#also I don't think he literally ripped off his flesh but I had this idea in my mind that I wanted to draw so

[eldrtchmn]

I abandon here the flesh of my body

[winterzsurprise]

Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.

Words: 2.8k

idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.

Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)

"NO DON'T!"

When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.

If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.

If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.

As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.

Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.

You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.

"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"

You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"

"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"

"Then fucking do it coward!"

Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.

Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.

You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.

On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.

How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.

"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."

President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do. 

"Is that a threat, boss?"

"No cariño, it's a promise."

Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.

"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."

You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

•=•=•=•=•=•

Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.

“Have you realized how fucked you are?”

President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”

When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.

"Everyone except my wife, leave."

President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.

"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.

"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."

"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"

"I don't want to hear it. Leave." 

Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.

"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"

There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.

"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"

"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died." 

You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.

Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."

Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"

"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No no no, I see how it is."

You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.

“You know the words, mi vida?”

You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?

“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."

The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you. 

Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.

Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.

"Your words."

"I'm not using them!"

The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.

"Good."

Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.

"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."

You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"

"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."

Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.

"Strip."

It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.

Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.

Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.

"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."

He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.

The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.

"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"

"I want it, please?"

He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."

His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.

Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.

"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."

He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.

Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.

"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."

"Do you deserve it?"

"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."

He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.

The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him. 

You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.

"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."

Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.

He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.

"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."

The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.

It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.

"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."

Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.

"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."

A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.

He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.

Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.

You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.

Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge. 

Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.

"Why did you pull away?"

His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.

“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”

You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”

Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care. 

His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips. 

You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.

"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."

Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.

"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes yes yes."

He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.

"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"

Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."

It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.

“Might as well count how many, right?”

Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.

Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time. 

His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out. 

"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."

The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.

Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.

"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."

Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.

You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.

His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.

You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

[aufi-creative-mind]

I hc that the Bargainer Statues are early depictions of the Fierce Deity (who's true form therefore has 4 eyes), who is referred to as a Kishin in Japanese, which according to folklore, are wrathful, powerful, even scary-looking beings & vicious fighters, but are also deeply compassionate, benevolent, & protectors at there core. They're said to enact just & righteous vengeance for those who've been wronged.

Anyway, my thoughts are that he is the 3rd in the Hylian/Demise triad, being where the Hero's Spirit originates from. I also hc that he created the Sheikah much like how Hylia created the Hylians. (So, if the naming conventions follow, his true name could start with "Shei" or "Sheik.")

Anyway, he's a god of war, the moon, heroism, & death. Which is why Link is always able to see spirits. He gathered spirits & fought or soothed Poes (the enemies) either by fighting them or playing the Song of Healing.

The Dark Clumps being pieces of the pseudo-flesh that spirits form to create Poes & the Depths Set being made from this pseudo-flesh.

Also, I hc that the symbols are actually ancient Sheikah script, which the Fierce Deity taught the Sheikah. And before losing or giving up his immortality, he tasked the Sheikah with taking his place, which is who delivered the spirits to the Bargainer Statues before Link.

This is part of the reason why the Sheikah are so heavily associated with death & graveyards.

As for who the Bargainers are, they are this thing called a bushin in Japanese culture, which there deities have the ability to split pieces off of themselves & create lesser copies that rule over certain areas, but are lead by the source deity. The same is said for the Goddess Statues. Basically, Hylia & Fierce gave up their immortality, but the statues are still being run by their bushin.

Stop me, I will literally talk you ear off if you don't.

Anyway, what are your thoughts??

.................................................... OP. My guy, my gal, my non-binary pal. Why did you drop this on my inbox? This needs to be its own proper post! This is a very fascinating take on the Bargainer and the other known deities in the Zelda world.

-

Ngl, I haven't thought much about the Bargainer and their role is since there's so little in their lore. Other than "guiding lost souls into the afterlife without prejudice" and exchanging materials, weapons and outfit sets in return of Poes... (Kinda like how the Goddess Statue exchanges Blessings for Hearts, Stamina and Sage's Wills).

And seeing so many Poes in the Depths in a state of purgatory, makes me think that they are akin to the Grim Reaper of sorts. On top of the Yiga notes about how those "strange statues" would rip the souls out of fellow members if they come too close to it in the Depths.

I also imagine that the name "Bargainer" is a recent title when they were (re)discovered by present-day Hyruleans. And their true name had already been lost to the looooooong passage of time. And for all we know, the "Bargainer" was the god(dess) of the long extinct Zonai people.

That's about as far as I have for the Bargainer.

As for other deities like Hylia, Demise and the Fierce Deity, I don't have much beyond what is present in the games and the popular headcanons shared within the Zelda fandom.

I do have headcanons on how each race and clans interpret these deities and their own faith systems. For example, the Sheikah view Hylia as a "two faced" deity with "light and shadow" themes in their faith. Which is in contrast to their Hylian counterparts who have more clear-cut views on Hylia as the benevolent protector-goddess of their people (And why the Horned Statue exists and is shunned and hidden away).

(Though this is all part of my BotW-TotK Family and Legacy story.)

TL;DR I don't have a lot of ideas / headcanons on who or what these deities are. BUT I do have headcanons on how they are interpreted by different peoples/races.

-

But seriously though OP, if you're reading this, you need to create dedicated posts and elaborate more on these headcanon ideas. They have POTENTIAL to become some very delicious reads.

[zonerobotnik]

Did you really have to add Gideon to this AU?

With everything I read about it I can stand the idea of "Glee" less and less.

Yeah, I'll probably send Stan to Hell, too, since he's done some pretty bad things. Or someone else. Still deciding on who would go to Hell and who'd go to Heaven.

Also, you hate Gideon for being a vindictive vigilante mob-boss that kills people like Valentino?

[All I feel is hatred and disgust about the mere idea now.

Which also saddens me since I really enjoyed the AU so far. ]

I think you're being overdramatic. It's called the "Hazbin Varian AU", but that's only a placeholder until I think of something else to call it, probably if I ever write a fic for it. Did you really expect me NOT to include my other fandoms in this crossover?

If it makes you feel better, Bill Cipher isn't gonna be here because he's actually a god-like alien, not a demon from Hell. Likewise, at least in my lore, Zhan Tiri isn't here because she's not a demon but a human transformed by a god-like alien.

[I regret I ever mentioned Cassandra for this AU if it's that what you have planned.]

Whaaaaat, you think Cassandra being in over her head and making the mistake of allying with someone powerful and sly is baaaaad? That's literally season 3. The only difference is that she didn't realize that her "friend" was a murderous demon and not just someone that knew her mother and had a grudge against the Kingdom and she wasn't being seduced by Zhan Tiri. She's always been trying to climb up that social ladder and Gideon is powerful and she's safer with him than against him.

[All I can think about is Varian tearing Gideon to pieces, ripping him to shreds, ripping off his flesh, break his bones, shatter his whole being into bloody pulp and taking Cassandra right there over his still twitching body.]

Gideon is more likely to do any of that than Varian EVER is. Aside from the last part, that is. He's a gentleman and would rather seduce than force.

[I'm absolutely full of rage and boiling with revulsion.]

So am I, at what you previously said. I mean…gross. You still don't understand Varian. You clearly don't understand Gideon. Varian hates hurting people, killing them brutally is out of the question, and he has only shown that level of force towards Valentino, and even then he was never that gorey, he just beat the crap out of him and sent him flying out a window by a firm backhand in his giant form. Gideon, meanwhile, is a killer. This is canon. He had no hesitance to kill Dipper at their first fight. He's clearly killed people, he's clearly dealt with demons before, he didn't take any crap from anyone and his only moment of weakness was when Dipper used his love for Mabel to get him to turn against Bill. He used the entire town to make Mabel date him. You have this strange delusion that Varian is a murderous monster, but he's not. He hates hurting people so much that he made a humane, harmless goo trap to catch animals messing up the crops. The only time he has hurt someone is when he went off the deep-end from grief. When he's not trapped in that pit of rage and grief, he's not going to hurt anyone. And why the HELL would he EVER fight Gideon to get to CASSANDRA? He hates seeing them together, but he's not stupid enough to fall for Gideon's heavily-guarded bait. Even when they think he's alone, he's actually not. The only time he's alone without his usual crowd of guards is when he's visiting Alastor at the hotel. And Varian isn't going NEAR there, because he's terrified of Alastor. And, honestly, he's scared of Gideon, too, he just doesn't have the same trauma associated with him of hearing his friends' screams on the radio for a week and narrowly avoiding death at his hands. And he knows Gideon means no harm to him, aside from inflicting emotional damage on him from time to time.

[I need to sleep.]

Good idea, go sleep.

[worldly-diversity]

@jaesntdd continued from here

»» ──────ஓ๑⚔︎๑ஓ ────── «« ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sworn he could feel his eyes popping out of his head from the sheer shock of the situation. it wasn't like he minded hanging out with gar, but the moment he started bringing up anything esoteric, anything that was so out-of-this-world unrealistic that it really started to grind his gears, jason was up and out of the room. thankfully, he didn't do anything like that this time around ; perhaps, one little thing that provided a new yet strong JOLT of emotion to flood through jason, one that kept him in his place, his feet rooted to the ground ( or his butt to the couch in this instance ) and his heart in one single position.

he had no idea how to respond to the kiss ... should he yell? sit and stare in surprise? let gar know that there was another way to comfort him if he looked lonely? get up and walk away? he had no idea — so he felt trapped, literally, by having to make a choice. thankfully, the other didn't appear as though he was judging him, but he couldn't deny the way his heart raced in his chest, how in that moment every time he spoke down on or mistreated the others, even rachel, and especially gar, he felt sorry for it. he wanted to take everything back, to show that he was a different person than what his shield of self-preservation and protection he put up to stop himself from feeling so much anxiety and FEAR.

so he faced that fear. he stood in silence, completely still, lips and face twitching a bit as he stared, before he leaned over and pressed his lips against the other's again, lingering for longer, deepening the gesture for a few seconds before PEELING himself away. his heart was slamming against his sternum at this point, pulsing in his ears, drowning out the background noise from the living room. he found it difficult to keep his eye contact with gar as he turned his head, licking his lips. right after he told himself he'd face his fear, here he was walking away from it. ❝ ... i should go — ❞

He'd figured Jason might just deck him. The whole freezing into place and looking surprisingly vulnerable and guilty all of a sudden? That wasn't what he'd planned for.

Alright so maybe he hadn't been thinking much either when he'd just gone for it, but maybe he'd also been thinking about this for maybe longer than was technically healthy. Jason was attractive, no doubt about it, and while Gar's more than aware of the other's flaws he still cares about him.

He and Dick and Kory got used to Rachel's powers and her not always having that control. So he understands why Jason reacted the way he did back in training, putting up walls because he'd been scared and overpowered. The whole mess with Trigon and his followers, they've all been through some shit so he gets it. Quite frankly Jason's expression at the time had reminded him of the time he'd been stuck in that cage, desperate for a bit of control even though there was nothing he could do.

He'd ripped that man's throat out, and part of him had enjoyed it… He still felt a little sick sometimes remembering the taste on his tongue and the feeling of teeth ripping through flesh—

Anyway, point being that he gets where Jason's coming from, probably more than Jason knows, and that's not helping his stupid little attraction problem. He'd figured Jason would shove him off at the very least, maybe yell…

Never had he expected that after a moment Jason would kiss him back. It's his turn to freeze up in surprise briefly before he all but melts into the passion being offered. So when Jason pulls away it's a bit like getting a bucket of cold water thrown over your head. (Yes he knows what that feels like, no don't ask.)

"Wh— No, Jason, wait!" It takes him a second to scramble after him, blushing up to his ears when he catches slight of Jason licking his lips like that. Shit he's going to be remembering that.

Once caught up after scrambling around the couch and coffee table he catches hold of the other's wrist. He doesn't want to force or push too hard though, only putting enough into it to turn Jason back to face him, free hand brushing over the other's cheek again.

"Please, don't go."

[squids-comics]

I have no idea if this is going to send anything to the original person who sent the ask or not, so if you get a notification feel free to ignore.

I've been thinking about this story a lot the past couple of weeks. Which is weird because it's not very good. It's poorly written, poorly paced, and honestly kind of embarrassing to look over. But it's very relevant to my life now and the struggle I'm going through.

I haven't kept it a secret that I'm trans. That's something I've been relatively open about, and something I've written about on multiple occasions across multiple characters and series. The Patient in The Peregrination, Lewis in Dual Identity Dysphoria, John Landwalker in John Landwalker, Persephone in Alistair Chronnus, Waypoint in his little one off short story (I was going to write more for him but never got around to it. He might be in Leon Nightshade eventually though). It's not a topic I've shied away from.

I've been writing for a little under two years now, and I am just coming out of a gender crisis that lasted almost three. I have finally decided I want to transition and live my life as a woman.

The problem comes with hrt. I think hrt sounds wonderful and I'd really like to do it. Unfortunately, breast cancer runs heavily in my family. My grandma has had it, my mom has had it, and (if I do hrt) there's a solid chance I'll get it. If I don't do hrt, I'm worried I'll never be happy with the person I am. If I do do hrt, I could die.

And it's such an odd feeling looking at the two paths I could take. Neither one is a good option, I'm trying to pick the lesser of two evils here. But this character, The Patient, they sum up this struggle perfectly.

I first came up with the idea on a day with really bad gender dysphoria. My body didn't feel like the right shape. My skin didn't feel like it fit on me. I thought about just ripping it off, being free from the shackles of flesh. And that's where The Patient comes from, that's why they end the story by ripping their skin off to free themselves. Dysphoria is a nightmare and I'm not sure how much longer I'll last.

But cancer is hell. Cancer is a piece of your body going rogue and trying to kill the rest. Cancer treatments put you through the ringer because they literally have to kill pieces of you to get rid of the cancer. It's awful. It's not something I want to go through, and it's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy.

And that reflects the other part of The Patient's story, the part I talked about in the above post. "I'd be free to be who I want, and I'm willing to die to get that even if only for a little bit." It's so easy to say words when they don't really mean anything. But now I'm living this statement, and I don't know if I still stand by it. Do I want to be me even if it kills me? Or would I rather play it safe and keep hiding for the rest of my life. Do I want a few years of happiness, followed by a painful death, or would I rather have a painful life with an easy death? It's such a hard decision and I'm scared. I'm more afraid then I've ever been in my life. What I choose now will determine how my whole life plays out, and how it ends. I don't know what to do.

I don't even know why I'm writing all of this out. I thought it was kind of funny how relevant this utterly stupid story ended up being in my life. And I guess I also wanted to get this off my chest. I could've talked to a friend or someone close to me, but I don't want to worry them. I'm selfish like that. Although, given my track record for writing posts, I doubt anyone will ever see this. I'm just screaming into the void. At least my secret's safe I guess.

Thank you so much for reading this far if you actually took the time to read this. I guess I'll keep you posted on what I choose.

Bye for now,

Evelyn

Hi! Just followed you after finishing all of the current chapters of The Peregrination. I love it!

I'm glad you're enjoying the series!! And thank you so much for the nice words!! I was worried I was kind of losing the plot by the end of The Leak, but hopefully it wasn't that bad!

I ended up changing the ending of that arc quite a bit. The patient's metamorphosis was meant to be a representation of gender dysphoria, with a bit of pointing at how nasty female beauty standards are (like with the unnaturally small waist). That's why their body didn't fit them and why they got so upset about being called Mr. Smith. Originally, after they had removed their skin and said that they were now beautiful and free, they were going to drop to the floor, dead. This was intended to be a rebuttal to the classic transphobic argument of "body mutilation". Like yeah, maybe I would be mutilating my body, but I'd be free to be who I want, and I'm willing to die to get that even if only for a little bit. But then I realized I had written Dr. Jones as a transphobe and really really wanted to kill him off, so Dr. Jones and the patient died instead! Now I'm going to write a cool girlboss doctor like Dr. Crusher to replace him!

Anyways, thank you again for the encouragement! There'll be a new chapter out later today (as soon as I get around to writing it)!

[eddiemunsxn]

I will contknje to refuse eddie's death. it was horribly written and in my mind its able to be fixed since he's a fictional character. you're a great writer so I wanted to request maybe a henderson!reader (I love this trope sorry) where they manage to save eddie's life but they get horribly injured and everyone thinks they will die but they don't. please I am literally thirsting for some comfort fics rn 😭

— a real ozzy move.

masterlist. / nav.

❰ warnings. gn!reader, demobat attack, we ride at dawn to cancel the duffel bags

❰ word count. 803

❰ note. already blocked out vol. 2 what happened? also it’s 4 am and this is unedited but idc i’m ✨grieving✨

“Go!”

Adrenalized—feeling as though your body was dipped into cold water—you ran toward the chair Dustin held steady, stamping your foot on it and springing up. Your fingers bit down into the fleshy vines, and your abdomen tightened like a fist as you pulled yourself through the gate.

Your hands slipped, and you landed on your back. Pain clamped down on your spine, and the breath was knocked from your chest. Stiff, you turned to your side, grimacing against every intake of breath as though you were swallowing nails.

Recovering to your feet, you looked up to Dustin. The gate framed him like a grisly gash in flesh, light from the trailer bleeding out into the dark of the upside down. “Dustin!”

He tossed your flamethrower through the gate, and you caught it.

“Just go!” He said. “Find Eddie! I’m right behind you!”

Muscles tense as rusted coils, you nearly lost your balance as you hurried out of the trailer. Heartbeat loud in your ears and heavy in your mouth, you looked for Eddie.

Pulsing like a frantic heart monitor, red lightning appeared as chromatic bruises behind the sheer clouds. Then you saw flapping shapes illuminated by the lightning, resembling static and swirling in a tight tornado.

Eddie stood within it, deflecting the swooping bats with his spiked shield.

“Holy shit!” Dustin came up from behind you, but you were already sprinting toward the twisting mass.

You stumbled to a halt. There was no way you could walk through, or simply help with a few swipes of a spear. There were too many bats. You only had one idea, and it was risky.

“Eddie!” Your scream scratched your throat raw.

His head snapped to you, and his eyes, glossy as polished stones, were swollen with fear.

“Eddie, get down!” You aimed the flamethrower, and fire spewed out like a burst pipe. It curled up within the tornado of bats, tracing their flight and eliciting pained screeches.

The heat from the burning bats enveloped you like the hottest summer day. Eyes watering, you squinted to try and see any bat stray away. Angling the flamethrower, you drew the fiery cloud in zigzags.

An opening split within the flapping mass, and Eddie dove out.

The heat continued pestering your eyes, and you didn’t see the squad of bats drawing down to you.

“Y/N!” Eddie shouted.

A tail coiled around your throat and yanked you off your feet. Releasing the flamethrower, your hands flew to your throat. Slammed to your back, demobats were glued to you like flies to honey.

You scratched the heels of your shoes against the pavement, desperate to move anyhow, anyway from the rows of teeth carving into your flesh. From your wounds, your own blood warmed your cold body.

Some bats were abruptly ripped away as fast as they collected on you.

Through blurred vision, you saw Eddie and Dustin’s distorted forms. Dustin used the blunt end of his spear to whack away the bats while Eddie plunged a knife—broken off from his spear—into their heads, multiple times.

Teeth gritted, Eddie expressed expletives as blood spat up from his frantic stabs.

The bat gripping your throat began to drag you away. “Hh—!” You exclaimed from the sudden pull.

“Oh no, you don’t, you son of a bitch!” Dustin quickly moved to plunge his spear through its spine—pinning it to the ground like a specimen on a naturalist’s card.

Eddie stomped a foot down on its head, bone crackling.

Strained screeching prompted Dustin to whip around, spear ready, and for Eddie to drop next to you—prepared to shield you, but the bats all collectively fell like the last drops of rain in a storm. Fire continued to feast on their bodies.

“Are you okay?” Eddie took your face in his hands. “Hey, talk to me!”

“I’m here,” you said, words strained by your bruised throat.

Eddie grinned, dimples pinching his cheeks. “Oh, man.” He shook his head. “That was a real Ozzy move you did. But you’re not gonna die on me, right? Right?” He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, rings cool against your skin.

“No.” You smiled, gently grabbing his wrists. “No.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dustin assured at your other side. “It’s not bad.”

“Feels bad, though,” you croaked.

“Yeah, you’ll have some pretty gnarly scars.”

Eddie grazed his thumb just under your lower lip, staring down at you as if you were a fallen star he made so many wishes for.

“Eddie,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“You don’t have to prove yourself…that you’re a hero. You should already know how great and loved you are by those that matter. Fuck this town. Please keep being you.”

A broad smile stretched his lips thin, and he nodded. Tears polished his eyes. “I will.”

[sailoryooons]

You DTF? | Teaser | pjm (m)

✯ Pairing: Jimin x female reader 

✯ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

✯ A part of the Jeju Shore Collaboration

✯ Other works in this collab: Himbo Hours by @gimmethatagustd and Heartless by @here2bbtstrash 

✯ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

✯ Teaser Word Count: 478

✯ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it

✯ Masterlist

✯ faq| listen along |

✯ Authors Note: This collaboration has been brewing for literal weeks. We’ve been so excited to write this entirely gross but hilarious content - something about the maknae line circa 09 really got us going. Also shout out to M and Jai for being the best people to work on my first collab with. None of us have any idea what we’re doing but I think we figured it out. Make sure to go checkout what Taehyung and Jungkook are up to on Jeju Shore! Also the HORRID banners were a creative decision don't roast me it's the AeStHeTiC

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and Axe Essence. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

[maddenleftchat]

Hi oms i love ur yandere stuff!! So this is a dialogue prompt like how would the yanderes react (wilbur, dream, techno, xd, god!tech, u can pick and choose from these if all of them are too much)

"If u do this, you will never truly have me. I might lie, pretend, fake it. But my heart will never truly be urs,"

Also can i pls be 🦄 anon? (Im so sorry if thats already taken, i checked and i dont think it is but yeah🙈)

Of course! Welcome to the chat 🦄 anon!

Triggers: possessive behaviors, punishment, gore, gore described in detail, unhealthy relationships, toxic relationship, toxic obsession, superiority complex, hard decoration (not the kinky kind), swearing, GORE LOSTS OF GORE, XD being a dick, death, graphic scenes, and yandere like behaviors. Please be careful when reading.

Enjoy.

DreamXD

XD was likely punishing you at the time.

He dragged you down to a thriving village, and made you watch him massacre each and every one of them.

He used every different part of his power. From lightning to lava.

He also wasn't shy of tearing them all apart with his own hands.

The smell of burning hair and clothes invaded your senses.

The sound of ripping flesh and breaking bones echoed in your ears.

The sight of people in agony was keeping your gaze.

And the now sweaty silk could be felt in your grip.

Your sweaty palms had made the fabric damp.

You had been crying this entire time, but your mind blocked that out.

Your mind blocked out the sounds of your own cries and pleads.

It only focused on the disfigured faces in front of you.

A man.

An old man.

He has parts of his hair ripped out, while half of his face was ripped off.

And any remaining skin on that side was melting off from the lava.

His eyes had popped out of the socket, and hung against his cheek.

His body was contorted and twisted so badly that it barely looked like he was human.

His arms were where his legs were, and his legs were on his upper spine.

His spin was folded backwards, and twisted like a shrimp.

~

It wasn't until the last person that XD had in his hands before you spoke out.

The person screamed and squirmed from fear.

Your feet suddenly made you spring forward.

"Wait! No!" You yelled in a cracking voice.

XD did not respond in words, but only slowly turned his head towards you.

"I..if you do that! If you kill them-...If you do this…! You will never truly have me! I might lie, pretend, fake it. But my heart will never truly be yours!"

It surprised both of you.

You and XD.

You had no idea where you got the balls to say that.

And XD had no idea where you got the balls to talk to him like that.

All three of you stayed in silence, letting the crackle of the lava and fire fill the silence.

It stayed like this for what felt like years.

That was before XD turned his head back to the person, and then once again back to you.

XD slowly lifted the bottom half of his mask so you could see it.

The ear-to-ear grin on his face.

His sharp teeth were on full display for you.

"Oh…" he said with a semi worried tone.

But you knew.

You knew he was only mocking you.

His hand that was around the person then began to squeeze.

And squeeze.

And squeeze.

While the person in his hand screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

XD, didn't even look at the person.

He simply kept eye contact with you and put back on his mask.

Though it didn't matter whether the mask was on or not.

You knew he had that fucking shit eating grin on his face.

And you hated it.

~

After that person's guts were literally squeezed out of them, he dropped the body.

XD then took proud strides over to you.

He'll pick you up, and hold you up in the air to look at you.

"My little mortal. Those were very foolish words."

Don't even think of responding.

"But, I suppose to give you a response."

You will feel the world flip upside down, and contort.

Your vision will ripple.

You will feel very sick and discombobulated.

But his voice will be the only thing that is clear.

It will echo.

"Listen good little one."

"I am the only one you may love. I am the only one you may speak to. I am the only one you may think fondly of. I could not care if you do not hold true feelings towards me. You are mine, and mine alone. Your soul is meant only for me. For me to hold. For me to kiss. For me to admire. And for me to play with. You are nothing without me. Your only reason to live is to please me. Your place is not beside me. Your place is under me."

~

And everything will go black.

~

In short: Read it again if you didn't understand the first time.

Word count: 725

_________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

[hispipsqueak]

Forever

Hanta Sero x F!Reader NSFW

Summary: After years of being together, you and Sero decide to reminisce in the best way possible.

WC: 2.2K

A/N: Hi friends! Sero is one of those characters that I truly see as good husband material and I wanted to express some of those feelings in this piece. I know for a lot of us, especially in my age range, growing up and leaving that age of “dumb teenager/early 20′s mess” to “adult with responsibilities” is a big change and I hope that is reflected a bit in this. Also, there’s car sex. So that’s fun :D As always, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 P.S: CAN WE TALK ABOUT SERO IN THE NEW EP??? ahhhh

TW: car sex, adulting/getting older, domestic relationship, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of drug use

Sero's eyes stared at the glowing screen, trying to comprehend the information yet again.

His gaze darted toward the corner, 3:36 A.M., and he yawned, before blinking and trying to re-read the document again. 

"Hey pretty boy." 

The smell of jasmine perfume and honey wafted in and he smiled sleepily as you ran your fingers through his shaggy black hair.

"Mm...I know, I know." He muttered, nuzzling into your touch. You were his rock, always making sure he ate well and slept enough, making sure he wouldn't overwork himself. Sero thought back to your UA days of sneaking out at 3 AM to some fast food joint and getting stoned while eating greasy fries in the back of his car. Time sure flew, huh?

You rested your head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Come to bed. Paperwork will still be there in the morning, I promise.", you muttered into his soft skin. He relented and pulled himself out of the chair, twirling you around so he had you pressed against the wall.

His eyes roamed your face. You were still gorgeous as the day he first laid eyes on you in high school.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Hanta?" you whispered. He grinned, that toothy smirk that you fell in love with unchanged after all these years, and kissed you. 

"Just reminiscing. Thinking about how far we've come. Remember when we were annoying teenagers, sneaking out of the dorms?" 

"I'm pretty sure we are the reason for Aizawa's grey hairs now. Remember when your van broke down and we had to beg Bakugo to pick us up at 4 A.M.?" you giggled back, thinking of the blonde's angry scolding the entire ride home.

The two of you chuckled quietly, thinking about the years past. You glanced down at your hand, the sparkling diamond that adorned it shining in the dim room. 

"I remember the day you proposed too. I'm pretty sure I thought you were going to dump me." you teased.

Even in the dark, you could see his face flush and his eyes narrow.

"I was NERVOUS. I was trying to ask the love of my life to spend the rest of our lives together and you just sat there being beautiful and Denki spent the day before trying to convince me to do a flash mob and it was a LOT of pressure!"

"You literally started off with, 'We've had some bad times, and some good times, and this was fun'." You laughed, picturing his face that day. He was sweating bullets and your heart was sinking, thinking he was ending it. He had been so secretive and weird the weeks prior, as opposed to his normally chilled out demeanor. 

Sero kissed your forehead.

"I still have no idea why you said yes, but you're stuck with me, babe." He clinked his matching band against yours, a gesture the two of you did to remind yourselves of your unbreakable bond. 

His long arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him and you buried yourself into his chest, smelling his citrus-scented soap. He rested his chin on your hair. 

"When did we get so old, Y/N?" He whispered, his eyes looking at the walls behind you. Pictures of the two of you decorated the house. The pair of you in matching sunglasses at the beach, a group photo of you two and the squad at dinner after the aforementioned proposal, a candid on your wedding day, and then the two of you holding your twin boys.

"I'm pretty sure after we became parents." you mumbled into his chest, your sleepiness apparent in your voice. "I think once I had to say Daddy in a non-sexual way, was when I realized we were old." 

Sero chuckled quietly, his hands squeezing your waist. 

"But, we're still cool right? We aren't our parents." 

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Hanta, are you worried about getting older?"

He closed his eyes. 

"Not worried as much as...I just...I don't wanna be an old guy who drives a minivan and talks about retirement and golf."

Your eyes widened and you burst into laughter.

"Baby, I'm pretty sure you would never take up golf."

Sero pouted and you grinned before continuing.

"But in all seriousness, we aren't the kids we were in high school. Maybe we can't pull all nighters and still function the next day, and maybe we have to be parents who eat more vegetables and less french fries. But it's also nice to have a car that doesn't require a running start to move, and have a house instead of sneaking in and out of each other's dorm rooms. And you know, the kids are KIND OF cool."

He nodded.

"They are pretty cool kids."

You cupped his face, tilting him towards you.

"If I have to grow old with someone, I'm glad it's with you."

His face flushed and he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You gently tugged at the longer hair behind his ears as you kissed him back. He let out a low groan and his hands kneaded at your curves, squeezing your ass and hips.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, breathless and grinning. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"How about…we reminisce a little more? Maybe...in the car, for old time's sake?"

You nodded and the two of you headed to the garage, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not wake up the kids. Sero opened the car door and the two of you slid in the backseat, giggling like teenagers. 

You straddled him and could feel his cock through his joggers. He groaned as you grinded against it, teasing him with hungry hot kisses to his neck. 

“You’re such a tease, princess.” He whispered before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your body shivered at his touch. Even after all this time, he made you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl. You ran your hands down his toned chest, his body lean from hero work, and slid your fingers underneath his shirt.

Sero took this as an invitation to pull off his black tank top and you did the same to your sleeping shirt, an old band tee that you snagged from him. His hands cupped your breasts, slowly kneading the soft flesh as he placed soft kisses on your collarbone and shoulder.

“Mmm...you’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell did I get so damn lucky, babe?” He said between kisses. Sero had a way of making you feel like the sexiest woman in the world and you couldn’t help but smile as he worshipped your breasts, kissing and licking his way down till he latched his mouth over your nipple. 

Using his other hand to tweak and tug at the hardened bud, he alternated between the two, sucking and leaving soft bites. Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth as you moaned.

“Fuck…need you Hanta.”

His long fingers worked their way down your belly, tracing circular patterns as he reached your sex. He ran a finger across your slit, barely parting your folds.

“What do you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you want.”

“Please...please touch me. Please daddy.” you begged, grinding yourself against him for the smallest amount of friction. You could feel yourself leaving a mess on his sweatpants, but you needed his touch.

He let out a deep chuckle.

“So desperate, huh baby? Let daddy take care of you.” You bit your lip as he plunged two fingers into your cunt. The length, combined with the hooking motion had you gasping. He continued to plunge in and out of your sopping heat as you rocked against him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close on his arm. He maneuvered the two of you so you were laying on your back across the seat, his hand gripping your soft thighs, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you.

“Take it like a good girl baby. Let daddy make you feel good. You look so beautiful for me baby.” He praised you as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel him hit spots in you that made you see stars. All you could do was lay back and cry from the overwhelming pleasure that clouded your brain.

“Fuck...daddy, gonna cum soon!” you wailed, eyes rolling back. Hanta then chose this moment to pull his fingers from you, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing. You let out a frustrated whimper, tears leaking from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby, but I promise I’m gonna make it all better. You trust me baby?” He asked, his eyes dark with desire and something primal.

You nodded, sniffling at the shock of your orgasm being ripped from you. He tapped your lips with his fingers,still dripping of your arousal. Obediently, you opened and sucked on the two fingers, tasting yourself. 

“Look how good you taste baby. You’re such a good girl for me. I want you to lick up every last drop from my fingers. Can you do that for daddy?” He asked, grinning.

Nodding dumbly, you slurped down every bit of yourself from his hand. He pressed against your tongue, making you gag around him. You looked up at him, drool falling from the corners of your mouth. 

Hanta felt his cock twitch. Fuck you looked so sexy, so fucked and in love. He could see the devotion in your eyes as you looked at him awaiting his next instructions.

He pulled his hand back, strings of saliva hanging off of his calloused fingers. He propped himself above you so he was looking right down at your gorgeously fucked out face.

“You ready baby? You ready to take all of Daddy’s cock?” He asked, tugging your shorts down and lining himself up with your entrance. Your fingers found their way to his neck, tugging him close to you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, exchanging unspoken promises and memories before breaking apart. You nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Always."

Hanta felt his face flush, before slowly pressing into your tight heat. You bit your lip. No matter how many times the two of you had done this, you still had to prepare for his length. He wasn’t the thickest but his cock was long and lean just like him, with a curve that pressed itself right against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck...you feel so good for me. You’re squeezing me so well baby.” He murmured, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides as he looked down at you and he gave you a small grin as he pinched your hip. You dug your fingertips into his shoulder blades, pulling him flush against you.

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You rocked your hips against him, rolling yourself onto his cock. He took this as a cue to go faster and started to piston deeper inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass. His tip slammed against your walls, burying him deeper inside you. Moans and sighs filled the backseat and you gripped him tightly.

“That’s it babe, that’s it. Taking daddy so fucking deep. Fuck you’re sucking me in so well. I might have to knock you up again if you keep it up. You want that princess? Want daddy to put another baby inside you?” Hanta panted, hungrily kissing your neck and shoulder as he fucked into you faster. His teeth nipped at the thin skin and you cried out, from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Answer me baby girl.”

“Y-yes daddy! Please fill me up with your cum. Need you so bad. Wan’a have your baby.” You moaned, delirious from him. The windows to the car were foggy and sweat ran down your bodies as you repeatedly crashed into each other, and yet all you could feel was him, all you wanted was to stay with him and please him as much as you could.

He could feel his release rapidly approaching. His hand snaked down to your clit and he pressed tight circles to the sensitive bud. Your back arched from the seat as you moaned out a mixture of curses and begs. Your mindless babbling spurred him on more. He wanted to keep fucking you, make it so you couldn’t remember your own name, drive you insane with desire and want.

“Tell me who’s fucking you so good baby. Who’s making you feel so fucking good? Who’s cum do you want to fill that tight little pussy of yours?” He breathed out, slamming into you impossibly faster.

“Daddy daddy daddy - DADDY!” you chanted, your mind fuzzy as you tightened around him, creaming on his cock. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode out your high on his cock as your eyes fluttered and your mouth dropped open.

“That’s it, that’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned out as he released into you, filling you with his seed. His cock twitched, spurting his load into you and his fingers gripped your hips, holding you tightly as he filled you up.

The two of you panted, breathing hard as you came down from your highs, slowly moving into a position where he could hold you. He moved some strands of hair, plastered to your face with sweat, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” 

You grinned, sleepiness overtaking your body as you leaned into him, your lips pressing against his skin.

“Forever.”

[kaisa-ryo]

Sukuna Ryōmen NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Lie on your back with your arms crossed under your head. Most of the time, Sukuna looks up at the ceiling and thinks about something; sometimes he talks to himself, asks himself if he really loves you or pretends to love you. But when you start to cuddle up to him, he looks at your sweet sleeping face and, smiling for some reason, gently squeezes your hand, which rests on his chest, and snuggles up to you.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

At first you thought he was joking when you said he liked your whole body. But he was not joking. From the outside, he really admires your whole body, because for him you are the most perfect specimen in the world, and he was simply mesmerized by your perfection. Perhaps it will surprise you, but you began to realize your sexual attraction only with him. Before him, you had no idea how good you are. Yes, there were those types who said that your eyes should be mesmerizing and your hair should be long. Or that you must have big lips. Naturally, for a long time you considered your appearance as your biggest flaw. But against the will of fate, as in a typical love story, one possessive brute appeared and made you love yourself. You haven't confessed to him yet that you are grateful to him for teaching him to love yourself. And even if every day he notices some flaws in you, you still don't listen to him, because you know that he still likes your body, it's just that such an egoist has a habit of influencing you and the people around you.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

Anywhere, as long as it is your body.

Yes, inside, too, is no less horny, but hell, you seem so spoiled and dirty in his eyes when you are covered in his cum. He will not let you go to the shower right away, because he wants your body to be more saturated with his scent. And he doesn't care that you are indignant, that you are uncomfortable. If he needs it, he will do it.

D = Dirty secret

Public sex.

Sukuna moans at the thought of how he is leaning you as much as possible against the panoramic window so that everyone can see how you wriggle and groan. You feel his tense flesh, watch how he digs more and more into your buttocks, and feel how his penis, increasing in size more and more, pierces your pussy. It seems as if in the whole universe there is nothing but his rhythmic movements inside you. Everything else: people outside the window, cars, barking dogs - nothing compared to this powerful electrical discharge that escapes from your body at that moment.

E = Experience

It was several times before you. Only now, none of them wanted to start a relationship with him. As, in principle, he is. Yes, baby, sex without obligation is still in fashion. You yourself can no longer remember why it was you who decided to take such a brave step - to meet with the curse, and even with their king. Probably because even behind the veil of selfishness and dependence on power, you could see in him one pitiful, but still a drop of humanity. Naturally, Sukuna did not disregard this and even imbued with your enthusiasm. And this splinter is still amazed that you have not left him yet.

F = Favorite position

His most favorite is missionary and doggy style with a squeeze of your wrists over your head. So he can do whatever he wants: change speed, pace, bite, and you cannot stop him or push him away.

G = Goofy (Serious at this moment?)

No.

During the process, he can throw something dirty and humiliating. Can slap, bite or hit. He cannot stand it when it is quiet and only spanking and your moans are heard. He needs to create a whole performance, whatever, just to fill the room with something passionate other than silence.

H = Hair (Is the hair okay?)

Not at all.

The king of curses does not see the need for this at all. If you're uncomfortable with giving a blowjob, he doesn't care. He's not going to waste time making you comfortable. Only throws a short "bear with it." But one day you still managed to persuade him to at least try, smirking him with cute eyes. Then he “limped” for a long time and was angry with you, because it was as if his skin had been ripped off below him, and now everything became sensitive. You laughed at him until everything grew back again, and Sukuna vowed that he would never shave his pubic hair again.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Oh, he has a problem with that. But don't be in a hurry to despair, he just started to learn!

Most recently, he stopped making a grimace of disgust after kissing you on the cheek or kissing the back of his hand. There were some compromises - now he began to inhale your scent into all his lungs. Then you asked why and why, and received in response what he liked, how you smelled, adding that for all the time that he was on Earth, he had never felt such a unique and intoxicating scent. Not to say that it did not bother you at all, then you really felt a pleasant feeling of goosebumps.

He has no money for gifts, but if you try, he can take you to any place. If you want - to the forest, if you want - to an amusement park, if you want - to a park of culture and rest, if you want - to a museum. In general, such a good guide. Lazy and does not immediately agree, but still a guide.

You push him to all these (however, there is no one else), forcing him to watch dramas, musicals, family comedies, throwing fleeting glances at him when the romantic scene begins. He will cast a second glance at you and guess your goal, sighing in disgust and rolling his eyes.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happened a couple of times. That same dirty secret.

To be honest, he didn't react in any way when you caught him doing it in the middle of the day. Unless he just wanted you to "help him." You rolled your eyes and slammed the door, leaving for another room. He grinned maliciously with such a predictable reaction. He was sure that you wanted it, it was just that you didn't have the courage.

K = Kink

If you only knew how languidly he sighs when you give yourself pleasure. Especially if you do it for him. The way you do it turns all his ideas about sex upside down. How you moan when you play with your nipples and stick thin fingers into your hole - it makes his mind melt in an ocean of pleasure. How he fidgets, waiting for your orgasm when you start kissing him. How do you hold his shoulders, snuggling up to him so that he can feel all your hidden virtues. He asks for more and more. And then suddenly he sharply grabs the hair and digs his lips hard into your mouth. He has very strong arms, it seems that even a pinch of effort, and your head will be ripped off. Yes, power and the elements of BDSM are also on his list of favorite things about sex, as are bites or wet sucks.

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

To be honest, he has no preference.

If he wants to fuck you on the kitchen table, he will. If he wants to fuck you on the couch, he will. In the laundry, he'll do it. It's no secret for you that he would not mind trying a couple more places and he will never get tired of coming up with new ones.

M = Motivation

He likes it when you suddenly start to dominate or suddenly rub against his cock.

He realizes that he has a competitor and this idea turns him on as hell. Sukuna naturally loves to compete, and you also add fuel to the fire. Naturally, he will not give in, because you are still a pitiful person in comparison with him, and your power must be defended. Therefore, do not be surprised if he begins to act more efficiently than usual in order to assert his own greatness. And Sukuna will try to show you how small and insignificant you are, unlike him.

N = No (Which will not do)

Greed and the desire to completely control the process, of course, is what he aspires to, but when he sees you suppressed and constrained by some thought coming directly from your subconscious, it worries him much more. Such vulnerability literally tears him apart. Under the pressure of circumstances, he turns, in a sense, into an evil, but caring mother. The king of curses first looks at you, as if expecting your gaze on him. Realizing that this is useless, he starts the dialogue first:

— Well, what is different?

Now you didn't want to answer him. I didn't even want to see him. This is not the first time he has shown waywardness. It started to exhaust you in order. The thoughts in your head were dark and your voice sounded cold and indifferent. I thought that it would be better to kiss you or touch you tenderly, but his hands at that moment were too persistent. It infuriated, but it was already impossible to leave. And he did not stop talking to you.

— Sor..m.. - the words from his lips sounded somehow strange. He seemed to have eaten the last syllable.

— What? - you responded.

— Sorrmm...!

— I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.

— Forgive me already, fucked up!

He rolled his eyes after you started either laughing or crying (you laughed and he realized it almost immediately).

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

Receive. Definitely.

What else can you expect from a cursed spirit like him? He will definitely make sure that the blowjob is the longest process in sex for him. Moreover, he will do this persistently: winding your hair around your hand, forcing you to swallow the penis as deeply as possible, so that later as deeply as possible and finish. He doesn't care if you gag, cough or provoke a gag reflex. Sukuna insists that you have to endure, adding "for my sake" with feigned tenderness. You have no choice but to succumb to his pressure. After all, if you do not do this, do not expect that he will please you.

P = Pace

Very lively.

There is hardly a second when you can completely relax. He will hammer into you like a jackhammer, dig his nails into the skin, leaving red streaks on it, and whisper something viciously at the same time. In order to somehow soften these moments, you intensely squint and succumb to his tricks, allowing you to lull your vigilance and give an outlet to the accumulated tension. But you still feel a growing wave of excitement inside you. And Sukuna knows it, as if he reads your thoughts.

Q = Quickie

Immediately starts high. And if because of this you end up quickly, he will require a second round, then a third, and so it will continue until he gets tired of it. Your sex play can last for hours. His "come on, I know that you are already at the limit" will be repeated so often that you will not even be able to think about anything other than orgasm. And he fucking loves it.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

Always ready.

You have such compelling requests almost every day. You refuse the majority, because they sound too crazy, but he does not despair and continues to whisper details in your ear, if you nevertheless agreed. And this is, surprisingly, really a working method.

Did the baby suddenly want sex on the roof? Why not!?

On the director's desk? Oh, how can you refuse when you ask him so sweetly, moaning into the phone speaker and squeezing around the air, instead of which there should be yours and only your Sukuna.

S = Stamina

Fuck with him until the morning? Easy! If you are free all weekend, he will definitely find time for you to have fun (if you understand what I mean).

T = Toys

Bad attitude. It's just bad.

— This crap can't take and replace my dick like this! — shouted the King of curses, — Or do you think that she will be better!?

— No, that's not what I mean! — you yelled, — I just suggest you try.

— In that case, I'm against it.

He turned around and left.

You rarely managed to convince him, and this time he was seriously opposed to it. Well, if you want to try them, then you have to do it alone in secret from him.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

It is already difficult to remember at least one sex in which he would not tease you.

Yes! God yes! He knows that you want him at any time of the day or night. Every minute ... He knows all this and feels as if it is a part of him, as if he was destined to constantly touch, squeeze, lick and caress you. Feelings are heightened more if you tell him this directly. For this, he is ready for almost anything. He is ready to give up and just melt between your legs. His skin is so sensitive to your touch that every movement of yours creates desire in him. And an ordinary "dirty slut" excites both of you no less than any other intimate intimacy.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Loud.

The kisses that descend on your goose bump, lower and lower, turn into a marathon of moans and screams. Whichever of you tries to sound quiet, at times like this it becomes useless. Sometimes you even thought that Sukuna just wanted to shout you down. Such thoughts make you smile involuntarily.

— Why are you smiling? Are these days over?

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

One neighbor lives next to you. Kind and friendly. Every day, there is a new gift for you - a cake, a cookie, or even a garden gnome. In general, he loves you very much and is constantly interested in when you will marry.

One night you were especially noisy: the bed was reeling back and forth, its back was banging against the wall, and you were screaming with pleasure so that the glass trembled. In general, it is not clear how the house sustained both of you, but you woke up in the morning as if you had slept for a whole month.

You were lying around, unable to even pick up your phone or go to the toilet. And then there was a knock on the door.

You quickly pulled on your panties, threw a robe over your naked body and with small steps ran to open the door. There was a neighbor at the door. It turned out that she had heard the noise from your house all night and decided that they were burglars or worse. The morning head, with difficulty digesting information, finally woke up and at that very second you felt so ashamed that you winced and closed your eyes.

— The guy and I had a fight a little. But it's okay. Rampaging is the norm for him.

She was a little taken aback by this answer.

— Was it me who was on the rampage? — There was a hoarse voice from behind, — Yes, you rode on me like a stallion! Although, to be honest, I liked such a filly...

The neighbor stares at Sukuna, dumbfounded.

You wanted to put it in a blender right now.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

20 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

As stated earlier, Sukuna is not good at compliments or gifts. And he himself constantly claims that this is not necessary at all. He acts on the following principle: good for you, good for him, then everything is fine and nothing else is needed. You want something romantic, not depraved. Sometimes he gets bored with his reproaches and requests to spend the evening in bed again. One gets the feeling that he is not capable of anything else.

Sukuna wants to change for you. Listens attentively when you say anything about the human world. What are the customs, countries, traditions, sights. He remembered everything that you said to him and remembers, too, what you tell to this day. He wants to prove that you were not mistaken by discerning humanity in him, towards which no one ever dared even look. She looks at other men, studies gestures and tries to repeat them. Now you do not understand this, but one day you will realize it, and you will love him like you never did before.

± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

He does not fall asleep and does not sleep. And he goes to his tomb and sits on the throne while thoughts of you visit him. The more he thinks, the more he wants to touch you. Take it and never let it go Any philosopher would say that you are the same as all people. She is as ordinary as millions of others, with her weirdness and naive dreams. Anyone would say, but definitely not him. He doesn't care if you’re ordinary or not, but he wouldn’t date you if he thought the same way. Even if you don’t live a thousand years like him, you’re ready to give you half of your life force, just to die with you.

He doesn't like such thoughts. They don't like the fact that you tied him to yourself, just once you smiled sweetly. He gets angry and screams that he allowed himself to get too carried away by you, and everything around, the whole world is just a pitiful soap bubble, which does not exist even in such a seemingly huge format as your most human soul of all.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

[bangtanmademedoit]

minaaaa~ please tell me about 2, 4 & 10!! 👀🥺🥰

Ahhh Evie~ thank you so much! 🥺 These were fun to answer, and have made me want to get back out of this writing rut I've been in. Sending you all the warm vibes and bear hugs. 🥰💜

2) Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Ahh, this question. I don't have anything I'm really actively working on.. After finishing my most recent fic, I kind of ran out of steam and didn't know what to do with myself!

But there's a fic idea that's been in my brain for years (it's actually a fic I started writing years ago and then abandoned).. it's an idea for a OT7 fic..👀 It's something I dream about all the time but just don't have the confidence to pull off at this point.. But I would like to at least try some day! Other than that, I'm just hoping to get back into the habit of writing again because I really don't want to lose it again after finally rediscovering it.

4) Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Ooo, this one is interesting but also so hard for be because I'm still quite unconfident in my writing.. but I would have to say overall the entirety of "being together" makes me really proud because it was the first time I wrote anything after years of struggling to write anything after a traumatic experience, and it pretty much just wrote itself and I actually still quite like it. And also there are a lot of parts from "take me home" that I really like because I really pushed myself with that fic and really tried to break out of myself with it. I can also just really relate to a lot of what was going on in the reader's head. I think if I had to choose one paragraph it would be this:

"He had been reeling from a break up that had ripped open his heart, and I was just the new friend who wanted to help. I remember how hard I tried to take his mind off things when it got too much. I remember how many hours I spent listening to him lay out all the insecurities and fears that she had left him with. I remember how hard I tried to convince him of just how amazing, how strong, how kind, how worthy he was, all while falling in love with him myself."

I don't know why, but I just like the way it sounds, especially the last sentence.

10) How would you describe your writing process?

An absolute mess. There is no plan. There is no order. Half the time there isn't even a general idea. I literally just sit down with my notebook (yes, I still do most of my writing on paper first.. it's a habit I've had since I started writing fanfiction in middle school) and just write whatever comes to mind. Usually it starts with a scene, and then it kind of flows out from there. Then when I have most of it written, or I start to get stuck, then I start to type it up onto the computer and edit it as I go. Usually the edits are small things like word or grammar changes, and I also add some details here and there to just flesh things out. But I really spend minimal time editing, and most of my writing is really just write and go. What comes out onto the paper is pretty much what gets posted. This is mostly because I’m trying to ease myself back into things, and I know if I overthink things I might lose momentum again.

The only exception would be "take me home". I had the idea for that fic for literal YEARS. It's actually based off of an IU song, but I could never bring myself to write it. I had an overall idea of what I wanted to do, but no idea how to do it. And I struggled a lot with writing it because I really wanted to push myself to really write dialogue and interactions because I have a tendency to just monologue in my writing. It took me a long time, and a lot of edits went into it, but I'm really proud of myself as a result!

Fun meta asks for writers

[salexectrian-heir]

the 2/2 time travel fic

happy 2/2! here is the first chapter of this fic idea i posted about a little while ago

First chapter below | ao3 link in notes

Akira had been dreading the conversation with Maruki.

Not because he was having second thoughts--no, Akira was steadfast in his resolve that this reality was a mistake. His resolution hadn’t come without a price, of course. His friends were being robbed of their dreams, their happiness no matter how false it was in nature...and Akira would have to bear the burden of knowing he was the one who ultimately was going to destroy it all. And even though the thieves and his rival were on board with its destruction, Akira knew that the decision had taken a piece of them with it. It had required a sacrifice from them all. And that ate Akira alive, knowing that they all had a taste of what could have--

No, Akira couldn't think like that. It would only make everything he had to do that much harder.

Somehow, out of all the betrayals he had experienced this year, Maruki’s was by far the most painful.

Maruki had held space for Akira when Akira had needed it most. Akira rarely entrusted others with his needs, having been burned too many times before this point to forge that kind of fragile, vulnerable, two-way connection with someone else. But Maruki had felt safe enough to confide in, and in turn made Akira feel seen, feel validated. Had respected Akira’s opinions and sought them out instead of admonishing him for sharing his perspective. Against his better judgement, Akira had opened his heart.

No adult in Akira’s life had ever done that for him before. So of course learning that Maruki had taken those secrets spoken in confidence, manipulated them, and thought he knew what would be best not only for him but the world…something snapped in Akira.

And now, sitting across from the former “counselor” turned Self-Appointed Savior, Akira battled his warring emotions into submission. Into the familiar blank mask he wore outside the Metaverse to hide his true disposition. The mask he thought he would never have had to wield against the one adult he thought he would have never needed to hide from.

From the only adult he thought he could finally trust.

The calling card tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket was burning a hole through its thin fabric. Each controlled breath Akira took as he listened to Maruki explain himself pressed the blistering deadweight a little closer to the skin of his chest. The frail, last line of defense he had that separated the world from that bleeding and bruised muscle.

And right now, if he didn’t get rid of the card within the next few seconds he was sure the scent of his burning flesh would suffocate them all.  

Maruki broke the lull that had settled between them first. His voice was gentle when he asked, “Are you sure you don't have any doubts, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira narrowed his eyes at the formality. They were past that. Way past that. “What do you mean, Maruki-sensei?” Akira responded sardonically.

The hand Maruki had wrapped around the mug of coffee Akira had made for him started a complicated beat against its porcelain surface as he studied Akira.  

“ Akira,” he amended and started again, his eyes softening into something almost sorrowful. “More accurately, I should really be be asking 'do you two gentlemen have any doubts',” Maurki paused and glanced over his shoulder towards the cafe entrance.

“You're there, aren't you Ake”--the door to Leblanc nearly shattered on its hinges with the force of which it was thrown open--“chi-kun!?” Maruki stuttered out, his face swiftly morphing from melancholic to bewildered in the span of a second as he openly gawked at the entryway.

Akira blinked once. Did a double take. Then blinked once more.

Because it wasn’t Akechi who had just stormed into Leblanc.

Or, it was but...

“You,” a man who looked like the splitting image of a twenty-something, utterly irate Goro Akechi spat, his face contorting into a feral grimace as he pointed directly at Maruki.

Akira had seen the younger version of Akechi make that exact expression only one time before in the bowels of Shido’s palace. It was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

There was a beat of absolute silence.

And then chaos erupted.

This older version of Akechi with murderous intent seething in his eyes launched himself at Maruki, barreling full force into their booth like a bull after the counselor’s throat. Maruki made a very undignified squeak at the sudden assault and tried to put as much space between him and the rampaging Older Akechi by scrambling further into the seat. Kicking wildly at him to try and stop the halestorm of blows reigning down from the furious Akechi-lookalike. It did little to deter the older detective prince. If anything it made him even angrier.

Meanwhile Morgana, who had relocated from sitting next to Akira to perching behind him on top of the booth, was yowling at ear piercing decibels. His fur also was comically puffed up, making him appear two times his normal size as he whipped his head back and forth between the attempted murder happening before them and Akira.

Who was sitting there with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth, watching everything unfold in a sort of detached awe.

A moment later the door was ripped open a second time and everything got a whole lot weirder.

Because it still wasn’t Akechi.

Instead, a very frazzled looking twenty-something version of himself tumbled through the door. He was out of breath, as if he had sprinted all the way here from...where ever the fuck he had come from. This older version of himself took one panicked survey of the room and promptly leapt into the chaos, snagging the Older Akechi around the waist in an attempt to slow his assault.

This older version of Akechi was taller, and had a bit more mass than his older self, but his older doppelganger didn’t let that stop him. He braced one boot against the seat of the booth and dug his other heel in the floor, leveraging the angle and gravity, to yank the Older Akechi off of the therapist’s lower half.

At this point, Akira noted, Maruki had effectively shoved himself so far back that he was half on the table with his back pressed against the window, fingers clumsily looking for the latch that would open it. In his haste to avoid the older Akechi’s swiping gloved fists, he knocked over the potted plant on the window sill. Soil cascaded across the table along with the poor upended plant and broken fragments of its pot.

Sojiro was going to kill him.

I should really be more concerned about all of this, Akira idly thought, flicking away a tiny ceramic shard. But he found it was hard to feel anything right now, as what he was watching seemed so surreal. I wonder if this is what disassociating feels like.

For the third time that evening the door to Leblanc was forced open with an unforgiving smack that sounded off over the cries and screams from the fight. The wall was surely dented at this point from the abuse. Akira vaguely wondered if the door hinges were going to survive the night.

This time it was the Akechi he had been expecting. Eighteen year old Goro Akechi stood in the doorway, gaping in utter shock at the pandemonium unfolding before them. Akira could practically see the formulaic equations running through and swirling around Akechi’s head, as he processed what was happening.

The younger Akechi simply mouthed, “What the fuck.” And continued not to move.

Akira’s attention was drawn back to the weird three sided battle happening literally two feet in front of him when he heard a pained gasp.

“Goro--plea--,” the older version of Akira wheezed, collapsing onto the floor after a sharp elbow connected with his sternum, “p-please--stop.”

The older version of Goro Akechi did not, in fact, stop. He in fact, got worse.

“Get back here you PIECE OF SHIT,” he bellowed, successfully grabbing hold of Maruki’s leg just as the counselor had managed to get his head and shoulders out the window.

Another undignified squeak escaped Maruki as his body was forcefully pulled back into the booth with a very painful looking jerk.

“A-Akechi-ku--” Maruki started to plead, but his voice cut off in a gurgle when the older Akechi managed to get both of his gloved hands around his throat.

It was at that moment his older self resurfaced in the fight. Hooking his arms under the older Akechi’s armpits, he twisted Akechi’s arms back, breaking his hold around the counselor’s throat and heaved the detective off Maruki.

“No!” the pinned Akechi cried, scrambling for purchase on Maruki’s sweater as he was tipped backwards.

The sound of stitches ripping followed the men as they tumbled backwards out of the booth and into a couple of the barstools behind them, which crashed to the ground in their wake. Maruki braced himself with one hand on the table and his other on the back of the booth to prevent himself from tipping into the writhing body pile on the floor. His sweater was stretched out and torn, hanging loosely off his neck.

Akira’s phone, which had also been on the table, lit up and started to incessantly vibrate. A  stream of messages from Futaba were flooding in when Akira checked it. He elected to ignore those for now. Before flipping the screen down, Akira took note of the time.

23:58 PM.

Two more minutes until this shitshow of a day was over and the dawn of February Third would rise. Akira released a weary sigh and set his phone aside in favor of his now lukewarm coffee. God damn he wished he had something a little stronger than the Jamaican Blue Mountain brew he was sipping on to put up with all this bullshit.

Happy fucking Birthday to me, he thought as he raised his mug in mock cheers at the camera Futaba had installed in the corner of Leblanc’s seating area. Where he was one hundred percent certain she was watching in pure horror, given the messages he was still receiving making his phone vibrate and shimmy at his elbow.

Honestly after all this, Akira suspected nothing in this world could ever surprise him anymore.

“Aren’t you going to help?” Morgana’s voice cut through the static he hadn’t realized had been present in his ears.

From the floor, his older self was doing a much better job at dodging the older Akechi’s flying elbows with graceful dexterity, but Maruki somehow had strayed too close. He was now kneeling on the floor with his sweater once again in the older Akechi’s vice grip.

“He kind of deserves it,” Akira said flatly, setting down his mug.

Though Akira quickly changed his mind when Maruki started making gurgling noises again, which could only signify one thing.

The younger Akechi recovered from his stupefaction when he saw Akira move, and stepped in to assist. It required both Akira’s older self and the younger Akechi to hold back the raging older Akechi long enough for Akira to pull Maruki safely away. The older Akechi was then shoved against a wall, getting yelled at quite vehemently by his older self.

“Sorry about your sweater,” Akira said, after he turned away from the arguing dopplegangers.

Maurki plucked at the frayed neckline and chuckled a bit breathlessly. “It’s seen better days.”

Upon closer inspection, Maurki’s glasses were broken and sitting askew on his face. His lip also had been split at some point and was leaking a tiny trail of blood down his chin. Akira grabbed a bunch of napkins off the counter and held them out to Maruki, who accepted and thanked him with a slight bow of his head, pressing them to his mouth.

“Would someone kindly explain just what the fuck is going on,” the younger Akechi demanded in near hysterics (his Akechi, Akira’s mind unhelpfully supplied before Akira buried that thought deep down).

The older versions of themselves fell silent.

There was a deep sigh that sounded almost identical to the one Akira had made a few minutes ago.

“Let’s try this again,” Akira heard his voice say from across the room, “how about we all take a seat. Calmly.” There was a pregnant pause as his older self shot a pointed look at the Akechi who had been the source of the problems, and released him from the wall. “Like civil adults.”

“Fine,” the older Akechi said, adjusting the scarf around his neck and smoothing out the lapels of his rumpled grey peacoat before sliding into the booth, with his older self right behind.

Akira tugged on Maruki’s sleeve, gesturing to follow him into the seat across from their visitors. Akira went in first, sitting directly across from the older Akechi which left Maruki to sit opposite the other Akira.

It was probably safer for everyone this way.

The younger Akechi (his Akechi) elected to remain standing, leaning against the far counter with his arms crossed over his tan coat in an attempt to look imposing, but really he just looked uncomfortable in Akira’s opinion.

Once everyone had settled in, the older Akira turned to Maruki. A sad smile broke across his face as he said, softly, “Hello Takuto.”

Why hearing his voice say Maruki’s first name was the thing that finally made Akira realize just how absurd this whole situation was, that shocked Akira back into his body from the weird detached space he had been floating around in the past few minutes, Akira couldn’t tell you.

Panic clawed its way out of his chest and into his throat, making his breathing erratic and ragged. The calling card in his pocket now felt like molten metal encasing his chest. His mind was reeling, racing, splitting apart as it finally registered that the man sitting adjacent from him across the table looked Just. Like. Himself.

What the fuck? What the FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Maruki looked between him and his older self. “Akira…can you please explain yourself?”

“Uhm, I have no idea what’s happening,” Akira managed to get out weakly, before realizing Maruki wasn’t speaking to him, but the older man sharing his face.

“I think it would make it easier if everyone referred to us by our surnames, and our younger selves by their given names, for clarity’s sake,” his older self said, glancing at Akira and then Goro standing by the counter. “Will that be a problem?”

“Yes,” Goro said testily.

“Get over it,” Akechi snapped at his younger self.

Goro’s eyes flared. “Why should I--”

“Because it's a trivial distinction and it doesn’t really matter,” Akechi spoke over him, flicking his eyes over to Maruki briefly, “not when we have more pressing issues to deal with. Stop being difficult.”

That’s kind of rich coming from you, Akira thought but did not say.

Goro huffed but didn’t push it any further, opting to glare balefully at himself. The tension rolling off of Goro was enough to make Akira squirm, even from the otherside of the room. Luckily Akechi remained unphased by the daggers being thrown in his direction.  

“To keep it simple and state the obvious, we are you. We travelled from the future of the reality this idiot,” Akechi gestured at Maruki, “ wants to impose upon the world. We’re here to make sure it never actualizes, as something evidently went very wrong when we attempted to do the same ten years ago.”

Morgana’s exclamation of “Ten years?!” overlapped with Akira’s yelp (Morgana had reflexively dug his claws into Akira) and Goro’s “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’?”

“Yes ten years Mona, and I mean it exactly how it sounds,” Akechi said in a clipped tone, clearly not willing to explain himself further.

Akira sucked in a breath through his teeth as Morgana retracted the claws he embedded from his shoulder and mumbled an apology in his ear.

“Our memories of what happened on February Third are...not intact,” Kurusu offered, earning a scowl from Akechi. “The last thing I remember is entering the palace...then… waking up in the new reality. Same for him,” Kurusu nodded in the direction of his boothmate, whose scowl deepened.

Maruki cleared his throat. “How did you time tra--”

“We aren’t telling you shit, what we’ve said is all you needed to know,” Akechi snarled, “so shut up, read the damn calling card, and then get out.”

“If you lived in my reality for that long, surely you found it enjoyable Akechi-kun, you--”

“Don’t assume you know anything about me,” he growled, “and don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You are both aware of what will happen if this reality--your reality, is destroyed...,” Maruki said slowly, gaze switching between the older boys emphatically.

“It was never ours,” Akechi was quick to shoot back.

Kurusu nodded. “We are fully aware and...deemed travelling here to end it worth the consequence.”

“Kurusu…” Maruki said, a mortified expression dawning on his face. “I suspected Akechi-kun might have felt this way given the conditions of his existence...but you too?”

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Akira spoke up, unease settling heavily into his gut like lead stone as he watched the varying expressions on the faces before him. They all know something I don’t. “Conditions of his existence…?”

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Kurusu said, suddenly avoiding Akira’s eyes, instead turning to face Akechi. “That...complicates things.”

Both Akechi and Kurusu exchanged a look, then glanced at Goro.

“I take it you haven’t shared anything with Akira either,” Akechi asked Goro--who eyes darted over to Akira before shaking his ‘no’ . “I guess that answers our question if we landed in the right timeline,” Akechi muttered, then sat up straight, leveling a look directly at Akira.

Akira’s heart rate spiked under the weight of the familiar yet so foreign maroon tinted gaze, and he was struck once again by how breathtakingly beautiful Akechi Goro was. Taking the time to look at this older version of his rival, Akira noticed the years had been kind to him. His cheekbones had become more prominent, defining his face with sharper angles that his shorter hair style complimented. Even if it was still a little mussed from the earlier fight.

Akira swallowed thickly. Whatever Akechi was about to say, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

“What your esteemed counselor was most likely about to tell you before I”--he exhaled sharply--“lost my temper, was that in the true reality, we most likely died,” Akechi explained coolly, gesturing between himself and Goro on his right. “The only reason we’re here presumably is because it was your wish. And Maruki granted it.”

Something in Akira’s chest cracked painfully.

He desperately wanted Goro to meet his eyes, to look at him, to tell him it wasn’t true. That he escaped the night they fought in Shido’s palace . But he was still staring at his older self with an intensity that barred no distractions.

It couldn’t be true.

Akira had felt the warmth of Akechi’s body when they brushed shoulders on the subway, had watched as the clouds of his breath faded away into nothing in the cold January air when they loitered outside the Jazz Jin. Witnessed the blood rush to flush his face when Akira teased him over ridiculously sugary, overpriced drinks and soft music. Sensed the raw power in his presence when they would pull off a seamlessly synchronized attack in the metaverse together…

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be...

Akira’s vision tunneled as he focused on his rival.

Goro brought his hand to his chin, falling into his typical thinking pose which Akira had always found endearing, but now was sending sharp pains through his chest. “I couldn’t find any conclusive evidence to support it, but given the gaps in my memory after my final fight with Akira, and Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura’s suspicious reappearances…,” he trailed off with a shrug. “Occam’s razor.”

“The simplest explanation is often the correct one,” both Goro and Akechi said in tandem.

“Two of you.” Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his fringe as he did, and muttered under his breath, “I have to deal with two of you for the next twenty-four hours.”

Akechi pinched Kurusu (who flinched) without breaking eye contact with Akira and continued on, “And then Maruki was going to bait you, Akira, into accepting his false paradise by dangling our life before you. Holding us hostage, essentially.”

“I wouldn’t have explained like that!” Maruki said defensively. “I was devastated when I learned what happened to you--err the two of you? That night in December.  I don’t mean to make it seem like I am holding you both hostage--”

“But you are, and you did. ”

“Will, this Maruki hasn’t done it yet,” Kurusu quietly corrected Akechi.

Akechi plowed on, ignoring Kurusu’s comment, voice raising with each word he spoke, “You stripped us of our agency, forced us to play pretend in a world where you erased and repurposed parts of ourselves to fit your mold of perfection!”

Maruki winced.

Akechi trembled, barely able to contain anger, “I’ve spent enough of my life being manipulated by the will of men who think they own me, own the world. I refuse to live a moment longer in a reality concocted by someone else. I refuse.” His gloved fist slammed down on the table, causing the half-full mugs of forgotten coffee to rattle and send little splatters of dark liquid onto its surface.

Kurusu was quick to place his left hand over Akechi’s fist, who recoiled under the touch.

Akira stiffened at the sight of a thin band of silver on Kurusu’s finger, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

He’s married... I’m married?

Akechi started to pull away but then stopped, exhaling sharply. Kurusu ran his thumb over Akechi’s knuckles and his gloved fingers finally relaxed under Kurusu’s palm, splaying onto the table. He let Kurusu pull their hands off and out of sight.

“And.. you agree with this Kurusu?” Maruki asked after a few seconds of silence.

Kurusu took a steadying breath, and answered. “I do. And I understand that it means that I will also cease to exist.” A small smirk played on his lips. “At least this version of me.”

Maruki slumped back in defeat, staring unblinkingly at the droplets of coffee on the table. He swallowed, his jaw working for a moment before he nodded to himself. “Well then, I must accept that those are your decisions.” He looked up. “However, you don’t speak fo--”

“I also refuse to accept this farce of a life,” Goro interrupted, as if he had been waiting for Maruki to call on him. He turned his glare fully onto the former counselor and lifted his chin defiantly, “I’ve made my decision, and nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind.”

“Akira?” Maruki’s voice sounded so small and so far away, despite being right next to him. Akira turned in his seat, meeting Maruki’s pleading eyes. “Do you feel the same?”

Akira’s heart twisted in on itself.

Did he feel the same?

Before he couldn’t feel anything but now… it was as if his body was making up for the lost time. He was feeling too many things all at once.

If he rejected the reality Maruki was offering...it would mean…condemning them all to death.

From the corner of his eye, Akira took in the strange trio’s expressions. They all were mirrors of each other, all displaying their own versions of unwavering resolve and grim determination that Akira had walked into this conversation with--before everything had fallen apart.

A gentle nudge against the back of his head coupled with soothing purrs grounded Akira enough to stop his mind from spiraling any further. It also reminded him that it wasn’t just these lives who had a say in the fate of reality.

“I do,” he echoed his older self, and reached into his jacket pocket. Fire licked at his fingers as he peeled off the calling card that had melded into his skin and tossed it onto the table in front of Maruki.

Finally free of its oppressive, burning weight Akira took his first full breath since he came down the stairs from his room. Its phantom pain lingered, the skin too hot and tender where the card had laid over his heart. Akira flexed his fingers over the spot, hoping the friction would ease the discomfort. It didn’t. So he shoved his hand into his pants pocket and focused on regulating his breathing.

“I thought out of all people, you would understand,” Maruki said in the same small voice. Gently, he picked up the card and turned it over. “I’ve heard your calling. I’ll be waiting in the palace, as promised.”

When he stood up no one moved to stop him.

He met each of their eyes one last time and said, “If you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.”

“We’ll be there,” Kurusu said with a conviction Akira had never heard himself use before. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ah, today, actually,” Maruki said, checking his watch. A heartbreaking smile formed on his face. “It’s probably not my place to say it, but Happ--.”

“Don’t you dare. Get. Out,” Akechi hissed venomously.

When the door clicked shut and the chimes ceased their ringing from Maruki’s exit, a collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the group. Akira let himself fall back against the booth, and was low key amused when he watched his older self do almost the exact same thing. Akechi gingerly leaned back as well, tension bleeding out from his tense shoulders as he eased himself down aside Kurusu. Kurusu reached out a hand and hesitated before tucking a short lock of hair behind Akechi's ear.

Akechi turned to him and whispered, “I can’t believe...that it worked."

“Believe it,” Kurusu matched his volume, and suddenly Akira felt like he was intruding on a private moment as their gazes lingered a little too long on each other.

“Are you, we...” Akira began uncertainly, “...friends then? In the future?”

Akira watched himself blush in real time.

“Ah. About that,” Kurusu said, fiddling with a piece of fringe as his cheeks continued to darken.

Akechi lifted his left hand and started tugging off his glove, one finger at a time. “In a manner of speaking.”

Akira’s heart kicked into high gear. Oh my god.

On Akechi’s ring finger was a thin silver band. Identical to the one on Kurusu’s hand--that he was now holding up beside Akechi’s.

Goro was the first to react. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” Akechi chided, “you can quit pretending like you never--ouch !”

A sudden violent exchange under the table had Akira heavily suspecting his older self had stomped on Akechi’s foot.

Akechi glared at Kurusu. Kurusu glared right back.

“Would it kill you to be nice to yourself?”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Uh,” Akira croaked, drawing everyone’s attention, “can we talk about how this happened?”

“You both probably have lots of questions,” Kurusu said, “So let’s start at the beginning. Goro, you might want to sit down for this.”

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

One Heart, Two Souls: FFX Fan fic

Chapter 1: Part 1.

Cold… That was just one of the things I felt. It was certainly an improvement from five minutes ago.

Then, my lungs had filled with salt water. I remember vomiting it up with what I presumed to be blood, as it left an iron flavor in my mouth.

What a fabulous combination. Blood and seawater. At some point, I must have hit my stomach really hard, that would probably explain the mix of blood and bile.

But what did I have in me to care? My feelings had been washed with a majority of my blood in the sea. The same blood that poured out of my wounds.

The wounds that reminded me of my poor decisions, my failures, and of course, my death. Dying came to me fast, but ended so slowly. I can still feel the sick irony, as the god of the corrupt religion laughs in my face. Waiting, regenerating, plotting which of it's followers to kill next. I felt bitter, but that bitterness turned to sweet salvation and sugar coated numbness, well mentally that was.

The right side of me hurt like hell. Something around the wounds made me hurt. Seawater maybe? No, this felt grainy. My wounds stung and my body ached.

It seemed like every time I tried to move a muscle, it felt like the limb attached to it was being severed from the rest of my body.

I wasn't sure what was worse, my increasing body aches? My inability to open my eyes? Or the the slight but selfish contempt I had for two people I called my best friends?

My eyes, I need to open them. I can hate myself later. I did eventually tried to open my eyes, but when I did, my right one wouldn't open.

The blood on my eye started to clot and eventually scabbed up enough to keep me from forcing it open.

I did manage to get my left eye open though. What I saw was… sort of dark. My good eye and bad eye stung. Using what I knew so far, it was sand that was irritating my eye and wounds.

Somehow, I had face planted into sand. When I figured this out, I lifted my head up quickly. I had finally made it to shore.

I wasn't sure how I ended up here, or in the middle of the ocean for that matter.

I found myself on the beach of a coastal city. It was a big city, but it couldn't have been Bevelle.

I had been all over that city, and knew every landmark, but none of the knees around me looked familiar.

It didn't take me long to figure out where I was, as I noticed that it was busy with machina.

Could this be what I think this could be? Is this Jecht's Zanarkand?

This meant I was able to fulfill my promise to Jecht, but worth how I was feeling, I spat at the idea of fulfilling the promise, as I still felt contempt him and Braska leaving me behind.  Leaving me alone.

As I looked around, I noticed somehow staring at me. It was a child. He looked to be six or seven, but that was not the key thing that stood out about him. He looked like Jecht.

The only thing I could mutter out to him was, “Who… are you?”

The boy looked at me horrified before he ran screaming. “Maaaaa!”. Instinctively, I got up quickly and grabbed his wrist, but that just made him scream more.

“LET GO OF ME!”

“Wait! I think I know your father!”

At hearing this, the boy kept quiet.

“Is your name Tidus?”

The boy was about to answer, but someone came out of their home. An elder looking woman she was. She shouted at us from afar.

The whole beach was made up from boat houses, and she lived in one.

“What's going on over there!?”

We made the mistake of looking over there, it just her yell at us.

“Are you alright young boy?”

She stared at me, then decided it was fit to yell at me next. I didn't really appreciate the attention.

“You! You leave that poor little boy alone! I'll call the police!”

I had no idea what she was talking about. What was a police, or the police? I didn't stay to find out. With the little energy I had, I got up and ran.

To my surprise, the boy followed. We eventually made it somewhere where we'd be safe to talk in private.

“You're Jecht's son, are you not?”

The boy flinched at my question. I could tell that just his father's name made him sick.

“Everyone knows my stupid old man, what makes you special?”

“I knew him on a personal level. I spent three months traveling with him. We were friends. He asked me to find you and your mother.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I'm only here to bear news off your father to you and your mother, and to help out with you as needed.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“Look, it's hard to explain. I just need you to trust me.”

There was silence among us. The boy did finally reply after a couple minutes. All though it was monotone, out was the answer I hoped for.

“Fine.”

I followed him as he guided me to his home. He lived in a fancy little boat house, perfect for a small family of three.

Despite it being a nice, sunny day, there seemed to be something dark and unbecoming of the bright, little house.

The sound of the child's voice snapped me out of my daze.

“I'm going to go get my mom, wait here.”

He opened the door, the inside looked unwelcoming. The boy continued into the dark pit of despair called a doorway. I had to advert my attention to something else to keep myself from running in after him, as I was terrified of what may have been lurking in abyss.

I caught the eyes of the neighbors next door. They were a young, attractive couple. Looks of terror formed on their faces, so like Tidus.

Was my condition really that revolting? As I continued to think about it, the smell of rotten flesh wafted from my body.

I looked down at my decomposing wounds to see that I was squirting blood everywhere as that people next door were watching and reacting. It had occurred to me that my condition was that bad.

My focus was interrupted with Tidus’s return. He walked over to me, but I kept my eyes glued to the dark corridor, waiting, expecting a beautiful woman to illuminate the dark vibes I was getting from interior. Besides, Jecht was supposedly the best blitzer in Zanarkand, and maybe even the world, he would have to have a wife prettier than any of the gorgeous women who flocked to him at the end of the game, or anywhere he was seen.

Finally, a wisp appeared in the doorway. What I saw left me in shock and aww. It was a woman, she would have been beautiful if it wasn't for a couple issues.

Unlike a normal person who emerges in order of a silhouette to a full human body. She starred as a wisp and came out a silhouette.

She was freakishly skinny, her skin stretched across her body like tight clothing. From a literal standpoint, she looked like flesh and bones.

You could see every curve of her skeletal system. The woman was as pale as a ghost. She looked very sickly, almost as if you even slightly touched her, she would shatter.

However, what stood out about her the most was her eyes. They were a shiny, bright, blue, yet appeared to be incredibly dull.

She had darkly outlined bags under her eyes as if she never slept. She looked like the creation made by a depressed artist who felt like spilling their feelings onto the paper.

Her eyes were glazed over like freshly cut glass. She looked like someone who would smile a lot, but not as of now. The one thing the glimmer in her eyes and her smile had in common other than being beautiful. Gone.

Disappeared with Jecht himself, kept in the pocket of his chaos torn pants, as he walked to his demise in the hands of the culprit himself, as he would turn a small family of three into a smaller family of two, leaving it in shambles.

It was very clear she herself was lying on a deathbed, created by her husband's absence and her inability to go on. Her death would be by her own weak, trembling hands. The woman in her frail state spoke.

“I'm sorry, I can't help you. We don't have any medical supplies to take care of you with.”

“That's not why I'm here ma’am.”

“Oh? My son said differently.”

We both stared at the boy. He replied to his unwanted attention.

“Hey, someone had to say it. You look like a walking corpse.”

His mother of course didn't approve of his comment.

“Tidus! That's impolite, apologize.”

He hung his head low in reaction to the unwanted reaction before he spoke again.

“... Sorry.”

“It's not a problem.”

His mother's focus shifted back towards me now.

“Why are you here then?”

My heart dropped. I wasn't  ready to make things worse, but I made a promise.

“I've come bearing unfortunate news… I'm here to inform you that your husband's death has been confirmed… I'm sorry for your

loss.”

She fell to the ground shrieking.

“I knew he was gone, but no one ever found his body! Knowing this, I believed he wasn't dead, that he'd come back to us, my sweet, sweet Jecht! That's been my only hope for months!”

I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn't sure what I could do for her. She had just lost her husband. Although I was also grieving his death, I didn't have it in me to cry.

Looking down at Jecht's wife, I could tell deep down, her heart bleed sorrow, rage, and love. Love that was clearly not reserved for her son.

He tried to go comfort his mother, but when bee did, she just about snapped his head off clean.

“Mommy, it'll be alright-”

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

She harshly ripped her hands from her son's gentle grasp. I was stunned to see how she treated him. Tidus began to cry, but it only managed to make matters worse for him. She replied with venomous words.

“Grow up and stop crying! You're being pathetic! You HATE him! You said son yourself, so why are you crying!?”

She clearly had a short fuse. The boy cowered. He wiped his tears at his mother's command. He stayed long enough to glare at me, then stomped into the house and slammed the door behind him.

I wanted to tell her the way she was treating her son was wrong, but I couldn't risk her taking offence to what I would say and not let me see him again, so I kept quiet.

Yet again, I kept my eyes attached to the door, while recognizing the so called fruits of my labor.

They were rotten and stunk of failure. A sad and emotionally abused son and a distant mother, that's what was gained.

His mother whispered random words, they sounded of suicide. I looked to find het skin even more tightly stretched across her skull as her eyes got big.

Suddenly the air begun to fill with a bad smell, something other than rotten flesh. It was urine.

I looked below the woman to find a dark yellow puddle under her feet, and a wet spot on her jeans. You could tell she didn't drink much by the discoloration of her… nevermind, too much detail.

I was shocked at the site, and also disgusted. I've had to bear news of fallen comrades to their families numerous times in the past, but I've never gotten this kind of reaction before.

I didn't think grief pissing one's self was anything more than a tale the higher ups told the cadets to disturb them in the warrior monks, but she did so.

I find it funny that this had to happen with the wife of my goner of a best friend. I guess life decided since it was a special occasion, that the reaction had to be equally special. Simply put, a godly, almighty, “Fuck you” from the world to me.

I'm horrible with emotions, I always have been. I watched as wet comps of years ran down her face powerless.

Not too long afterwards, she had passed out. I hadn't noticed, but when I looked away earlier, Tidus had pulled up a stool and watched us from the window of the door.

It took him awhile to move the stool and come outside, but he finally did. He came at me, pushing, hitting, and screaming.

“GET AWAY FROM MOMMY!”

Hee growled at me as I restrained him. I got him inside and locked him in his room long enough to get his mother inside.

I couldn't just leave her to lay in a puddle of her own filth, so I picked her up and took her to the bathroom.

I let Tidus out, asked him if he could help me get his mother cleaned up. After enough fussing, he agreed to help.

There were many weird contraption in the bathroom, but I got her unclothed, and put her in the one that looked closer to a bath.

I wasn't surprised to see that she loomed entirely like a skeleton. However, I couldn't help but stare at her bony structure.

Of course, when Tidus came in, he took my intentions to be impure.

“Stop staring at mommies chest, you creep.”

“That wasn't what I was looking at, I swear!”

“Uh Huh… sure.”

“I promise! She's just… really skinny.”

“Mommy doesn't eat like she used to. She doesn't really eat at all. The doctor told her she needed to start eating more, or she would get sicker, but she never listened. I try to get her to eat, but she won't eat for me!”

He sounds like a mother himself, complaining about trying to get the children to eat right. He stared at me quietly as if he was waiting for something. I wasn't sure what he wanted from me.

“Aren't you going to turn the water on?” He said snarkily.

I wasn't sure how this thing worked, I turned the left knob hesitantly. His mother began to shiver uncontrollably. The boy put his hand in the water.

“It's cold genius! No wonder she's freezing!”

I turn the left knob back to its starting point, turning the water off, then I turn the right knob. I saw steam coming up, so I automatically thought a win for me, but then she flinched in discomfort.

He sticks his hand in a second time, but pulls back immediately.

“Ow!”

He looked up at me and scowled.

“Are you trying to cook her?! You're hurting Mommy!”

“I'm really sorry!”

“No! Just get out!”

I fulfill his wishes and go out to look around for a fresh towel and a set of clothing. It doesn't take Tidus long to call me back in there. He has me watch over her long enough to go grab some things. Tidus comes back with some rubbing alcohol, duct tape and some napkins.

“Stay still!”

“Why?”

“Well, I have to patch you up! I can't just have you bleeding everywhere! You're cleaning the blood up by the way, especially on the carpet, if you don't, mom will be maaaad!”

“That's noted, but are you sure using duct tape and napkins is a good idea?”

“Are you being ungrateful?”

I kept quiet. Duct tape and napkins were at least something. That and probably a better alternative than the local hospitals. Them trying to get my medical records would have been one giant headache all together.

I watch him and cringe at the sting of him stumping a lot of rubbing alcohol on my wounds. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from cursing up a storm. Seriously? Did this kid have no restraint? No idea how painful rubbing alcohol is?

He eventually moved on to putting the fanfic napkins on me and tapping the wounds up.

“You're very lucky mom was talking about throwing these out, or else I would have used paper napkins... But still, keep those hidden just in case.”

“Duly noted.”

He finally did finish, and to my surprise, his method wasn't all that shabby. The bleeding stopped, and the wounds were cleaned. My only issue is that he taped my bread entirely to keep the napkin concealed, this is going to hurt to pull off later.

I continued looking around for what I needed. I didn't take me long, I found her clothes in her dresser, I avoided the panty and bra drawer entirely, I already had taken her out of her clothes and had to put her back in them, I wasn't about to be the guy to look through her potentially sexually arousing undergarments.

I was making my way down the hall to the bathroom when Tidus comes running my direction. I knew something had to be wrong.

“Quick! Help me! Mommies head went under the water and I can't get het up!”

I run into the bathroom quickly and pull her up from the water. If I'd waited any longer, she would have drown. I sit her up long enough to put the towel and clothes down, then hold onto her and kept her head above the water long enough for Tidus to finish cleaning her up.

Afterwards, Tidus grabbed her forty clothes and stuck them in one of the two matching machina. I would later find out that they were a clothe washer and dryer.

I drained the automatic bath and took my time drying her off properly, then put her clothes back on her and carried her to her bed, then I tucked her in.

By the end of this, I stunk of not only rancid flesh and body odor, but a touch of urine. I considered using the bath, but it wasn't my place to do so without permission, so I just left it alone.

Tidus and I sat on the deck quietly. It was an hour before he went in to check on his mother. I could tell he was worried.

When he came back out, we spoke briefly, but the awkwardness turned to silence after the following conversation.

“Is your mother alright?”

“Why do you care?”

His words were cold and untrustworthy. What I said next probably didn't help matters any.

“I wouldn't know what to do if she dies.”

“Don't say she's going to die!”

After a while, we went back inside. There, he spoke to me for a second time. I wasn't off the hook just yet. I was to be thoroughly investigated by a seven-year old. First a doctor, next a detective. This kid has quite the future ahead of him.

“Why were you sent here by my father?”

“I was sent here to bear news off your father's passing, also to help out with you if necessary, in other words, your father's will.”

“... How did he die?”

“He died a hero's death-”

“Don't call my father a hero! He's not!”

There was a pause of silence between us. A few seconds later, I heard shuffling coming down the hallway. I watched as the thin lining of his mother appeared from within the shadows. Instantly, I got up, my first instinct being to guide her back to her room.

When we got back to her room, she said she wanted to talk to me in private, so I shut the door. That was a big mistake.

- To be continued.