically seeping from you,” he coos, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

He drinks in your apprehension with a sadistic sort of delight, and you don’t miss the feel of his eyes as they trace down your body. “My student is struggling,” he says tenderly, tapping his index finger along your cheek lightly. “What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t help?” 

He eats up the way you look at him, swept away and hazy, your brain turning to mush at the sound of his voice. Heat pools in your panties, and the subtle manner in which your thighs shift against each other is not lost on him.

The tension in the air is electrifying. Leaning down to your ear, he says what’s been on his mind for weeks. “Don’t think I can’t hear you at night, touching yourself, trying so hard to make it go away on your own.”

His words leave your throat dry and stomach churning. Your face burns, thinking of him listening to your pitiful attempts to get off. Clearly, the sleepless nights of trying to cum, letting slip the small whimpers you couldn’t care to hold back, hands buried in your panties and writhing in your bed sheets, were no secret to anyone but you.

You’re almost mortified. You would be, if it wasn’t for your hot teacher standing in front of you, smiling as he remembers how pretty you sounded, offering to fuck the shit out of you to sate your frustration.

And god, just how pretty you sound. He’d never admit it sober, but the times he’s taken “random” late night walks around the buildings that have ended up at the outside of your bedroom door are far too many to count. Palming himself through his trousers, panting as he pictures you just through the slab of wood exactly how he plans on having you now.

“I...I don’t know if we should be doing this,” you mumble in a moment of clarity, gaze flickering to the window in the door that lets you see into the empty hallway just outside. Swallowing hard, scenarios of your classmates walking by, peering through, clouds your head. “What if someone…”

“They’re on the other side of campus, remember?” he teases. His fingers slide back along your jaw, brushing your hair from your forehead before settling to cup the side of your face. “You can make all the noise you want out here.”

Heat spreads through your core and inner thighs accompanied by a visible shiver, a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The proximity alone is making you wet. His presence is overwhelming with the unimaginable power he holds over you.

His neck tilts down to reach you, hovering with his lips not a breath away from yours. Gojo waits. Tentative, you press your mouth to his and your eyes flutter shut, feeling him smile as his hands make contact with your hips. He’s gentle and slow, his lips pillowy and soft against yours, moving carefully as if not to scare you away.

He muffles a timid whimper with his mouth and takes the lead, kissing you harder and pulling you into a firm lip lock before spinning you around and walking you backwards toward the desk. Hesitant hands reach up to his shoulders, something Gojo senses immediately, shy hands working up the confidence to splay over his broad shoulders. He knows you so well by now - there’s a reason you’re his favorite student.

“Let me help, princess,” he insists, breaking away to quell your uncertainty. “You know I’m the only one who can.” Gojo’s voice is hypnotizing, his promises filling your head with a desiring haze.

Your tiny, timid fingers hanging around his neck, crawling up his nape as if searching for safety, have him reeling. He might just devour you, so cute and innocent and willing in front of him.

You’re melting into his touch as his hands squeeze your hips, rubbing up your sides until they lay a firm grasp on your hips, sitting you fully on the desk. His touch is teasing and featherlight as he drags it up your calves, hiking up your skirt to get where he wants to be, situated right between your thighs.

“None of the other guys fuck you the way you need to be fucked, right?”

He may be cocky, but it’s for good reason.

Gojo Satoru is older, he’s experienced, he knows what he’s doing. He knows you, in fact, more than you think. Don’t be fooled - he sees you sneaking off campus, sees the texts you send to the boys in the nearest town, overhears how you talk to them over the phone when you think no one is listening. He also sees how disappointed you look every time you return from one of your escapades. 

You’re mature for your age, but no one is willing to fuck you like it. Except him, of course.

A large hand cradles the back of your head to keep kissing you. His mouth is ravishing, absolutely eating up the feeble mewls that escape you. Deft fingers unbutton your uniform with ease and slip it down your shoulders to reveal your chest as if he’s done it a thousand times.

He moves to unclasp your bra, but is surprised to meet your bare skin. He pulls back from your mouth to meet your eyes, and you already know what he’s thinking with the way he looks down at you, head tilted back with a dark mirth.

“No bra?” he inquires, rolling your perky buds between his fingers, and your lack of verbal response, that guilt in the slight raise of your eyebrows, tells him everything he needs to know. “Naughty girl. Makes me think you were expecting this.” He makes you purr like a kitten, free hand kneading at your chest, coaxing out sweet little noises that make his dick throb in his pants. 

You inhale sharply at a particular tweak of your nipple that has your body tingling, arching into him. “Sir, I-” 

His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below your ear, just next to your jaw. The feel of his teeth gently scraping down sends chills through your shoulders and down your back, subconsciously tilting your head to the side and exposing more to him, inviting him to your body even further.

“It’s okay, you can tell me how bad you need my cock,” he says against your skin.

Your body flushes hot beneath him. A hand cups your clothed core. The friction has your hips lifting in desperate motions for more, pushing against his fingers for some kind of relief.

“Poor thing, too horny for your own good,” he says, peering down at you. He tugs at the tiny, delicate bow sewn into the lace band of your panties, a smug expression passing over his features. “But don’t worry, teacher’s here to make you feel better.”

He hooks his pointer finger underneath the center of your panties and pulls it up, forcing the fabric taught against your slit between your folds, urging a cry to fall from your lips. You’re absolutely aching for more, pussy desperate for contact as your hips buck. His opposite thumb goes straight to your swollen clit where it bulges through the thin cotton, reducing you to whines as he applies light pressure. 

“So sensitive,” he says with a teasing lilt in his tone, caught between looking at your pussy and your dazed expression. “You want my fingers?”

He knows he’s supposed to be helping you, but he can’t stop himself with how cute you look like this. He’s already thinking of just how far he can push you, just what he can get you to admit to him.

“Yes, please,” you’re begging, pulling your lips under your teeth, and how can he say no? He has no other choice but to indulge you.

He pulls your panties to the side and finally, his long, thick fingers sink inside you without warning, pushing a lewd moan from your throat.

He groans at the way you pulse around his digits. Your walls suck him right in. “Fuck, look at your pretty little cunt. Feels good, huh?”

Your mouth falls open as you nod, staring at him through half-mast, glassy eyes. Light amusement covers his face as he works your walls diligently, curling up and massaging that spongy spot he knows you like from the sounds you’re making.

“Yeah, I know it does. Need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, ah, need it so much,” you whine. At this point, you’d follow his every command, answer his every question, if it means he’ll keep doing what he’s doing. He connects his lips to yours again, swallowing up the noises that leave your throat, before moving down. He trails his mouth over your sensitive, flushed skin, burning to the touch as he leaves harsh, bruising marks behind. He’s kneeling down and throwing your legs over his shoulders without hesitation.

He has you desperate and shameless with how he’s making you feel. It doesn’t matter that he’s your teacher, it doesn’t matter that you’ll have to face him in class after the fact, all that matters is how hot and aching your core is, how bad you need him there to fix it. “More, sir, p-please.”

He groans at the name you’ve given him, that you’re addressing him by so earnestly. He never even asked you to, so when it spills out of your mouth so submissively, he can’t help the way it goes straight to his cock. “So polite, aren’t you? Let me hear you, be specific.” 

His fingers leave you clenching around nothing as he pulls them out of you, watching the string of slick stretch until it breaks. He slips them right into his mouth, licking your arousal off of his fingers, humming in delight. 

You’re fixated on his glossy, wet lips, entranced by the slight smile to his words. “Please, your mouth,” you plead breathlessly through a gulp. 

He presses a chaste kiss to the plush of your thigh, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His lips ghost over the tops of your knee socks and nip at the slight pudge that squeezes out.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs. Then, he’s diving in, latching his warm, wet mouth onto your pussy. You feel yourself gush under his lips as his tongue laves harsh strokes against your entrance. He has you quivering, your hips moving on their own accord over his face.

You squirm under his relentless tongue, swiping through your slick and spreading it all over your inner thighs. He laps at your fluttering hole before suckling your clit into his mouth, hot tongue flicking over it before releasing with a playful pop.

He thrives off of the whimpers leaving your mouth. A loud moan tears from you as his fingers plunge into you again, hands shooting to his snowy locks to ground yourself. You’re throwing your head back, keening in the firm grip he has pushing back your leg, his tongue swiping at you expertly while the pads of his fingers curl up into the spot you need him at, keeping his head pressed tight to your drooling cunt.

Pointed flicks of his tongue target your clit, puffy and sensitive, and you can’t help the way your hips buck up for more, babbling nonsense. His firm muscle prods at your hole before flattening and licking wide and short strokes up your folds.

“Aw, you wanna cum, don’t you? Gonna cum for me like a good girl?”

You only have the strength to nod, eyes squeezing shut and your lips parted in choked breaths.

“Look at me,” he commands sternly, and your lids are prying open immediately, struggling to keep your gaze on him with the pleasure he’s relentlessly forcing on your body. His plump lips are lustrous with your arousal. “Go ahead. Cum.”

His eyes bore into you as your face contorts, body tensing all over as you tip over the edge. That coil in your stomach which Gojo has so masterfully built snaps like a rubber band, shattering your mind as pleasure ripples through your body. You’re still as your release surges through you, making him moan against your pussy.

“That’s it, there you go,” he says with a growl as you take your first breath after the inhibiting pleasure fades, eyes darkening as he watches you, keeping pressure on your nub with his thumb, smooth strokes working you through your high. 

He carefully helps you drop to your feet, rubbing soothing circles into your hips, planting kisses to your temples before spinning you around to face the desk. You’re wobbly, but it’s nothing he can’t compensate for with his natural strength.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he mumbles, large hands exploring the expanse of your back. He pushes you down, gentle fingers trailing up your spine until they find their hold on your hips like they were meant to be, loving how pliant you are beneath him.

The anticipation has you dripping, heart pounding as he flips up your skirt again, pussy aching to be filled. You hear the tugging of his trousers down to the floor, and a hefty exhale as he gives himself a few strokes in his palm.

His cock, hot and heavy and hard, presses into you slowly. You feel his girth immediately, cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate his size. It’s instant relief, finally the pleasure you’ve been desperate for, a drug you have to be careful of or you might just get addicted.

“Fuck,” he groans lowly, “So fuckin’ tight for me.”

You’re stuffed to the brim, focusing on how full you are, his fingers massaging the flesh of your ass as he gives you a moment to adjust. He feels his self-restraint thinning as you squeeze him. He’s gonna make you drool for him, make his cute innocent student into his little whore, make sure teacher’s the only one who touches you like this.

At first, his pace is slow and steady, sensual pumps that expertly drag against your gummy walls. You can feel his tip spreading you open, every burning curve and vein and ridge of his head as your pussy molds to him. But once your legs start shifting back for more, he speeds up the rocking of his hips, fucking you brainless on his cock. 

“How we feeling, princess?” he pants. He’s the only thing you can think about, mind scrambled from the white hot feel of being fucked so well.

He doesn’t have to ask to know - the string of heedless whimpers that you make are evidence enough, on top of the obscene squelches that echo every time he pounds into your sopping cunt. He pulls your wrists back from where they cling to the desk, white knuckled, to your sides. A strong arm snakes around your front, pinning your arms and waist close to his chest, caging you in while the other seeks purchase on your breast.

“F-Fuck, I- ah - so good, sir,” you sob, feeling your brain blank with the way his grip moves up to your neck, expertly pushing into the sides to cut off your blood flow. It’s dizzying, your pussy tightening around him for more.

And then he stops.

You’re about to whine, your walls fluttering around him, begging him to move, when his hand reaches to cover your mouth. He shushes you gently, snapping quietly towards the door. 

Someone is calling your name outside. “Hellooo? Hey Y/N, you over here?” It’s Yuuji, pacing the upper floor, walking straight down the hall and soon to pass the very door.

Your heart jolts in panic - why would he come looking for you? Why would anyone? The whole point of being out here was so that no one would come, right?

“Sorry to go back on my word, princess,” Gojo whispers. A wave of his hand creates a small masking barrier in front of the window, but it does nothing to hide the sound. “Gonna have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nod your head, wiggling back against his hips pressed hard and unmoving to your ass. He pulls out slow and thrusts back, mindful of the noise of contact. It takes all your focus to bite back your moans.

“Don’t want your classmates seeing how slutty you are for a good fuck, do you? What if they walked in, saw you like this on your teacher’s cock?”

The thought has your hole constricting his length. You can already envision Yuuji’s shocked expression as he stares you down, his respected senior, nothing more than a babbling mess as Gojo Satoru fucks you raw in an empty classroom. The man behind you holds back a laugh.

The footsteps pass without the hint of something much filthier than extra help transpiring beyond the thin walls. You think you might have even seen a tuft of pink hair whizz by in the corner of your vision - whatever the matter, he’s gone, and you can finally catch your breath.

“Dirty girl,” Gojo rasps from behind you, slamming into you roughly, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, “you - hah - you fucking love it.” 

That spring in the base of your tummy starts to coil taut, rising faster than ever. “Love it,” you choke, stimulated tears forming at your lash line, “love it so much!”

His pace is relentless, your slick gushing all around him. He’s building you up just to break you down, the only one who can help you take the edge off.

“Tell me what you want,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’ll give it to you.”

Holding you tight to his chest with locked arms, he completely covers your body with his tall stature, inescapable and confining.

“Fuck, wanna - wanna cum so bad, so bad, sir.”

His large hand trails its way over your waist, soft fingers moving down, down, until they slip right over that little sensitive bundle at your front, cool and wet, that has your breath catching audibly in your throat. 

Gojo places his mouth just behind your ear, tone soft and sultry. The pad of his index finger rubs firm circles over your swollen, aching clit. It elicits a filthy sound from you that makes his cock twitch inside you. “Right there, huh?” He feels you clench as your legs tremble beneath him.

Your climax crashes over you in hot, unforgiving waves, tightening your walls and creaming all over every inch of his length. “Come on, give it all to teacher,” he encourages through heavy pants, making your skin prickle, and it’s just what you need. A chorus of loud, high pitched, breathless moans tumbles from your mouth as you ride it out. 

You’re drenching his fingers, making a mess as your squirt drips down and coats his cock, making him growl into your hair. He coaches you through it, stringing out his praises, “Just like that, mhm, good girl.”

His eyes fall shut as your cunt suffocates his cock, feeling his hips stutter as you suck him in. With a guttural, hungry groan, he’s burying his load in your waiting hole. He snaps against you once, twice more, hard and quick as he starts to come down.

A moment passes to catch your breaths, heartbeats beginning to slow in tandem. Gojo nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and sighs before placing an affectionate kiss there. 

Your legs are jelly beneath you so he’s careful when he releases his grasp, slowly turning you around to face him and sit back on the desk. 

“You alright?” he asks, wiping away the wetness under your eyes.

It’s safe to say that you’re relieved, in more ways than one. Your shoulders feel lighter and as does your chest, like everything you’ve been shackled to has been lifted off with a good fuck.

“Yeah, much better.” There’s a tired grin to your words.

He wipes away the sheen of sweat that has collected on his hairline and reaches over you to grab a few tissues off the desk. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, dabbing up sweat and cum from where it drips down your thighs. 

“You should get some rest. I’ll get you out of class tomorrow morning if you need it. Make up an excuse or something.” He pulls up his own trousers and helps you button up your top again, then lowering you back to the floor so you can be on your way.

“Let me know if you ever need any more assistance,” he winks, patting the top of your head. He smooths down a few stray hairs, putting you back together in at least a somewhat presentable way. “My help is always available to students that need it.”

Because while all that cursed energy may be under control, your relations are far from over.