#also. their eyes are really creepy. and the heads get detached from the bodies all the time and just. seeing the eyes ruins my appetite.

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

[forwhump]

a/n; as promised, some wren <3 I said somewhere “nothing good happens now for a long time” so here’s some not good things happening >:)

I consider the second part of this whole thing (I’ll pick a title eventually) the “farmhouse arc” & the arcs are all based around the different vibes i felt like writing at the time LOL

this is when i was feeling slasher/serial killer sort of vibes & also hopelessly devastating yearning but worry not: it’s still just horrible shit happening to my (our ?? 👀) favourite little guy <3 (but seriously wren gets tortured in this one)

tw/cw: kidnapping, false imprisonment, sexual slavery, implied rape/noncon, mentions of past rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, drowning, burning but with water (boiling ???), mentions of necrophilia, mentions of a living weapon, dehumanization, body fluids

creepy whumper

Wren wakes up in the dark, naked and shivering.

It isn’t the first time, not even close, but something about this time is different. Wrong. He knows even before he’s opened his eyes.

He doesn’t recognize any of the sounds for a long time, a sort of rumble that’s so familiar but out of reach, detached. The floor beneath him moves restlessly, almost vibrating. It isn’t until somebody honks in the distance, laying on the horn, that Wren recognizes the hum of traffic and his throat constricts so tightly it makes him gag.

He’s in a trunk. He’s outside. But there’s none of the relief, there isn’t a deep breath of fresh air, because there are only two people Wren knows that would want to get him out of the district and above ground. Only one of those people, Wren thinks, would throw him in the trunk.

Now he’s alone. He’s more alone than he’s ever been. Trapped, and the farthest from Silas he’s been since he’s known him and Wren can’t save himself. How is he supposed to save himself?

That thing bursts in his throat and Wren screams bloody murder. The car swerves quickly, Wren slides, hits his head pretty hard but screams again, anyway. The car jerks and he hits his head again. He’s naked — he’s so fuckin’ tired of being naked. What’s the last thing he remembers?

What’s the last thing he remembers?

He doesn’t remember anything; nothing that ends with him in the boot of a car. How did he get here? Where’s Silas?

What the fuck happened to Silas?

He isn’t really the type to let Wren get far without him, but Silas has never been above ground, not as much as he remembers. Wren doesn’t even know how long he’s been unconscious, so he can’t even begin to guess how far they’ve gotten. Not that knowing that would even do him any good, seeing as Wren has no idea where they came from, doesn’t have the first clue where the district might be. How is Silas ever going to catch up? How is ever going to find him?

Wren’s never going to see him again.

It’s like cold water. It’s barbed. It knocks the wind out of him and he doesn’t scream again, but he makes a helpless, gasping sort of sound, the same sound he makes when he tries to scream in his nightmares.

Wren is never going to see him again. The world is too big and Silas is too unfamiliar with it; Point is never going to let Wren go. He’d kill him before he got far. He’d fuck his corpse once he’s dead.

Wren’s naked and shivering in the boot of a car and nothing is ever going to be the same again. The end of Wren’s life is unfolding formally in the trunk of Point’s car; the only way this ends now is with Wren’s death, or with Point’s. He’s never going to let him go. There’s nobody around anymore to save him. His life, in the district, had been grey and miserable, but he hadn’t been lonely. There had been warmth.

Wren’s never going to be warm again.

He tries to scream — he makes another breathy, choking noise. In the miserable grey of the district, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine being above ground and wanting to go back under it. Now, he can’t take a full breath in and his chest buckles beneath the weight and he starts to hyperventilate in the darkness of the trunk. He wants his books, and his brother. He wants Silas. He wants his looming shadow and his protective hand on Wren’s back. He wants the way he says Wren’s name, with the faintest twang of Wren’s accent because that’s how he had learned to say it. He doesn’t want to be alone.

The world is too big and Wren is completely alone. He takes another hitching breath and his chest hitches along with it. He doesn’t want to be alone. He can’t do this alone. He can’t do this by himself.

The car screams to a stop and Wren hits his shoulder so hard he feels the pain in his wrist. When the trunk flies open above him, Wren doesn’t have time to think or react — the world is so much brighter than he can remember it being. As the trunk opens, the light is let in, and it’s like being blinded, so bright he sees spots. He can’t keep his eyes open against it, and he flinches; as he’s flinching, Point is already reaching into the trunk with him, grabbing him around the throat.

He grabs him so tightly Wren can’t breathe under his hand and he makes an empty, wheezing sort of sound. Point grins widely; he’s here with him and still, Wren’s never been so alone. He grabs at Point’s wrist, tries to pry him off, claw him away, but he presses Wren a little harder into the boot of his car and says, “shucks. You’re awful pretty when you’re scared, cowgirl.” In his other hand, he has a rag he uses to cover Wren’s mouth and his nose. It smells sweet and Wren already knows what’s coming, even before the spots burst in his vision and the light starts to get wavy, blurry. “Unfortunately,” he adds, “you’re being awfully loud back here. I’m gonna need you to be a good girl and keep quiet a little longer, baby. You can scream as loud as you need to when we get where we’re going.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream.

He’s unconscious for a very long time.

Point keeps him sedated, keeps him under, and Wren only knows this because he knows to recognize the heavy, hazy feeling once he’s finally allowed to wake up again. It’s a different sort of headache than being knocked unconscious, a heavy throb of overmedication and dehydration.

He’s still naked, still on his back, but he isn’t still in the boot. He can’t open his eyes yet, his eyelids are too heavy, and his hands are tied, this time, wrists knotted behind his back. His fingers are pushed into what feels a lot like old shag carpet. “What?” Wren says, and he doesn’t mean to. But carpet?

There’s a series of sounds Wren recognizes quickly, a door being closed then locked, then locked again, then bolted. Point says, “well, good morning, cowgirl,” to the sound of him pushing something heavy in front of the door. “You’re right on time.”

Wren still can’t open his eyes. He slurs when he says, “what are you doing?”

“I got us a room,” he answers. “You need a bath.”

“What?” Wren says. He’s having a hard time thinking. Or is Point just not making any sense? They’re in a room? He chokes on a breath in, tripped up by the weight of sedation on his chest.

Conversational, Point says, “you can scream if you want to, baby. I made sure of it. I don’t know how soundproof the walls really are, but this place charges by the hour. Nobody’s gonna come running for a screaming girl.”

Wren still can’t open his eyes and it hurts when he swallows. Slowly, he says, “why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” Point replies. He snorts. “I got you out, cowgirl. You’re gonna have a warm bath.”

“I wanna go back,” Wren slurs.

“What?” He repeats.

“I don’t wanna be here with you,” Wren says. He’s being too honest and he still can’t open his eyes. He isn’t sure where the words are coming from — not his brain, that’s for sure. “I want Silas.”

“The fuckin’ dog?” Point spits, and then he’s quiet for a long time. He’s quiet for so long that Wren finally gains the strength to open his eyes again, blinking up at Point who’s leaned in close, too close, so close it makes Wren jump. He snarls in his face and takes a fistful of his hair. “That’s too fuckin’ bad,” he seethes, “you ungrateful whore.”

The room is exactly what Point said it would be, cheap and dirty, straight out of a 70’s porno or an 80’s slasher. It’s been a long time since Wren’s thought in any sort of movie references, and maybe being above ground again is bringing it out in him, maybe it’s the sedatives, but he thinks now, for some reason, about what happens to the blondes in every cheesy 70’s porno and every gory 80’s slasher, and he thinks, fuck. Panic finally starts to seep through the sedated cracks in his chest as Point hauls him across the filthy shag carpet by his hair.

Point drags him into a bathroom that wouldn’t look out of place behind a gas station and that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. The bathtub is coated with grime and the rusted pipes squeal as Point turns on the water, cranks it as far as he can. Somewhere deep, the heater rumbles, and the water that shoots from the faucet steams with heat. As the tub fills, the bathroom fogs, the water simmering in the filthy tub.

Panic rises up the back of Wren’s throat. He thinks he screams, but it might be the shriek of the pipes. “Darren,” he gasps, because he can’t catch his breath around the knot in his chest, he can’t breathe. Point snarls, and he tries, “don’t — don’t do this to me, don’t — don’t —,” gets stuck in a panicked sort of loop of, “don’t, don’t, don’tdon’tdon’tdon’tdon’t—” as Point pulls him up by his hair.

Wren begs, thrashes, pleads, panics, but Point lifts him with ease and a curled lip. He throws him into the tub, into the boiling water.

Wren’s skin starts to split immediately. Like boils, it starts to burst, opening through his skin and layers of tissue, worse at his palms and the bottoms of his feet, around the sensitive skin where his wrists are bound. Point reaches for the faucet, finally turns on the cold water, but with his other hand he keeps Wren in the tub as it boils, even as the skin of his own wrist peels away in the heat. He holds Wren in the water as he flails, and the nails peel from his fingertips as he claws at Point’s arm. He shrieks when he can, but he can’t very quickly; he can feel the heat in his lungs and he can feel the way the flesh starts to bubble with it, deep in his chest where it should be safe. He can’t scream because he can’t breathe and his upper lip splits open on one side.

When the water starts to cool, Wren’s skin still steams. It doesn’t feel hot, but like razor blades, hundreds of millions of razor blades, restless under his skin. He trembles so uncontrollably water sloshes from the tub at his stillest.

“The dog isn’t around to save you anymore, cowgirl,” Point says, dipping his other hand into the tub, shutting off the water once he’s deemed it’s acceptable. “I don’t want you to think about it again. Y’hear?” He adds, mocking, and pushes Wren’s head beneath the water.

Wren still trembles with heat and he never got to take a full breath in, hitching relentlessly. He doesn’t mean to gasp but he still inhales water. His hands are still tied behind his back.

He sputters, tries to hold his breath, to push himself up, but Point doesn’t let him break the surface. Point holds his head under water until Wren’s scorched lungs start screaming in protest and his vision starts to bloom dark spots. Point holds his head under water until Wren realizes he’s going to die.

It makes him think about Twilight, which is weird, but that’s what he thinks about. It might be the only thing he really knows about drowning. That and Silas, once, saying something passive about being waterboarded. But he doesn’t think about Silas, which is also weird. He thinks about Twilight, and how Bella said that drowning was peaceful.

She fuckin’ lied. It’s chaos, actually, and a screaming ache in his chest that feels like it might split him open down the middle. And he’s in a dirty fuckin’ bathtub, which sucks, and he’s still fuckin’ naked. He’s been naked for days, weeks, and now he’s gonna die naked. How fuckin’ demeaning. How humiliating. How unfair. How many years did he spend suffering underground just to die naked in a bathtub? What the fuck is that? Why is this happening to him?

Is anybody ever gonna know what really happened to him? Legally, he’s been dead for years, he knows this for certain. Point’s always been proud of himself for having made it happen. Nobody’s ever been looking for him. Nobody above ground knows what happened to him in the district and nobody in the district will know what happened to him once he left. Wren’s gonna drown in a bathtub and nobody but Point will ever know.

Closer to the end, things do get a little more peaceful. It doesn’t hurt any less, but everything starts to get sort of fuzzy and less severe. His fingers go numb. He thinks about Silas. It hurts a lot to die, and that makes him think of Silas.

He doesn’t die, not really, but that makes him think of Silas, too. He loses consciousness in the bathtub and comes to on the filthy bathroom tile, vomiting water. Point is pushing his wet hair out of his face and his touch makes Wren vomit again. “You feel better, baby?” He coos. “All clean?”

Wren throws up more water and it’s still hot on the way up. He’s trembling so uncontrollably it makes his muscles ache. It makes him think of Silas again, of the way his hands always shook. It makes him vomit again.

With another coo, Point turns him onto his back. It takes Wren a second to catch up with his body, it takes the panic a second to breach the surface of the water and he tries to gasp, chokes on it, vomits again. “Please,” he breathes, and Point laughs. The sound of his zipper is familiar. Wren chokes again as he tries to cry out, rasps, “please.” He tries to pull himself up, to so much as lean away, but his body is so heavy and shaking so uncontrollably and his trembling hands are trapped beneath his weight.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Point tells him.

“Don’t,” Wren rasps softly. “Please.”

Just as soft, Point says, “it’s just you and me now, cowgirl. You’re all mine. You might as well start getting used to it.”

His smile is unnatural. It isn’t human. Wren vomits again, still warm where it pools in the column of his throat and the dips of his clavicle.

“When I’m done with you,” Point says, curling a hand around the back of Wren’s thigh and he cries out, his skin still feels like razor blades, Point’s touch isn’t just bruising, it’s sharp, “we’ll get back on the road. I got a house waiting for us, baby. Big farmhouse in the countryside, nice and isolated. Nobody around to hear you scream.”

“Please,” Wren rasps, his breath hitching desperately.

“Nothing you can say or do will change the fact that this is gonna happen to you,” he tells him, soft and mock soothing. “You’re going to be kept chained up like an animal. You’re going to be used thoroughly and repeatedly. You’ll know your fuckin’ place, and you’ll show me the proper respect. You may not like it, cowgirl, but you’re fuckin’ sure gonna do it. You won’t like what happens to you if you don’t. It’ll be a lot worse than a warm bath.”

Wren’s heart beats in his throat and he wishes he had died in the bathtub.

Point’s kneeling between Wren’s thighs, starts rocking against him, coos softly when the warmth of his skin makes Wren vomit again. Why was he so desperate not to die? It has to be better than this. It has to be less miserable than this.

“Please,” he whispers, rough. “No more.”

“Oh, cowgirl,” Point says, and he smiles, wide and grotesque. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

[108garys]

Smoke

OK so here it is, the randomly spawned idea of "what if burnt out gay FBI man and future gay marine man kissed?" but also, "how do I then get Jason out of that situation alive and obviously unaware of any murdery intentions?"

Also it's illegal for Jason to make good life decisions in the 90s

Here's the resulting second hand embarrassment, there's probably some errors in there but I figured I just wanted to throw it out there already, I don't really know how I should tag this as it is different from my other writings but also again I'll add any people suggest are needed but I'd suggest caution in regards to age I guess

@kassiekolchek22 @delurkr @mistmoose @ctrvpani @lonnitamongus @oblivious-troll @xpugsleyx @millermurphy @darkangel0710 (there was at least one person on the other post that I didn't tag because I couldn't see who liked it so I hope they come across this anyhow)

"You know, when you said you wanted to watch a movie, this ain't what I had in mind." the southerner was resting against Hector who's arm lazily draped around the younger man's shoulders, "Don't get me wrong it's a good film, it's just with all the flirting I figured we'd-"

Hector shut him up with a quick kiss. The credits were rolling slowly in Hector's living room, he'd met Jason a few times, he wasn't local but seemed to like a bar he frequented. He'd bought him a few drinks, chatted, flirted, when he heard the twenty five year old was moving on he knew he had to make his move before it was too late. "Hey I was talking," Jason's brow knit with mild irritation at being interrupted, he climbed into Hector's lap putting his hands on his shoulders, "I mean creepy masked fuckers that kill folks for having too much fun, you turned on by that shit?" he leaned in all serious, faces an inch apart, "Are you a serial killer?" Hector grabbed his waist not sure what else to do with his hands, he looked the younger man directly in the eye and in an equally serious tone replied. "Not yet."

The grip on his shoulders tightened as Jason leant back to look at him, in truth Hector had chosen Jason to be his first because he wouldn't be missed, an addict estranged from his family, on his way out of state with unreliable 'friends' who were unlikely to report his disappearance. Jason broke into a broad smile, his laughter only a touch nervous. "You're funny." he said, hands moving to the back of Hector's neck, drawing him in to a kiss. Hector opened his mouth because that's what you're supposed to do, Jason's tongue darted inside a split second later so he figured he was doing something right when Jason moved pressing himself closer; the physical contact felt…

His hands slid around to the southerner's ass, earning more friction. Jason broke their mouths apart, Hector looked up at him as the younger man pulled his shirt over his head dropping it behind him with a smirk; He may have been staring…

Then Jason went to work on his buttons. Hector knew he shouldn't feel so embarrassed about his lack of sexual experience, he hadn't anticipated the feeling expecting to be clinical and detached as in other social settings but it didn't take a psych degree to conclude that it was only natural for his touch starved body to crave more even as he pictured the southerner's pale skin stained red.

Halfway through the buttons one of the young man's hands disappeared into his shirt, the other went back to his shoulder as the kisses continued. At this point Hector figured he should do something, he slowly slid his hands up Jason's back, the smaller man's whole body followed the motion like a cat enjoying a good stroke, hips rolling over his own, claws out, his shoulder stung from where nails dug into him, other hand somehow finding places Hector himself didn't even know could feel like that…

Hector was caught off guard when the southerner's teeth sunk into his lower lip, immediately responding by pinning the other man beneath him before he could even asses what had happened he tasted blood, "Shit, I'm sorry!" Jason cupped his face looking a little shocked, suddenly being shoved had caused him to bite down harder than intended, "It's fine, it was just…" Hector thought about how much bloodier the night would get. "Unexpected."

That dumb pretty boy smile returned to his face, "You look like a fuckin vampire," he said to lighten the mood, Hector's brow furrow as he was about to comment on who had bitten who when the brat rolled his eyes, "Oh come on you need to relax, in fact I have just the thing…" jason pushed his way out from under him, rummaging through his earlier abandoned jacket draped over the arm of the couch. His back was lightly freckled, red lines raked up the full length of his torso, Hector hadn't even noticed he'd marked him.

He turned back, a mischievous Look in his eye and something clutched in his hand, he sunk back into the couch cushions placing a joint between his lips; still smeared in Hector's blood. Logically Hector knew it was stupid to make a fuss about marijuana with his intentions but he wanted to see the moment the southerner realized he'd made a fatal error, to see the desperation. "No!" he took a moment to correct his harshness, "Not in my house." Jason lit the damn thing anyway, inhaling deeply, lighter still lit in his other hand.

Seeing the older man's clear frustration he took the joint from his mouth, "What are you a cop or something?" he taunted before exhaling smoke into Hector's face, just a few inches from his own. Hector refused to examine the effect that had on him, pressing himself down on the smaller man who's hips again moved to meet his, he grabbed the brunet's wrists tightly. He payed no mind to the soft thud as the lighter hit floor, the southerner relented freeing a hand to pull the older man's mouth back to his own, Hector's hand snaked up his bare chest coming to rest on his throat. Jason moaned as he began to apply pressure, in return his free hand fumbled with Hector's belt.

Hector's head was getting fuzzy, part of him really did just want to fuck the man already moaning beneath him, already grinding against him and well on his way to getting a hold of him… He tried to focus, on the taste of blood, the smell of… smoke-!?

The pair were snapped back to reality as the smoke alarm screamed for attention, "Shit!" jason pushed him away, bolting to his feet, throwing one of the cushions down on the small fire; smothering it. "Well that's just fucking great," he scooped up his destroyed shirt a moment later, looking back at Hector, "I'm stealing one of yours." He stated tossing the charred shirt and heading in search of Hector's closet.

More confused than before Hector set about clearing the smoke and shutting off the alarm. "What the hell!?" Jason yelled out after a few minutes, Hector rushed into the bedroom, mentally kicking himself when he saw his FBI t-shirt hanging off the smaller man's frame. Badge held tightly, jason's soft features washed in fear, he dropped it as if it burned, holding his hands out defensively. "What is this?" he backed up as Hector stepped towards him. "Is this some fucked up arrest tactic!?" he ran his hands over his face, anxiously burring his fingers in his hair, "For weed?… Fuck, is that a thing the FBI does!?"

"You're not under arrest," he tried his best to assure the spooked stoner that there was no danger, "My occupation has nothing to do with this," he gestured between them, Jason eyed him suspiciously before storming out of the room. Hector followed.

"Look I'm sure you're a nice guy," Jason was curt as he threw his jacket over the stolen shirt, "But this is just too weird for me, I'm sure you'll find some other guy that's into getting fucked by a fed but not me." he was already turning the front door handle, what could Hector do short of attacking him out right? his neighbors were likely already alert from the alarm, never mind the yelling. He felt like a moron standing there watching him leave, barely noticing that he was as disheveled as one would expect, as the door shut he could beat his thick head against it, on the bright side the brat never figured out his intention. He wipped the blood from his mouth, he wished the southerner would be swallowed up by the earth… Next time he'll try someplace quiet, an evening stroll through the woods perhaps…

--

Manny sat in his usual chair, the cold metal irritating his wrists already. Right on schedule Munday entered, taking the seat across from him. He had darker circles under his eyes than usual, Sherman wondered what the story was with the busted lip. "Rough night Agent Munday?"

The man didn't respond setting up his tape recorder and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he could have sworn he saw a slight redness on the agent's cheek at the mention, a lover's spat? He didn't seem the type. There was one other thing that Sherman would enjoy pressing the younger man's buttons over…

"Is that your girlfriend's lighter?"

Hector said nothing, shutting the worn lighter and sliding the smoke back in to the carton. Manny smiled, this was going to be an interesting session…

[yoomiwritingstuff]

you knew since the moment you clumsily crashed into him on the ice rink, made eye contact with one another and held your breathe — that shouto todoroki had captured your heart to the point of no return.

you won't ever forget the patience he had when you tried to remove yourself from him yet kept on slipping back towards his body, further entangling the both of you together.

he waits until you've calmed enough to focus your attention on him again before speaking up, assuring you that it was alright and he wasn't angry or any of that sort at all. even going as far as to ask you if you got hurt and apologizes for not catching you.

gazing at his heterochromia eyes, you fought away the nervousness in yourself in favor of savoring the time you had being so close to your oh so dear friend.

you've thought him handsome and pretty on the first day you've seen him sat on his desk in yuuei. you also pondered the idea if he was secretly a prince in some country and was forced to stay here with people like you the longer you eyed his default blank face. for someone who was entering the hero industry, todoroki sure gave of the feeling of being a model or an idol instead (of course that didn't mean good-looking people like him aren't fit to become heroes. he's more than capable of being a fantastic hero).

you never had any problem interacting with the man in front of you. there's the occasional awkwardness you get from his personality that can't be avoided but you all worked it out. in the end, your friendship was something you cherished greatly.

that is until tonight when you finally admit to yourself that you may have been developing some not-so platonic feelings for the half and half for quite a while.

were you willing to lose what you have with him just so you could tell him what you felt?

“(y/n),”

his voice brings you back to the present.

not only that, his touch on your skin undeniably breaks the troubling thoughts that is swirling inside your head.

“did falling perhaps damaged your brain?”

you would have laughed your ass off because of his unexpected choice of words if it wasn't for the seriousness of his tone and the worry in his eyes. scratch that, his words aren't unexpected at all. in fact, it was very shouto-like.

you shake your head and contently sighed while touching his warm hand that was placed on your right cheek. he reacts to your actions with a suprise look crossing his face, as if he hadn't think you would do that.

he made no move to detach himself from you and you revel in the soft moment you two are sharing as of now in the nearly empty ice rink you had invited him and the others — who unfortunately couldn't come — to go to and enjoy quality time while you were on your break.

“how do you feel?”

he asks you after seconds have passed and you're still in the same position as earlier, forgetting the cold hard floor and the few people who had skate passed by where you two were laying upon.

“i feel like i need a kiss from you to make the ache on my head go away.”

you cheekily replied. you might not have the courage to confess but that won't stop you from messing around and letting him know bits of your pining here and there.

it's not like he'll notice anything with him being somewhat oblivious to your hints and cues. nothing prepared you for what transpired next though.

you really ought to choose the things you say to todoroki or else he'd take them earnestly and do exactly what you were hoping him to do.

it was nothing more than a simple graze of his lips on your forehead and yet it flustered you to no end.

he quickly escapes from your hold and stared at anything else other than you. todoroki's ears are slightly flushed and you notice him take a deep inhale as if he was anxious for what you'd do after that whole situation.

“is the pain gone now?”

it took you a moment to register his new question. grabbing the scarf that hangs loosely on your neck, you burrowed half of your face to hide the embarasssement that's creeping inside you. you didn't realize that he did the same thing.

“y-yeah. thanks, shouto.”

as you try to recollect yourself, you wondered if the man with you meant anything about that kiss he gave.

before you could come up with something plausible in your mind that didn't involve him liking you back (because you didn't think he even saw you that way) you see him reaching for your hand. you willingly give it to him and watch as he tenderly intertwines your fingers together.

“you might get a cold if we stay like this.”

todoroki says nothing else so you nod in agreement. he lifts you up and you momentarily lose your balance from how long your legs were sat on the freezing ice. one of his hand grabs your waist to steady you as you feel him hold your other one tighter while your free hand takes place on his shoulder.

you send a shy laugh his way when you realize how close your bodies are with each other again. it doesn't bother you that you feel like a damsel in front of him even when you know you're very much capable of going toe to toe with todoroki in a fight.

“this is nice.”

you say softly, brushing away a few strands of his colored hair that's blocking his eyes making sure to evenly split away the red from the white. you hear him chuckle and as you stare at his eyes that always manages to keep your attention, you see that unmistakable familiar emotion in them when he looks at you back.

it's the same expression you have for him, that expression of longing and wanting to be something more than just what you have right now.

maybe you weren't wrong about your feelings being reciprocated after all should you find yourself confessing tonight.

a/n - reupload because i couldn't decide if i should post it or not */dives back to bed

[pinkpetalwaterimagine]

Just a neighbor (S.Mendes imagine)

A/N : here is a cute little piece about Shawn being your neighbor. English is not my first language and I didn't felt like proofreading the thing. Enjoy 🎄

Word count : 2.3K

Summary : Shawn is your neighbor... or is he only just that?

Ahh, Christmas what a wonderful time of the year. From your window you could see the kids with their parents caroling and going door to door. You could see in the rather empty street, maybe because of the cold, the Christmas lights reflecting on your neighbor’s window. The yellow and the red was forming such a pleasant, colorful and joyful alloy.

You were supposed to be working, you had finals coming up, well one last final the following morning but you couldn’t detach from the sight, it’s all you had been thinking about since you caught a glimpse. No you weren’t thinking about the giant Christmas tree that was put up each year on the big place, the thought invading you were also not about Santa Claus. You weren’t into kinky Santa (but to each its own). Your world had changed since you had seen him install himself in the house in the street across from your building. He was just so gorgeous and everyone in the neighborhood knew him, and a lot wanted him.

You can clearly remember the day you realized you had a crush on him. It was a morning in mid September. The sun was peeking out, it was early and everything was silent and still. Your apartment was really small, it was only a one bedroom apartment so you used to take every coffee in front of your big window to make it feel like you were in a big and open space. After all even if you were between four walls the world was wide and with a lot of things to discover. Usually, you were never awake at 5 am but everything was piling up and you needed to get an head start on your work. And that’s when you saw him clearly, in the broad daylight with no worries in the world, you had your cup of coffee warming your hands as you stared at your hot new neighbor from across the street ready to go run. His dog was unleashed and his tail was moving because of its excitement of going on a run. You loved this dog always seemed so nice and cuddly but you might admit that you rather talk to his owner. You remember how the rays of sunshine hit his brown curls, and how his eyes squinted to protect themselves from the sun. He had only a white tank top and his shorts and oh boy did it make things to you. Thankfully, he started running quickly so you couldn’t ogle him for much longer, you had work to do. But while you were doing yet another assignment you caught yourself drawn to the window waiting for him to pass by once again so you could have another look. You wanted to get lost in his eyes, study every single of his face and chiseled body. At one point you were so tired you started seeing his face in the pictures of statue you were looking at for your art history class. And that’s when you knew it was time to do something else or take a nap.

You can admit that at first it was a bit creepy, staring at your neighbor while he was not aware of it. But you only did it once and then you had became friends with him. You were at the park, reading another one of your compulsory readings for school when you felt a wet ball landing on your feet. It was the golden labrador that you had seen in the lawn infant of your apartment complex. You extended your hand to let him smell it and allow you to pet him. You see no real danger so you started scratching his head, he must have really enjoyed your touch because he climbed up on the bench where you were seating and started rolling around.

« Tarzan! » boomed a voice from far away. Without seeing the person you knew to who that voice belonged. He ran to his dog. « No Tarzan! » he tried getting his dog off of you but the dog didn’t want to move. « I’m so sorry, usually he is well behaved » he said almost frowning.

« Don’t worry, he is so cute. I almost want to keep him » you said with a small laugh. As the words left your mouth you wanted to facepalm yourself, he might think you are after his dog, or that you are a weirdo who steal people’s dogs or … he laughed a bit but you didn’t know if it was purely because he was a polite man or if it was a little bit genuine. A ripping sound got you out of your daydreaming. You looked at your tights and saw a big hole where Tarzan’s paws were just a second ago. The man followed your gaze and you saw his eyes getting wider and wider. « Oh my god, I’m so sorry! » He started scolding his dog. « That’s fine, don’t worry, I have other pairs at home ». He sighed before extending his hand to you : « I’m Shawn by the way ».

« Y/N. » you answered.

After an hour of talking on the bench Shawn offer to walk around the park. The conversation with him was flowing, it was like you knew each other for such a long time. There were non awkwardness and it felt nice to get your mind off of things. « In which direction are you going? » He asked after you established the fact that you had to come back to your home to work. Oh boy, you thought, here it is, the moment to tell the truth. « actually, I think that we are neighbors. » you said a bit quieter. You were afraid he might think that it was weird that you knew where he lived and that you actually paid attention to his comes and go. « great so we can walk together. »

And that was the beginning of your friendship, you could never thank enough Tarzan for that. Shawn became quickly someone essential in your life. He would often pop up at your place to ask you to walk Tarzan with him. During the walks you would talk about everything and nothing, what burdened you, whatever problem he might have at work and so on. He would also come by to eat dinner with you. You knew how to cook decently whereas he was a bit of a mess in the kitchen so you often shared meals. You enjoyed the late night conversations on your couch with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Whenever you talked about Shawn to your friends they would always wiggled their eyebrows and act like teenagers teasing the shy kid. Which was not that far from the truth but still.

It was not Christmas Day, but you could feel in the air that it was close. You were asleep on your couch when you heard your ring bell. You groaned, almost slipped on a sheet of paper that had fallen down on the floor. You checked yourself in the mirror, not the best time to come around. You had the mark of the pillow on your cheek, your hair looked like a bird nest and you were still sleepy from the nap you took. You opened the door and saw Shawn standing in the lobby. You let him come on in. You didn’t had to tell him to help himself, he already knew the place. You went to the bathroom trying to freshen up and wake yourself up.

« So what are you doing here fine gentleman? » you asked.

« Do I need a reason to come and see you? » he pouted.

« Of course not » you said while pulling him closer to you and cuddling him. His head resting on the lower part of your neck.

After dinner, he stoop up and went looking for something in his bag. A bag that you hadn’t noticed when he first came in. He enjoined you to close your eyes. Which you did. « No cheating » he teased. You were allowed to open your eyes and you found a small rectangular wrapped gift between your hands. You glared at him. « Shawn ! You shouldn’t have! I’m serious! ». « Open it! » You saw the excitement on his face and wondered what was inside. You tear the wrapping paper and saw a pair of polka dots thighs, the same one you were wearing the day you met on that park. « Aww, Shawn! that’s so cute ! Tanks honey. » it slipped out of your mouth before you could even think about it. You realized what you had just said after seeing his cheeks getting red and he was slightly uncomfortable, or you thought so. He took you in his arms nonetheless.

You woke up, the sun rays getting in your face. You didn’t remember falling asleep. As you became more conscious you realized the presence of a weight on your body. You opened your eyes and were faced with Shawn’s hair. You could feel his chin in the valley between your breast. The air coming out of his nose was tickling your skin. He was asleep and you enjoyed that moment because you didn’t know if it would ever happen again. After a while Shawn started to move around. He was groaning and you couldn’t figure out if he was actually speaking or if it was gibberish. « Babe… » he groaned clearly this time. He kept repeating it while he was still asleep. You didn’t know if he was naming you that way but you still felt this giddy feeling inside of you, as if warmth was spread all over your body. You saw his eyes fluttered. After several minutes he said : « we slept like that ? ». You only answered with a small smile, not trusting your voice after hearing his rough morning voice that you would dream about for days. « I understand this pain in my back now. » he said while getting up from the couch and therefore from you. You suppressed the whine threatening to come out of your mouth after the leaving of Shawn’s body from yours. You realized a change in his attitude, he felt tense and not like himself. He scrambled to get his stuff and in no time he had his shoes on his feet and was out the door. He only left with a small « bye ». It was quite uncharacteristic of him and you started replaying the whole night in your head trying to find what might have made him left like that.

His whole demeanor change from this day. You used to be great friends, always visiting one another, and trying to do something nice and fun for the other but it wasn’t like that anymore. He closed his curtains, even during the day sometimes. He didn’t meet you at the park when he clearly knew you were there every Wednesday morning for your coffee run of the day. You had tried going out of your way to make it less awkward by doing small gestures like cooking him an homemade meal and bring it over but he didn’t answer the door and you let the meal on his doorstep while you knew for a fact that he was home. You had wrapped up Tarzan’s gift and once again rang the doorbell to give it to him yourself. Shawn didn’t answer. You were started to get really frustrated with this situation. One day, when everything was going wrong, your paper had been deleted because the back up did not work, you had spilled coffee on your favorite blouse, it was the fourth day of the heater not working, and Shawn was still not talking to you. You put on some shoes and crossed the street ready to confront him. You were repeating in your head what you would say to him, mumbling under your breath, still in rage. You knocked on his door. Fuck the doorbell this time. The lights were on but he still wasn’t coming to open the door. You yelled his name trying to get him to come. You started pounding your fists on the door while screaming his name. After four or five minutes of this game he finally opened the door. Your screams stopped. « Y/N! What are you doing? » He asked almost offended.

« What am I doing? What am I doing? Are you kidding me Shawn. We haven’t seen each other for three weeks. In one night you decided to not talk to me anymore, you decided I wasn’t worth your time or just your presence! I am mad, I am mad that you left me alone. I thought we were friends. And I am cold and sad. » you felt good, you finally expressed all your frustration and it felt like you were relieved from a weight you had carried for three weeks.

« We can’t be friends Y/N. » he said slowly as to soften the blow.

« What? Why? I don’t understand! I thought we were good friends. »

It might have been the look in your eyes, the hurt in your eyes, the way your voice cracked at the end of your sentence or maybe how you were letting him saw your raw emotions. It made him snapped : « I don’t wanna be friends Y/N! Don’t you understand? The lingering touches, the small kisses, the cuddles! I can’t keep doing this as just friends. It is hurting me. I am not dating you but I can’t date other women because I always compare them to you. I always think about maybe the possibility of us being together. So no! For now I can’t be friends with you » you decided to shut him up and cut his little rant by placing your lips on his. The kiss felt so good for being so long overdue. It felt like you were floating above the ground. Until you started shivering because of your lack of clothes and being outside. Shawn felt the shiver and gripped you by the hips, pulling you in his home before closing the door.

« So where were we ? » he asked. You giggled and decided to remind him by acting.

[shorkbrian]

Father Figure - Disappointed

Prelude - I get so many asks about the same thing and so I put them at the bottom lol otherwise this would be so long. Also I combined them, RIP sorry pals I suck. Anyways, remember guys, bad people exist. If someone is hurting you or you suspect someone you know is being hurt, please talk to someone, please don’t let yourself settle into “This is normal, this is fine”. It’s not normal, and it’s not fine. The national sexual assault hotline in America is 1-800-656-4673 and it’s from a organization called RAINN.

https://www.rainn.org

They have a chat service too, if you prefer texting over calling.

Please stay safe y’all

Pairing - Stepdad! Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - Pseudo incest, manipulation, power dynamics, NSFW, noncon, dubcon, mentions of unsafe sex, slight degradation. Belittling, controlling Aizawa.

Music -  https://open.spotify.com/track/5nHTLEJ10zaqdnKqLriah4?si=Bs0su-fBRxWoE3jefCdPIA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Why? Why, huh? Do I not provide you with very little thing you need, anything you could ever want?”

You dip your head in shame, sock-clad feet rubbing against each other nervously. “I just wanted to-“

“To disappoint me, yes, you’ve done that very well.” Aizawa’s tone is harsh, incensed. “I catch you trying to sneak out again, and all you can do is offer excuses.”

Biting your lip, you spread your hands quickly, trying to appease him. “I was just going to get you a present! For-for your birthday!”

A weak excuse, one that neither of you bought.  Aizawa stood up from the couch, shaking his head.

“My birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks and you know it. Plus, we both know that you’ll be the only present I unwrap on my birthday.”

The sordid promise made your heart drop, tensing up as your stepdad came closer and closer, until he stood in front of you. Tall, imposing, irritated.

“I’m sorry….” You manage, staring down at your feet. It’s too intimidating to try and meet his gaze, those light grey eyes that fill you with fear and guilt.

“I’m sure you are. How are you going to make it up to me?” And there it was, the always-dreaded initiation. You often wondered how Aizawa would be like with a woman his age, someone willing and eager to please him. Would he force them like this?

A minute stretched by while your mind worked, trying desperately to think of some other way to soothe his ire. Every time you undressed for him, every time he touched your body, every time you were forced to touch him made you feel dirty, tainted, disgusting.

Damaged goods.

“I can choose-“

“No!” You cried, head snapping up, fingers flying to his shirt to fist in the soft fabric before you remembered yourself. “I mean, no Dad, I’ll make it up to you.”

The words felt vile in your mouth, like poison. But of your two options, having the slightest bit of control over the situation was preferable. Whenever your stepdad chose some way for you to show that you were sorry, it hurt. He’d introduced you to anal, forcing you to take his thick fingers deep, stretching you out with various plugs and toys, drizzling more and more lube into your hole until you were loose enough to take him.

This way, you could avoid his painful favorite.

Taking a deep breath, you steered him back to the couch, and the man sat, looking up at you expectantly.

You dropped to your knees, spreading his thighs with your hands, the limbs giving way easily. The waistband of his sweats was pulled down easily, your fingers hooking into his briefs to pull them down as well.

He was already hard.

“C’mon, don’t make me wait.” Your stepdad urged, one hand coming to lace through your hair, loosely gripping the aback of your head. You suppose it could be taken as a reassuring gesture, but you knew what it really was; a threat.

You kept your face neutral as you kissed the mushroom tip, a bead of precum wetting your lips. You’d earned quickly that making any sort of face at the sight, smell, or feel of Aizawa’s dick would be met with swift punishment. He’d shove his cock down your throat and keep it there until your legs went numb, until tears pricked at your eyes.

And you’d still have to suck him off afterwards.

So you kept your face relaxed, slowly licking along the length, fondling his balls, kissing the base of his cock noisily.

A long lick from the base to the tip before you took him in your mouth, tucking your teeth behind your lips. Your tongue took over now, swirling around the head, laving broad strips against the very tip, swiping the precum away on each lick.

Raising your eyes to gauge his reaction was a mistake, Aizawa staring down at you with a hooded gaze, relaxing back into the couch.

“Make it up to me.”

You sucked, hard, swallowing around his dick as you eased it towards the back of your throat. You had to build up to deepthroating, still had trouble with it and your gag reflex, but your stepdad was a diligent teacher.

He was holding himself back, thighs flexing aside your head as he stopped himself from thrusting up into your mouth, from hunching over and using you like a toy, making you gag and sob and drool around his length. Aizawa wanted you to do all the work, wanted you to show him how sorry you really were by making him cum.

Moving your head faster, you bobbed on his length, cringing internally as drool slipped down your chin, towards your chest. You hated when it got messy.

Aizawa placed his other hand against your cheek, stroking the side of your face, but you could tell that he was really feeling for the outline of his cock in your mouth, thick, stocky fingers pressing insistently.

You made a little noise of protest, quickly trying to morph it into a moan, pulling off of him to catch your breath. Your hands twisted around his length, stimulating him in place of your mouth while you breathed, sloppy, slick sounds being heard each time your fist met his pelvis.

“Do it like I taught you.” Were his next instructions, Aizawa obviously getting bored by your hand job. You wanted to kick, and scream, and cry, maybe bite his dick off.

But he’d trained you well.

So you took a deep breath before plunging back down again, moving your head enthusiastically as you throat-fucked yourself, willing your gag reflex to stay calm.

It was only when you felt his dick slip into your throat did your stepdad start to make noise, groaning a little bit as he fisted his hand further into your hair. He was subtly guiding you with the hand, forward and back, forward and back, but letting you move about freely.

After all, you were supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s it, just like that.”

His orgasm built up slowly, cock twitching inside your mouth as you worked him higher and higher, hands playing with the length of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You had to pull off once more to breath, chest heaving, desperately trying to jerk him to completion while his length wasn’t lodged in your mouth.

No such luck.

He came in your mouth, hips bucking a little as he released his milky seed. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your fists as you willed yourself not to recoil, not to get sick, not to make a face or do anything else to earn Aizawa’s anger.

You swallowed it down without a fuss, hating yourself for every second you spent being compliant.

But what else could you do?

Cock softening against his thigh, you tucked him back into his sweatpants, leaning your face against his leg to rest for a second.

Your stomach felt warm, full. It made you so sick.

“That was good, you’re learning.” Even his praise was clinical, almost detached. You hated him.

“I’m still upset with you though.”

The admission made you lift your head, turning to your stepfather with a quizzical expression, hurt, feeling betrayed.

“But dad, I just-I got you off? Isn’t that enough?” You wanted to add a “please”, beg for him to say yes, that all is forgiven, that he wasn’t mad anymore, that he wasn’t going to hurt you, or make you do anything else.

Aizawa tutted. “It’s enough when I say it is, and you messed up big time. You think a measly little blowjob makes up for all the shit you’ve tried to pull today? I don’t think so.”

“But, wasn’t it-didn’t I do good? I thought-“

“It was nice, you’re getting the hang of how to move your tongue. But I think there should be a little more effort put into your apology.”

You wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair, you had done enough already, wasn’t he satisfied? Why was he like this, so creepy and gross? Why couldn’t you have had a normal stepfather, who treated you like a normal person, who didn’t rip away your autonomy and freedom.

Aizawa could tell you weren’t fond of having to continue, but he wasn’t fond of your behavior.

A sudden jerk from the hand in your hair had you gasping in pain, Aizawa leaning over as he pulled you towards him. Your hands grabbed for his wrists, but he was already talking, anger swimming in those grey eyes of his.

“I’m being lenient with you. Do you understand how awful you’ve been these past few weeks? You’re pathetic. You think I wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak out the back door? You think I wouldn’t notice the hickies on your neck after you come home from “hanging out” with your girls?”

Your blood ran ice cold, draining out of your face. You thought you had told your (tentative, maybe) boyfriend to not leave any marks, that your dad would notice, that you’d get in trouble. You though you’d gotten away with that little secret, with the fact that you’ve been seeing someone every time you tell your dad you’re just chilling with friends.

Trying to sneak out the back door had been dumb, but you had felt desperate, upset, detested by your life. Hating the daily routine of being assaulted by your stepdad, being forced to be obedient and docile and cater to his lecherous whims.

Spread your legs when he asks, suck him off under the table when he tells you to, keep the bathroom door unlocked when you take a shower, in the off chance that he’d like to join you.

Not being able to tell anyone, caring the burden of shame and regret like heavy weights on your back.

Having to kiss him on the mouth, feel his stubble burning your cheeks, the sensitive skin of your thighs when he felt particularly giving.

His daily “lessons” almost always made you cry, either his harsh words or his insistence that you learn how to please him, it was only your natural role.

A daughter should always do her best to please her daddy.

Even just a night of freedom away from his grasp was welcomed, savored as a treat. You just needed to get away, but even that was asking too much.

“So-“ Aizawa released you, and you immediately rubbed at your stinging scalp. “What do you think I should do?”

“I-I wanna go to bed.” You mumbled, eyes darting wildly around the room, focusing anywhere except the dark-haired man in front of you.

“Oh? I didn’t expect you to be so forward about that.” He taunted, leaning forward onto his knees, lacing his fingers together with a mean smirk.

“No, I want to sleep….. please.” You knew that Aizawa had intentionally misunderstood you, intent on making you plead with him for simple mercies like sleep.

Aizawa sighed, rising to his feet. You scrambled to your feet also, feeling too small and weak kneeling on the floor underneath him like that. Still, he towered over you, running a lazy hand through his dark locks as he regarded you.

���I can’t just let you go unpunished, what kind of father would I be? Letting you lie and sneak around behind my back like this. Your daddy is supposed to care for you. I’d never neglect you.”

You wish he would.

“I learned my lesson dad, I swear. I won’t sneak out, I’ll-I’ll stay home and have my friends over instead of going out! Anything, just-just not……”

Not whatever he had planned for the rest of the night.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples as he circled a hand around your arm, beginning to lead you towards his bedroom down the hall. You wanted to balk, but knew that doing so would only worsen your punishment.

“Thats a start, and we’ll do that moving forward. But you won’t be getting out of a punishment. Offering compromises and begging won’t get you anywhere, even if you do sound sweet.”

Pulling you into his bedroom, your stepdad let go of your arm, closing the door behind you. He moved to turn on a lamp by the bedside, turning off the overhead light so the room was cast in a low, yellow glow.

“Strip, then on the bed.”

You trembled as you slowly shucked off your clothes, Aizawa beginning to do the same, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

But that was normal.

Aizawa was a fit man, able to manhandle you and pin you down, keep you still with the muscles hiding under his skin. But he was a father, and older, his body taking on the characteristics of someone who enjoyed life.

His thighs were thick, his abdomen sturdy. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but his muscles were overplayed with a nice layer of fat. He looked like a bear, with the dark hair on his chest, his thick limbs, his solid frame.

But the man wasn’t shy, and by the time you had stripped down to your panties he was completely nude, pink cock soft against his thigh.

“Dad, I really don’t want to do-“

“I don’t care. Get on the bed.”

You bit your lip, staying still. “Please, please, I said I’m sorry-“

Within a second, Aizawa’s hand was around your throat, his eyes blazing as he shoved you against the wall.  

“This is what’s going to happen.” His voice was raspy, grinding out past his clenched teeth as he invaded your space. “You’re going to do as I say and get on the bed, or else I’ll use my belt on you until you bleed. Once you’re on the bed, you’re going to lay nice and pretty for daddy while I get everything ready. I got a candle to play with, and a couple of toys, and daddy wants to see how well they makes you moan for me.”

You were shivering, fingers scrabbling at the hand squeezing your airway, still allowing you to breath, but just barely.

“You’re gonna get all fucked out and stupid, ’n then I’m gonna bounce you on my cock until I’m satisfied, got it?” The man continued, his nose almost touching yours “Then you’re gonna wear a plug all night, and all tomorrow morning. I get to have you whenever I want, and you won’t complain or else I’ll cum inside, alright?”

Nodding your head, you felt tears rising. You had to do what Aizawa said though, you couldn’t take the risk of having the man cum inside.

“I’ll decide a better way to continue your punishment tomorrow, when I’m not as upset with you. Maybe by then you’ll figure out how to listen to daddy.”

When the man released your throat, you gasped, coughing a bit as you sucked in oxygen. Aizawa was already pushing you towards the bed, eyes trained on your figure.

The new knowledge that this wouldn’t even be the brunt of your punishment was devastating, and you felt your chest tighten up as you struggled not to cry. Crying would only get him to mock you.

All you could do was comply.

“I need you to remember-“ Your step dad catches you by the wrist, tilts your chin with a finger so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.II (Kang Yeosang) Rated

<<Previous // Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress!/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Light Angst, Crack, 80s Au.

Summary: Getting the chance to spend time alone with Y/N, Yeosang jumps at the opportunity, getting a little more than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Dumb attempts at humor, second hand embarrassment, Lynn is still creepy, slight voyeurism/ exhibitionism, making out in car, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving).

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The two best friends giggled amongst themselves as they entered inside the establishment, hands full of bags that contained to go boxes with several assorted sandwiches, burgers and fries inside of them. Hearing the bell signal customers, the peppy blonde at the front counter looked up from the thick stack of papers in front of her, mouth automatically showcasing her perfect and commercial worthy smile she always used when greeting newcomers or even regulars.

"Good afternoon what can-" Her expression immediately soured, smile fading and in its place puckered lips took shape.

"Oh... it's just you two." She drawled out the last words, eyes rolling as she peered back at the papers she was busy with.

Looking over at each other, Lynn simply shrugged her shoulders as one of her eyebrows raised up in puzzlement. Meanwhile, Y/N couldn't contain the soft snort that passed through her tight sealed lips, the sound coming out more like a goofy raspberry that further irritated the girl at the counter.

"Hey Sora. How's your day going so far?" Y/N tried to make conversation, but it was obvious the girl wasn't having it, blatantly ignoring both of them as her hand scribbled even faster, pages being turnt at a fast speed. Shifting awkwardly in her stance, Y/N turned her head to look at her friend, who merely shook her head, face clearly indicating to her to not try to act nicer and to simply get to the point of why they had come all the way to the workshop.

"Are the boys still here?"

With a few muttered grumbles, Sora lifted her pen and pointed it behind her towards the door that led to the garage, silently answering where the mentioned individuals currently were.

"Thanks."

Sora let out a scoff as the two girls made their past the counter, annoyed ever so vastly by the fact she had no authority nor power to forbid them from going to the back. Being friends with Wooyoung and the rest of the gang, obviously they got special privileges that allowed them to come and go as they pleased not only in the shop but also down at the tracks. And frankly Sora hated it, hence why she didn't refrain from demonstrating her hostility towards Y/N and Lynn, but especially towards the latter for more personal and complicated reasons that everyone was aware of but Lynn herself.

"I don't know why you go out of your way to be friendly towards her. She's been needing to take a chill pill ever since high school." Lynn retorted. Putting down the bags she was carrying for a moment, she pulled the sides of her oversized denim jacket back over her shoulders, the top having slipped off rather uncomfortably on her torso.

"Honestly?...... merely to piss her off." Y/N snickered maliciously, her true intentions finally coming to light.

"Well I'd say you do a fantastic job then. She just takes one look at you and her blood is boiling." Lynn pointed out as she picked up the bags once more.

"Trust me Lynn, you anger her more than I do." Thay statement made the petite girl do a double take at the office behind them.

"Me? Whatever did I do to Barbie?" She questioned, never once recalling a moment where she even spoke two words to the preppy girl that wasn't a casual greeting or goodbye.

Y/N looked with a deadpanned expression to her friend.

"You seriously don't- you know what? Never mind."

Not wanting to waste time trying to explain to her frequently unobservant buddy why Sora had a price on her head, Y/N just quickly rushed over towards the group of men huddled around the red Ferrari F40, one of them hidden underneath it, no doubt in the process of checking or fixing minor issues. Seeing the girls approaching them, all of the boys quickly sprang to life, Wooyoung leading the entourage as they came up towards them.

"So our lovely diner girls actually decided to join us for a movie night. I knew you guys couldn't resist my deadly charm."

Not only were the girls unamused by his little joke, but even his friends behind him shook their heads, disapproving greatly of his overly confident and light narcissistic attitude that he exuded at times.

"I only came cause I am not going to spend a perfectly good Friday night cooped up in my house watching Dynasty." Y/N firmly stated, shutting down any further attempts of flirting directed towards her.

"I like to see people get stabbed or gutted to death."

Cringing at the macabre girl's overly calm response, Wooyoung tilted his head back and looked at the tallest member of the gang, nose crinkling significantly as he silently mouthed a few words over to him, deeply questioning his friend's taste. Said friend simply shrugged and stepped up closer towards the girls, not surprising anyone that he'd pick a stance that had him facing Lynn from the front as he always liked to do.

"Well I'm just really happy you guys decided to join us. I thought you would be happy at knowing it was a horror film."

Not too far behind him, San and Mingi were already giggling amongst themselves, sending each other signals and jokingly theorizing how the night was going to go like.

"I am exceedingly happy Yunho. My body is so filled with joy and immense contentment that I can hardly keep myself from grinning." Despite the jubilant sentence, Lynn's face displayed absolutely no emotion and her raspy and low toned voice was still as monotone and lifeless as it tended to be. Yunho's bright smile nearly faltered, feet rocking back and forth awkwardly as he did not know how to proceed after such a statement. Luckily Mingi stepped in and changed the topic.

"Please tell me there's food in those bags and that we can have some." He pointed to one of the many bags that the girls were carrying.

Lifting one hand up then the other, Y/N shook the contents lightly.

"Your favorites." She chuckled when San came up and tightly squeezed her body into a hug.

"This is why I love you both." Y/N did not mind the slightest bit when he suddenly pulled her face towards his, mouth pressing hard and intense pecks on her cheek repeatedly as a show of gratitude. She was so used to his affectionate nature.

Turning around, Wooyoung cupped his hands over his mouth so that his voice could resonate loudly.

"Yeosang quit tinkering with it already! You're going to get dirty and we have a movie to catch." He shouted at whom the girls presumed was under the race car.

"You literally have speakers built into your vocal chords, there was no need for that makeshift megaphone." Lynn grumbled at him, causing the male next to her to burst out in a fit of giggles.

"Speakers built in hie vocal chords. Good one." Lifting his hand up, Yunho held it up towards Lynn, expecting her to high five him back but was instead met with her cold, squinting eyes that inspected his palm.

"Your aura is overly forced....and you have leftover grease on your hand." She looked away after finishing that sentence. Hearing her say that made Yunho instantly check his hand, immediately wiping it off on his jeans as he mentally slapped himself for looking like an idiot in front of the girl he fancied.

Not paying mind to whatever was happening around her, Y/N's eyes were glued on the figure that emerged from under the car. She couldn't help but admire the strong and buff biceps that were peeking out of the plain white tshirt the man was wearing, sleeves slightly rolled up above his shoulders. The angelic face belonging to him looked even more dazzling due to the light sheen of sweat around his temples, no doubt caused by the work he was doing. Even as he reached for one of the cleaning towels so he could wipe the grime and oil off his hands, Y/N continued to gaze at Yeosang, mind already conjuring up many ideas and fantasies with him as the main protagonist.

"Oh sweetie, you're not making this any easier." She mused inwardly, one of her fingers twirling a strand of her hair.

Discarding the rag on one of the toolboxes nearby, Yeosang carefully approached the group of friends, still awkward in interacting with all of them, trait that only helped in making him stand out like a sore thumb, more than he already did. Clamping a hand over his new buddy's shoulder, Wooyoung brought a hand up and patted one of his squishy cheeks.

"Now that you're finally here we can go." Looking around, Wooyoung gestured around.

"So who's riding with who?"

Immediately Yunho turned his face towards the girl next to him, about to voice out his want of having her in his car, but it seemed as if his plans would fall through as Mingi latched an arm around him.

"I'm going with Yunho." He seemed determined not to let go of him.

"Why? So you can cling to him during the scary parts?" A chorus of laughter poured out at San's amusing words.

"As if!" Mingi huffed, though it was more than obvious to everyone that it was precisely as San had predicted.

"Mingi... I was kinda hoping I could... you know?" Yunho tilted his head over to Lynn, making him get the picture of what he wanted.

"Whatever happened to bros before hoes?" Mingi sighed as he detached himself from Yunho.

"Ok then. Yunho you go with Mingi, San you can take the girls and I'll keep Sangie here company since he's still a little bit shy you know."

It seemed as if it was all decided about how their night was going to run, so Y/N knew she had to speak up and take the opportunity before it was all settled.

"Why don't I ride with Yeosang instead?"

Hearing her suggestion, the male in question widened his eyes in shock, not expecting her to voice that out loud. Even Wooyoung found it slightly odd and suspicious that she'd say that. But then he remembered the type of girl Y/N was and it started to set off alarm bells in his mind.

"Oh it's ok Y/N. You probably won't like to have him scream in your ear and cover his eyes like a baby at the jump scares." Not taking kindly to such blasphemous talk about him that painted an inaccurate picture.

But Y/N remained undeterred. She would stand her ground no matter what.

"Oh please, I insist. I'd love to take care of him..." She did not hide the sultry way she said that last part, eyes locked on Yeosang's, the boy swallowing hard and pressing himself further into Wooyoung's side. Wanting to bargain even further, Y/N took hold of her friend.

"How about this? Lynn goes with Yunho and Mingi, you ride with San and I get Yeosang?"

San cupped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh he wanted so desperately to release.

"I don't think it's just him she wants to get." He chuckled to himself.

"You're seriously leaving me alone with these 2 giants?" Lynn pointed to the two men at her right, one of which obviously was more than willing to welcome the arrangement.

"I promise Mingi won't disturb you too much with his crying." Yunho swore to her, hand coming up to clasp around Mingi's mouth when he attempted to protest that decision.

Wooyoung looked over to Yeosang, leaning in and dropping his voice so that only he could hear.

"If you don't want to, just say the word and I'll get her off your case." He offered. Although they had only met just a couple days ago, Wooyoung felt compelled and obligated to look out for the new boy, even if it meant protecting him from his other friends.

Knowing that he probably shouldn't and that it was a bad idea, Yeosang glanced over at Y/N. Meeting her eager eyes and cunning smile, any resolve to stay close to Wooyoung was immediately dispelled from his mind. He might never get another opportunity such as was presented to him and he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was rather curious to find out more about the young vixen that he had heard so much about since he moved into town. With an assured smile that slightly worried Wooyoung, Yeosang stepped forward and held out his hand towards Y/N.

"Shall we get going then?"

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Unable to focus his attention towards the gigantic screen right in front of him, Yeosang slumped down further in his seat, fingers tugging his red sweater over his body. Every few seconds or so, he'd turn his head to peer at the girl on the passenger seat, looking exceedingly calm and collected unlike him. He was overly anxious to the point his food was still untouched, sitting in the backseat, long forgotten. Y/N, although collected, was bored out of her mind, elbow rested on the window, head being supported on her palm as her eyes never lingered away from the gore filled scenes being displayed across from them. There was a deafening silence inside the black Iroc Camaro, the tension between both individuals becoming increasingly thick.

Becoming desperate after 40 minutes of not getting him to make a move or even attempt to break the ice, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Unzipping her green varsity jacket, Y/N began to slide it off her shoulders, revealing the low cut crop tank that she was hiding thus far.

"It's so hot today, don't you think?" She asked him as she tossed the clothing item behind her before settling back into her seat, fighting hard to keep her signature smirk off her face.

If he wasn't feeling hot before, Yeosang certainly started to feel heated after she had taken off her jacket. His hand reached out to grab the cup of soda in the cup holder, gulping most of the contents and ice down to help cool him down. He made an effort not to glance back at his companion anymore, knowing if he did he would have been unable to keep his eyes off her chest. Although it was dark and he turned away almost immediately, he had not missed the fact that she had chosen not to wear a bra, her nipples slightly poking out through the thin and flimsy shirt that even slowed one to make out the outline of her areolas. It was definitely a weakness of his, and Y/N was quick to find that out. Thumb coming up to her mouth, she began biting down on the nail to keep from giggling at Yeosang's reaction. He was devastatingly adorable with his wide eyes and stiffened posture, knee restlessly bouncing up in an agitated fashion. Looking in between his legs, she felt disappointed that she hadn't caused enough damage to earn a tent forming in his pants. He obviously knew how to calm himself in time. That wasn't enough to make her give up. On the contrary, it only hardened her resolve to get him to break.

Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, she reached her hands inside of her tank top. Cupping her breasts in her palms, she started off with slow movements, massaging them gently. Her eyelids started to flutter, closing only briefly as very faint and soft sighs were being exhaled through her nose. Although it was mostly done to tease the boy next to her, she got carried away and started to become more and more turned on with what she was doing. Each time she'd purposefully pinch and pull at her hardening peaks, a muffled whine would be heard coming from her throat, legs starting to spread inch by inch as her planters started to stick against her core.

Opening her eyes and tilting her head, she witnessed Yeosang's astounded expression that also held some lust in it. He was no longer sipping from his drink, but rather his teeth and tongue were merely toying around with the blue plastic straw as the grip on the base of the cup was lightly crushing it. The movie ultimately failed its purpose of keeping him distracted as his attention had fully diverted over to the sexy girl next to him, watching intently as she pleasured herself, wishing that it were his hands instead that were ministering such devotion to her breasts.

"Wanna be a doll and help me out here?" It seemed as if she had read his mind.

Without even a second of hesitation, Yeosang reached down and adjusted his seat back as far as it could go. Jumping at the invitation, Y/N climbed on top of him until she was straddling his lap. Yeosang's hands eagerly clasped around her waist, thumbs circling on the skin of her exposed abdomen. Cupping his cheeks, Y/N leaned her face down and harshly entangled her lips over his own. Yeosang hummed softly as he tasted the remnants of her cherry flavored chapstick, head tilting back when one of her hands tugged at his hair. His hands didn't hesitate to trail up and cup her mounds through her shirt, taking over the job that was previously being done by the owner's hands. Her insistent mouth parted his trembling lips, tongue poking out ever so slowly until it began divulging in the sweet taste of his wet cavern. Although he was no stranger to French kissing, Yeosang had never experienced a makeout session as intense as the one Y/N offered. She was very skilled and experienced, as proven by the swirl and swivel of her tongue against his own. He couldn't stop the moans pouring out from inside him, his hips bucking up into hers as if on instinct while his hands became more harsh and aggressive as they grasped at her breasts with near ferocity. Y/N would only pull away from their kiss for a few seconds to allow him to catch his breath before her lips lured him back into her. It was finally dawning on Yeosang's mind why so many men became captivated by her charms, even when knowing what the outcome would be. Here he was, the most lovely and hottest girl he'd ever met in his life, on his lap, making out with her while simultaneously getting to second base. He felt so damn lucky. But Y/N wanted to take it up a notch, not satisfied with ending the night with just heavy petting.

Sliding off his lap, she suprised him when she took hold of his belt and began to take it off him. Getting an inkling as to what she might have had in mind, Yeosang took hold of her wrist, making her head shot up at him.

"Is something wrong?" She began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had she really fucked things up already.

Yeosang turned beet red as he swallowed harshly, trying hard to form the words his head was attempting to sought.

"Are you.... are you a virgin?" She felt like she would have died if the answer was yes.

Seeing her worried face, Yeosang quickly shook his head.

"No! I'm most certainly not a virgin." He sounded almost offended at the insinuation, but it helped calm Y/N down, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"I just...I've never tried...that before."

His confession just made him cuter in her eyes, previous desire to corrupt and play with him only heightening to new levels after that revelation. Wanting to entice him, she moved her hand to cup at his bulge, loving the way he immediately gasped when she started palming him through his jeans. He bit down at his lip so harshly he believed it would draw blood. He wouldn't contain himself as he bucked his hips up into her palm, desperately wanting her to help him out with his problem. When her fingers reached for his zipper again, he didn't stop her, he merely lifted his hips up to help her as she pulled his pants down by the belt loops, his hardened cock popping out to greet her, surprising her when she noticed how large and thick it was, the head leaking with precum which she used to her advantage and began spreading it down his shaft. The contact of her hand gripping him had Yeosang shuddering, low groaning spilling out his lips. Looking up at him with a devilish grin, Y/N began lowering her head until her lips brushed against his tip.

"Just sit back and relax pretty boy."

A raspy wheeze was caught in Yeosang's throat as soon as he felt her warm mouth on his length, hands flying behind him to clutch at the leather seat of the car. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt so dirty, so wrong and yet he wanted it. He wanted her........

He didn't care if he was playing with fire and he'd get burned by the end of it.

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @deja-vux @hanatiny @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @minhyukmyluv @rainteez02 @nanamarkie @serialee

[workofheart]

can i request no. 4 with jean please??? i love you so much!!!

this one is so adorable, i’m so glad to have some love for jean boy finally <3 also slightly edited the line for flow purposes :3 update: HAS been edited 

while we’re out on watch | jean +“i don’t know if you noticed, but i’m in love with you”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

the time when darkness submerges the land is always a beautiful one. from here, you can see the stars above flickering like throbs of a heart, growing minutely bigger and smaller in the black of the sky, almost able trace the invisible lines between them with a finger held out in front of you.

sighing, you pick your head up from where it rests on your palm, elbow on the edge of the barrier. you know you’ll fall asleep eventually if you keep it up.

the nighttime is a relief, even if the peace it brings is only a mirage for what lies just miles beyond. such is the reason why you’re sat in the watchtower, keeping guard while the others rest inside. if only you could be enjoying it by choice, when you’re not exhausted and in dire need of sleep, or at least had some company.

as if on cue, you feel his presence before you see it - the approaching echo of weighted footsteps on the earth is a familiar sound to your trained ears. you hear the wood squeak and his footfalls thump on the precarious rings below.

“jean?’ you ask, twisting to peer over your shoulder, voice quiet as to not disturb the sleepy air. it only takes a moment for his head to appear above the floor of the tower, followed by the rest of his body climbing inside.

“hi.” he smiles shyly, dusting the sawdust from the ladder off of his hands. his eyes crinkle, but there are deep hanging, purple circles beneath them, a stark juxtaposition from the way his pupils seem to sparkle with the slivers of moonlight that cross his gaze.

“what are you doing here? your shift isn’t for another...” you check your watch. “two hours.”

jean shrugs, nonchalant. “couldn’t sleep. thought i’d come early,” he says simply, pulling a dusty chair from the corner to place it next to yours. he admirably brushes off the dust and cobwebs that hang between the arm rests.

you think of maybe switching out, leaving now that he’s here. the lull of deep rest is so inviting, being able to collapse into a decent bunk, what a beautiful hope... but while you’re in desperate need of sleep, you know you can’t miss out on this chance. 

it’s so rare that you can get a moment alone with him when you’re constantly traveling with the scouts. there’s always someone bursting in the room, screaming across the hall, butting into your personal space. but then again, when has there ever been true privacy within the scout regiment?

so, you slump back into your chair, the wood digging into your back just uncomfortable enough to keep you from falling asleep. you’re glad to have him here.

“how’ve you been?” he asks, softly clearing his throat, “feel like i haven’t talked to you in forever.”

“that’s because it has been forever,” you laugh. “’been okay. you?”

“doin’ well, yeah. as much as you can be. and, oh,” he says, reminded of something from the expression that passes over his features. he leans forward and digs his hand into his coat pocket before presenting you a half of a bun sitting pretty in his palm.

your stomach growls audibly, making your face run hot in embarrassment. you take it graciously. “how’d you know?”

jean retreats his hands and looks down to his lap, not able to help the urge to pick at his nails. nervous habit. how could he not be, when you look so pretty and he has the sight all to himself?

“saw you didn’t eat earlier. just thought you might be hungry.”

he hopes it doesn’t sound creepy, even though when recalling how he was looking at you at dinner, it was, objectively, a little creepy. he prays you’ll brush it off, but already knowing that you won’t is just another thing that makes his heart skip a beat. 

you can’t let him live, and he can’t get enough of it.

“oh, so you’re stalking me now?” you joke, but the thought of him noticing such a thing makes your chest swell. you’re touched.

jean didn’t even sit by you at dinner tonight. you’re sure he was a table over, and the only reason you know is because you kept sneaking glances at him, wishing he had sat down next to you instead, like he usually does. his hair looked so nice, and his cute mannerisms were so much more obvious when you could see him from the front.

he chuckles shyly, a hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

he swallows. “just... take care of yourself. i’m not always gonna be here to bring you bread when you’re hungry.”

carefully, you rip a small chunk of bread off with your fingers and toss it into your watering mouth. it’s fluffy and sweet, now that you actually have an appetite to taste it. “you’re starting to sound like my mother, jean kirstein.” 

he loves the way you say his name. if only you knew how it makes his chest bloom with warmth. it sounds so natural and endearing rolling off your tongue that for a second, his only dream is getting to hear it again.

“why do you care so much? you add quietly, eyes flitting over to meet his. his face softens at your sincerity. 

“why do you care if i care?” he counters, but his tone is soft as cashmere. he hesitates, not sure if he should go a step further, before continuing with an experimental tenderness. “you’re important to me. isn’t that enough?”

“oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes. it breaks the veil of late-night emotional vulnerability that hangs in the air. “don’t get all mushy on me.” 

but it’s a lie. god, is it a lie. you love when he gets mushy on you. jean’s open nature is alluring and intimidating at the same time. you’re not sure if you’d even be able to participate, with how hard it is to take your own feelings seriously. you never have the guts to say anything more, to say what you actually want to say. 

too often, you’ve thought about what exact words you’d use, how you’d do it. you’ve rehearsed the lines, read over them in your mind a thousand times. but it’s pointless - it’s not like he’d ever date you, not in this climate with so much constantly on the line, right? that’s the reason you feel so guilty in the first place, what with him taking care of you when you refuse to do it for yourself. it’s just another added stress, and you can’t stand to see it when he’s dealing with so much already.

he’s not sure how to reply, so you fill the space instead, regretting your previous joking detachment. “i just don’t get why you bother.”

for whatever reason, it makes him feel a little huffy. how could you think that? how could you ask such a thing, when he makes it so damn obvious? maybe it’s his lack of sleep clouding his judgment, or maybe he’s just exhausted from hiding his feelings any longer, but he says it without really thinking.

he sighs with an attitude. “i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but i’m kind of in love with you.”

you scoff, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “don’t say stuff like that.” taking another bite of bread, you’re anticipating him to burst out in laughter any second, but he doesn’t. jean is first frozen in astonishment at his own words, and secondly frozen by the way you so easily dismiss it.

eyebrows furrowing, his voice takes on a defensive tone. “i mean it.”

when your eyes meet his, your mask of a grin drops to an embarrassed, disbelieving smile. his expression is utterly serious.

“wait, really?” there’s a certain amusement in your face that has jean shriveling up. he nods shamefully, head hanging low. his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach and feels his throat begin to burn.

you swallow, trying to keep your cool. letting out a shaky breath, you mumble, “in that case, i have some good news for you.”

he picks his head back up immediately. your cheeks are flushed, looking at him with eyes like crescent moons.

he’s grateful to find that it’s not because you’re laughing at him. you’re absolutely delighted, the urge to punch the air and jump off your feet filling your veins, the purest excitement in existence, you think.

you eat the last piece, licking the small crumbs off your thumb. you lean in, hoping he can’t hear the intense thumping of your heart against your ribcage.

your breath tickles the shell of his ear, muttering, “i’m kind of in love you, too.” the confession is a whisper in the night, meant only to be heard by him. his nerves turn hot.

“seriously?” he checks, eyes reading over your appearance to look for hints of dishonesty. he doesn’t find any.

“seriously.” you feel like a kid again, a giddy chortle bubbling from your throat. “i just... just thought it wasn’t possible.”

a comfortable silence ensues, aside from the occasional disbelieving chuckle. the birds are beginning to chirp, singing their songs to greet the rising sun beyond the horizon.

when the time comes for you to leave, you sit up and stretch out your stiff limbs. you gather your things, adjusting the hood around your neck. jean watches the whole time, absorbed in your movements.

you know you can’t just leave without a word. before you go, you bend over behind his chair until your face is next to his.

“thanks, jean,” you murmur, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. his stubble pokes against the cushion of your lips.

and then you’re off, lowering yourself down the ladder before he can even realize that you’ve kissed him. in your absence, he holds his fingertips to his cheek, still feeling the pressure of your lips there in shock.

he’s left with a distant smile on his face all day after, and the scouts don’t even have to ask to know why when they see the same damn look on yours.

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: J - Joker Junior (JJ)

Summary: When Dick is joined by his brother’s alter personality he struggles to complete his case work. JJ can be rather distracting especially when Dick has to keep a constant eye on him because he can’t be trusted to be on his own. 

A/N: This story references to torture and self harm, nothing in graphic detail but please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. This story is based where Tim had been kidnapped by the Joker and turned into Joker Junior. 

Enjoy! :D 

“Don’t. Put it back. Now.”

There’s a few beats of a silence and without looking he could tell his orders haven’t been followed. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Seconds later there’s a clanging of metal which indicates he’s been finally listened too. Dick takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out before turning his focus back onto the task at hand.

He’s currently re-reading old case files looking for any names, locations, alibies that could possibly be linked into the current case he’s working. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. That being said it would be a lot easier if current company wasn’t present. It was rather distracting having to split his focus two ways so he could try and work as well as keep an eye on the kid at the same time.

This time Dick’s read no more than a paragraph when the sound of moving metal could be heard yet again.

Sighing in resignation, he shuts the file and turns around to face the rest of the cave. His eyes instantly drift over to the weapons table where his companion currently is at. The kid is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Dick knowing he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. It’s like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, only in this situation the cookie is a dagger rather than an edible treat.

Opposite him the kid silently blinks owlishly, it would actually be an adorable sight if it weren’t for the creepy ass grin stretching across his face. It’s the grin that reminds Dick who he’s dealing with. It isn’t Tim who is standing in front of him but rather his alternate personality, JJ.

JJ first appeared about two years ago after Tim had been captured and tortured by the Joker. The best explanation they could come up with for his appearance is that JJ is Tim’s way of detaching himself from the traumatic experience he had. JJ is the result of the horrendous torture Tim went through.

It’s certainly taken everyone some time to adjust to this development. Even now, years later, everyone is still getting used to it. Tim is here, he’s still present and is the core identity, but JJ occasionally makes an appearance especially when Tim is feeling threatened, extremely stressed or emotionally unstable.

The whole thing has been a learning curve for everyone involved. Even Tim had to learn to deal with it. At first he understandably didn’t accept what was happening but over time he seem to concede with it and even come to some sort of agreement with JJ, apparently the two identities can communicate no matter who’s in control. Tim’s tried to explain it to him in the past but it’s pretty mind boggling so Dick simply believes what Tim is saying and doesn’t ask questions.

He can’t help but feel a little disturbed by JJ’s presence, it’s an unfair feeling because it’s not JJ’s fault – or Tim’s – but being reminded of what his little brother had to endure at the hands of an insane psychotic man is unnerving. It’s like a reminder of how he didn’t protect his little brother and how he failed him by not being good enough.  

He knows the others also share similar feelings. Jason simply stays away from JJ, he doesn’t even enter the same room as him. Damian is constantly on edge when JJ is present, he often carries his katana around with him when they’re near one another. Cass happens to be the one who handles JJ the best, her calm demeanour seems to bizarrely settle JJ a little. Bruce… well Bruce has similar thoughts to him of how he failed to protect Tim, but both as a father and a mentor. He’s sat down with JJ and has had a conversation with him, they seemed to come to some sort of agreement which Dick doesn’t know the details of. Alfred, god bless him, takes it all in stride as he does with everything. Everyone else is weary of him but are civil towards him as much as they can be.

“JJ, I told you to put it down. Why did you pick it back up?” Dick questions after a long drawn out silence.

JJ plays with the dagger in his hands, twisting it this way and that with skilled precision. He blinks again and lets out a giggle. “Timmy needs to be punished.”

Dick frowns at the answer. That’s not what he had been expecting. “Why does Tim need to be punished? What has he done?”

“He failed us.”

JJ says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Dick has no idea what he’s on about. How has Tim failed? All Dick knows is that recently Tim’s been busy with the Titan’s and how he’s been working on his Neon Knights programme.

“What happened?”

JJ doesn’t respond and continues to play with the dagger in his hands. Seeing the sharp blade being toyed with makes Dick feel tense, he knows what kind of damage can be done with a weapon like that and he doesn’t want Tim – and by extension JJ – to get hurt.

“Timmy needs to be punished!” JJ repeats agitatedly. He stops playing with the dagger and grips it in both hands, Dick couldn’t help but wince when he sees the blade dig into the skin of his palms. “When someone fails they get punished. When they are bad they get punished! Timmy has to be punished for what he did.” JJ trails off with a high pitched giggle like the idea of punishment is hilarious.

Dick runs a hand over his face, he’s not getting anywhere here. Where’s Cass when you need her? She’s usually better at dealing with this side of JJ than he is.

“You know that physically punishing Tim also means you hurting yourself, don’t you?” Dick suggests evenly, trying a different tactic. “There are other ways than physical pain to deal with these sort of things.”

Dick has an inkling he knows what this is all about but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet.

JJ lets out an uncontrollable giggle. “Silly Big Bird, I don’t feel pain, Uncle J made sure of that. Timmy on the other hand needs to pay for what he did and physical pain is the best way to teach a lesson so he remembers not to do it again.”

As if to prove a point, that’s when a drop of blood drips from JJ’s hand and lands on the floor. JJ doesn’t even notice. Dick tries to not flinch at the sight it, he hates the idea of his little brother hurting, no matter what it is it’s always hard to witness.

“I understand that you may be frustrated JJ, but why don’t you try talking to Tim instead. Tell him how you feel about whatever it is that he did and explain why you’re upset with the situation.” Dick suggests trying to sound as reasonable as he could.

JJ violently shakes his head, he seems to be getting more riled up as the conversation continues.

“No! Talking doesn’t work! He ignores me and doesn’t listen. The mission failed and he put us in danger for no reason, we could have been killed for nothing. He needs to remember to not do that again. I’ll make sure he remembers not to.”

Dick lets out a hum in acknowledgement. Something they’ve come to notice since JJ’s appearance is how protective, and even possessive, he is of Tim. The key thing is how no one is allowed to hurt Tim in anyway whatsoever, if they do then JJ will go on a vengeful rampage against whoever was responsible for it. That includes Tim himself.

To JJ, Tim putting himself in danger is essentially Tim hurting himself and he really doesn’t like that. It’s happened a couple times in the past, so in response to Tim putting himself in danger (often during missions) JJ feels the need to punish Tim for it.

Taking a deep breath Dick stares at the kid and wonders how he should proceed. He can’t just turn around and say “no” or retaliate because JJ will only get defensive and probably go do something much worse as a result. While Dick ponders, JJ stands there opposite him still gripping the dagger tightly in his hands with a small puddle of blood forming at his feet and grins creepily at Dick. To make the scene worse JJ tilts his head to the side just a little, adding to the creepy affect even more.

Thankfully he’s saved from trying to decide what to do when another body soon joins them in the cave. Dick’s attention turns away from JJ and onto Cass who casually strolls towards them with a light bounce in her step. Dick smiles warmly at her, feeling relieved for her appearance. Then immediate guilt hits him because he really shouldn’t be thinking that, Tim is his brother and what’s happened is by no means his fault and he should try to be supportive where he can, though sometimes it can get difficult.

Cass silently comes up to them and stands next to JJ. Dick watches with amusement as JJ’s grin slowly disappears from his face and is replaced with a scowl, his eyes narrow in what he would say is a challenge as he stares at her unmoving. Cass simply raises an eyebrow, she places a hand on her side and cocks her hip while she holds out the other in silent demand.

The two stare at one another for a long time, clearly testing the other’s patience and if Dick’s being honest he has to give JJ some credit for how long he’s with standing Cass’s pointed look. However it seems like JJ can’t out last Cass because he soon drops his gaze and relaxes his grip on the dagger but doesn’t let go of it yet.

“Timmy and I just want to have some fun. Why is that wrong?” JJ pouts, actually seeming disappointed and confused for why they’re saying no to him.

Dick catches himself from saying anything at the last second. He wants to question the ‘fun’ part of punishing but thinks better of it, it’s best that he stays quiet and lets Cass handle the situation.

Still staring at JJ, Cass keeps her hand out waiting for JJ to give her the dagger. After more staring he slaps the weapon into her hand with an exaggerated huff.

“Fine.” JJ huffs with a stomp of his foot. He scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to punish – oops! – I mean play with Timmy.” He lets out a hysterical giggle at his own words.

Cass shakes her head and moves towards Dick. They make eyes contact and Cass sends him a soft smile, when she gets close enough with the hand not holding the bloody dagger she reaches up and cups his cheek. “Finish work and rest. I’ve got this.”

Dick places his hand over hers and sends her an appreciative look. “Thank you.”

Standing up Dick grabs the file he had abandoned earlier and makes a move to leave the desk, it’ll probably be best to head to his bedroom in the Manor where he won’t be disturbed, but when he turns around he finds JJ now over by the weapons table yet again.

“JJ!” He snaps harshly. The kid startles and looks up at Dick before a wide grin stretches across his face, he’s not even ashamed that he’s been caught with his hand hovering over another dagger. He soon retracts his hand and places them both behind his back, he sways side to side like he’s an innocent kid.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

Dick couldn’t help but eyeroll at the blatant lie. He sends JJ a pointed look. “Behave.” JJ’s response to that was to blow him a raspberry. Sending Cass a nod he leaves the desk with his folder tucked under his arm and makes his way to the stairs.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. He should have been expecting something to happen really considering that nothing is ever easy with the kid, it’s only thanks to his reflexes and instincts that he hadn’t been impaled by the dagger JJ had just been eyeing up moments ago.

The weapon is now lodged in the wall in front of him from where Dick had luckily dodged it. The situation takes a moment to process in his mind and once it does he spins back around to witness JJ giggling hysterically and a wide-eyed Cass who had a hand over her mouth in shock. She’s clearly just as caught off guard by JJ’s actions as he was. Dick takes a deep breath and steadies himself, at least it didn’t actually hit him, not that the sentiment really helps with anything.

Deciding it’s really not worth it, he continues his journey to the stairs and proceeds to climb them, but not before grabbing the dagger buried in the wall along the way. JJ is Cass’s responsibility now, one he’ll happily pass over to her.

The last thing Dick hears when he gets to the top of the stairs is JJ calling out to him in between giggles.

“Bye bye Big Bird! See you soooooon!”

[qitwrites]

traditions

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen 

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Fushiguro Megumi 

A/N: I caught up with the manga, and shit’s pretty fucked, so I decided to amend that with fluff. 

[AO3 Link]

Fushiguro - according to Kugisaki - is the textbook definition of a homosexual disaster.

No see, here’s the thing- everything was going fine. Great. No problems at all. Fushiguro respects his seniors, tolerates Gojo, and has the biggest soft spot for Inumaki, but he’s never been attracted to any one in his usual circle. So, school and sorcery and life in general was simple. No distractions, no crushes as such, no complications. All good.

And then Itadori Yuuji barges into his life and upends the fuck out of it by eating a special grade cursed object to save him. Then he joins Jujutsu Tech, and now they work and train and study and live alongside one another.

The thing is, Itadori is cute as fuck. 10/10 would tap that, any day of any week.

It’s not that Fushiguro has a type or anything, but Itadori just ticks all his boxes. When Todo had bullheadedly asked him what kind of person he likes, he’d said anyone with a strong moral compass that doesn’t waver in their resolve.

That’s Itadori in a nutshell.

Also, doesn’t hurt that he’s like, stupidly hot either. His raw physical prowess is reflected on his body in the form of shapely muscles, hard abs, and wide forearms that look like they could pick Fushiguro up and just throw him like a javelin. They actually can- Itadori had to do it for a mission this one time. Fushiguro enjoyed it immensely, and he will take this information with him to his grave.

So, not only is Itadori attractive and strong and of good character, but he’s also hella friendly. Fushiguro knows he’s not the easiest person to befriend- it takes a while for him to warm up to people, to share things about himself, to talk about the shitshow that is his family, but Itadori does not seem to give a single, flying fuck. He walks into Fushiguro’s life with the strength and ease of someone that just believes they belong. And Fushiguro lets him, because he is, as Kugisaki very accurately put it, a complete and utter homosexual disaster.

But it’s fine. Crushes happen all the time, and Fushiguro knows it’s hopeless and that’s ok. He knows Itadori likes him and cherishes their friendship, and that is enough. It will be. He’ll move on, and they’ll laugh about it in a few years (if they survive) and it’ll be great. In the meantime, he’s going to hole up in his room and read non-fiction books and stay away from pink hair and large toothy smiles.

Of course, the first person to fuck up his plans is Itadori.

It’s Saturday night, and dinner had been a simple meal of rice, miso soup and some sides made by Itadori. He’s a really good cook, and the home food is such a welcome change from the bento boxes Fushiguro normally picks up from the convenience store. Sometimes, Itadori will drag Fushiguro into the kitchen to teach him a thing or two, and Fushiguro learns, and pines, and smacks Itadori when he says something especially idiotic. It’s routine. It’s nice.

Dinner was an hour ago, and now he’s just curled up in bed with his book. It’s shaping up to be a typical weekend, which is nice considering the number of missions they picked up last week. His bones are aching a little, his feet are slightly sore, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.

He hears the knock even though it’s a bit soft. Fushiguro sits up and cocks his head. Was he imagining it?

And then there’s another knock, more confident. Thud thud thud.

Fushiguro climbs out of bed, setting his book aside carefully. He stretches his hands over his head and walks over to the door. ‘Coming.’

He swings it open, and he sees pink hair and his heart just sort of beats out of his chest.

‘Hiya.’ Itadori’s smile is wide, trusting, and full of gusto. He holds a packet of chips in one hand and a laptop in the other.  

‘What’s up?’

‘Are you busy?’

He should say he is. If he says he’s busy, then he doesn’t have to let Itadori in and he can continue with Operation: get over Itadori Yuuji. It’s the most logical move.

‘No, why do you ask?’ Well, apparently his brain has detached from his mouth.

‘Well, I overheard you telling Kugisaki that you’ve never seen the Saw movies and I realized something. Something terrible.’

Fushiguro tenses. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t be best friends with someone that’s never seen Saw.’ Itadori pouts cutely, and Fushiguro is this close to just walking off the face of the Earth. He leans into the door frame, needing the additional support.

‘And I don’t want anyone else to be my best friend. So, the only solution is to make you watch Saw! With me! Like, right now.’

Fushiguro feels so much all at once- he wants to pull Itadori into a hug, he wants to jump off his balcony, he wants to slam the door shut and just cry, and he wants to watch stupid movies with this stupid man.

‘If you get crumbs on my bed, I’m going to kick you in the stomach.’

Itadori beams, and Fushiguro is a lost cause.

There’s a bit of adjusting (Fushiguro, your pillows are too hard, let me go grab mine) and a bit of remodelling (What do you mean we can’t make a blanket fort, that’s literally half the movie experience) and after relenting to a weird half-assed tent structure, the two of them huddle on the bed, backs against the wall, laptop placed on a chair by their feet with a bag of chips between them.

Saw is a terrible movie.

There’s gore and screaming and a creepy dude running around and it’s honestly just horrendous. The main character calls himself Jigsaw, and Fushiguro is tempted to flip the laptop after the hundredth blood spill. He looks over at Itadori who’s completely engrossed, eyes reflecting the colours and flashes of light on the screen. It’s cute, the concentration he’s pouring into it. His hand is stuck in the bag of chips and Fushiguro smacks it away to grab a few of his own.

Fushiguro does his best to watch and gets into it at least a little. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst way to spend a weekend night. He admits that a huge reason why the experience is kinda fun is that he’s doing something with Itadori that isn't life-threatening, which is a refreshing change.

The end credits start rolling and Itadori stretches his arms, fingers pushing through the droopy tent roof.

‘What did you think?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

Itadori laughs. ‘I know what you mean. It grows on you though.’

‘There’s more?’

Itadori looks at him, blinks, cocks his head. ‘You didn’t know?’

Fushiguro shrugs. ‘I’ve never been a movie buff, so I have no information on this.’

‘Fushiguro.’

‘What?’

‘There’s 9 movies.’

Fushiguro’s mouth drops. ‘What?’

‘Yup, there’s nine in total, and the tenth one is in the making.’

‘Holy shit, that’s a lot of movies in one franchise.’

‘Yup. And we’re watching all of them.’

Fushiguro’s eyes widen. ‘What? No way. Nope. Not a chance. I can’t handle more of this, it was barely tolerable.’

‘It doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing- you’ve started the series so you might as well see it through.’

‘9 movies? How can they possibly have enough content for that?’

‘It’s what they do. I promise it gets better and worse.’

Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’

Itadori pushes into his shoulder playfully. ‘Nope. I’m getting more snacks next time, let’s do two movies.’

Fushiguro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s really struggling to pretend like he’s upset with this development. He’s not upset. He’s honestly anything but.

---

Itadori comes back next Saturday with some blankets and a pillow tucked under one arm and a laptop in the other. He has a grocery bag with chips and sour patch kids hanging between his teeth and he still manages to smile. Fushiguro is so done.

‘Are you a dog?’ he grumbles, plucking the bag out of his face and setting it by the bed. Itadori gets to work immediately, setting up the pillows and his sad excuse for a blanket fort while Fushiguro brings a bowl for the chips and candy. Once they’ve settled in, Itadori starts the second movie and Fushiguro resigns himself to his fate.  

It’s really not that bad.

The movie is whatever, Fushiguro tunes in and out, alternating between watching the screen and sneaking looks at Itadori. He’s as engrossed as ever, and the tip of his tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s so cute it makes Fushiguro want to curl up in his lap and squish him.

He’s crushing hard. Like, really hard. It’s about the gayest thing he’s ever experienced.

The movie pushes on, and they start to get more comfortable. Itadori isn’t a talker, which is surprising and nice, but when the movie lulls, he does make a joke or two. They sink lower into the bed, and by the end of the movie, they’re firmly pressed into each other from shoulder to thigh, with the bowl of chips on Fushiguro’s lap and the candy in Itadori’s.

Itadori is really warm. Could be his natural body heat, could be the king of curses residing within him, could be Fushiguro’s imagination- who’s to say at this point?

When the credits roll, Itadori stretches again like a cat in the sun, groaning his satisfaction. Fushiguro rubs his temples and wills away his blush.

‘What did you think?’

‘Not terrible, but honestly, what the fuck?’

‘That pretty much sums up the franchise.’

Itadori loads up the next movie while Fushiguro stays in position, comfortable. When he’s done, he leans back and makes himself comfortable against Fushiguro’s side, head leaning against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against bone. He looks smooshed, and it’s ridiculous.

If he gave a single shit about the movie, he’d ask him to move because he’s so far gone now there’s no way he’d pay attention at all.

Fushiguro doesn’t say a word, just sends up a silent prayer that Itadori remains there, pushed into him and all up in his space, for the rest of the evening.

That’s exactly what he does.

---

Fushiguro’s feet are burning.

The soles are achy all over, tender and jolty. Any time he walks, he suppresses a hiss of pain. When he’d taken a look, the entire sole was an angry red, and he’s just so annoyed.

The week had been tough- tons of running around and multiple search and rescue missions and this one tenacious curse that he and Itadori had to chase for several miles before finally exorcising it. By the end of it all, his feet were burning like a low fire in the pits of hell.

Itadori is fine, as always. It’s probably an incredible combination of his own inherent athleticism and lord dipshit within him, but Itadori heals at an accelerated pace, and like, he came back from the dead. Sore feet would be nothing to this guy.

When Itadori knocks on the door as always, an hour after Saturday night dinner, Fushiguro just calls out, ‘Come in.’ He really doesn’t want to walk to the door, so he’d left it open intentionally.

Itadori struggles to open the door on his own, arms filled with so much stuff it’s overflowing everywhere, and that horribly lovely smile is still stretched across his face and Fushiguro is just so smitten it’s ridiculous.

Itadori throws a few pillows in his direction, places a frankly ridiculous amount of snacks at the foot of the bed, and starts building his fort. Fushiguro is yet to help him with this, to actually put in any effort and make it with him rather than just watch him with a bemused smirk, but part of him knows that if he joins in, he’s admitting to something. He’s admitting that he’s invested. That he likes this as much as Itadori, probably so much more. That he likes Itadori so much, it’s all-consuming.

Itadori gives him the laptop while he makes some finishing touches on the fort, and he’s gotten better over the last few weeks. The tent is less saggy, with more room to move around and its range is expanding. It no longer covers just the bed, it extends to his desk and is inching towards his closet. Itadori is taking over his room, his heart, his brain, his life. He keeps taking and taking and taking, and Fushiguro just gives him more, happily, heartbreakingly, with all the love and nonchalance and patience he can muster.

He’s so whipped he’s giving Kugisaki a headache. She’s told him as much, repeatedly.

He’s got the final Saw movie prepped and ready to go, positioning the laptop on the chair as usual. Itadori grabs the bowls and decants their snacks before sitting next to Fushiguro, his head automatically resting on the man’s shoulders. Fushiguro rests his head on Itadori’s soft pink hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo Itadori always steals from Kugisaki, and muffles a laugh. It’s so silly.

They’re about mid-way through the movie (by movie 9 there’s no milking the plot, it’s them just beating a dead horse ruthlessly) when Fushiguro shifts his legs and his feet bump into the chair, and he bites out a yelp of pain. Itadori sits up immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘You ok?’

Fushiguro waves him down, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Did you stub your toe? That’s one of the worst feelings ever. And I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest. And lost an arm. And I’ve been stabbed repeatedly. Amongst other things.’

‘I didn’t stub my toe. And also, what the fuck, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Itadori laughs easily. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’

‘My feet hurt,’ Fushiguro admits with a defeated sigh. ‘We’ve been moving about a lot, and after that pineapple fucker two days ago, my feet have just gotten really sore. I soaked them in hot water a few hours ago, I think I should be fine by Monday.’

Itadori eyes him suspiciously.

‘I’m not lying dumbass. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this horrible movie over with.’

Itadori hums, turning back to the screen. A minute later, he looks over at Fushiguro.

‘Well, I’m going to apologize for this in advance.’

‘Apologize for wh- HEY!’

Itadori, with his stupidly inhumane strength, yanks Fushiguro’s legs off the edge of the bed and right into his lap. Fushiguro is now laying down with his head resting against the headboard, and he’s about to kick out when Itadori just digs his thumbs into the arch of his feet and Fushiguro narrowly stops himself from moaning obscenely.

He has died and ascended. His soul is no longer in this realm of existence. It has found peace. The meaning of life. Attained nirvana. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s seriously that good.

Because Itadori is strong. He’s really strong, so his movements are sure and deep. His thumbs are pushing against the arch, into the heel of his foot, pushing into that junction where his toes meld into the sole, and it’s so damn good. Fushiguro squirms.

‘How are you- ah shit, right there -how are you so good at this?’

Itadori throws him an easy smile. ‘Used to massage grandpa’s feet all the time. Became an expert over time, especially because I had a lot of his nurses guiding me as well. Is it ok?’

Fushiguro tries to throw him a deadpan look but then Itadori’s thumbs just push into a particularly sore spot and Fushiguro’s eyes roll back into his skull. When he’s able to pull himself together, he looks at the pink-haired man, feeling breathless.

‘It feels great. If you tell a single soul, I will drop kick you.’

Itadori’s laugh is loud and boisterous, and it fills the room completely, saturates it with this feeling of ease and honesty.

‘This stays here, no worries. Like a Las Vegas thing.’

Fushiguro smiles at the stupid reference.

After a few minutes pass by, Fushiguro reluctantly starts pulling his feet away. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he starts to say. Itadori wraps his fingers around his ankles, holding him in place.

‘I can honestly do this for hours, it’s fine. You can see the screen, right?’ Fushiguro nods immediately. ‘So, let’s just keep watching. I’ll stop if I’m tired, ok?’

Fushiguro relents without a fight because it’s the most relief he’d gotten in ages, and Itadori is touching him and he’s weak in every possible way and he lets himself be. Just this once.

They finish the movie (thank goodness it’s over) and Itadori continues to massage his feet as they discuss what the 10th movie could possibly be like. They discuss theories and plot holes, and Itadori doesn’t let go, his hands inching up and massaging his calves as well, and fuck if Fushiguro’s going to stop him because it feels good. He’s gay and Itadori is hot and his fingers are actual magic- like, they put sorcery to shame.

When it’s well past midnight and Itadori yawns a few times, Fushiguro finally sits up, pulling his feet out of Itadori’s grasp. The pink-haired man lets his hands linger for as long as possible, and Fushiguro decides he’s just imagining it. Surely.

‘I kinda, I mean, I want to repay you for that. You massaged me for hours, you know.’

Itadori pretends to think for a second before breaking into a bright, 100-megawatt smile.

‘Well then, let’s watch more movies! Let’s just make this movie night! We can watch stuff you look up as well, we can watch anything.’

Fushiguro stares at him, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that and truth be told, he was really sad the Saw franchise was over because he assumed that would be the end of this, and he was too shy to ask what Itadori was so easily asking him. To see Itadori so excited at the prospect of an actual movie night, with no end in sight, made his heart leap and throb and squeeze. It was incredible.

‘Deal.’ He keeps his voice level and his face neutral, but he can’t hide his eyes and Itadori reads him in a second and his smile softens. He knows him so well now, like the back of his hand.

Itadori bids him a soft goodnight, collecting his stuff and shuffling back to his room slowly. Fushiguro falls asleep quickly, and it's deep and dreamless.

He wakes up to painless feet. It’s a miracle in every single way.

---

When Itadori gently pulls his feet into his lap the next weekend, Fushiguro doesn’t bother protesting it. He just gives him a slightly exasperated sigh, a soft smile and hits play.

They’ve decided to pick up the How to train your dragon franchise this time, as a welcome change of pace.

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s honestly all in the title. It’s about dragons and Vikings and it’s funny and it has great music!’ Itadori lights up while talking about it, and his energy is so damn contagious. Fushiguro feels himself getting hyped. ‘I think you’ll like it. Especially since you have those cool Shikigamis, you might relate to this more!’

Fushiguro hums, and they watch. Fushiguro routinely pushes pieces of chips and sour candy into Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori’s fingers become well-acquainted with the planes and bumps and grooves of his feet, and the shape of his calves.

Fushiguro gets really into the movie.

Not only is the animation top-notch, but the voice actors are great, the storyline is gripping, and Toothless is so childish and sweet and endearing, his heart aches with love. He barely pays attention to Itadori this time. He seems just as invested, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s rewatching it.

To Fushiguro’s surprise, he chokes up at the end, after the big battle. The whole scene feels strangely familiar in some ways, and he tries desperately to hide his growing discomfort. He peaks over at Itadori and his eyes widen.

Itadori is swallowing hard, his eyes shining and glistening with unshed tears. His grip on Fushiguro is tight as hell, but not painful. He’s barely holding on, it seems.

So Fushiguro looks away, and lets himself feel. He doesn’t cry, but it’s damn near the same feeling.

Itadori’s knowing smirk is as annoying as it is stupidly kissable.

‘You seemed to enjoy that!’

‘It was decent. Much better than all the Saw movies combined.’

Itadori barks out a laugh. ‘Decent, he says. I saw you nearly crying through my own tears. And you were glued to the screen. Such a liar.’

Fushiguro relents. ‘Fine, it was really good. I’m hooked, and I cant wait to see the other 2 movies.’

‘You know I’ll be here.’

Fushiguro is helpless against his blush. He barely hides it in the crook of his elbow. Itadori’s fingers are still pressing into his feet and it’s all so much but not enough. His heart still aches.

‘And the next two movies are visual masterpieces. Can’t wait to get into it all!’

Fushiguro nods, and with the promise of next week, he sleeps just a little easier.

---

When Itadori pulls his feet into his lap three weeks in a row, Fushiguro decides it’s time he does more to repay the pink-haired man. It’s definitely not enough to just grace Itadori with his presence and with a weekly movie night.

So, when they come together to watch the third and final How to train your dragon movie, Fushiguro stands in his room, chewing his lower lip anxiously. He feels like he may have gone overboard, and he’s more scared of being found out by Itadori, about his feelings and his hopelessly ginormous crush and just how big of a complete and utter disaster he is than anything else.

Before he can take it down though, Itadori walks in after a quick knock and a shout of Pardon the intrusion but not reaaallllyyyy.

He walks in, snack bag in his mouth, arms holding way too much stuff, and gives Fushiguro a grin before turning to the bed to start his usual set-up routine. That’s when he stops dead on his feet, and Fushiguro at least enjoys the look of complete and utter shock on his face. The snack bag drops to the ground before Fushiguro can catch it with a loud thunk.

So, here’s a fun fact about Fushiguro- he can build insane blanket forts. No, really, you don’t understand, he could be mistaken for an architect because that’s how good he is. And the reason is a bit long and a bit complicated, but it mostly has to do with his sister. When they were left all alone in the world, sharing a small space just between the two of them, they would build blanket forts with all the stuff lying around the house, and within those sheets, they were shielded from the world and all its horrors. They did it for a long time, and it was their tradition. They got better at it over the years, learning what sheets worked best, what make-shift supports held things up at the right height, where to place the pillows.

The minute Fushiguro started to put the fort together, his muscle memory kicked in and took it from there. It brought forth some memories that made him choke up, but he focused on Itadori, and it helped. He adjusted the height to accommodate two growing boys instead of two tiny humans, and before he knew it, the fort had sprawled to encompass his entire room. He borrowed pillows from Inumaki and Panda, who were willing albeit slightly perplexed, and he grabbed Kugisaki’s fairy lights to really spruce things up. The weather had gotten colder, so he had also laid out his thick duvet for them to slip under, and the icing on the cake was the pizza he had ordered. Itadori always bought the snacks, so he wanted to pull his own weight. Also, they were active jujutsu sorcerers- they may have eaten dinner an hour ago, but they were always hungry. It was endless.

Itadori remains rooted in place, and Fushiguro starts to get nervous. A bit anxious. A bit scared. What if it is too much? Had he overstepped in some way? Or what if Itadori looked forward to building the fort and Fushiguro had taken that away from him?

Itadori slowly looks at him, eyes piercing and unreadable and bright.

And then he smiles. The world rights itself a little.

And he smiles big, huge, all-encompassing. Its lips stretched over white teeth and his eyes are crinkling in that really lovely way and the dimples are dotting his cheeks and its utter magic.

‘Fushi,’ Itadori gushes, almost breathless. ‘This is insane. How the hell did you do this?’

Fushiguro bites his lip. ‘You like it?’

‘Like? Fushi, dude, my man, my guy, like doesn’t begin to cover it! I don’t have better words cause I’m kind of an idiot, but it’s. Like. A+. 11/10. I’m so impressed right now.’

And now Fushiguro is smiling with him, stomach flopping around endlessly, and he’s young and in love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘I also got pizza,’ Fushiguro gestures to the table behind him, picking the snack bag off the floor and placing it by the bed. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got the same thing you ordered when I was sick.’

Itadori happily bounds over to the box and leans in for a sniff.

‘I love this stuff, it’s yum. And it’s still steaming, all fresh and hot.’ Itadori gives him a big thumbs-up. ‘This is so bomb Fushi, thank you so much!’

Fushiguro almost says No thank you, you’ve been doing so much for our movie nights and I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you and for all of this and I love you so please take my heart and just keep it, I really don’t need it, you know?

What he says instead is, ‘Not a problem. Shall we set up?’

And so, 10 minutes later finds them curled up in their usual spots, except this time they’re under the covers. Fushiguro places all the food between them, and Itadori alternates between massaging his feet (which he cleans meticulously before their movie nights because he doesn’t want Itadori to eat with dirty feet hands) and taking bites of pizza and smiling and laughing and choking up at the movie.

The trilogy ends and Fushiguro can honestly see why Itadori has watched this countless times. It’s just that good.

If Itadori hears him sniffle, he doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes his calf and runs his fingers from his knees to his ankles and Fushiguro realizes, in that moment, that a part of him will always belong to this man.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. They’ve now finished the Saw franchise, the HTTYD trilogy, the Batman trilogy, and the entire Annabelle series. If Fushiguro didn’t hate dolls before, well, now the thought of them sends shivers up his spine. And he fights curses. For a living.

Life is weird.

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Sometimes it’s Sunday night instead, or Friday. Sometimes it’s earlier in the day, in the afternoon maybe. Sometimes, it’s really late at night, so late that by the time they’re done, it’s already 3am and the world is silent. The world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of Fushiguro’s room, and he’s ok with that.

On those nights, Itadori stays over.

They curl up on his bed together, not quite touching but not quite not touching. It’s a single bed and they’re not small by any means. The touching is inevitable. Fushiguro wonders if any part of it is voluntary.

He learns that Itadori’s toes are always warm, unlike Fushiguro’s. He’s a surprisingly calm sleeper. His sleep-heavy voice is deep, and his sleep-heavy smile is soft.

They fall asleep facing away from one another, they wake up spooning or being spooned. They don’t say a word. And they don’t stop.

The night that they finish the latest Annabelle movie, Itadori looks insanely freaked out and Fushiguro doesn’t blame him. That shit’s creepy as hell.

The problem is that it’s only 00:14. Too early for them to call for a sleepover unprompted.

Itadori’s got Fushiguro’s legs in his lap, and he’s pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Fushiguro thinks fuck it.

‘Do you want to stay over?’

The relief flows off Itadori in waves. ‘You’re an actual lifesaver, you know that right?’

Fushiguro smirks, and they throw snarky comments back and forth between them as they get ready for bed. Itadori brings his toothbrush and they clean up side by side, fighting for the mirror. They take the fort down methodically, like a well-oiled machine, and they curl up under the duvet, touching but not quite touching, facing away from one another.

15 minutes later, Fushiguro feels Itadori curled around him, legs tangled and arm carefully slipped over his middle. He feels him shake, and he can taste the hesitation and he knows Itadori will move away soon because they both know they’re both awake.

He moves his hand lower and places it over Itadori’s. He squeezes it once, and moves it away, and evens out his breathing. He feels himself drifting off, and the last thing he feels is Itadori’s arm curling around him just a little tighter, holding him just a little closer. The air tastes less hesitant, more hopeful.

It’s wonderfully frightening.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Until one day, they do.

The thing about Sukuna is that he’s the King of Curses, Lord Asshat extraordinaire, and an overall terrible being. Not only does he reside in Itadori rent-free, he also chooses when to heal him and when to watch from the sidelines as blood gushes out of wounds that are near-fatal. Itadori’s pain tolerance is impossibly high, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain.

Itadori feels everything. He feels so much, so willingly, so wholeheartedly. He’s a feeler.

And so, when one of their missions go haywire (as always), Itadori risks his life for his classmates (as always), and is left on the verge of death (as always). The only difference being he doesn’t improve. At least not at that inhumane pace that he always does.

He’s not dead, but he’s not in the world of the living either. He’s drifting somewhere in between, and Fushiguro feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get enough air; he can’t see beyond the murky waters that are darker than ink.

Fushiguro is in the in-house hospital on campus and he rarely, if ever, leaves Itadori’s side. The incident took place on a Tuesday and it is now Saturday. Itadori’s vitals are stable, his heart is in his chest, beating, and his blood is circulating and oxygenating him.

He does not wake up, he does not speak, and he does not smile.

Something in Fushiguro’s chest cracks.

People come by to visit all the time. Nobara brings snacks and chats with Itadori like he’s ok, like he’ll respond. Only Fushiguro hears the tremor in her voice. Maki holds back from smacking someone in a coma, vowing to get him good when he’s awake for doing something so monumentally dumb. Gojo flits in and out as often as he can, and he always squeezes Fushiguro’s shoulder with a tightness that eases his chest just a little before leaving again.

After dinner on Saturday, Fushiguro decides to do something.

He lets himself into Itadori’s room- messy but not sloppy, and simple. He finds his laptop on his desk and charges it for a bit before taking it back with him. He doesn’t set up a blanket fort, simple loads up a Christopher Nolan movie that they’d decided on last week and lets it play.

He holds Itadori’s hand the entire time. It doesn’t squeeze back.

The crack in his chest widens.

---

He’s not there when Itadori wakes up.

Gojo had pushed him out of the room to go take a shower and grab a proper meal and maybe even take a nap, and Fushiguro had relented to two of the three- showering and eating. With a belly full of terrible convenience store food that could never hope to hold a candle to Itadori’s meals, Fushiguro slowly makes his way back to the infirmary when he hears voices. One voice, in particular, stops him in his tracks.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘My mouth tastes like ass.’

It’s one of the first things Itadori has said in a week and a half, and something between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in Fushiguro’s chest. He moves to yank the door open and throw himself at Itadori when he hears-

‘Where’s Fushi?’

‘Oh, he went to take a shower, clean up a little, all that.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Fuck, he sounds disappointed.

‘Don’t look so upset.’ Gojo teases. ‘He hasn’t left your side since you got hurt, you know?’

‘Really?’

Gojo hums. ‘He’s here all day. He tried working for a day or two, but his head wasn’t in it, so we forced him to sit out for a bit. He’s just been keeping you company here, reading, fretting, pining.’

Fushiguro wants to punch Gojo.

Itadori barks out a laugh. It sounds loud and forced and not very happy.

‘Don’t tease me about that sensei. That’s cruel, even for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I want to be sure. I’m not a mind-reader you know. So tell me,’ Gojo urges, ‘what are you talking about?’

Itadori sighs. It sounds exhausted more than pained. ‘I’ve liked him since the day we fought the curse and saved my senpais. It’s cruel for you to tease me about a one-sided crush.’

Fushiguro is suddenly numb, hot and cold everywhere, and his head is spinning, an echo of ‘I’ve liked him I’ve liked him’ just bouncing around his brain endlessly. He has to force himself to concentrate or risk missing out more of the conversation.

‘I mean, why do you think it’s one-sided?’

‘Are you kidding me? He’s so out of my league, I can’t even think about it. He’s so. Just. Everything good in this world. And he likes dogs sensei, what more could I want in a person?’

Fushiguro’s vision is just swimming and he wants to smother Itadori in a hug and protect him forever. His feet are taking longer to respond to his brain though.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Gojo sings, laughing. ‘My advice would be to not give up. You’d be good for each other, you know? Also, he’s really not all that perfect. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was a child. This one time, during the spring festival, he-‘

‘Itadori, you’re awake?’

Evidently, his self-preservation instincts had bypassed his brain and forced his legs to move at near inhumane speed. God bless instincts.

Itadori is sitting up, and he looks a bit frail but the color in his cheeks is steadily returning. His eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twists up in a grin so wide Fushiguro is worried he’ll break his face. His eyes are molten, watery, and brighter than the sun.

‘Hi Fushi.’

For once, Fushiguro doesn’t give a two shit flying fuck that Gojo is in the room and will hence tease him for the rest of his life, he just walks over to the bed and gathers Itadori into a hug and holds him there, pressing his warmth into Itadori. There’s the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the smile on his lips pressed into Fushiguro’s shoulder.

The world rights itself on its axis, just a little more.

‘Idiot.’

Itadori’s muffled laugh makes him grin, and he pulls away. He rearranges his face in a scowl.

‘I told you before if you die on me-‘

‘-you’ll kill me yourself. I know, I know. I’m here Fushi, you don’t have to become a murderer. It’s a good day.’

Fushiguro lets his face morph back into a grin before looking over at Gojo. His teacher’s smirk tells him everything- how he knew where Fushiguro was, how he’s seen right through Fushiguro, how he’s going to tease him till the day either of them die. And Fushiguro wants to be annoyed and pissed off but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now.

Itadori’s heart is beating in his chest, and he smiles at Fushiguro, and his cheeks are tinting pink.

Fushiguro’s heart is full.

---

‘Sorry I missed movie night.’

Itadori’s apology is so stupid Fushiguro nearly gwaffs, but that’s undignified as fuck so he settles for a cough and a withering stare.

‘I mean, it’s not like you were in a coma or anything.’

‘You know what I mean! But anyway, I’m here now, so let’s pick up where we left off.’

‘No, we’ll have to move on to the next movie. We watched that one last week.’

‘Huh?’

Fushiguro looks at him, prays he isn’t seven shades of red. ‘Well, I thought maybe if we had a movie night at the infirmary, you’d feel better. Where you were. Especially if you were dealing with lord fuckwad. You know?’

Itadori stares at him in awe and chuckles softly. ‘You’re something else, you know? Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out.’

Gojo’s word reverberate around his skull and Fushiguro just clears his throat. ‘Yeah, well, I’m all about surprising people. Woohoo.’

Itadori bursts out laughing, and they go back to setting up the fort, the pizza, the snacks, the lights, the laptop. It’s easy and familiar and nice. They settle into the mattress, but Fushiguro doesn’t let Itadori take his feet this time, opting to press into his side instead. Itadori barely puts up a fight.

They’re roughly 8 minutes into Interstellar when Itadori asks, ‘How did you set up the movie in the infirmary?’

Fushiguro hums, ‘I grabbed your laptop and put it on a chair to your left. I sat on the right. I sat by your bed and I…’

‘And you?’

Fushiguro should be nervous but he’s not. He’s surprised by how not nervous he is.

‘And I did this.’ He laces their hands together, eyes trained on Itadori's.

It’s like looking at a bowl of liquid amber. His eyes are light brown, bordering on gold, and they’re mesmerizing when you’re this close. He doesn’t look away from Fushiguro, his breath doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t jerk away. He squeezes Fushiguro’s hand with his right one and slowly brings up the left. He rests it on Fushiguro’s jaw, soft skin meeting calloused fingers and there’s a heat building under Fushiguro’s skin that makes him feel that same hot and cold sensation everywhere.

‘I’m going to kiss you.’

Itadori’s voice is deeper than Fushiguro’s ever heard it, low and spicy and sure. His hands are gentle and confident.

Fushiguro doesn’t nod or say Yes or blush.

He just brings his right arm up, wraps it around Itadori’s left wrist and leans in, bringing them together in what is possibly the softest touch of lips ever, in the history of the universe.

It’s not hesitant, it’s just new. And all-encompassing. And maddeningly good. And soft.  

Itadori’s breath hitches and he leans his head, slotting their lips together better and Fushiguro is humming because fucking hell is this good. There’s no tongue, just pressure and nips and small licks and bites. By the end of it, Fushiguro is smiling into Itadori’s smile, and he’s kissing it and nuzzling it and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

Itadori finally pulls away, after several small kisses, and does that beaming smile that makes Fushiguro’s stomach do really terrible things.

‘I can’t believe all this happened because of Saw.’

Fushiguro’s smile shrivels away in a heartbeat and Itadori is laughing and snorting, the bastard.

‘Itadori Yuji.’

More laughter.

‘I swear on all that is good and pure, if you tell people we got together because of Saw, I will dump your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for weeks.’

Itadori laughs some more and presses his giggles against Fushiguro’s lips and dammit he’s so weak and gay.

Itadori’s hand slips down his jaw and cups the back of his neck and he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Damn it. He really does know Fushiguro like the back of his hand.

And so he does the only thing he can think of- he kisses him again. And again. And then some more, just because he can.

The movie remains forgotten, and frankly, they couldn’t care less.

[wannabecoyote]

Sasha woke up, she didn’t remember falling asleep but that’s just every Tuesday for her. Her whole body is sore and lethargic, also a normal Tuesday. What isn’t a normal Tuesday however is WAKING UP IN AN UNFAMILIAR CELL. She very much does not appreciate being imprisoned for god knows whatever reason or at all really. She sat up and tried to practice the breathing exercise she and her friends found.

Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Rinse and repeat.

She swallowed once she feels calm enough and looked around the room. She’s very surprised that she isn’t descending into yet another panic attack but she ain’t gonna question her good luck now.

She felt for her phone and breathed out a sigh of relief when she found it is still in her pocket. With trembling hands she typed a message to her friend.

‘dude I could be dying rn. im pretty sure I was kidnapped. no cap. idk where I am. keep my witch stuff.’

She took a picture of the cell and sent it to Dylan.

She pocketed her phone with another inhale to fortify herself. She looked around and found her cell sealed with a laser beam thing. Like a sheet of light keeping her in. Like some real Steven Universe shit.

She walked up to it and tried to touch it. She pulled her hand back with a curse when she was zapped unceremoniously by the rude laser. She started flicking her hand trying and failing to shake the pain off.

She put her singed finger in her mouth and looked around for something that could help her. To the opposite of the laser gate was her cot, a raised platform that comes up to her thighs and padded with cushion. To the right hand side was a sink with running water and a glass near it. She assumed that was for her to drink. All she found that are detachable from their posts are pillows, the glass, and blankets. She walked over and snatched the pillow from the cot to test it against the laser.

She held the pillow forward and slowly touched the other side to the laser. She was startled from this when a something moved in the hallway. She threw the pillow away and focused on the figure that slithering closer to her cell by the minute.

She pulled a face of disgust when a weird hybrid of gorgons, aliens from the movie Aliens, and freaking predators came in front of her. It was very disconcerting.

“Human, you are before your queen, bow.” The talking monstrosity said.

The audacity!

“I’m sorry but you ain’t my queen. My queen is Sappho and you don’t look anything like her,” she said and the guards beside the queen gasped.

The queen’s face distorted in anger. Sasha’s face showed her disgust at how uglier the queen became.

“Eugh, dude seriously ngl you look like someone punched your mother’s stomach when she was carrying you and then when she gave birth to you she somehow dropped you multiple times because she always gets surprised by how ugly you are,” she said with a shrug. If she was gonna die, she’s gonna make the most of what she has right now.

The guy on the left let out a noise that sounded a lot like a laugh. Sasha smiled proudly and gave the alien a wink. It feels good to know someone appreciates your humor. They stepped back a bit, spooked. The queen’s face becomes more distorted but this time she was looking at the alien that laughed.

“You find this amusing? You are nothing but dust in the cosmos. You are nothing. Remember your place [species slur]!” she shouted at them. The poor guy bowed their head and uttered a silent acquiescence.

“HEY DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO THEM YOU NIGHTMARE IN ELMS STREET LOOKING ASS!” Sasha shouted. NOBODY, FUCKING NOBODY FUCKS WITH THE ALIEN GUY. HE IS B A B Y.

Both aliens looked at her, one with a look of horrified admiration, and the other with pure contempt in her eyes. Nine of them. Creepy. Why’s it gotta be a fucking odd? Why fucking nine? It’s fucking gross. Eugh.

She was startled out of her disgust for the nine eyes by the sound of someone pressing in the code for her cell…presumably. The laser wall disappeared and the queen loomed ominously over her. She bolted as soon as she can. Narrowly dodging the disgusting snake alien thing that tried to strike her. She took the alien’s appendage and ran. Dragging them along with her to wherever the fuck.

“Why are you doing this human? I am not an ideal hostage, no one cares about me,” the alien said. Sasha’s heart broke with the way that they said it. As if it was something factual. No one should be made to feel like that. If she was gonna escape she’s gonna take this bean with her.

“You are not a hostage,” she said. Behind them the queen is screaming profanities at everyone and the soldiers are gaining on them. “You’re a friend, I can see that you hate it here. You’re as much of a prisoner as I am. We’re gonna get out of here, yeah?” she looked back and her alien friend nodded with a look of disbelief on their face.

“Why?”

“Because they don’t treat you right.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you, besides, I will slow you down.”

“Of course it does! I made you laugh, you’re my friend now.”

“What exactly is a friend? You’ve mentioned it twice now.”

“You don’t know what friends are?!”

“I do not. I am sorry,”

“No! Don’t be! I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She sighed, this is difficult. “A friend is someone that you like, someone you spend your time with. Someone that you can rely on. Someone who can rely on you.”

“…and I am your friend? How?”

“Like I said, you laughed at my joke.”

“That sounds superficial, especially compared to what you mentioned friendship entailed.”

“It doesn’t have to be really deep, does it? I like you because I do. Do you not want to be my friend?”

“It is not that I do not, it is that I do not understand why you would want to be mine.”

“I just do okay? You’re a great dude.”

She looked at the soldiers chasing after them.

“How many?” she asked the confused alien. “Few. There aren’t much.” She nodded and asked where they are as they ran for their lives. They yelled out directions and she followed as best as she could.

She ran faster than she ever has in her life. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her alien friend tried but they couldn’t keep up with her. They lagged behind but she wouldn’t leave them. She couldn’t.

They reminded her too much of herself.

So she stood. In front of him. Shielding him from the soldiers that had caught up with them. Her friend told her to run. To leave them. To save herself. She didn’t.

The first soldier engaged her and she punched him. Remembering all those self-defense lessons from tiktok. They were bipedal and has almost the same structure as humans so she assumed they have similar anatomy. Her assumption proved true when the alien she punched in the throat gasped and flailed for air. Her confidence renewed she jumped to the next alien. She tore through them, using everything she has on her arsenal. Her hands, fingers, nails, feet, her teeth, and everything else that she has.

They were fragile. They were easy to destroy. She has cuts all over her body but she cannot feel pain right now. Her friend is looking around at the carnage she has brought with fear in their eyes.  All the fight left her body when they looked at her with fear. She moved forward to reassure them that everything was going to be okay but the queen arrived.

She was holding a gun of a sort and she was pointing it at Sasha. She ran straight for the queen, her teeth barred, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The queen expecting her to run was thrown off guard when she slammed against her. Sasha rained punches on her captor. Blindly smashing and hitting. The sound of pounding of flesh and bones crunching filled the air. She did not stop until two arms wrapped around her and restrained her.

“…okay, it’s gonna be okay. It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re safe.” It was a familiar voice. She didn’t know whose voice. She can feel the strength leaving her body. She hasn’t slept in two days.

“Alien… friend… safe..?” she asked, slowly losing her consciousness.

“Yes, your alien fiend is safe.” He sounds like he’s smiling.

[enjeolmii]

talkies by the night - n.nk

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: cursing but only once, whiny niki, more fluff, also more fluff, that’s about it

a/n: this one’s another repost from my old acc ;)

you (10:51pm) hey bb :)

you (10:51pm) u busy?

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) hey sunshine

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) what’s up?

dialling ❣︎niki❣︎…

0:00

0:01

0:02

❣︎niki❣︎ “what’s my sunshine up to at this time of the night?”

you “i was trying to finish all of my homework at once so that i’d have nothing more to worry about”

❣︎niki❣︎ “hm”

you “and now im bored” (your lips form a pout, though you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it - you hear him heave a yawn)

you “how about you? you sound tired. is you alright? is you good? let me know”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yeah, i’m fine. it was just a little busier at the dance studio today" (he giggled)

you “yeah?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “mhm”

❣︎niki❣︎ “dang, those kids really got me beat. this one kid kept asking me to watch him do the dab and even tried to teach me the ‘proper way’ of doing it… for, like, my entire break”

you “oh, lord, i hate kids like that”

❣︎niki❣︎ “tell me about it”

you (a laugh escapes through your nose)  “well, i was going to ask you if you wanted to come over and hang out tonight, but i think you should take a good rest for now”

❣︎niki❣︎ “what?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “no, no. i could come over right now if you want. i’m not really that tired, y'know"

you “no, bb. you just said so yourself that you’re tired. you should take a rest. i’ll be fine, hm?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “but i really want to see you" (he brings his lower lip out)

you “we could just open video call if you really want to. you should at least be at bed early tonight”

❣︎niki❣︎ “please, please, please, …” (he whined continuously)

you (a short silence comes as you contemplate slightly) “ugh, fine. but you aren't staying past twelve, alright”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yes!”

❣︎niki❣︎ “i’ll be over in 15. wait for me, sunshine!”

2:48

2:49

the call has ended

Minutes pass by, and the sound of the doorbell stops you from surfing through movies on Netflix. Rising to your feet, you throw the remote control behind you on the couch and head for the door. You grab the knob and pushed it down to pull the door open. Then, a smile replaces your excited expression, revealing your boyfriend standing with crescent eyes.

"Hi," Niki's smile widens at the sight of you, and you open your arms immediately to engulf him in a warm hug.

"Hey," Taking in the scent of his mild cologne, you smile onto his shoulder.

He then pulls his head away from yours to cup it in his palms within the proximity you had, your arms still wrapped around his cozy body.

"I missed you." He said, squishing your cheeks.

"I missed you more. Come in." You pull away from him with a giddy laugh before dragging him into your house and onto the couch, closing the door behind you. But as you were about to take a seat next to him, you notice him clutching a black plastic bag in his hand. Your gaze diverts from the bag, then to him, and you arch an eyebrow in question.

"I got us a lot of snacks," He raised it to pile out every single one of the various go-to snacks you get from the convenience store whenever you went for a visit. "They're your favorites."

Not one second passed by, and you feel your lips come trembling in the effort to hold back the tears in your eyes, remembering how you told him that you're in dire need of a convenience store trip since your siblings snatched all of yours last week.

"You didn't have to." Your eyes start filling up by the brim, reaching the back of your index to wipe the tears off of your now wet cheeks.

The male slumps further into the sofa, amused at how shallow your standards are for crying. "C'mere,"

He momentarily stands up to grab the blanket that you burrito-ed yourself in earlier before he came, and he opens his arms comfortably for you to cuddle under the blanket.

"Why are crying, hm? It's nothing to cry about, crybaby." Niki whispers into your hair once you've climbed up the sofa to snuggle beside him. He wraps the two of you with the blanket, lightly tapping his hand onto your tear-stained cheeks as your head sinks deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I don't know either." You both snicker.

With the remote control stuck in the boy's grip, you unsuccessfully attempt to get your hands on the black gear when he abruptly presses through the several rows of horror movies. Niki knows very well how much you despise this kind of stuff, especially at night. You always argued with him that even though he was there to stay with you throughout the movie, it wasn't like he would be there for you the rest of the night.

He hoists the remote control higher in the air as he stands up, his other arm stretching to block you from reaching it. A grunt leaves your lips when you try to jump up from the sofa towards his hand, flying across the air to tackle him down onto the floor.

With a smirk on your face, your hands immediately lunge for the sides of his torso and the base of his neck, playfully brushing your fingers against his skin to tickle him amidst all his giggly squirms.

"Give- me- the remote-" You tickle him mercilessly, and he tries to turn you around to compete you to the floor.

"Nope." One push was all it took to have your back against the ground and your boyfriend kneeling beside your body. It's become your turn to get tickled, and you weren't prepared for it.

In between jagged giggles and desperate attempts to break free from the beast, you fail miserably to shut off his strategies. Your tensed-up muscles start to feel exhausted and it didn't take you long enough to give in to his disposition.

"Okay, okay. Stop," You breathlessly plead, and he detaches his hands from you, alleviated, getting back on his feet before reaching a hand out to help you get up. "You just never let me win these games, do you?" You sigh.

You take his hand and hurl yourself up with his help. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you walk back to the couch, dragging your shaky feet across the floor, only to collapse back into the cushions.

"It's okay. I'll let you win next time." He tugs you back into his arms under the blanket.

Through the decks of choices of horror movies you have searched through, you somehow convinced him to choose one that's a little more benign for the night. It didn't help him that seeing you, after such a long day at the dance studio, emphasized how beautiful and comforting you are to him. With that thought running perfectly in his mind, he gulps down and tears his stare away from you.

With his thumbs dancing across the right buttons of the gear, the pair of you finally find the one that you had set in stone, though you still had little doubts about your choices.

The movie began and it was already causing tiny bumps to appear on your arms. The main character was roaming alone in the dark of the corridors, finding a strange, eerie letter lying at the end of the hall.

The lights turned off everywhere in your house only added to the anxiety building up in your body, so you try scooting closer to Niki, which seemed to be impossible now that you see how you're already shouldering his chest.

Your actions caught the male in a string of silent laughter. You could tell he was trying to hide it from you, though, and you shoot daggers in his direction when you felt the vibrations on your shoulder.

Halfway into the movie, you got immersed in the thrill. Munching on the bag of your favorite snacks, it actually wasn't as scary as you had thought initially, the jump scares much milder than you had expected. Yet the unsettling feeling of never knowing what could happen still lingers in you, and quite oddly, the situation scares you more rather than the ghosts themselves. A little strange for someone as weak-hearted as you, but it seems to fit right perfectly to your tast-

You were torn away from your train of thoughts by a heavy feeling on your shoulder. With a startled jolt, you see your boyfriend leaning on your shoulder with his eyes shut asleep. You bring your hand to your chest, relieved at the sight of him instead of the creepy monster from the movie out to get you.

His head lies against you, the proximity so close that you could count every strand of eyelashes that he had. You took the opportunity to stare deep into his elegance. He was almost like an angel offered to you shining from the heavens with those good looks, and you all but feel the butterflies erupt from your stomach - just like when he confessed to you at that practice room a year ago.

"If only you didn't look so gorgeous like that, I would have punched you in the face for passing out on me right now." You quietly mumbled at his resting state, a sigh leaving your lips as you go back to munching chips and watching the movie with a shaking head.

When you return into a trance of spewing curses, a light smile forms at the corner of his lips, feeling indebted for having a girlfriend as cool as you.

[unreasonablebehaviour]

Pls take this random assortment of dsmp “hcs” (which is actually just me rambling out my ass but we love to see it//)

—————

- Sam just like gets really fuccn energetic in a thunderstorm... like just hyperactive but also like v strong..... also immune to electrocution :)

- He’s also like all creepers are, shit terrified of cats which is v funny considering he’s sorta friends with ant

- Even funnier if u want to take the ‘canon’ fact of ant being a whole ass 20 feet tall

- Speaking of ant and this absolutely isn’t a hc but I just find it very funny that people draw humanoid versions of all of the non human characters EXCEPT for ant who I have only ever seen drawn as a cat ghgh

- Bads skin colour is deadass vantablack like if he holds his hand in front of his face it just seemingly vanishes and you can’t pick out where his hand ends and face begins

- I want him to look terrifying.... like absolutely massive a complete unit of a man, sharp ass teeth, sharp spikes and horns, sharp claws, white glowing eyes........... but he’s just like “owo” at all times ghgh

- Skeppy has chronic pain from the diamonds growing inside his body and out of his skin... sometimes he ramps up how cheerful he is to try and hide how much pain he’s in that day

- Ranboo’s body is longer on his enderman side and so he physically can’t stand up straight unless his shorter leg is on a slope

- He’s half silverfish... mainly cause I think that’s funny like hehe both those and endermen are linked to the end/stronghold and can break blocks

- This does also mean he joins bad and skeppy in the ‘help I am v spiky’ club tho

- Also also like absolutely none of his clothes fit cause his limbs are so disproportionately long so rip his ankles in the tundra I guess

- Shortza supremacy

- Sapnap... blaze boy..... I want him to steam when he angy...... v warm to the touch and all of the dteam lay on top of him when it’s cold lmao

- George is like some weird ass mushroom man.... like he looks completely human for the most part but he’s not he just never tells anyone cause he has the mentality of ‘well no one ever asked?’ Or ‘it didn’t seem important’

- When he’s in danger the surrounding plants try to help him (like lmao there’s a war goin on? Nah just take a nap and miss out so you won’t get hurt :) )

- Imagine how much funnier the lmanberg saga would be if schlatt just looked like his profile icon rather than his mc skin.... just cute tiny sheep man in a sweater... I think it’d be like that one gif of the teddy bear slamming its head onto the table to acquire angy eyebrows

- Dreams has symmetrical white patches down the front of skin... kinda like vitiligo but not? Like deadass pure white

- I also kinda just imagine him having creepy solid black eyes ghgh (haha it’s cause he’s possessed)

- He’s immortal and kinda just snapped tbh like half the reason his actions are so manipulative, selfish and drastic are both because he’s so desperate to have control over things in his life and because low-key he kinda hopes that people will find a way to kill him off or get rid of the thing possessing him (I just want a happy ending :( make him not evil pls my poor heart can’t take a non happy for everyone ending//)

- Puffy is fluffy :) I will not elaborate further

- Revived people have creepy blacked out maybe kinda glowing eyes.... paler skin.... scars and phantom pains from their injuries....

- Phil just deadass found Wilbur hiding inside a fridge and took him home with him... wil just assumed the fridge was his mom and Phil found it too funny to correct him

- Tubbo is a moobloom hybrid and all the bees love him ok 💛

- I think it would be funny if dream just deadass can’t see shit through his mask rap considering all the feats he has done

- Phil is v old and ‘wise’ but is also fairly detached from reality as a result cause he can’t really remember what earlier parts of his life were like to understand how other people act

- I also think it’d be hilarious if he ironically had like 0 life skills... cooking? He’s shit at it. Sleep schedule? Never heard of it. Taxes? Isn’t that a state?

- The floors in the tundra trios homes are constantly being ruined by techno having hooves and Phil and maybe ranboo having claws... like u no how u can like dent and scrape a wooden floor with heels? Kinda like that

- Speaking of those three I also think it’d be very funny if they all collectively became useless or started fighting in the presence of a gold block cause like 👀 ‘oo gold/hehe shiny/hold block’ mentality

- Quackity can shapeshift.... but he’s like a ditto and always has the :] face.... mmm also maybe keeps any scars he has

- His ability to control this decreases the more he dies

- So like u could he talking to him and just suddenly he looks like someone else or like a weird mishmash of people and just hasn’t noticed lmao totally not freaky at all

- Literally non of the tundra trio are equipped for the weather like u have someone from the hot af nether, bird man who’d realistically be prone to hypothermia and someone who’s allergic to water like lmao why do yall live here what is wrong with you

- I want niki to just be very exasperated by this fact

- I want her to bake goods for her friends... tailored to their tastes.... cheer up food :)

- Also i forget when she changed her skin but I think it’d be very funny if she dyed her hair pink as an intimidation factor to tommy cause she knows he dislikes techno

- Puffy ily but I do not trust you with Tommy after the disaster that was bbh and skeppys relationship counselling

- The concept of the totems being foolish’s children is very funny to me like just the implication that he just leaves his kids in random chests for people to steal and that when they witness someone die they just explode with revive energy or something like w h a t

- Ghostbur either isn’t actually Wilbur and is just some entity pretending to be him hence the ‘poor memory’ OR him and limbo Wilbur are two halves of one entity

- I just find it v sus that he’s the only ghost that’s ever shown up... and regularly at that

- mmm tubbo hard of hearing.... relies on reading lips the best he can when to help clarify what people are saying but he can hear people well enough if they raise their voice quite loud

- cursed hc but what if ash and Zachary were somehow michael decendants and they like porkums cause he’s either originally a family friend or he just reminds them of stuff

- Ok half of these aren’t even hcs anymore and is just me rambling but who let Karl be in charge of the time travel he has such strong himbo energy

- That being said villain Karl when 👀//

- Why is tubbo like one of the smartest most accomplished people on the sever... he’s like 17..... like my man has been president, developed a new form of fast travel, has a family, developed a nuclear weapons program by himself, launched a man into space, developed a whole town and more .... like who let him have this much power he can barely read//

- I think it’d be funny if techno was just really bad at strategy games..... like ok technically he’s not bad at them but like he just spends 4 days analysing every last minute detail every round to optimise his chances of winning//

- I feel like people don’t give Jack enough credit for the fact he cheated death using nothing but spite

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 266 “Pinky Finger Bones”

So... with this chapter we begin digging into what happened in the past. Into what happened to Wilk... but also into what happened to Tsurumi.

He clearly stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back at him... but what’s worse is that Tsurumi became much more scary than the abyss itself.

By the way you might notice a resemblance with the quote “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” [‘Beyond Good and Evil’  Friedrich Nietzsche] which loosely means “When you confront evil, make sure it doesn’t influence you.”

Well, it’s clear Tsurumi not only let himself influence, he sadly became worse than the ‘monster’ he was fighting.

But let’s go with order.

The cover… is more like part of a flashback scene.

It shows Tsurumi and Tsukishima in Vladivostok, in 1897. Therefore we’re at the point in which Tsukishima was released from jail and was working as an intelligence officer with Tsurumi in Russia.

They are shown alone, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they went there alone, as Tsurumi could have other men with himself, to create a spy network. Or not.

We’ll find out only if it’s relevant to the plot so, for now, I’ll let it on hold.

Anyway Tsurumi and Tsukishima talk of how, since Vladivostok is the only Russian port that doesn’t freeze and can be used all year round, it’s a strategically vital point for Russia but also for Japan. Central had made appoint to let Tsurumi know they need to conquer it if they go at war with Russia.

At that point a Russian man spot Tsukishima and starts asking him if he is Japanese and knows a man named Hasegawa who disappeared without a trace 6 years ago.

As Tsukishima struggles to understand what he says (he’s clearly not well versed in Russian yet) the man talks about the bodies of Hasegawa’s wife and daughter, but we don’t get to hear what he says about them.

Tsukishima turns to discover Tsurumi has disappeared and, searching him, he finds him in front of Hasegawa’s burned photo studio.

Tsurumi’s expression, which Tsukishima can’t see, is interesting. His eyes are shadowed by the brim of his hat (while Tsukishima aren’t) and his eyes are stretched thin, many stress lines under them.

He’s probably lost in painful memories, which are likely now wrapped by the hate he feels for who caused his tragedy.

When Tsukishima reads on the sign ‘Hasegawa photo studio’, he realizes it’s the name the Russian was talking about. I’ll be honest, the coincidence is a little too forced. I mean, to have a random Russian guy asks to a random Japanese (let’s remember Vladivostok HAD a Japanese district so Japanese people is not that impossible to spot there) if they knew Hasegawa who disappeared 6 years ago and, COINCIDENTALLY, this Japanese is with the guy who, in the past, was Hasegawa, a guy who apparently doesn’t hear the question and marches straight to Hasegawa photo studio (they weren’t that close, Tsukishima lost sight of Tsurumi and had to search for him) so that Tsukishima can connect some dots back then and a lot more in the present is... well, way too providential.

It would be different if that Russian had a reason to check all the Japanese he were to spot and had done so for 6 years but no reason is given. We aren’t told he was Fina’s relative (Fina has a family to whom she was supposed to return the day she died)... and therefore pretty invested in the tragedy and it’s clear he’s not part of the secret police or he wouldn’t give Tsukishima random details. Tsukishima isn’t even standing near Hasegawa’s house at the time he was questioned, so it was possible to speculate they knew each other.

That guy who spoke with Tsukishima was just a Russian who woke up that morning and decided, spotting some Japanese, to ask him about a guy who disappeared 6 years ago for... no apparent reason beyond plot convenience.

But okay, let’s go on.

We’ve left Tsukishima connecting the photo studio with the guy the Russian mentioned, relying to Tsurumi the Russian guy mentioned ‘something’ about that man’s wife and daughter.

At this point I wonder if there’s a reason why we aren’t told what that something is. I would think that the fact that their bodies got burned up in the fire wasn’t something to discuss or wonder about but maybe... there’s more?

I don’t know.

Anyway Tsukishima wonders if Tsurumi knew Hasegawa, which really, seems logical enough as Tsurumi came there to watch his burned shop and Tsurumi denies it, saying there’s plenty of Japanese people in Vladivostok (which again make weird how the Russian guy asked them if they knew about Hasegawa). Tsurumi then claims Hasegawa should have been odd for wanting to open a shop away from the Japanese district, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat and I facepalm here because he’s basically lampshading that Hasegawa had to be a spy for wanting to do so...

which seems uncharacteristically careless from him... unless he wanted Tsukishima to actually question him further... to push him to talk because maybe he too needed to talk but couldn’t... but Tsukishima is evidently ignorant in spy matters so he doesn’t get the hint.

He doesn’t lot go though, as Tsukishima remembers Hasegawa was Tsurumi’s mother’s maiden name, whom he noticed when Tsurumi went to pay his respect to her grave.

Tsurumi compliments for Tsukishima’s good memory and deflects Tsukishima’s suspicions saying it’s a common name in Niigata.

So we’ve some info about Tsurumi to ponder about, like how his mother is dead and how he was an Hasegawa so there’s to wonder if he was related to the ‘Hasegawa senior’ which whom he supposedly came in Russia as a teenager.

Was the guy his father using his mother’s maiden name? Or a maternal uncle? Can it be there was originally an Hasegawa Koichi and Tsurumi and him swapped (swapping identity with someone was a common spy technique)? If that’s the case was Kouichi a cousin of Tsurumi?

Or the guy never existed and it’s just a cover story? Hard to say, interesting to speculate.

Anyway we jump back to the present and to Tsukishima, a vein popping on his check, connecting the dots and realizing ‘that Hasegawa’ was actually Tsurumi.

Tsurumi then goes and says that 50 years ago some of the more extremist Ainu gathered up a great quantity of gold dust and were planning something... and here I pause again.

So, does this mean whose extremists did take a part of the hidden gold? Or that they were the gold’s guardians, aware of where it was hidden?

If it happened 50 years ago, unless the gold was stolen by the hideout, this means the extremists were the same guys who knew about the hideout. So, Ariko’s father could have been one of them as well as Asirpa’s grandfather (my bet is he’s the one who knew where the gold was).

Anyway the Ainu’s plan in order to fight the shogunate was to get a captain of the imperial Russian navy to divert Russian warships, munitions and such to them... and I think Tsurumi is exaggerating matters a bit because it’s really not enough to own warships, you also need men to drive them and I’m not sure how many Ainu there were who could do it but whatever, maybe back then was easier to pilot warships and use them to go to battle... but still, I kind of feel it would be complicate for him to ‘smuggle out’ Russian warships... I mean they aren’t exactly of the size you might ‘lose track of them’.

Going on.

To explain why the Russian captain would be willing to do so, Tsurumi says it’s common among soldiers who’re stationed far from central command to do as they prefer, which is something Tsurumi is intimately familiar with as he’s doing the same in Hokkaido.

However everything ended when the ship on which was the Russian captain crashed into a passenger ship in what’s called the “Russian warship Kalevala incident” of 1867 (which is completely fictional as no such thing happened in the real world) in which both ships sunk carrying everyone on board with them.

Timeline wise 1867 is also the year in which there’s the restoration of the imperial rule, with the Boshin war starting in 1868.

According to Tsurumi, since the Ainu lost the Russian captain willing to sell them weapons they should have felt at total loss about what to do with the gold.

Tsurumi then claims Wilk came in Hokkaido to search for that gold so that this was the start of everything that happened afterward.

Asirpa asks Sofia if this means it was Tsurumi the one who taught Wilk, Kiro and Sofia Japanese.

We can’t see Sofia’s face, as she’s holding her head down, but she’s sweating and panting, thinking back to when she held little Olga.

Clearly that incident of which she felt responsible still weight a lot on her, like an open wound that never healed... which in a way makes her similar to Tsurumi. Tsurumi though is trying to get revenge for that incident... while Sofia is trying to make up for it. 

She then notices that Tsurumi has moved really close to her, his hand still holding the finger bones of Old and Fina, rubbing them.

We can see Tsurumi’s head is inclined on a side, in a way that reminds me of how Usami looked at the dead horse... although Usami was tilting his head on the opposite side.

In normal body language, tilting the head on a side indicates sincere interest and curiosity... and it can fit both situations too... only Noda also makes it creepy, as if both Usami and Tsurumi were interested yet completely detached, as if they were watching something alien to them, the angle being just a little bit too much to feel natural.

Tsurumi then goes on claiming that, on the day his wife and child died, he was the only one the secret police was after and if Fina hadn’t picked up Wilk’s wanted poster she wouldn’t have come back. Tsurumi through tried to date the blame to even sooner, claiming that if Wilk and co had never gone to his photo studio, his wife and child might not have been killed.

Sofia’s eyes are locked on Tsurumi’s hand rubbing that finger bone, as if she were hypnotized... and I’ll repeat what I said before.

Sofia has spent all those years after the death of Fina and Olga trying to make amends. As she believes her cause will bring benefit to the Russian people (and therefore to people like Sofia and Olga), she continued to fight for it, giving up on Wilk, the man she loved and on ‘happiness as a woman’ all to fight for her cause and atone for that innocent lives who died that day.

Of course meeting Hasegawa again and being blamed fully for those deaths is a big blow to her, it’s the trauma, the sin, she never overcome but tried to by doing something constructive, something she believed would be positive for the others.

It’s worth to remember Sofia came from aristocracy, she didn’t need a better Russia to live an easy life, she could have just continued being a pampered princess and instead she devoted herself to improving her country.

We can argue the methods she chose might not be the best, and how they put in danger innocent people, but the aim is selfless.

On the other end we’ve Tsurumi, whose family fell in disgrace... likely short after the Meiji restoration and possibly due to it.

He went in Russia as a spy probably in an attempt to prove himself and improve his and his family’s life, likely married in order to have a cover but ended up falling in love with Fina and he clearly adored his daughter, Olga.

Still he continued his job as a spy even if that put in danger his own beloved family, he continued teaching Japanese to Wilk and Co even if he knew they were partisans and, ultimately, for some reasons, he get discovered by the secret police.

Somehow he finds out they’re coming from him so, instead than denouncing himself, he sends away Fina and Olga without explaining Fina nothing.

Even if she promised not to, Fina could have gone back for other reasons, it was coincidence it was just because she saw the wanted poster.

When Wilk and Co shows up at Tsurumi’s house HE LET THEM IN, before telling them they can’t come anymore. He could have denied them entrance and send them away, he could have told them he was a wanted man and the secret police was about to jump on him but no, he let them in.

When the secret police arrives he doesn’t just hand himself to them but stop to talk with them at the door, knowing inside he has three revolutionaries who will realize the police is circling the house and that will feel threatened. When they start attacking the police he doesn’t tell them the truth but let them discover it from the Russian policeman and then he hands them a machine gun so that they can fight the police.

Tsurumi was an ACTIVE cause of the incident as much as Wilk and Co if not MORE because he has something to lose and that he was exposing to risk, Fina and Olga.

Yet now he’s shifting all the blame to Wilk’s party, trying to use Sofia’s sense of guilt to get leverage on her and force her to be cooperative so that he could get the gold and get revenge over Central.

Now... I’m positive that Tsurumi suffered A LOT for the death of Fina and Olga, that it was traumatic for him... but while Sofia is trying to make up for it, Tsurumi is just trying to take revenge, trying to frame the death of his beloved ones as something that has a meaning because it becomes an helpful step in his climbing to get the gold and the control of Hokkaido.

In fact, and I’ll flash forward a bit, Tsurumi wants to know what purpose his wife and daughter served in the world, claiming they died because of Wilk and Co and therefore they should give him some sort of compensation.

In this way he uses his own loss to extort information from Sofia so that he could accomplish his goal.

Mind you, all this is a way to cope with pain that’s similar to Sekiya’s, who wanted to know why his daughter had to die, but, differently from Sekiya who was completely blameless for his child’s death, which was merely an incident he had no control over, Tsurumi was also actively to blame for his wife and child’s death and he’s trying to cope with his pain by shifting the blame on others and by trying to turn those deaths into meaningful steps on the way to his original goal, improving his own life.

Ironically, as he loved Fina and Olga, it’s unlikely reaching his original goal will bring him solace, it’s another copying mechanism to excuse himself, if he can justify his wrongdoing to them as a necessary step on the way to his goal, he believes he will feel better... which is clearly a lie. This is not the way to cope with such a traumatic event but it’s a common mistake, an attempt to dim the pain by not coping with how he’s responsible for his own loss.

I pity him for how terrible his pain should be... but there’s no turning around how his way to cope with it IS terrible in any possible way.

But let’s go back a little to Tsukishima and Koito who’re eavesdropping on the conversation.

Tsukishima remembers how, during the war they tried getting control of Vladivostok... and how Tsurumi told him they should expand the territory for Japan’s sake and that they should make certain that their comrades were sleeping in Japanese soil. Now though he (and Koito if his white irises and vein popping are to be taken as a hint) is pissed off because he fears Tsurumi’s goal is just his own personal way of mourning his wife and daughter...

...and I facepalm again. Hard.

Now, okay, Koito can be pissed off, he made clear he uphold certain values and that he believed Tsurumi was doing it for a selfless reason only, the well being of his own soldiers, plus he had never experienced being poor so he can’t understand why people would want to be rich. He’s young, he was used and lied at but still wanted to trust Tsurumi to be more noble than he was so okay, he can be angry.

Tsukishima though was okay with tailing after Tsurumi even when he didn’t know which is true goal was...

...even when he believed Tsurumi might not have a true goal...

...just because he wanted to believe what Tsurumi was doing would benefit the ones following him... and now he is upset because Tsurumi had a goal... but one that was beneficial to Tsurumi? How was Tsurumi not having a goal better?

And how this change the game, really?

If Tsurumi’s actions were genuinely better for the men in the 7th, they remain beneficial regardless of Tsurumi’s ultimate goal, which isn’t meant to harm them, after all.

And just because Tsukishima decided to sacrifice his love story with Igogusa (which, Tsurumi’s lies or not, was something Tsukishima decided on his own)... well, this doesn’t mean everyone has to do the same as him.

But whatever, as anticipated before, Tsurumi used Sofia’s sense of guilt to ask her to tell him and Asirpa what happened in Hokkaido. He’s clearly talking about the Nopperabou incident and he explains he believes Sofia should know about it due to the letters she got from Kiroranke.

Well, the good thing in all this is that, if Tsurumi is asking her about the incident, this seems to hint that, as I speculated, he doesn’t know exactly what happened (unless he’s sure Kiro had false info which he relied her... but I doubt that’s the case).

In his anger, Tsukishima fails to understand that asking Sofia about what happened in the Nopperabou incident might:

- give Tsurumi clues about where the gold was (the incident took place when the Ainu moved the gold)

- tell him if there’s more people involved who could try to get into Tsurumi’s way

- make Asirpa feel guilty for the dead Ainu and more prone to help Tsurumi,

All this of course depending on what truly happened back then... but I think Tsurumi has some theories in this regard and he’s asking merely because he thinks Sofia’s words, which Asirpa won’t question because Sofia wouldn’t have any reason to lie, would be beneficial to him.

Sofia starts crying at all this, breaking down and admitting what we already knows, that Kiro believed ‘Wilk changed’.

The only new addition to all this is that it confirms Kiro believed Wilk changed because Asirpa was born... but this doesn’t really tell us if Wilk changed the day Asirpa was born or later, as the change could have been gradual and we saw that Kiro seemed to have a good relationship with Wilk after Asirpa’s birth

(and we know, for Wilk’s own admission, he wanted to raise Asirpa to be a guerrilla fighter capable of leading the Ainu...

...and taught her how misplaced sympathy could become a weakness and who’s weak gets eaten, how they can’t hesitate to kill (a bear cub) for fear of being cruel or they’ll die (of starvation)).

Kiro also said Wilk saw a light in Asirpa, a light of hope for the Ainu,

...which also fits with how Kiro himself entrusted the future to Asirpa and Sofia,

...and how Asirpa’s name means ‘future’.

Long story short, we still don’t know anything new as it was clear Asirpa ended up affecting Wilk but how and why Kiro believed this constituted betrayal worth killing him is completely up to speculation.

I stand my ground on the fact I believe if Kiro thought Wilk had to die, it was because he believed Wilk betrayed the partisan cause, which, among partisans, has always been a crime punishable with death.

Still I genuinely doubt Asirpa’s birth caused Wilk to turn into a pro-imperialist or that it caused him to stop caring about the minorities... and since Kiro didn’t try to kill him prior to the Nopperabou incident, I’ll say the problem didn’t exactly start with Asirpa’s birth.

On the other side I don’t think Kiro is lying, he genuinely believed Wilk changed.

We’re clearly missing how Wilk changing became something that caused or was connected to the Nopperabou incident and made him worthy of being killed later, without even being questioned.

Ogata hinted that Kiro might have been afraid Wilk would reveal something about Kiro to Sugimoto...

...but I somehow have troubles seeing Kiro killing all those Ainu since Kiro seemed reluctant to kill Inkarmat, who was clearly a big hindrance and didn’t want Sugimoto, who was a potential hindrance, to be shoot.

Besides Kiro clearly didn’t know where the gold was, so I’ve troubles thinking he would just murder all those Ainu without even trying to get info from them.

Could it really be possible Wilk make a 180° turn and wanted to hand the gold to the Japanese even if, apparently, when he was arrested, he was trying to escape in Karafuto with the gold so that he could bring it to his companions?

Or did he wanted to hand it to the Japanese authorities because he came to believe the Ainu, the partisans and the revolutionaries wouldn’t know how to use it to benefit their cause and would only make matter worse?

Difficult to believe so as, even if we’re to assume he decided that fighting was wrong, the gold could be used in small parts to improve Ainu’s life by buying necessities for them if times were to become harsh (just think at how the locust attack damaged Kirawus’ village food resources... if they had some gold they could have bought the missing food).

Or was Wilk trying to use it to BUY the Ainu’s freedom from the Japanese, not with weapons but with the gold itself, buying the whole Hokkaido island in Boutarou’s style, therefore betraying the Russian cause as they would remain to their own devices? It would seem an aiful naive plan from him besides it was hinted he still wanted to pursue his own dream of a far east federation for minorities by how he clung to those gold coins up till the time he was captured.

But still, we’re missing some big piece of the puzzle... which we don’t get in this chapter as the story kind of goes back a little to show us Sugimoto and Shiraishi in the bottlecar, just out of the church Sugimoto is in.

They had seen Koito get into the church, meaning they got there before Tsurumi started speaking with Sofia and Asirpa.

Shiraishi would like to rush in to rescue but Sugimoto is uncharacteristically prudent, saying Shiraishi they should go call Hijikata, because if they rush in they could be in numerical disadvantage.

Shiraishi though is worried of what Tsurumi could do to Asirpa but Sugimoto insists Tsurumi should know he can’t rely on information gotten with torture so, differently from Tsukishima, he figured out Tsurumi will try to get information from her of her own free will slowly.

Shiraishi is still worried and references how Tsurumi behaved oddly in the volume version of what happened in Karafuto (because in the magazine version the poor guy actually acted in a pretty normal way) then notices Sugimoto is actually wishing badly he could rush in and decides Sugimoto might be right.

Honestly I should give kudos to Sugimoto for managing to figure this out. From after Tsurumi got his hands on Asirpa he had been uncharacteristically smart, analyzing his opponent (Tsurumi) and understanding his moves, from how Tsurumi wouldn’t part with Asirpa to how he wouldn’t torture her but try to get info out of her willingly.

On a sidenote actually you can get reliable info through torture if you manage to keep control of your victim (meaning if he lied to you torture will just start all over) or if you’ve someone to use to blackmail that person but whatever, let’s go on.

Sugimoto and Shiraishi decide them to go call Hijikata, slam the car against a pole and fly out of it.

The chapter ends here but if Nikaidou is really around there to keep guard as Tsurumi told him to do...

...and spot Sugimoto we can count on him to go in berserk mode, scream ‘SUGIMOTO SAICHI! MY NAME IS NIKAIDOU KOUHEI. YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! PREPARE TO DIE!’ and reveal to everyone how Sugimoto and Shiraishi are there, possibly interrupting the whole interrogatory and letting us wonder for many more chapters WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED DURING THE NOPPERABOU INCIDENT. So please Nikaidou, don’t be around or scream discreetly. We don’t really want you to bother Tsurumi, Sofia and Asirpa NOW.

[keravnous]

I’ve noticed that Edwards likes telescopes. There’s one on the rooftop above his office at Sgail and one can be seen in his meeting room where he logs in to talk to the Partners. It might just be put there by IOI to hammer home the idea that Providence is all-seeing but I have two different ideas: one SFW and one NSFW. I’ll put the NSFW in a separate ask cause idk if you'll be into it and this is already a long post lol.

The SFW idea is that he enjoys stargazing. I think it kind of suits him given how purposeful he is. Always looking up, always striving for more. When the poor, overworked guy needs to recharge during the Ark Society event, he heads up to the tower roof to relax and have some alone time. He treats himself to a little slice of cheesecake and wine (you can see it on the table in the game) while peering up at his favorite constellations. Marveling at how clear they are without all the light pollution you’d get in the city.

Or maybe he brings a Herald that he admires to the event. They eat, drink, and swap eavesdropped information over faint music from the courtyard. The effigy glows a warm, flickering orange in the distance. The waves surround the tower with the pleasant scent of sea water.

He shyly motions to the telescope and the Herald accepts when he invites them to have a look through it. Edward’s eyes light up as he points out different stars. Ever so gently, he places his hand on their back, ready to quickly retrieve it should they recoil. But they don’t, much to his relief. While they peek through the scope, he leans in and regales them with the stories behind the constellations' names. Orion and the scorpion, Perseus and Andromeda… His voice is so soft in their ear and his body so warm against them in the cool night. It’s a completely different side to him. One the Herald grows very fond of.

this 🥺

I am not too sure if I can fulfill the nsfw request, but I tried to give this one here a little nsfw undertone

the mentioned song: youtube / spotify

_

This wasn't your first time attending the annual Ark Society gathering at the Isle of Sgail but it sure was your first time making your way, let alone entering, the Constant's tower.

Miss Vidal had handed you a dossier earlier that night and requested that you'd bring it to the Constant yourself, being one of her most trusted associates. You heard your heartbeat hammer in your skull, it made your whole body vibrate with both, excitement and anxiety, as you gave a sharp knock to the massive wooden doors. The guards had immediately recognized your Providence pin and had let you past with no further questions, given the file savely tucked away under your arm.

Slowly, and your nearly expected the hinges to shriek, the door opened and you came face to face with an old man, white hair and - that, that was clearly not Mister Edwards. You were glad that the mask covered at least half of your face, your brows furrowing in both confusion and slight amusement.

"Yes, Miss/Mister?", he sharply clicked his heels and looked at you, an unreadable gaze locking with your eyes. A cold shiver ran down your spine. He seemed like a butler, and maybe he really was, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through your carefully built facade, that screamed killer to you.

"Good evening, Sir", you smiled your most charismatic smile, "My name is y/n, Miss Vidal has sent me."

"Ah yes of course, we have been informed. Please, do come in", he took a step backwards and opened the door completely. The air inside was warm and your anxiety was immediately calmed by the dark and cozy interior as you entered the tower. So, this was it, huh? This was his place, the place of the most powerful man on earth. You had expected something a little more ... modern, maybe? More Bond villain-ish, sharp edges and light colours but this looked at lot more like the set of a period drama.

"Mister Edwards is already expecting you. This way, please", the butler lead you towards the staircase and stretched out his arm invitingly. You took a deep breath and muttered a quiet Thank you, Sir underneath your breath, slowly ascending the stairs. You heard music and someone humming along with the tune. The soft barritone sent a shiver down your spine, much more pleasant than the one minutes earlier, right down your stomach, leaving a warm and fuzzing feeling. His voice was beautiful. You rarely heard him speak and it was hard to make out the warmth of his voice in his whispering tone but now it was clearer and louded and it wrapped around your head, your whole body, like a warm blanket. You took you first steps across the perfectly polished floor and peaked around the corner.

He was lanky and tall, even more visible now with his jacket off, the crisp white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. You had never seen him that casually and he also seemed rather relaxed as well, seemingly focussed on a telescope that stood near one of the massive, opened windows of his office.

You stood there, unsure wether to interrupt him or not, he was the Constant after all. With all the rumours that surrounded him and powered the slight dusk of myths and speculations that wafted around him you had totally forgotten that he was human after all.

It was a rather endearing sight, really. It made your stomach twist a little, spread warmth through your abdomen as he kept on making adjustments to the telescope and quietly humming along with the tune.

You did not have any track of the time that passed, while you stood there still and unmoving, the file still under your arm, watching him watching the clear night sky, before his warm voice suddendly left the lyrics, was replaced by an equally warm chuckle.

"I find the stars to be much more interesting to watch than the gazer himself, if I may be that direct."

Your heart dropped. Fuck, you fucked up. You prepared yourself for him to throw a fit, threaten you or just having you shot by his creepy-not so innocent-looking butler right on the spot.

"I- uh, Sir, I am very sorry - I just, it's- I'm-", well, wasn't that just very professional of you.

Arthur turned around to you, his expression surprisingly open and friendly, his lips curled up in a slight smile.

"The file I assume, yes?"

"Yes, right here", you took a few steps forward and he met you halfway, wrapping his delicate fingers around the slim folder.

"Thank you very much", he held your gaze for a few seconds longer and then nodded towards the little coffee table, "A glas of wine, maybe?"

You felt your brain errupting in a high frequency static noise.

"What?"

He chuckled again, a deep and low sound, a little amused and a little snobby that did things to your groin.

"Wine. A red one", he turned around to the table and eyed the bottle, "Argentinian, I believe, one of Yates'."

You swallowed. This was certainly not happening. He turned around to you once more. "So?"

Fuck it. "Yes, please."

The following hour then passed by like a cold breeze on a warm summer day and you found yourself really enjoying his company, his witty and dry humour, the way he listened to you and gave well reflected and soft spoken replies.

"Am I still right about my very early assumption that you have never watched the stars before?", he tilted his head a little.

"No, not really. Not like this", you gestured towards the telescope.

"Would you like to try?", he recognized your hesitation and got up, offering you his hand, "I am convinced you will very much enjoy it."

Carefully, like a deer in the headlights, you took his hand and got up, while he led you towards the opened window as Arthur took a scrutinizing look through the telescope and gestured you closer. You leaned down a little and looked through the objective and your breath hitched.

The stars were so close and so bright and it was nothing like taking a lamely look towards the sky on a night out in the busy streets of London. It was fascinating. A surprised laugh left your lips and you heard him chuckle again behind you. He was much closer than you expected him to be.

"Surprised, hm?", he hummed.

"Well, yes. It's - They're beautiful."

"It must be Cassiopeia you're looking at, that constellation is the most present during these months."

He guided you across the night sky, leaning over your shoulder and adjusting the telescope or leaning in close to explain the constellations and their names to you. It left your head spinning and heart thrumming in your chest and you felt like you could've dropped dead the second that he put his hand on the small of your back, right underneath the dark blue robe you were wearing over your formal wear.

You felt the warmth of his fingers radiating through the thin layer of clothing and a sigh escaped your lips. Your cheeks immediately heated up with crimson red but he continued to rub soft, soothing circles over your back. "This one right here is Orion, sometimes believed to affect certain sign's love life."

"Is that so?", you had huffed out while feeling him pressing against you, his warm breath that smells faintly of expensive red wine and cigarettes grazed your cheek.

"Well, I like to believe that society evolved from that. You know, that we start to rely on more reliable sources."

"Such as?"

"Increase in body temperature", his hand sneaked forward, placed itself on your stomach and pressed your body flush against his, "Fast heartbeat -"

He came closer, you could feel the tip of his nose against the nape of your neck. You shouldn't. He was technically not only your boss, but also so much more, so much more important to the world's fate than you were. But he felt good against you and his quiet barritone sent shivers down your spine.

"Loss of words."

"Is that so?", you heard yourself whisper, a sharp, needy and rather unknow edge to your own voice.

You felt his lips grazing over your neck and how they softly turned into a slight smile.

"Sometimes, yes", you felt how he slowly detached his body from yours and you suddendly felt how cold the room had gotten, given the opened window and rather cold autumn night, "Another glas of wine, maybe?"

Who were you to even think of declining such an offer?