#WHY DOES HE NEED SO MANY COLOURS ANYWAY

[theletterwsartflap]

The spooky Halloween season is just as good as any for a toony Slash Man! Time permitting, he hopefully won't be the only one.

He was... interesting, to get a good pose on, what with all his spikes ruining my silhouetting.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.

[thetriumphantpanda]

rainy days | frankie morales

Summary | It has never been your favourite day, but he always knows how to make it better.

Pairing | Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count |

Warnings | Mentions of depression and sadness, negative feelings around birthdays, Frankie makes it all better, two idiots truly in love, allusions to smut but nothing explicit.

Authors Note | To my darling Jo, @undercoverpena - whilst this is my entry to your birthday celebration (I got the colour old rose, apologies for the tenuous link to brief you're about to read), it is also my love letter to you. To the woman you are. To the friend you have become. A love letter to the fact that you can be soft and emotional and have flaws and still be worthy of all the love in the world. Because you are. I have said it many times in recent days, but it is the truth, that I love you unconditionally and I am forever grateful for your friendship and love. I am here for you. I see you. I understand you. And I love you. Happy Birthday darling woman.

He knows it isn’t your favourite day of the year. One that is usually meant to bring joy and happiness and love is instead one that fills you with dread. Worried people would forget, having to force a smile at gifts that show that they really don’t know you at all.

He knows not to push it either. He’s good at that. Knowing the battles to pick and those to leave. You suppose that’s why you love him so much. The way he’s comfortable to sit in your hurt with you, not immediately jumping into fixing it, because it’s been years and you don’t think he could truly unravel everything behind the feelings. But he’s there, with a strong arm around you and a kiss to your forehead. It doesn’t need words, just his presence to say I’m here, I see you and I love you regardless.

It rains, because of course it does, weather to match mood, drowning out any hopes of the walk he’d promised. You distract yourself, cleaning mainly, even though the kitchen counters are spotless and the vacuum has been used more times in the past week than it has in the previous two years since you bought it. Distraction mainly, but now, with nothing to do, you sit. Listen to the fat raindrops and odd rumble of thunder. You reread the same four pages of your book, hopelessly trying to stop checking your phone for missed calls or messages of glad tidings.

The doorbell rings, startling you. Clad in a big jumper, leggings and socks, hair scraped back, you open the door, roar of rain rushing in, to find him standing there. Your man. Your Frankie. He’s soaked to the bone, t-shirt wet and cap dripping, but he’s smiling, both hands behind his back.

“You’ll catch your death, Morales,” you chastise lightly, moving aside for him to step into the warmth of your house, but he makes no effort to move, “Are you coming in?”

It almost makes you laugh when he starts talking, like a scene from the old romcoms you used to watch, but you let him do it anyway. His right hand moves first, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a dusty rose colour, which he hands to you. They remind you of the paint swatches, the way he’d patiently waited at the store for you to pick it. And then painted eleven swatches on the living room wall until you settled on one. Old rose.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, “Feliz cumpleaños.”

He bends, warm lips to your cheek, finally stepping across the threshold into your home, the place he spends more time in than his own home, his other secret revealed in the shape of a basket, woven, with a telltale red and white gingham poking out.

“Damn the rain,” he says, “and damn this misery, I know we can’t have this outside, but I know you hate eating outside anyway.”

He holds the basket up to you, lets you open the top. It’s full to the brim with food, all of your favourite things from your favourite places you’ve been with him in the past year. Pastries from the coffee shop where you had your first date, fruit from the farmer’s market you visit each Sunday, sandwiches from the shop you always stop at when you visit him at work to make sure he’s eating - it’s all there, in black and white, the moments you’ve shared, tiny, edible pieces of his love and care for you, that’s he’s the first person to ever truly see you, to ever truly know you. It makes your eyes water and your nose sniffle.

You press up on tiptoes and gently slant your lips over his, trying to tell him without words how much this means, how much you truly do love him.

You spread a blanket on the floor, unpack the food and sit for hours, eating and talking and kissing, until it goes dark outside. It still rains as he clears up, lightening now illuminating the sky, it rains as he leads you upstairs and undressed you, and thunder cracks along with your gasps and moans when he buries himself inside you.

It eases late, after he’s woken you in the dead of night with his mouth fused to your cunt. Draped across his chest, silence, save for the two of your breathing, you realise that this is all you need. One man who will do the most for you. One man who will continue, day in and day out, that he truly loves you. Maybe it won’t fix the disdain for your birthday, maybe it won’t fix anything else, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he found you and he loves you.

“Muchas gracias,” you whisper softly against his skin, “Te amo, mi amor.”

“Te amo, querida.”

[greensbeanspotatoestomatoes]

@lara-cairncross I hope you don’t mind, but I wrote a little fic about your AU :) This would be Donnie showing his brace to his brothers after his leap of faith.

(Also you can definitely read Donnie & Kendra’s vibes as a crush if you want /pos 😂)

===========

“Gentlemen, if you would be so kind,” Donnie motions for his brothers to take a seat on the chairs he clearly positioned near the edge of the branch.

“Dee, what are we doing here?” Leo sighs, exasperated by his brother’s dramatics, “You know I love spending time with you guys, but I actually have deliveries to make today.”

Raph throws an arm over Leo’s shoulders, “Pssh, relax Leo, you’re fast enough to make it there in time.”

“Ok I know you’re teasing me,” Leo shoots his brother a side eye, before crossing his arms over his chest in defiance, “but I could definitely make it there and back. With time to spare.”

Mikey laughs while Raph just sighs and they all take their seats.

They’re fairly high up in the Pixie Dust Tree, in an area Leo knows not many fairies fly past. It’s starting to make him a little concerned that his jokes about Donnie murdering Kendra one day aren’t jokes anymore.

His brother woke them up early this morning, telling them that he had something to show them, but refusing to answer what it actually is. He also lugged a massive bag with him all the way here, but didn’t let any of them help with it. And the chairs being up here already proves that Donnie has clearly planned this out. It’s really making Leo believe that this is the last he’s ever going to see of Kendra.

“Yes, yes we all know Leon is fast,” Donnie bats the statement away and turns to his bag, “now if I can bring your attention to why I've brought you here today.”

“Which you still haven't explained, by the way,” Mikey grouches, not quite his sunny self in the dim light of the morning.

Donnie grins in a mischievous way, “All part of the surprise, dear Angelo! Now I need you all to close your eyes.”

Leo rolls his eyes, but closes them anyway, knowing that if he complains they’ll just spend longer up here anyway. “Donald, if you did something to Kendra, just tell us, it’ll make hiding the body easier.”

Mikey snickers beside him.

“I– Wha– No! I haven't done anything to Kendra. Not yet anyway,” Donnie moves on quickly, “I made something and you’re going to like it. Trust me.”

Now, most fairies in the Hidden Hollow are under the impression that Donnie doesn’t do feelings, an achieved product of his so called “Emotionless Bad-Boy Image”. But Leo can hear the excitement in his brother’s voice. He’s fiddling with something in the bag, and the suspense is honestly starting to have an effect on Leo. He’s getting excited too.

“And… open!”

He opens his eyes (Still semi prepared to see Kendra trapped in some kind of way) and is a little confused by what he’s presented with. Donnie is standing near the edge of the branch. His wings, usually down, are spread proudly on either side of him. The tattered one is covered in something Leo can’t quite make out.

Donnie shoots them a smile, and Leo hears a whisper that sounds like “Leap of faith,” and then the tinker fairy drops backwards off the branch and out of sight.

“DONNIE!!” Mikey screams, and Raph leaps out of his chair but Leo, Leo just dives. There's no thoughts about windspeed, hawks, humidity or any of the other things Leo normally has to consider when he flies. There’s no thoughts about how stupid his genius of a brother is, or about how if he isn’t fast enough Donnie might—. No, there is simply the need to move.

And move he does.

He drops like a stone from the height of the Tree, colours blurring past him as he streaks after his brother. His heart is pounding wildly, filled with shock and dread, urging himself to go faster, faster. He thinks he has tears in his eyes, but he tells himself that it’s just from flying at this speed.

He actually moves so fast he overshoots Donnie, who is very safely fluttering in the air.

“Donnie?” Leo rights himself immediately and shoots back up towards his brother. “Donnie! Haha!!” He zips a quick circle around his brother, trying to get his racing heart to calm down. He can see the thing on Donnie’s wing now. It’s a brace. The contraption covering his tattered wing is so delicate, clearly made by Donnie himself. Thin strips reach up the wing, acting as a scaffold for the pieces to stretch across, giving Donnie enough surface area to generate lift. He might not be into science like his brother, but he knows a thing or two about flying, and Donnie’s design is genius.

He’s so relieved it takes him a second to realise that they are still very much hovering above the ground which means, “Holy shit! You're flying!!”

He’s giddy with excitement, this is all he’s ever wanted for Donnie! Leo grabs him by the hands, and spins them in the air with joy. Donnie can clearly sense what Leo’s about to do because he panics and yells, “Nardo wait!” but it’s too late, because Leo tosses him upwards and crashes into him with a hug.

“Hahaha! This is amazing!”

“Ohmigosh! Donnie’s flying!”

Two more sets of arms encircle them. Their other brothers have caught up and Leo can feel in the tightness of his hug how Raph’s panic morphs into shock and then amazement.

“Yes, yes I can fly. Hurrah,” Donnie pats the back of Raph’s shoulder, “Although my wings are still delicate so…”

They all immediately release Donnie. And then Raph whacks him on the back of the head.

“You idiot! What were you thinking! You gave Raph a heart attack!”

“Well I’ve done the jump before so I know the brace works–”

“You WHAT?”

“ –I just needed to show you guys too.”

“Yeah but you could’ve warned us Dee.” Mikey pokes him in the shoulder, a hint of Doctor Delicate Touch peeking through.

Donnie shoots him a cheeky grin, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Leo’s amazed. He’s still chuckling. Of course Donnie would build himself a way to fly. Something as silly as a tattered wing was never going to stop him. It was only a matter of time.

========

Also not seen:

Donnie pretty much immediately sagging, because his wings aren’t used to flying for extended periods yet, and Raph hoisting him onto his shoulders to fly them back to the tree.

========

Anyways hope you enjoyed! Go give Lara’s AU a look. It’s amazing 🤩

[worldwide-simp]

hello! do u still do request can i ask if u can do yan!scp073 x scp!reader

for some details:

the reader is a safe class cause she doesn't want to hurt people and see them in pain she has healing powers as she usually heals staff or gurads who are injured and she is a total sweetheart!

what will happen if they meet? (u can add any plots and things u wanna add)

*thanks if u are uncomfortable u can decline*!

Ooo I’ve finally got an ask! Sorry, I’m quite late with this. Hope short scenarios will be okay!

consumed by jealousy once again.

Yandere Scp073 x fem reader

Warnings: obsession, implied stalking, corruption, pessimistic thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, jealousy

*not proofread, please do notify me if I have missed out a warning, might add some things after posting

How did you both first meet? “…”

• Cain is quite the desirable lad. He’s polite, well-mannered and crosses his legs when seated. Time has carved wisdom into the cadavers of his body; he speaks with many words he’s memorized from dictionaries and occasionally mixes up phrases from different languages.

• When you first met Cain, your sweet and kind nature allured him. He became.. curious, so to speak. Strangely obsessed with admiring you while you’d work with people. Becoming a tad bit jealous when your attention wasn't fixated upon himself. He wouldn't let these thoughts come to light. Not now anyways.

•Always, Cain offered a helping hand. Did you need any assistance carrying that heavy bag? Or perhaps you wanted a glass of water? You could always see him at your service, watching your skilled hands heal others with a passion.

How much time did it take?

“…”

• It had taken him a few months to develop feelings. Cain first believed it was a wonder, why hadn't you excluded him from your table where you would sit? Did you not find his voice uncanny?

•He had only adored you even more after that.

• He had once asked what your occupation in the foundation was, what the foundation declared your function as a cog in one of their elaborate machines. This was the depressing reality. Cain had learned not to question it. They had stuffed his mind full of knowledge to the point he swore it snapped at times, piece by piece.

• Although he had his own mental burdens, Cain would never place them upon you. Endearing innocent soul, let him kiss you to death.

Does his emotions remind him of any past experiences?

“…”

• Cain loathes the feeling of jealousy consuming his heart, it reminded him of a very dark time. Where he had slaughtered his brother out of the same envy he experiences now, just desiring to be injured in any shape or form so he could feel your fingers blessing his cold, still-beating heart and not some guard or doctor undeserving of your touch.

• A rational part of his mind was disgusted at his concerning thoughts. He justified it with a wild vigour.

How would he show his undying love?

“…”

• Sometimes you’d find plastic flowers tucked away in various places, they were always crimson-coloured Morning Glorys and Black roses with sloppy red paint in the shape of a heart. You had giggled and suspected Cain. Though you had never confirmed your thoughts with the man himself. Darling, Sweetheart Cain. Made of sugar and liquorice.

• Every time you discovered your bouquet of flowers, you noticed the hearts had been painted less messily and with more ease, the streaks of red paint precise and pristine.

• Cain felt awkward at the thought of confessing his ever-growing feelings for you. He would only admire you. How your face looked when you smiled, how you rambled about Josie the half-cat’s fluffy pelt and the most adored feature of yours, the way you’d praise him when he did a good job.

•Don’t ever let yourself think he’s going to let such a precious flower like you wilt in his needy grasp.

[flowercrowngods]

why must i think of prisoners Ranger!Steve and Bard!Eddie so constantly and why must they be so tender and why hhhh

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess. 

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. 

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory. 

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is. 

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery. 

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when— 

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.” 

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore. 

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain. 

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak. 

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then. 

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now. 

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now. 

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.” 

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much? 

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?” 

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much. 

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to to is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful. 

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off. 

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter. 

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.” 

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.” 

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile. 

“Not with my friends, no.” 

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft. 

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now just how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.” 

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.” 

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders. 

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 10 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (3)

a/n: idk which of my blood conditions is acting like a btch but my legs are weak so sitting on a chair is uncomfortable but placing my laptop on my lap is also uncomfortable...

tags: injuries, hiding said injuries, feelings in progress

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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"_____ remember that I have told you that you must work hard while you're under my care?"

"Of course Cale-sunbae, has the time come for me to earn my keep?"

"I like that attitude of yours. Yes, you must pay for your meals now. It is time to save some poor souls once again."

Cale looked uncharacteristically holy. It made the healer wonder if they were actually going to heal people or scam them.

Against _____’s worries, they were really out to heal people. The soldiers of the Whipper Kingdom specifically.

“Just do it how you used to back in our kingdom, but don’t overdo it. I know you prefer working alone as you were used to that, but remember that Rosalyn and Choi Han are at your disposal”

Was what Cale said as everyone prepared their disguises and potions. _____ didn’t need a disguise as their outside outfit already covered everything that could become an identifier. They just chose a colour that matched everyone else’s robes.

True to Cale’s words Choi Han and Rosalyn were keeping an eye out for _____. The two gave the healer space so they could work comfortably but still glanced at them from time to time despite being busy assisting Cage and Jack.

For good measure, the young master also made _____ carry many healing potions.

“Use this if the patient’s wounds are too severe, if you start to feel tired, or when you have too many wounds. Actually, just use them whenever you please. We have lots of potions at our disposal so just use them all.”

Most of the group’s worries disappeared the moment the healer started working.

None of them has seen _____ in action so this was a new sight for them. Sure there was the time during the plaza incident but their focus was on Cale at the time.

_____ looks like fish in water.

Everyone is suddenly reminded why they were dubbed Roan Kingdom’s Medicus.

They know how to approach each patient. How to console them and make them relax. Even the grouchiest of warriors relax under _____’s care. 

They know the most efficient way to heal every patient. When to use their healing powers. When to use potions and/or bandages instead. When to pass them on to the other healers. What herbs to use and what is the most efficient way of intaking them.

Aside from healing warriors and soldiers, _____ has also taken it upon themself to replenish everyone’s energies. Especially Jack and Cage who are at the vanguard of this operation. At first Rosalyn and Choi Han were against it (Cale too but he was busy playing Saint so he left it to the two). _____ assured them by explaining that their ancient power won’t make them faint nor does it take away their own energy.

Cale took personal offence to that, but anyway.

It’s obvious that they have a lot of experience healing a large number of people with varying severities of wounds.

Rosalyn finds that fact bittersweet.

She’s proud because while Jack might’ve stolen the show with his holy powers, everyone can vouch that _____ is the most efficient. Rosalyn could hear people gossiping about how _____ makes everything look smooth and easy. It didn’t even look like they were breaking a sweat.

On the other hand, Rosalyn is sad because it reminds her of _____’s upbringing. It reminds her that instead of playing outside or studying, _____ was busy healing people at such a young age. Instead of going to sleep after drinking a warm glass of milk or being told bedtime stories, _____ has to sleep while writhing in pain because of all the things their body has absorbed.

It made Rosalyn’s resolve to look after _____ stronger.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t there to just play assistant. She has another mission she must complete with Cale, Choi Han, and Raon.

So whether Rosalyn liked it or not she must leave _____’s side.

Well, the other two disguised priests are with them and know that _____ is weak so everything should be fine right?

Tough. Luck.

The two may have known about _____’s constitution but they didn’t know how the Medicus’ power works. 

“Human you told them to watch over kind _____, but did you tell them to not let them heal severe wounds?”

Shit

Cale didn’t…

An honest mistake on Cale’s end. 

Cale and others like Raon and Rosalyn already know the tell-tale signs of _____ overusing their powers. They were so used to knowing what the slightest twitch in _____’s hands meant that they forgot others didn’t.

Raon had asked when they were in the middle of riling up the empire’s troops so there was nothing Cale could do at the moment except try to move faster.

“Where’s healer-nim?[1]”

Cale’s calm demeanour and voice were betrayed by his eyes. His eyes, that's currently dyed blue, shook slightly. It may have been a small movement but it was enough to tell Cage just how worried the young master is.

“We managed to get a break this afternoon, as soon as we did healer-nim said they were going to rest for a while. We tried to get them to eat but they said they were too tired.”

Jack followed Cage’s report.

“Following what the young master-nim said about limiting information about healer-nim we have only informed Harol about them being weak so they could get a comfortable tent. We didn’t specify anything other than that. Cage-nim also made sure to inform them that they must have your permission to enter that tent.”

The man whose hair is currently dyed white nodded in approval. However, there’s a frown on his face.

"Haaa how could I forget such an important thing..."

Cale accidentally let out his real thoughts.

Ignoring the look on the two ‘priests’ faces, Cale starts walking to where _____’s tent is.

"What kind of injuries were they healing since this morning- no just give me a list of the severe wounds you saw them treating"

"The last person they treated had a big wound on their abdomen. Just before that, they had a patient who was stabbed near the lungs…”

Huuuu

Cale said nothing else but moved faster. The two confused priests silently followed the even more agitated young master.

When they got to the tent Cale and the invisible Raon were the only ones who entered. The white-haired man told the two healers to go back and rest for the meantime.

How could they when they could smell the stench of blood from outside _____’s tent?

Despite the foul stench, there are no signs of blood inside.

That made Cale’s frown deeper because it meant _____ knew this would happen and was prepared in advance.

Then he sees _____ on a chair instead of on the bed like how Cage and Jack left them.

“What is an injured person doing slumped over like that on an uncomfortable chair?”

“Ahaha Cale-sunbae, I- haaa, I heard a commotion outside so I went out for a bit. Don’t worry I went back in as soon as you finished putting out the fire.”

It was the truth. _____ couldn’t help but watch Cale’s magnificent performance that they forgot about their condition for a little bit. 

They also felt a warm and fuzzy feeling in their chest. They didn't quite understand what it was because it was the first time they felt that way. So they chalked it up as feelings of admiration.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But back to the present. 

“Stop speaking, you can barely breathe.”

The healer only laughed weakly before passing out. When they did Cale sighed heavily before poking his head out of the tent.

“Since the two of you are still here help me move healer-nim to the bed. But you really must leave afterwards. We must have healers on standby in case something happens.”

Once everyone but Raon was outside the room Cale started unbuttoning _____’s priest robes.

“Human! What are you doing!? You’re supposed to be making _____ better-”

The panicking dragon who forgot to use telepathy stopped in his tracks when he saw what was underneath those robes.

As Cale suspected there was another layer of clothes and then bandages underneath. Both were soaked in blood.

“Technically you absorb other people’s wounds, right? How come there hasn’t been an issue of you randomly bleeding?”

It was one of those days when Cale and _____ were rolling around on the villa’s marble floors. They were talking about whatever comes to mind.

“My adoptive family was kind enough to always give me a heads up before making me do large projects. It gave me time to prepare.”

“What kind of preparation do you do?”

“I usually wear bandages in advance, if I think there’s going to be a lot of people or at least a lot of heavily wounded ones I wear extra layers of clothing. Aside from that, I have also taken it upon myself to use potions when the person I’m healing has a wound on their face. It would be bad if someone saw me randomly manifesting a wound, especially children, it would scare them…”

For the nth time, Cale sighed as he pushed the memory aside. He can reminisce after treating the healer.

As Cale poured the high-grade potions on _____ Raon started asking why he didn’t just ask Cage or Jack to heal them. It would more be faster and efficient.

Cale ignored the dragon. Because honestly, he has no answer.

He just knows that he feels iffy at the idea of letting someone else heal _____ after they’ve been healing everyone else since yesterday.

He didn’t know why he felt that way so he stayed silent.

Cale only spoke up again to ask Raon to use magic to clean up the traces of blood.

That night, the man decided to stay beside the healer. Rosalyn and Choi Han can cover for him in case something happens.

He's going to stay in this tent until _____ feels better and that’s final.

Cale knows his acting irrational. He knows that _____ is going to be fine. His eyes witness how fast their wounds close. He committed it to memory.

But still.

He feels inclined to stay by their side. At least while the healer was unconscious.

Maybe it was because he personally asked them to join him. Maybe because he feels responsible for their well-being. 

Yeah, it’s just responsibility.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And so Cale dismisses his lingering thoughts. Those thoughts will only hinder him and his plans. He has better things to do than dwell on feelings his unsure of.

Fortunately, the next morning _____ was feeling better. They were back to their usual self as if the copious amount of blood the two witnessed last night was a lie.

“No, I won’t allow you to go out there. Jack and Cage can handle it. You go back and rest.”

Rosalyn is not having it.

And honestly, Cale agrees.

Despite them feeling much better this morning, it’s so obvious to Cale that _____ is still sick. Their face are pale and their hands tremble ever so slightly.

It may not be obvious to other people but it’s clear as day to Cale.

“Rosalyn is right, go back to your tent and rest.”

“I’m fine really. This is actually less than the burden I usually take.”

The three humans sighed at that.

The four argued a bit more. A 3v1 but _____ is holding their ground, and it's making all of them frustrated. Despite their efforts, the healer is insistent on going back to work.

“If I help then we’ll get things done faster. If we get things done faster then the sooner I can rest. If I don’t help then we’ll be here longer and I won’t be able to rest properly because I’ll worry too much.”

That was the argument that let _____ go back to work.

Of course not without Cale saying that his going to order Choi Han to drag them back to bed if he sees anything wrong.

In the end, the matter was dismissed, and _____ went on their merry way to heal more patients.

If Jack and Cage noticed the four, if you include Raon, watching _____’s every move like a hawk then they didn’t mention anything.

Cale still feels tense at the idea of letting the already injured healer work and absorb more wounds. Even after he made sure that _____ would only take care of minor wounds he still feels iffy. 

However, he let it go for the time being.

Because they indeed need the extra set of hands. 

It’s totally not because he thinks _____ looks good when they are happy and basking in that well-deserved praise they receive.

He just agrees that things here should wrap up quickly.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The next day they did everything they needed to do and were on their merry way back home.

When they were away from everyone else _____ couldn't help but listen to Cage's joking comment about Cale.

"Young master-nim, I think you'll make a great Pope in the future."

_____ could see Jack nodding his head as he looked towards Cale with sparkling eyes.

"She is right. Even if you do not have any divine powers, you are a warm person who has the purest of minds, Cale-nim. You definitely have what it takes to be a great Pope that looks after the believers of god. 'Not discriminating on life.' I learned something new again."

At that moment _____ couldn't hold it in and let out a hearty but soft laugh. Their soft laughter played like music in everyone's ears. The four people who have been with the healer these past months had a momentary look of shock on their faces. 

This was the first time the group had seen them smile that big, let alone laugh. Most of the time they would be lucky if they could see a small, almost non-existent smile on their lips.

After a few seconds, the shock turned into confusion as they didn't know why _____ was laughing. 

Well everyone but Cale.

Cale knew the reason for the healer's laughter. He’s pretty sure the healer is laughing at him because being a Pope would get in the way of his slacker life. 

Yes, Cale had also told them about how he is currently working towards a life of forever lounging around and doing nothing. 

Cale just ignored everyone's confused faces and ordered Raon to bring them home. 

Aside from Cale himself, no one missed the soft smile forming on his lips.

[1] reader is famous, that and Toonka don't know their real identity so they avoid saying the reader's name by referring to them as healer

[ur-fav-inactive-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 ____'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

(A/N: Does not include Five)

𝑵𝒐. 1 , 𝑳𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 , 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒚

girl next door trope

knew you ever since childhood

loves you to death

so soft with you

he's such a gentlemen

pulls out chairs for you and holds doors for you

butttttt you have to deal with his daddy issues

he always comes to you crying whenever something happens

a sweetheart with you though

he's very awkward at comforting you

he likes to cook for you

he's such a good chef ngl

he loves cuddling

he literally is always cuddling you

likes to be big spoon, don't get me wrong he needs comfort

but

the idea of being able to protect you by being big spoon is so validating to him

he's too big to be little spoon anyway

that is literally his one purpose

if he found you during the 60s or something and he had to leave you he'd never stop talking about you

"I miss (Y/N)..."

"(Y/N) would've liked this.."

"Luther, they're gone."

fml sobbing why did I write that

anyway his one purpose is to love and protect you

𝑵𝒐. 2 , 𝑫𝒊𝒆𝒈𝒐 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒓𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏

very jealous

if he sees you with some guy who is flirting with you he will literally glare daggers into him

he will then proceed to walk over to you, sling an arm around your waist and pull you in for a kiss

he doesn't give a shit if anyone's watching

he talks shit about him siblings to you

"Luther thinks he's so much better than all of us-"

"Diego chill out."

oh my god when Viktor wrote that book

he

was

SEETHING

(no hate to viktor , viktor is baby)

the shit talk increased so much

he would not shut up about it

help diego would be such a simp for you

like I'm not joking

pure simp

in his eyes you are sweet innocent summer child who can do absolutely no wrong

stabbed someone?

pfft it was probably just an accident

he brings you to visit grace

omg it would be so cute

grace absolutely adores you

she always makes sly comments about how you and diego should get married

he goes redder than the colour red

he wouldn't tell anyone but he secretly loves the idea

he loves kissing your forehead

it's literally his favourite place

you and klaus are besties

he has to deal with you when klaus gets you drunk

"oh. my. god. im upside down."

"(Y/N), you're standing upright. we need to go home.

"... no"

he never gets drunk

fun squasher

he says his body's a temple

boring

youre his nurse

he always comes home injured and gets you to patch him up

he finds it hot

yes, he's bleeding out. yes, he finds you playing nurse to him hot.

priorities ig

he's so soft with you

would kill for you

he probably has

𝑵𝒐. 3 , 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓

(refuse to make her evil so s3 allison will not be mentioned)

definitely gets you an acting job in one of her films

she buys you the fanciest stuff

literally you two have the best closet

and you have your own personal stylist

bc why not

you do interviews with her all the time

fans absolutely adore you

there's so many paparazzi pictures of you two together and they eat it up

especially if they include you being doting to claire even though she's not biologically your kid

omg her fans would absolutely love that

so would allison though

if she saw you reading claire a story or smth

her heart would just melt

she might cry ngl

her two favourite ppl in the world just being adorable

you're the cool parent to claire

both of you go to fancy parties and are the hottest couple

"Allison! (Y/N)! How does it feel knowing you're America's favourite couple!"

you're so flattered

allisons just like: yeah ik lmao

she kisses you a lot in public

she knows damn well people are gonna get pictures of it but she loves it

you watch her films with her a lot

if its a particularly old one, you make fun of it with her

"oh my god allison. why do you look like that."

"IT WAS THE STYLE."

she then proceeds to also make fun of it

you, her and claire go on lots of fancy days out

you may as well considering you're RICH

luther gets a bit jealous sometimes

you help her with her therapy

you comforted her when she custody of claire

you also fought alongside her to get her back

as soon as you do you're happier than ever

you are literally just the cutest family ahdhahfhaj

but then she loses you again when she goes to the 60's

she made it her life's purpose to get back to 2019 with the love of her life and claire

as soon as she accepts that it could take years upon years to reunite with you and claire she finds ray

she knew you'd be happy

but she also knew

she'd never truly move on

omg help I'm gonna start sobbing why do I do this to myself

𝑵𝒐. 4 , 𝑲𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒔 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆́𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

you help get him off of drugs

ben adores you

he likes that you're there to help klaus

and that you don't ever drop to his level and just do drugs with him

he also likes how you never shit talk him when klaus starts ranting about how annoying he is

klaus is a huge fan of PDA

he is obsessed with the idea of holding your hands

he is constantly touching you in one way or the other

whether it be holding your hand

or simply having a hand on your leg

it matters to him

and that's why you love it

sweet baby boi has so much love to give

he likes being little spoon

he just loves being in your arms

it helps with his nightmares

diego also approves of you

you've saved him from having to go out and look for klaus in the middle of the night in fear he's high or smth

klaus rants to you every so often

quite often you have to help him through panic attacks

he loves you sm

like he is so lovesick

if anyone were to ever ask about you

oh boy

he gets this lovesick look in his eyes

and then starts rambling about how enamored he is with you and how great you are

it's adorable

he's very clingy but in the best way possible

he matches outfits with you

never a dull moment with you two

often it's you trying to solve whatever problem klaus has somehow managed to conjure up

and klaus just being a devious little shit

but it doesn't matter cause you love him

sometimes he questions why you love him

it makes you cry whenever he asks

"(Y/N/N)..."

you hum in response

"why do you love me...?"

sobbing and you start listing all the reasons

and then he's sobbing

and then you're both sobbing

but anyway

he loves dancing with you

he doesn't care what song

it could be some crappy pop song that's somehow in the top hits

or some classical music that's centuries old

he really doesn't care

he likes spinning you around

he loves seeing how happy it makes you

klaus asks you the most random stuff at 3am

"... (Y/N"

"yeah"

"lawyers hope you get sued, doctors hope you get sick, cops hope you're criminal, mechanics hope you have car trouble, but only a thief wishes prosperity for you."

"... go to bed"

"never"

you poor thing

you never get any sleep because of how chatty he is at night

he hates being away from you

if he isn't near you he will start whining to ben

𝑵𝒐. 6 , 𝑩𝒆𝒏 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓

omg it took him ages to admit his crush on you

he's been crushing on you since you were like 12

when did he admit it?

when he was 18.

he likes reading to you

he loves seeing you get all relaxed at the sound of his voice

it makes him fall even more in love with you

he likes PDA but not that much

just a simple touch is enough for him

this boy blushes so easily

you'll brush his hand and he'll turn so pink

sometimes you'll just be sitting there doing nothing of note

and he'll be staring at you in adoration

he's in absolute awe of you

thinks you're the most adorable thing ever

much like diego

thinks you can do no wrong

you're his sweet, precious girl

he knows everything about you off by heart

from your favourite colour

to your mums favourite song

you thinks it's endearing

he loves holding your hand

playing with your hair is one of his favourite things to do

don't get me wrong he likes when you do it to him

but he much prefers when he does it to you

he finds it really relaxing

he's usually pretty closed off about his childhood but he trusts you

sometimes when something that triggers a bad memory happens he goes to you to rant

he doesn't know what he'd do without you

you're literally his life

omg

when you kiss his nose

he just melts

it's the most adorable thing

he's so good at cheering you up

no matter if its something minor or major

he's always amazing at getting you back to your usual self

he loves taking you on cute little dates

he reads you poetry he wrote

omg he deffo writes a piece of poetry about how much he loves you

omg help this is so cute

overall he's a simp

and it suits him

𝑵𝒐. 7 , 𝑽𝒊𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒓 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏

viktors a sweetheart

he gives you private violin shows

he also rehearses in front of you to see what you think

he tries to get you to critique him

if you don't play violin, you probably just say its all perfect

if you do, you probably give him little tips on areas to work on

you go on little dates to watch the sunset

he has to be little spoon

he just needs some comfort

just needs to be wrapped in your arms and feel safe

poor guy has been through so much

sometimes he gets mad memories of the incident with allison and you have to calm him down

he wouldn't get jealous

he'd just get rlly insecure :(

if he saw someone flirting with you he'd just get a bit sad

he would think the worst and think that you would want to leave him for them :(((

poor bby

opens up to you about how bad his childhood was

sometimes he regrets writing the book

you have to reassure him that it's okay and they don't hate him for it

sure, they did, but not anymore

klaus thinks you two are adorable together

you've got quite a few polaroids of the two of you together

he has them on those little string lights above your bed

he keeps at least one in his pocket at all times

he does that thing where you check if you still have something valuable and it's so cute for some reason

and when he checks and its still there it puts this small little smile on his face

omg it's just shfjsjfjsjf

you take care of him when he's sick

he hates it bc he feels bad that you have to take care of him

but deep down he loves it and will treasure those memories forever

but he'd do the exact same thing if you were sick

whenever you buy him something he always feels bad if he didn't get you something

"Vik it's okay! you didn't have to get me anything,"

"NO ITS NOT I NEED TO GO GET YOU SOMETHING RIGHT NOW."

it's absolutely adorable

Taglist: @book-place

[t0rturedangel]

if it's not much, some yandere jekyll and/or hyde hc's? can be both sfw and/or nsfw 🤭 anyways take care

╭ . . . 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 ੭

𝐃𝐑 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐑 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ➤ 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴

❏ warnings : love-sick ('yandere') themes, dark themes, a Victorian doctor, mentions of torture, mentions of blood, murder, Hyde.

I have SOOOO many requests LOL, and i got so much homework- this shit is more important- ILY MY LOVELIES

✩ ⊱ Jekyll likes to think that he's the gentler, sweeter and more loving version of the two (technically one) men obsessed with you. he's not.

✩ ⊱ He's manipulative, and knows how to get his way with you- you try to leave? Why? do you hate him, do you want to see Hyde take control of him and never let the face of Jekyll be shown to the world ever again? You're the only thing that's keeping him in power.

✩ ⊱ He also, sometimes, has a brutal side to him too- if someone he doesn't approve of gets a bit to close to his lovely dear spouse (Either your parents arranged a marriage with Jekyll, for money obviously, or Jekyll had manipulated you to marry him) well he's just gained a new test subject- how sweet right? right?

✩ ⊱ Don't worry though, he'll save you from watching- he doesn't want to ruin your little head (anymore than he already has.)

✩ ⊱ Jekyll likes to believe that you're a pure little thing, how could you not be? He could only love someone as pure as you- dont even thing about how he's a terrible man- you dont need to at all! Just keep being you're little angelic self

✩ ⊱ unfortunately for you, Jekyll is a Victorian man (a doctor no less) so therefore he has the mentality of one too, i hope you can see what I'm trying to say

✩ ⊱ Jekyll views you as his property is what I'm trying to say, right? I know it sounds horrible and it is, but that's his mentality- I am not going to sugar coat this for you, my lovelies

✩ ⊱ Don't worry though! Jekyll does have his sweet moments, on some occasions he'll let you roam the house! Though the servants will either be busy or away from you, after all who needs to see them, hm? all you need is him!

✩ ⊱ The doctor is deadly scared of loosing you, to either death, or someone else so therefore, he locks you up in a lovely little room he had made and decorated for you- the walls are your favorite colours, he got all the decorations he knew you would love, makes sure the room is constantly clean and you have a lovely large bed the two of you sleep in (whenever Jekyll is not busy, and is not Hyde- though Hyde will also visit you) though you are shackled, again he doesnt want you to leave

✩ ⊱ Hyde, on the other hand, is some how more gentler- though he's a monster, he's artificially made his soul is full of nothing but hate and rage but somehow he never lays a hand on you

✩ ⊱ He, actually doesn't to much to you. Sometimes he'll only sit on a chair in your room and just stare at you- sometimes he smiles at you (or what seems to be a smile) which is either more horrific or sweeter than what Jekyll does.

✩ ⊱ Sometimes Hyde loves to sit next to you, and let you rest against him, he'll also play with your hand or hair, if it's your hand it will be near the shackle so your aching skin could have at least some relief- you're the only person he will ever be gentle with.

✩ ⊱ Whenever he knows Jekyll is not mentally there, he'll let you out of your room and take you outside (in the night of course- there's less people, and much like Jekyll, Hyde hates having people any closer to you than at least a street away) and show you around, sometimes you'll be lucky and he'll take you to his house.

✩ ⊱ Hyde can cook, shocking I know- but he loves to cook for you whenever he can, and hey- it keeps you full and Jekyll never knows.

✩ ⊱ Unlike Jekyll, Hyde (despite loving you so much) does not really care if you saw something horrific, it just means you'll see what he's capable of, how much he's willing to protect you and how much blood he can shed.

✩ ⊱ though don't you EVER think, EVERRRRR that he'll lay a hand on you, he may be evil but he'll never do that, no Jekyll does that (sometimes, after he's sob and beg for your forgiveness)

✩ ⊱ Overall, yeah no, I beg- do not fall for this man (men?) your life will not look so pretty but they'll love you, at least they'll tell you that they do.

[eluxcastar]

This is so silly: Fatui Harbingers receiving a bouquet of flowers from their shy s/o?

Harbingers receiving a gift from their s/o

── ୨୧：harbingers x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: it's exactly what's written on the tin but with a side of me being off my head again

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader

୨୧﹑words :: 950

I'm so in love with the requests that let me answer them like a crackhead. but also I'm so sorry to the anons who want me to be serious I've just got the sillies. I spent the entire time calling it a pot until I realised the thing I was actually referring to is a vase and had to go back and change it all

if you're wondering where the shy part went, it was lost to this phenomenon called "I can't read" and by the time I realised it said that I was already done. I feel like this is the second time it's happened.

Alright usual order Tartaglia first. I'll be honest; I have no clue. Like, I literally left his here just saying, "Alright usual order", because what the FUCK would he do. He doesn't seem like a flower person, but also it being his s/o changes that so much because his s/o might make him a flower person. You could guess his favourite colour is yellow and suddenly it's yellow because he's so normal for you. He didn't even like flowers, but omg, you got him flowers. These are his new favourite flowers ever kinda thing.

Next is Arlecchino (more food is coming I promise), and tbh, I feel like she'd enjoy receiving flowers. It's not an overly flashy gift, and it probably took a lot for you to go out of your way to get that for her, let alone give it to her. She appreciates that you would get her a gift at all because receiving gifts feels nice sometimes. You can have a kiss for your flowers.

Third would be Pantalone, whose I kinda answered. Flowers are a gift, and honestly, I love the idea that as long as the gifts have sentimental value, that's what he'll treasure the most. He's gonna display those in his nicest vase for people to see. Why would you be nervous about that? The thought of what people think of them? No need. Nobody critiques his decor and means it. They know better.

La Signora would appreciate them, but they gotta be nice, yk? And like, you've gotta pay attention. There's no point if you just get whatever's available. Does she like those kinds of flowers? Do they smell nice? Compliment their surroundings? It's in the details that say you care because, to her, it means you were paying enough attention to consider it for what is a very standard gift for many people.

I did Scara then realised I forgot Sandrone omg anyway flowers, she would love those in her own silly little way. They're nice, and it's so cute that you went to the effort that she might just smile at you. She's 100% gonna keep those to herself and just stare at them for a while because someone got her a gift (this basically never happens) (if it did who the fuck are they?? unimportant 🙄)

Aight we got Scaradouche. Firstly no way this man is going to let you immediately know you got him a gift he likes. Flowers? That's such a girly present to give someone 🙄🙄 (They'll be in a pot on his dresser within the hour). He wouldn't usually want flowers, but since you already went and got them, he'll just have to. Just a little, I think he'd be losing it on the inside, kinda like when someone says they're so normal about something, and you know they're fucking lying. Like that

I totally missed Pulcinella last time, so he can get some flowers now. Honestly, I can see why I forgot him. I probably intended to do him but didn't have an idea and was like, "I'll come back to it", then got hit with this thing called filthy liar syndrome. Old people like flowers so he'd be happy with that, something nice to add some colour to a room or something Idk I'm not old (I'M SORRY I'LL BE SERIOUS). Some of you have no grandfather OR father you just like me fr so I'll throw in for y'all that he'd be proud of you for picking out such a nice gift and acquiring it of your own accord (which you are capable of) because it must've been difficult to get past the initial conversation starter problem.

Already off that train, we're finally at Capitano. I can't say for sure cause he has two lines but tbh, he seems like he'd like it. You can have a nice pat on the head and everything cause aww you went to all that effort just for him? That deserves a nice cuddle ❤️

Columbina thinks of it like anything else you do, more confused as to what the occasion is than anything and not very sure what provoked you to do this, but she accepts it and thanks you nonetheless because she still does like it. She just also wants to know what you're doing and why, but she's satisfied with the answer that you just wanted to and cuts you off before the apologies if she doesn't like it.

What the fuck did you get Dottore flowers for?? Like, what would he do with them?? That's awkward. He'll take them off your hands, but after that, he kinda just 🧍 because what else does he do? He can look at them and sit them somewhere, but like they have no purpose. The effort is nice. He probably doesn't want these again tho unless he can use them for something. You'll get a thanks, but like he's kinda bad at hiding that he's got no idea what to do with it. Get him some flowers that are useful rather than decorative maybe?

We are at Pierro, and I think it's a bit of a mix. On the surface, he may seem like he doesn't want them and only accepts them to save your feelings but secretly treasures them ❤️ I like the idea of him being sentimental toward his s/o because something about it is just cute. It also matches the vibe, like, he's got a very closed-off exterior that you are used to that's meant to hide that adorable and undeniably vulnerable interior that really, really loves you and all of the things you do for him.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Ah thank you so much for your post on Harry's overprotectiveness and how it is deeply rooted in his fear of losing the only family he has by the end of the series not because he thinks Ginny is not capable enough

You spoke God's truth

But like seriously I have seen so many people pointing out the "problem" in Hinny and why they won't make it long term as a couple is that Harry after the war has to see Ginny as a peer not as something to be protected and that's why they are not equals... And I'm like what makes you think he doesn't see her as his equal?

Do I need to point out the number of times in HBP and DH whatever Ginny is doing Harry's reaction is a mix of "wowww my girl is doing amazing" and "OMG what is she doing, she might get herself killed and I'll die seeing just that, poor Voldy shorts would not have to put so much effort in killing me"

And I'm sure this has been pointed out before...A 15 year old Harry had a very similar reaction towards Sirius, a 30 something adult with 7 years of complete magical education, experience in fighting death eaters in Order of the Phoenix and then emotionally fighting the dementors for 12 long years.

You are welcome!

.

Harry in canon after he discovers Ginny is leading a rebellion:

This scant news made Harry want to see Ginny so badly it felt like a stomachache; but it also made him think of Ron again, and of Dumbledore, and of Hogwarts itself, which he missed nearly as much as his ex-girlfriend. - Chapter 15, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

What is true is that Harry hasn't properly processed how hurt Ginny was because he so desperately needed to believe she was safe that he would've needed to be slapped in the face with the reality, and in fact:

He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: there would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. - Chapter 36, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This does not mean Harry doesn't think that what Ginny did was valuable, important or a huge risk:

Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny’s name in the girls’ dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right. - Chapter 16, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry is worried about her physical and mental well-being. But there's a difference between knowing someone is in danger/admiring them for what they are doing and being in the mental space to properly process the information of the love of your life being tortured (something that he would need to deduce from Neville's tale and he is not in the mental space to do it). It would happen once he talks with Ginny (I think Rowling should've created the situation for it once Harry talked with Neville but for reasons that have nothing to do with hinny and everything to do with the devastatingly boring plot of this book).

[I wrote about this in Back to the Eclipse if someone wants to read it.]

It's like when people say that Harry wouldn't tell Ginny things because he didn't let her in the Voldemort stuff completely ignoring that:

Dumbledore tells him to talk only with Ron and Hermione about it and he dies before Harry might start wondering why exactly he can't talk to Ginny about it and ask Albus (I would have loved to see the answer to that question)

Harry has a pathological need to protect her (which I agree is something he needs to work on but it is a direct consequence of how important she is to him and I'll argue it's a flaw that in a moderate dose balances out one of Ginny's)

Harry ends up telling Ginny his mission (killing Voldemort) anyway because he is shit at keeping things from her, as pointed out since the fifth book

Harry is so shit at keeping things from Ginny he has a hard time keeping things from Molly because she has Ginny's eye colour

When Ron gets hurt in HBP, Harry and Ginny get into an obsessive conversation about what might have happened (he is clearly comfortable in discussing important stuff with her, including his beloved mysteries)

His only plan for the future after the battle is endlessly talking with Ginny

The only thing people should deduce is that Ginny most likely spent a good part of her life being an insane security breach of the Department of Law Enforcement (to be fair to Harry: the majority of spouses of people in law enforcement are).

[r0semaryt3a]

Some pre/during Yorknew Phantom Troupe Identity hcs + Illumi and Kurapika

I do not care if you disagree with these- my word is not law and honestly I want to hear some other headcannons so feel free to drop them down

Chrollo Lucilfer -

Ah Chrollo, my wife <3

He/him (surprising the masses after my wife joke)

Bisexual (no pref)

Monogamy - don’t even suggest otherwise it will be shot down.

“My identity? I’m a bisexual man…hmm? He/him.”

Feitan Portor

He/it

Has not and will not ever think about it (if he likes you he’ll date you he won’t label it)

It would be like pulling teeth trying to get him to answer on his identity. Like, it’s just not important to him. Why do you want to know so bad? Just call it whatever, it’s not gonna humour you with a conversation anyways.

“He.” ‘is there anything else?’ “It.” ‘And your sexuality?’ “…like you, date you. Simple.”

Phinks Magcub

He/him

Straight

Messed around once - quickly learnt he was indeed straight

These people really don’t see the prevalence in their identities so they’re all pretty blunt on answering.

“Eh? Why’d you wanna know? So what? I’m a guy. What? I like girls sure.”

Machi Komacine -

my absolute favourite

She/her

Messed around w gender for a bit; doesn’t care but will let you know “she’s a girl”

Bisexual - fem pref

Was the opposite of Phinks - thought she was lesbian then messed around and realised she was indeed bi

“Call me whatever…I’m a girl though.”

“I mean I like everyone, I think? Girls are probably better. No they are”

Woman has to double check with herself whenever asked, it’s like answering a quiz

Franklin Bordeau

He/him

Homosexual

Like one of the only ones who’d give you a straight answer if you ever asked

“I’m a man and yes, I like men.” Type of answer

Uvogin

He/him

Bi - male pref (the phantom troupe is just a bisexual chat room atp)

I Cannot decide whether I like Nobunaga or Shalnark w this guy

You’ll find out from fucking around with him. In no world is he answering you.

Pakunoda

She/her

THIS WOMAN IS LESBIAN NO DEBATE

L e s b i a n

Can imagine her being the only one of the group to just have her identity down from day dot

Definitely had a fling with Machi at some point that didn’t work out (they ended on good terms obviously. I can and will go into lengthy detail as to why I believe they had something going in the past and weren’t still together during Yorknew)

This woman is the died in the arc she first appeared in rep I needed!

“She/her honey. I like girls, that’s all that’s to it.”

Shalnark

Does not care

Pan

Literally just a colouring book, do what you want he won’t correct you (there’s nothing to correct to)

“Oh? Hmm, well I’ve never really thought about it much. It makes sense for me to be pan though, I guess!”

Nobunaga Hazama

He/they

Homosexual

He’s like that grandad that tells you about his time out in clubs and you’re sat going: “YOU? YOU did those things?”

“I’m a homosexual.”

Hisoka Morow

Call this amalgamation of a human whatever you want. As long as you can fight, you can talk to him/j

Type of guy to make a “Yours” joke

I really don’t see Hisoka caring for what people see him as. Like you wanna call him a he? Go for it. She? Sure why not! They? It? All on the table!

Another bisexual - his preference is fight me

Would 100% be down for poly, but depending on his attachment would also demand monogamy

“Why don’t we set a date and you can find out hmm~?”

Shizuku Murasaki

She/it

Straight or Aro, one or the other she’s either heavily into romance or completely repulsed and I can’t decide which I think it is.

Will blink at you for two minutes before sighing a response

“Well I don’t mind she or it I suppose.”

Kortopi

It/its

Aroace

I don’t really have that many thoughts on Kortopi so this is like all I’m giving

bonolenov

He/him

No one really has a clue on his sexuality and he doesn’t tell any of them, ever. Like he knows what he is, but he just never says it

Illumi Zoldyck

He/Him?

He’s never really thought about it much, after-all aside from family it’s not like most people will live long enough for his identity to matter

Sexuality? Who knows! He sure doesn’t. Does he even like people? Who’s to say!

“What does it matter? I’m a man by all accounts, so refer to me as such.”

Kurapika Kurta

He/they

Bisexual

I don’t even really know why he’s on this list tbf.

Will give you his whole coming out story if you ask about his identity. You’ll be there a while.

This was actually really fun to sit and do-

[factorialsotherfandoms]

They're back at that one bit of woodland again, with the strangely cut trees and the avocado sapling and an unusual number of birds. Fit hates it here, he hates what it does to his friend. He sees the distant look in Philza's eyes, the way his movements become softer, slower, almost floating. He sees the warpstone, and takes it, and knows it means that sometimes Philza comes here alone.

He sees the way Philza puts his parachute away too high, and does not bucket clutch when he lands. Hears the crunch of his ankles, too.

It's not the first time Fit's seen it either, though its novel in /Phil/. In the wasteland, in the many wars... Yeah, he's seen this before. People who can't face what they've done - what the world did to them - so their minds fade into a dream until reality crashes in with a knife through their spine. Nobody wastes an end crystal on someone who got lost in a dream, at least not the quiet ones.

(To kill those lost in a nightmare you want a bow, anyway - even if you dress in their colours, they might still consider you a monster in their dreams. Fit's almost glad Philza's brain cracked quietly - its safer, less likely to draw the Federation's ire, but it also means the pain goes unnoticed. He wonders, just how many islanders' suffering has been missed?)

The doubt in reality even when present Fit has seen less of, but it's not unheard of. In the wasteland people tend towards killing and being killed, but sometimes someone gets a grand idea into their heads.

Well, no, a lot of people do. Even if Fit only considers grand torture he can think of a good number of people, they're just not often met with success.

He has seen it, though, between one incursion and the next. There had been this one asshole up in the north eastern quadrant who took a delight in fucking with people's heads. One of the Veterans - Fit can't remember his name, why can't he remember even his allies-of-occasion's names? - had been caught. The guy managed to break himself out in a few days, but even that had been enough to have him clarifying reality for months.

Philza...

Well Philza was gone for at least twice as long, and, old crow that he might be, he doesn't have nearly the training against mind games and /human/ bullshit a Wastelander has.

He's still quick with the scythe whenever monsters appear, so at least the Feds haven't stolen that from him too.

"The birds are here, right?" Philza eventually asks.

"Yup," Fit pops the word a little, wanting to go home but not wanting to leave a trauma-fucked friend at ground zero too long. "Still here, still the wrong biome. The avocado sapling is still here, too. There was something here, they just took it down."

Philza squints at that sapling, and hums under his breath. Fit doesn't expect to be believed. It's just, despite everything, he has his own fucking eyes. This place is clearly fucked up, the Federation builds in an instant so why not destroy, and not /once/ has Philza asked him if something is real and the answer was no. His perception wasn't fucked with, just his faith in it.

Which is, in some ways, harder to deal with.

Fit would wonder why he's dealing with this, but he knows everything Philza has done for him and how, when its down to the wire, they're about the only friends either of them can really rely on. Seasons change, alliances are betrayed, lovers fight, and in the middle of it all is always black wings and Philza.

If after all these years all the man needs is an occasional reality check then, gods damn him, Fit won't even charge him for it.

He's nice like that.

"Alright," Philza eventually says. "Let's go home."

They warp back to his home - an empty home, but a home - and Philza hesitates at the hatch.

"Look," Fit says. "If you want to go out there again, or you see something you're not sure about? Just ask me. If I'm not about, take a photo and ask me later."

"Thanks mate," Philza says, with a smile reading 'I'll never do that, but the offer's appreciated'. "Sleep well."

"You too," Fit calls back, and really, he did expect that to be the end of that.

---

It is not, of course, the end of that. There's a few more times in the coming days when they're together, and Philza asks his opinion on the reality of a bird - almost always a bird, sometimes a shrub, and Fit is lining up what triggers he can to try convince his friend to avoid.

He knows Phil, and he knows people, and he knows that most people would rather claw their own eyes out than ask for help. Philza included. Himself included, to be fair to the man.

It's what makes what happens next more horrifying, and more of a surprise.

He is out with Pac and Mike when it happens. Mike is still acting a little odd, but so far he has attacked nobody, threatened nobody, and made no creepy comments about the eggs - Fit will take what he is given and call it a success. Mike is even acting a little more normal, herding Pac and Fit onto a picnic rug and serving them drinks.

Pac laughs and smiles, and Fit slips poison test strips into every single glass he is handed but laughs along with him.

So far, no poison - Fit knows better than to think doing nothing will have fixed the brainwashing (possession?), but maybe the level of control varies. It seems reasonable, then, to expect a chill day for the morning crew; Tubbo is offline, Philza is tens if not thousands of blocks out exploring, and Fit has a date with his two favourite scientists.

... A social engagement with one of his favourite scientists, chaperoned by the other.

Fit sits and listens as Pac explains some additions he and Mike wish to make to the Murder Mystery Arena, occasionally offering his admittedly uncreative takes. Fit knows what he's good for, and it isn't interior design. He just... did not quite expect his thoughts to be so bad that they managed to trigger a laughing fit in the still somewhat out of it Mike.

If only he could also help Mike like he tries to help Pac and Philza, but whatever happened to him, his green-eyed scientist no longer trusts him enough for that.

It's a shock, then, when Mike speaks over Pac, scowling at his communicator. "I don't think this message is for me," he says.

"What message?" Pac asks, already moving to look.

Fit leaves him to it - probably Aypierre asking about some newfangled machine, or Cellbit wanting some answers - before realising Philza is the only person both awake and not at the picnic. That has him standing, grabbing his own communicator, even as Pac is already reading it.

"It just says 'can you come over here a second'?" Pac frowns. "From Philza. Do you think he's okay?"

"He probably just hit the wrong name and didn't realise," Fit tries to keep his voice easier than he feels. Even while he's speaking, he types out a quick 'sharestone?'.

Almost immediately he gets a reply 'thanks mate' and then 'red, named parrot'.

Fit's brain clicks in as to exactly what that might be.

"Yeah he meant me. Mind if I just go check in with him? I'll be right back."

Mike shuffles a little closer to Pac, who in turn waves him away. Their sharestone today is blue, not red, but he takes it to Spawn, and then heads out again.

Sure enough, there's a new red sharestone connected to the network. It's named 'prart', however, and Fit really has to wonder just how badly Philza must be doing to let that happen.

---

Arriving across the link, Fit finds Philza sat on the grass next to the sharestone, knees curled up and hands shaking. It is the middle of the day, but he still quickly checks around for threats. Swamp, no crocodiles, sharestone and Philza tucked close to a tree. The only other living beings he can see are birds - hummingbirds, parrots, and a grey one pecking at Philza's trousers.

Given Philza is in a swamp, Fit has a good idea as to what he might be doing.

"Oi Philza," Fit calls, tossing himself onto the grass beside his friend. "You were missing me?"

"Hit me," Philza replies, still curled in the ball. "You're real, right? Then hit me."

Fit knows the queries about birds well enough by now, but the query about his own presence makes dread settle in his stomach.

"Alright," is what he actually says, before backhanding his friend across the arm.

At the contact Philza's breath stutters for a moment, before his fingers reach out and trace where he was touched. It's a slow movement, one alongside which he mouths words without sound, before the fingers dart out and grab Fit's hand. He clings, tight, for a long moment, and then lets go with an exhale.

"Thanks mate," Philza's voice shakes, far too quiet for comfort. "... You can see the birds too, right?"

"Yeah," Fit frowns - for all he doubts reality, Philza has /never/ said he's seen a bird that Fit couldn't also see. "Let me see. Five or six blue parrots over there, three hummingbirds, another parrot in darker blue, pair of red ones, I think there's a green one in that tree over there... Four chickens, and then there's a grey bird by your ankle."

At the mention of the grey bird, a shaky hand reaches out, and Philza begins to pet its head. Fit knows of some people back in the wasteland who take animals to help with the trauma, but he can't help but think a bird is, right now, a terrible choice for his friend.

"So you are real," Philza speaks so gently to the parrot, though. "Here you go, come on up."

Fit watches quietly as Philza uncurls, sprinkling a handful of seed on his lap to tempt the bird up. Sure enough, it goes.

"What do you see in this photo?" Philza then asks, handing something to Fit.

It's a photo of a tree. It's not a tree that Fit can see nearby, but it is one for sure. A single black bird sits in it, watching.

"I thought crows had been banished from the island," Fit frowns. "Wild ones, anyway."

"Okay, okay," Philza runs one hand through his hair, and another over his bird's head. "I'm only going a bit crazy then."

"They're fucking with you," Fit frowns. "Else I'm somehow reliably hallucinating the same as you."

Philza shakes his head - Fit wonders just what happened in that birdhouse, that his friend's brain would rather deconstruct reality than face that it could have happened, and just what purpose it serves the Federation to try.

"This bird... You remember the parrots by the museum?"

"The ones that vanished?"

"When I got back to the bunker, he was in a cage right next to the trap door." Philza's eyes are wide, a little wild.

"Well shit." Fit frowns at it. "Same bird?"

Philza gently lifts one of the bird's wings, showing Fit a very distinctive pattern on it. Same bird, else the Federation did something extremely fucky.

"I have to cage him to bring him places. Dumbass doesn't understand ladders, let alone warps. I don't like caging him. But keeping him in the house is just another, bigger cage. I can't do that to him, Fit, I /can't/." Philza's fingers twitch as he says it. "But I can't let him go either. What if the Feds take him again? What if they hurt him? They hurt our children, why wouldn't they hurt him?"

"He sure seems happy enough to me." Fit doesn't actually know much about birds, but its eating out of Philza's lap and has never made any attempt to get away. "Likes you well enough, too."

"But its a /cage/, Fit," Philza emphasises the word. "I know he's only little, but the cage is small too."

It's not about the bird. There is no way in hell that this is about the bird. There is no universe, here or anywhere else, where this is actually about putting a bird in a cage for five minutes while Philza teleports.

Fit just isn't sure if Philza actually knows it isn't about the cage, though, and with him teetering on a full breakdown, decides its better not to ask.

Instead, he offers an arm. Philza collapses against his side.

"They were just fucking with you," Fit tries to reassure him. "Everything you're asked about has been real, your reality is fine, I'm here, you're here, we're both real. So are the birds. The eggs? Real. Missing, but real, and we will get them back."

"I wish they wouldn't despawn my withers so I could blow the fuckers up."

Fit gives a laugh, noting how Philza's own wings fluff up a little at the words.

"Same," he says. "I want to see it."

"Do you know how many I tried to spawn?" he asks. "And they just erased them from existence."

"Yeah, we noticed," Fit agrees. "Assholes."

Philza is still shaking a little, but laughs as he falls against Fit's side. He's managing to talk normal enough, but Fit's been around both him and the mentally fucked long enough to recognise the way his fingers cling and eye flitter. It's not the usual paranoia, he's looking at all the wrong things to check for danger - not the swamp, but the birds, Fit's hand, the sharestone...

Fit's communicator pings. Looking down he finds a message from Pac, 'how much longer will you be?'

'Not long. Can I bring Philza?' he replies. Then, a moment later, adds, 'Feds are fucking with him.'

There's a longer pause than Fit expects before he receives 'yes.' and then 'is he okay?'

"Hey Phil," Fit says, rather than immediately reply. "I was having a picnic with Pac and Mike. Do you want to join us?"

"I shouldn't-" Philza looks up.

Fit raises an eyebrow.

"Fine," Philza sighs. "I need to get rid of some toast anyway."

"That's the spirit!"

It really isn't; Fit tilts his communicator away from Philza as he types back. 'Not really. I'm worried.'

Pac doesn't reply again, or at least not immediately; Fit shoves his communicator back in his pocket, before untangling himself from Philza and hoisting himself up. "We have a blue sharestone set up; meet you at spawn?"

Philza doesn't reply as he collects his own sharestone and returns it to his inventory. He does, however, raise his portable warpstone as he traps his bird in a cage.

Fit waits to make sure Philza is actually leaving before raising his own as well. Spawn is far from beyond the Federation's influence, but its a hell of a lot safer than a random swamp... Fuck, 300,000 blocks out. Someone's always passing spawn, the Federation can't mess with it easily.

"Here," Fit points out the right sharestone as he arrives. "Mike hasn't even poisoned any tea yet! Or threatened to murder anyone today."

Philza's laugh is a little nervous, but he follows through anyway. Fit checks the map to make sure he got there, and follows.

He isn't surprised to get there and find the bird already free, sitting on Philza's shoulder, but how quickly he let it out...

It isn't about that bird and that cage at all.

"Fit!" both halves of Tazercraft at least are excited to have him back.

"I have wine!" Pac seems very excited about that, despite the concerned glance he throws at both Mike and Philza.

Fit does his best to give a reassuring one back - impossible given Philza's very quiet 'hi mate' before silently curling up under a tree. "Great! Sorry about the disruption, the swamp had crocodiles."

"Multiple?" Pac pulls a face - Fit would be Philza is convinced that Pac believes it, but Fit knows the tells. "Eesh."

"Bad luck," Mike passes Philza an entire bottle of wine before Fit can even think about subtly stopping him.

Philza does pour some into a glass before downing it. Right now, Fit will take what he can get. And if that is just he's going to need to play up his separation anxiety to keep Philza close and safe... He just hopes Pac and Mike understand, because he's not sure Philza will survive to see his kids again otherwise.

[scekrex]

So here I'm after telling you that I need to cry over the next part of "A bloody nose and two bleeding hearts" I was thinking about it for a moment and it took me there...

Adam took the reader back to heaven yay. But not everything is so dandy, the Reader has fallen, even if he's back, he's fallen angel. With that comes everything that a fallen angel would feel...cut connection with Father, that strange feeling of being alone, cast aside, not wanted. If the reader had wings there are phantom pains, I'm imagining that the wings would somehow change, maybe colour, or maybe he would lose feathers in a few places, unfortunately it's not two or three feathers... Now the Reader is thinking about what Adam has told him and he can't help but wonder if that was a lie, because how could someone want him after the fall? Adam on the other side doesn't know what to really do with the reader... He sees that the reader is getting more and more depressed with each day, but it has been a long time since he had comforted someone depressed(I imagine it would be Cain after killing Abel, but that's just my little headcanon, that Cain after killing his brother and coming back to his senses would get so depressed). Even so he tries to take care of the reader, by not letting Sera close again or something like that. It does help a bit, but the reader now needs all love Adam could give him, to see and feel that what Adam has told him was real, that he was wanted by someone even if he fell.

So yes, that's all I think...and even if not it doesn't matter, I'll love it anyway

Omg I love this soooo much - depressed reader is something I find so much comfort in

Part 1

For what we have done we will pay our price

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt - with comfort

note: not beta read bc fuck you

Heaven felt different, now that you were back. It felt so cold, so lonely, all the warmth it had once provided was gone, you were no longer able to feel the heavenly connection to it you once had. Its colors had once been bright and welcoming to your eyes but after your fall they simply didn’t look the same to you, they looked grayish, boring and just as cold as they felt. The great and loving connection you used to have to Father was not present anymore, you were not able to feel him guiding you, protecting you anymore and you were only to assume that he wasn’t feeling your bright spirit in return. Because your spirit seemed to be so many things and all of them were ugly, ugly just like your appearance had become once your feet had touched hellish ground.

Your wings simply weren’t the same anymore, just like everything else and while you were somewhat thankful that you weren’t surrounded by sinners, you weren’t quite sure if being surrounded by judgemental angels was any better. They stared at you, at your wings and really, you couldn’t even blame them because if you were in their position you would’ve stared and judged as well. But it really didn’t help with your situation. Your wings, once a beautiful bright white with a light blue touch to the tips of your feathers had turned gray, not only had they changed to look less pure and more tainted, you had also started to lose feathers. That had started once Adam had brought you back to heaven and you only assumed it was their way of punishing you for disobeying the law. In the end it really didn’t matter why it happened, what was more important was that it happened and it made your wings look rotten, which only caused your appearance in general to look even messier.

Because ever since Adam had brought you back to heaven you had been crashing at his place, they had sold your place within a couple of hours and while that had been painful due to the loss of very personal items, it wasn’t the end of the world. Everything else seemed like it though. The energy to leave the bed every day was barely existent and you asked yourself how Adam did it, how he managed to get up every day, how he managed to just go about his day and not give a fuck about heaven’s questionable decisions.

You were lying in the first man’s bed, your body was covered by your own wings and a soft blanket - the blanket was necessary because of the giant bald areas on your wings, without it you would’ve caught a cold, a thing Adam tried to prevent. Your relationship towards Adam had changed in general, there was no more playful teasing, that had been replaced by soft touches and warm cuddles every now and then, but was it enough to keep you sane and intact? You weren’t sure. On the other hand you weren’t truly sure of anything, not when Adam’s soft words felt like lies. Why would the brunette care for you in the ways he claimed to care for you and like you? What reason have you ever given him to think of you as someone to adore and love?

The first man entered the room, something you were only able to hear, your eyes were covered by three feathers that were still left on the edge of your wing, three lonely feathers that reminded you of what you’ve once been and how drastically that had changed. “Are you dead?” the first man asked jokingly, but to you his question wasn’t funny. Because to you death seemed like a less painful and energy draining thing, like a thing more beautiful than the miserable afterlife you were stuck in. And it wasn’t Adam’s fault, yes he had been teasing you, yes he had been pushing your buttons but you had been the one to punch him so really it was your fault for losing control. And yet he not only brought you back to heaven but also let you crash at his place. Probably the nicest thing Adam had done since Eden.

“I wish,” you mumbled against the dry skin of your almost featherless wing, the sensitive body part twitched and you sighed as you removed it from your body and simply cuddled up in the blanket instead. You were able to remember how your wings used to feel, how the connection to Father used to feel and what heaven used to look like and you were quite sure that the blanket was not making up for your once so soft wings - far from it actually. You heard clicking sounds, Adam must have put something down. And just as you were about to turn around to look at what he was doing the mattress dipped next to you and you felt the blanket being lifted up a little. The next thing you recognized were strong arms that wrapped around your body and pulled you flush against Adam’s chest. It was more of a reflex to tug your wings in during cuddles. And then you felt it. Soft feathers were brushing against your bare torso, they slid over your sweaty skin so smoothly.

Adam had wrapped his wings around you.

“Don’t fucking say that,” his voice sounded so unusual soft, so warm and comforting, there was no sarcastic comments, no harsh shoves, he was not trying to push your buttons either. He simply laid there, right next to you and tried his best to bring back the familiar feeling of heaven. You felt his feathers gently stroking your back in slow motions, up, then down, then up, then down. You got lost in the rhythm of it, so lost in fact that you forgot to respond to Adam. But was it important to respond to the brunette in the first place? You had only been honest and you were quite sure that everything else you had to say the first man wouldn’t like at all. And while his words were cheap - they had been and maybe they always will be - his actions weren't. Because instead of thinking of you as something disgusting he held you in his arms like the biggest treasure he had ever been allowed to touch. He looked at you with such loving eyes, touched you with gentle hands and cozy wings, kissed you with soft lips and passion you never expected from a person like him.

And maybe - just maybe - rotting away in heaven wasn’t all that bad. At least not with Adam by your side.

[ratwithhands]

Fun fact I used to consume a lot of Land of the Lustrous stuff.

Anyways this is one of my many Land of the Lustrous OCs, Vivianite. Mohs hardness of 1.5, dark green/blue in colour, and very old. Due to the nature of his weak composition, Vivianite can't actually do much of anything, and has had to live under very specific conditions.

Vivianite wears a tight full body uniform to hold any chipped pieces in place, and is kept in a box stuffed with loose cloth to ensure minimal damage. If he comes into contact with light, he begins to oxidize and darken, so he's kept in a windowless room with curtains over the entrance.

That's all to say he's isolated and bored. He spends much of his time inactive, but he'll jump at the opportunity for conversation if there's someone around. Certain gems visit him to chat, get guidance, or give him the recent news. A task given to some gems is to clear his room of dust, and maybe bring him some books if he's up for it.

Vivian sees himself as an older sibling/friend to many of the other gems, and as such he's very keen on providing a listening ear and giving advice where possible to those who need it. He's essentially emotional support in a can.

Other notes/details:

not all gems know Vivian exists! He's hidden away so most gems wouldn't see him unless they were actively looking for him. A lot of the older ones know about him, but the younger ones don't

Rutile is endlessly tired of having to glue him back together so often due to his softness, which is part of why he has a tighter uniform to keep all his broken pieces in place

Vivian struggles with walking, he tends to be slow and stumbly

the tanks in Vivian's room are for jellyfish. Gems who are sent to clean his room have to switch out the jellyfish too. They're there to provide a faint light source so he doesn't go completely inactive

Vivian, despite living in a box in the dark, has a lot of technical knowledge about things as a result of millennia of going through the library collection. He' a living encyclopedia and can usually offer some answers if a gem has questions on a particular subject

his internal structure is basically a lot of shards stuck together like fibers, so he does minor repairs on himself by affixing strands of his hair into empty spots. He's had his fingers repaired and replaced this way often

In the few instances where Vivian has gone outside, he has an abnormally high amount of energy as a result of his inclusions being able to work at full capacity in the light

If I remember anything else I'll add it, anyways have a good day!