#and they used many big words and i was like ???

[sourdeers]

𓄲 ❝HEART BEAT❞

pairing ﹕ katsuki bakugou x reader.

— contents: sleepy katsuki. denki and kirishima are menaces. established relationship. short. — word count ﹕ .5k — a/n: OHMIGOSH FIRST REQUEST !! i i kind of went a little off-track . . . i hope that’s okay and i hope you like this ! i also added jirou into the baku-squad b/c that’s one of my personal hc’s !

“what is happening right now?”

”dude . . . he’s, like, asleep. in public.”

you don��t have to open your eyes to know it’s kirishima and denki standing in front of the couch, peering down at you and katsuki. you’d warned the blonde that falling asleep in the common room went against everything he stood for, and increased the risk of people finding out you were together, but he’d shrugged and said he didn't give a damn.

your eyes open just the slightest bit and kirishima flinches, taking a step back. “jesus, y/n!” he exclaims, clutching his chest dramatically. “you can’t scare a guy like that . . .”

”you guys better shut the hell up,” you whisper harshly, narrowing your eyes. you make sure not to move—not to shift too much and wake up your sleeping boyfriend. “if he wakes up and sees you two idiots staring at him, he’ll never take a nap again.”

simultaneously, they raise their hands in defense. 

“sorry, y/n,” denki says. “please, carry on with your . . . nap.”

the two of them share a glance, then snicker, then make their way out of the room. you let your head fall back into place, tucked into the crook of katsuki’s neck, and close your eyes with a sigh.

there’s maybe a minute and a half of silence before you hear giggles in the distance, accompanied by the sound of a camera going off. your eyes shoot open, immediately darting to the stairs, where kirishima, denki, mina, sero, and jiro are crouched down, phones pointed at the couch.

you narrow your eyes once again and furrow your brows. “what are you doing?” you mouth to them, lifting your head to look at them properly.

mina shrugs, a wide grin on her face. “when is the next time we’ll actually catch him lacking, huh?” she raises her brows and nods. “we have to take this loss and use it for our blackmail folder.”

”blackma—“ you start to repeat what she said, but katsuki shifts beside you and everyone freezes. nobody moves, nobody breathes.

katsuki isn’t a scary guy. no matter how the public paints him, no matter how many times he threatens to kill people, no matter how many times he’s accidentally made children cry—he’s not scary. 

however.

he does, in fact, hold a grudge. you ate his leftovers in first year once, and he didn’t talk to you for three months— even when you were his assigned training partner! denki made fun of his “bedtime” once, and the next day, denki had lime green hair.

you lay your head back down, keeping your eyes trained on the band of miscreants sitting on the stairs, and begin softly trailing your fingers across katsuki’s arm. you’re pretty sure you’ve pavlov trained him into falling asleep whenever you tickle his arm.

his breathing evens out again, chest heaving with a big breath, and then he’s fast asleep again. it almost brings a frown to your face because that’s just how tired he is. he’s been working so hard lately—he always had, but third year has been kicking his ass.

”go away,” you whisper to your friends.

surprisingly, they listen. they trail back up the stairs, mumbling to each other about something you can’t hear. you don’t really care though, because your occupied with your boyfriend's heart beating in your ear.

[mossworth]

Guys, queers. Specifically my fellow queers.

I work at a library. We do this thing where, every so often, we weed the collection. It hurts to see books go, but it's necessary to make sure there's room in the library for new materials.

I have seen so much support for the library in text, and I've seen folks pass around those beautiful "queer your library" flyers. Keep doing that. That's great. Nothing wrong with that. But you HAVE to turn your words into action. We MUST remember to actually go to our local organizations and libraries and actually, with our own fucking hands, interact with these materials we want to see more of.

My branch is medium-sized for a library, maybe a little small. We don't have as many materials as I'd like, but we have fundamentals. Tell me why, even with all the verbal support I've gotten from my local community for the library as a resource for our LGBT+ community, every single trans biography and a good chunk of our vaguely queer theory books were on the list. This isn't a scheme to take the books off the shelves, it isn't another bigoted American governmental push. The only thing we look at when we weed is how long it's been since the last time the item was checked out.

Three years.

No one in my community interacted in any meaningful way with the few books on trans life and history we physically had on the shelves for three fucking years.

I promise you the materials you want and need are there, but this isn't a horde. This isn't a static safety net. You have to use them. You MUST use them or, in the future, maybe in three years, they *won't* be there anymore.

This isn't a vague post, there's no one person I'm hinting at or calling out. I'm not even talking directly to anyone who's directly in my line of sight. I just want everyone to hear this. Big library, small library, whatever. Doesn't matter. Please, we cannot be losing our shelf visibility like this.

[byfulcrums]

I hate the third movie so much!!!! Like a lot!!!!!!!

Prepare for a rant (under cut bc it got a bit long, sorry!)

First of all, here's a thing I always complain about when talking about HTTYD 3: the designs, and the characterization

The designs as in, the armor, is cool as hell, I'm not complaining about that I love the armor so much. But I hate how they made Toothless a literal puppy. His head is literally a square!!! They changed his personality too, when he's always been more similar to a cat than a dog

There's also the light fury. I have no words for this. The fact that they only made her Like That because they needed her to be "feminine" says enough about her

It was weirdly sexist for a HTTYD movie, considering how well done the female characters are in this series. They only made this character to be Girl Toothless, and being a girl was her only character trait

Besides that, they gave some of Toothless' mannerisms to her! The more cat-like behavior, at some points, for example. Toothless in the first movie was more graceful, stealthy, moved silently, etc. They gave all of his different, elegant ways of moving to her, because they wanted to push the golden retriever agenda on him (that's a joke btw. Like they did do that but "golden retriever agenda" isn't a thing)

Ruffnut was far too stupid too. She would NEVER in rtte

Now; let's move on to why the ending is shit

First of all! Toothless is not an Alpha. He is king, yes, but king of Berk's dragons specifically. When he defeated Drago's Alpha, he did not suddenly gain telepathy powers; the dragons under the Alpha's control went to Toothless when he won, and it was a willing decision. They listen to him, yes, but not every dragon will, because HE'S NOT OF THE SPECIES THAT HAS LITERAL DRAGON MIND CONTROL POWERS

That being said!! If Toothless isn't an Alpha, then why the hell did all the dragons leave when he did? And why did all the dragons in the Hidden World immediately bow down to him? Maybe they recognize his status as King (of Berk), but that doesn't mean he's the king of them

There's also no way all the dragons wanted to leave. Just no way. I know I wouldn't!

Then, there's the Death Song problem

There are multiple cannibalistic dragon species. If they go to the Hidden World with the rest, they will try to eat everyone else, and if they can't do that, they'll starve. These dragons can't just change their entire biology and start eating fish, plants, boars, or whatever thing you have in mind. They have to eat other dragons, or they'll die. Sending them all to the Hidden World means that either they'll eat all the other dragons and eventually they'll be one of the few species left standing (highly unlikely) or they'll just go extinct (most probable)

Along with that, there's the fact that many dragons are extremely territorial. if stuck in the same place for the rest of their lives, there will be fights, and dragons don't have medicine! They can only heal naturally, there's no outside help. So many will die, far more than necessary

Now, I do like the ending of the dragons leaving. In the books

And sure, dragons die every day; no one can stop that (no matter how sad this makes Hiccup), but putting them all in a big cave will result in losses that are WAY bigger than necessary and than what they're used to

Plus, what about the species that can't fly? The Speed Stingers, for example? The mutation in RTTE was a thing that only happened with that one group. Only they would be able to reach the Hidden World

I understand that they were trying to end the sagas the same way the books did, but it doesn't work in the movies! Also, (I haven't read all the books yet, it's a work in progress, so correct me if I'm wrong, but) as far as I know, in the books the dragons were basically slaves to the Vikings. It makes sense that they would want to leave. In the movies, it's not like that. Berk's dragons are friends, not servants! They have no reason to want to leave!

And even then, I'm like 99% sure that in the books Toothless still didn't leave Hiccup. And even then, apparently leaving (or when to leave, most likely) was left to be each dragon's choice, not something a random telepathy powered Toothless told them to do

The villain also sucks. I didn't like his design, but I'm not gonna complain about that

It makes no sense for just one person to wipe out an entire species! And besides, Grimmel wasn't scary, wasn't interesting, wasn't anything at all. He's as bland as the Light Fury

Also also also. Toothless would never leave Hiccup for a girl. I'm not talking about a "bros before hoes" thing (I hate that phrase) I'm talking as in, Toothless would never leave Hiccup. Ever. No matter the circumstances. ES MÁS, he wouldn't have let the Light Fury get close to him after she attacked Hiccup! He would've defended him! That's his friend. HIS FRIEND. He's his best bud, his soulmate!!!!!

God the Toothless characterization pissed me off sm

I'd say Hiccup was pretty spot on in the sense that if Toothless wanted to leave and could leave without, like, dying, he would let him; he'd be sad about it, but he would let him. There's other things I don't like about the way he was written, of course, but that wasn't too bad. WHAT WAS BAD IS THE FACT THAT TOOTHLESS LEAVING WAS EVEN A POSSIBILITY IN THE FIRST PLACE

And, to add something: doesn't the "oh I built a new tail and now he can leave forever because it's like basically his old tail! It's like it was never missing at all!" thing feel a bit ableist? Idk that's just a hunch, I'm not disabled so I can't talk about it, but. Just leaving that there

Still, even without the ableism, it's still shitty. The tailfin would never hold that long. It'd need repairs. Things like that can't be permanent, and I know Hiccup is a great inventor, but he's not a god, come on. He can't do everything

Toothless can fly on his own now, yes, but if the tailfin breaks (which is a thing that can happen, either because of an accident or simply because of time), there's no one to fix it. In a place like that, he'll be stranded. It's dangerous!

Also they made Snotlout, Hiccup's cousin in the books, be attracted to Hiccup's mom. HIS AUNT

The HTTYD universe's ecosystem must've been so damaged when all the dragons dissappeared.

"but people wanted to hurt them!" people want to hurt wolves to, but we don't send them all to an isolated cave because it would destroy the ecosystem.

In fact, "dragon" is just a collective word for multiple species so they really fucked themselves with that one.

In conclusion, the third movie was stupid.

[rosiecosy]

come back home୨ৎ

(seventeen x reader) — angst, comfort

fights weren’t common between you and the boys, but when they happened, they always felt big.

tonight was no different.

you weren’t even sure how it started—something small, something dumb. maybe you were feeling overwhelmed, maybe they were frustrated too. but words were said, voices were raised, and suddenly, the walls of the dorm felt too tight, their voices too loud, the weight of their concern too heavy.

so you left.

you barely registered the way the door clicked shut behind you, barely noticed the cold bite of the night air against your skin. all you knew was that you needed space.

—

your feet carried you to the nearest park without much thought.

it was mostly empty at this hour, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the only sound was the distant hum of passing cars, the occasional rustling of leaves. it was quiet. peaceful. a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the dorm.

you wandered over to the swings, hands shoved into your pockets as you let out a slow breath.

maybe you had overreacted. maybe you should’ve just stayed and talked things through. but it was hard—being the youngest, the only girl in a dorm full of overprotective boys. they meant well, you knew that, but sometimes it was exhausting. too many opinions, too many voices telling you what to do, too many people hovering, worrying, questioning.

and you knew they only did it because they cared, but sometimes… sometimes you just needed to breathe.

you sat down on the swing, the chains creaking softly as you pushed off the ground. the rhythmic motion was soothing, the cool air helping to clear your mind. you closed your eyes, letting the weight of the night settle around you.

—

meanwhile, back at the dorm, the boys were spiraling.

"she’s not picking up," minghao muttered, lowering his phone.

"maybe she just needs a minute," vernon offered, though he sounded unsure.

"what if she doesn’t come back?" seokmin blurted out, eyes wide.

"don’t be ridiculous," woozi sighed, though his grip on his phone was tight.

"what if something happens to her?" mingyu asked, looking way too close to panicking.

"okay, enough," seungcheol cut in. "jun, jeonghan, joshua—you check the streets. hoshi, woozi, dino—stay here in case she comes back. the rest of us will check nearby cafés or parks."

"we’re not splitting up like a horror movie," jeonghan muttered, but he was already grabbing his coat.

—

you didn’t know how long you had been swinging when you heard footsteps approaching.

you blinked, slowing your movement, turning your head just in time to see seokmin and mingyu jogging toward you, relief washing over their faces the second they spotted you.

"there you are!" seokmin huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"we’ve been looking everywhere," mingyu added, slightly breathless.

you blinked at them, a little guilty but mostly just tired. "i was just getting some air."

your phone buzzed in your pocket—seungcheol’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitated before answering.

"…hi?"

"where are you? are you safe? why didn’t you answer your phone?"

"i’m fine," you sighed. "i just needed to clear my head."

"stay where you are. we’re coming."

you didn’t get a say in it.

—

when you got back to the dorm, thirteen pairs of eyes were on you.

seungcheol looked like he wanted to lecture you. seungkwan looked like he wanted to cry. dino looked like you had personally betrayed him.

"i was literally gone for, like, twenty minutes," you pointed out.

"twenty minutes too long," hoshi muttered.

"don’t do that again," jeonghan sighed, pulling you into a hug.

"we thought you left for good," dino mumbled.

your expression softened. "what? why would i do that?"

they all exchanged awkward glances.

"…because of the fight?" jun said hesitantly.

you blinked. "guys."

"you left without saying anything," joshua pointed out.

"because i knew i’d come back," you said. "i just needed some space, that’s all."

seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temples. "just—next time, tell someone, okay?"

guilt crept in at the worry in his voice. "okay. i’m sorry."

they all nodded, still looking a little shaken but relieved.

"now, group hug?" seokmin suggested.

before you could protest, you were pulled into a mess of arms, warmth, and way too much body heat.

"okay, okay, i get it!" you laughed. "i’m not going anywhere."

"good," woozi muttered. "because that was awful."

"never again," seungkwan mumbled into your shoulder.

and despite everything—despite the fight, despite the worry—this felt like home.

[boreal-sea]

Nothing in my post is actually explicitly Zionist. I didn’t even say whether or not I’m Zionist.

I just said that people might want to check themselves if the idea of lynching Jews gives them pause but the idea of lynching “Zionists” doesn’t.

What is your definition of an ethnostate? What is the cut-off percentage of one race? 60%? 70%? More?

What is the racial makeup of Israel?

How do other countries such as Ireland or China NOT fulfill that definition? Or do you consider China and Ireland to be ethnostates, and thus immoral?

Did you know you’re misinformed about the Ethiopian Jews and you’re spreading antisemitic lies?

Jewish Ethiopian women were offered Depo Provera when in transition camps in Ethiopia on their way to Israel. Others were offered the shots once they reached Israel. Depo Provera is a very helpful form of both control in non-ideal situations for multiple reasons, especially the fact that it lasts several months and lightens your period, both things that would make a difficult journey easier. These were administered by a mix of medical personnel, many of whom weren’t Israelis.

Every single woman who received the shot was able to get pregnant afterwards. That’s a pretty ineffective sterilization attempt if every single one of them got pregnant.

Now it is absolutely true that some of the women who received the injection didn’t know what it was and that is ABSOLUTELY a failure of the system and a failure of communication. But those women did eventually receive the proper information, were able to stop taking it, and those who wanted, got pregnant. Again, this was not a sterilization attempt in any way.

Like. I don’t know if I’m a Zionist or not and I don’t actually use that word because I’m not done with my conversion yet. I also didn’t talk about proportions of anti-Zionists to Zionists in this post, so I’m not sure why you’re accusing me of erasing anyone.

Israel as a state exists. People live there. Forcibly removing people from their homes is wrong. It would be wrong to forcibly remove every American of European descent from the USA, and we’re actually colonizers.

I actually fully support the Palestinian right to return. I think Israel needs to work out some way to accommodate and embrace Palestinians that were forced out during the Nakba. Much like Land-Back in the USA, this should be a peaceful, cooperative thing that doesn’t involve forcibly removing anyone from their homes. Yes, that means it’s probably going to take a long time.

I think the illegal Israeli settlers in the West Bank, however, should absolutely be forcibly removed. In some cases they MURDERED people to steal those homes. It is internationally recognized they are breaking the law. Even Israel admits this. So they need to go, right now.

I think Israel should absolutely pay to rebuild Gaza. They should house Palestinian refugees until the process is complete.

I don’t know what the best step forward is for the peace process right now. Both sides want impossible things from each other.

None of that is going to happen while Trump is in power, unfortunately.

The moment for thinking “what would I have done in Germany before and during Hitler’s reign” is over. Look back over the past two years. What did you do? What did you think and feel?

Did your opinion about Jews change?

If you went from supporting all Jews to thinking that a least some Jews, (namely “Zionists” or “Israelis”) deserve suffering, exile, and/or death, then you fell for modern antisemitic propaganda, and you would’ve fallen for it in Nazi Germany, too.

Maybe you would blink if the police today started rounding up the Jews in your neighborhood, or smashing synagogues, or arresting Jews off the streets. But would you feel better about it if they call them Zionists or Israelis? They’re not arresting “good Jews”, they’re arresting Zionists, to make them pay for their crimes.

It’s not too late to fix that, though. You can come back from being sucked into antisemitism. You can do better going forward.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SPOILER SPOILER

new yuu for the scara manga. Credits to magister_xehanort on reddit. Doesn't she looks cool?!! She kinda gives me kalim vibes since she looks bubbly. What do you think miss raven?

I already gave my (very brief) preliminary thoughts on our new Yuu, Yuuna Oujou (I must stress it is NOT Ojou) in this post. I would be more than happy to expand on those thoughts here though ^^

So firstly, this Yuu is a girl--and a very feminine presenting one at that. This supports the theory that each manga!Yuu will be going in the boy-girl-boy-girl order, or perhaps the opposite gender of the Great Seven member of each book/dorm.

I think it's great that we have a very femme Yuu in official Twst media; it definitely adds to the diversity of the Yuuniverse. I especially appreciate what this implies about the NRC cast: they don't treat a girly girl significantly differently (whether being overly nice, overly mean, or overly awkward around her) than they would a masculine-presenting or nonbinary Yuu.

One thing I LOVE about Yuuna is that she actually has several unique interactions with the NRC cast and the world. Part of why I don't like Yuuken or Yuuka as much is because their level-headed personalities didn't lead to them really changing much about how they interacted with this new environment + people (other than the occasional change, like Yuuka squaring up to fight). I liked Yuuta a lot more because he has way more moments to "be himself" in the world, like using his cooking to convince Leona to let him sleep over in Savanaclaw, being softer around Jack, and having a backbone when Grim tries to hurriedly cram food into his mouth before class. Yuuna goes even FURTHER than that. She has her own nicknames for each character, takes selfies with them, literally plunges into Kalim's Oasis Maker water without a care in the world, plays dress-up with the shiny stuff in Scarabia's storage room, freaks out about the bugs in Ramshackle, and SO much more. Yuuna legitimately feels like a part of this world rather than a passenger in it.

I think we should talk more about how Yuuna dresses! This is known as gyaru, which is a Japanese fashion subculture typically known for its rebellious outfits, tanned skin, big and/or dyed or bleached hair, many accessories, and exaggerated makeup. It is also associated with a particular attitude or behaviors, such as being outgoing, sociable, and energetic. The name gyaru (ギャル) originates from a Japanese transliteration of the English word 'gal'. I believe the style originally developed in the 1970s as a statement of nonconformity to Japanese beauty standards (which emphasizes being pale-skinned, dark-haired, and demure in their appearance). Gyaru was originally considered very inappropriate, and the older generation tend to stereotype it as frivolous and associated with adolescent delinquency. In the west, it was even sometimes mistaken as racist depictions of dark-skinned people. Nowdays, gyaru is more understood as being a way for people to break out of conventional beauty standards set upon them by society.

What Yuuna wears, as one of the anons shares, is a substyle of gyaru called kogal or kogyaru (子ギャル or コギャル). The 子 or コ (ko) in kogyaru means "child", referring to the childishness or youthfulness of those who typically wear this fashion. It is defined by those who wear clothes resembling Japanese high school uniforms with alterations and flairs made to them. (These alterations are usually frowned upon, as Japanese schools are very strict about wearing their uniform properly.) This could include alterations in color, wearing one's uniform differently, wearing loose socks, shortening the skirt, and/or adding accessories to bags. We may also see bleached hair and/or tanned skin. This substyle formed in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but is popular in modern day, as it has been picked up and promoted by Japanese media.

As I mentioned in the original post, Yuuna comes from the countryside and she helps her family out on their rice fields. However, her dream is to become a model in Tokyo (this is what her audition was for).

We don't get to see a lot of her parents, but I don't get the impression that they disapprove of her fashion or life choices. They just short of tell her off for looking at magazines while she's supposed to be doing something else. They allow her to go to a modeling audition too, rather than taking efforts to prevent it or to shame her from going. There's also no bullying alluded to or mentioned; I genuinely don't think Yuuna is supposed to have a tragic background. (None of the other manga!Yuus did, either.) She just has an interest in this fashion, and there doesn't have to be a deep or trauma-related reason for it. Simply her being into the gyaru subculture makes her a foil to Jamil. Gyaru is all about expressing oneself, even if society frowns upon it. Yuuna is able to be "true to herself" in this way, despite coming from a humble background. She is also willing and able to help her family out with their rice fields--but her aspirations lie elsewhere. Jamil isn't able to do the same. His family actively opposes his decisions and put him in a position where he isn't able to freely express himself or pursue anything other than what he was born into. He comes to resent what his family does and how he is forced to comply with it.

It's also interesting that her bubbly personality is also similar to Kalim's. Yuuna is shown to get along with him very well and is super friendly to the other NRC students, just like Kalim is. I wonder if this also plays into why Jamil thinks she can be easily manipulated (since he was also able to easily manipulate Kalim in book 4). He may underestimate them because of their similar personalities.

One last thing I want to note is 🤔 Yuuna continues the pattern of all manga!Yuus having surnames related to death... Her surname, Oujou, sounds like おうじょう or 往生際 (oujougiwa), a word that can mean "rebirth in another world", "a calm and peaceful death, "to breathe one's last", and/or "the moment before death/the brink of death". Ominous...

[rinsoccerball]

My Brothers Best Friend

I’ve been working on this for like four days and i lowkey hate it, im a little rusty at writing smut rn, but im in love with megumi so im posting it anyways

Synopsis: Reader is 18 and Megumi is 20. You’ve always had a crush on your brother Yuuji’s moody best friend, Megumi Fushiguro. He’s always been cold and stand-offish until a summer trip to your hometown changes your dynamic.

Pairing: megumi x f!reader

Wc: 9.1k (i tried to keep it under 10k 😭)

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT! Porn with plot!! corruption kink, loss of virginity, mouth spitting. Mean/softish dom gumi, degradation/praise, creampie, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly wrap that Willy), manhandling, you’re too cute and Megumi wants to ruin you, y/n is used like three or four times, fluffy and angsty.

The rumbling of the car jostled your bags around. "You want a beer?" Misa turned, a cold beer in her hand and you smiled before taking it. "yeah thanks." Her smile was warm. Her green eyes warm in the soft light of the sunset. She was cute, but her wide gorgeous smile made you nervous. Pretty girls always made your palms sweat.

Itsumi turned her head, —your best friend—you'd known her for about three years now, "I can't wait to spend summer with everyone in our hometown" she turned her head back fast since she was driving, focusing back on the road.

"Your hometown." Misa added. She'd been 'dragged' up to your guys hometown. For the first time ever.

You hummed picking at the thread on your jeans, "Me too sumi! School was murdering me" You laughed taking a swig of the beer. "Me too girl me too! finals had me choking myself out." You both laughed and the conversation died down.

You were so grateful to be done for the year. Exams and studying behind you until it started all over again in the fall. But for now you could focus on the heat, and carefree air of your three month break.

Summer was finally here.

Smoke swirled throughout the room, and you coughed. Your body light and your head empty from the blunt being passed around the group. A cat layed across your lap as you leaned against the wall, your eyes slowly scanned the room before landing on her.

Misa. She's so pretty, and everyone swirled around her talking about how gorgeous she was. Even he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. His dark hair was spiked up in its usual style, messy from how many times he'd run his hands through it. His dark blue eyes lidded and heavy from the amount of weed he had inhaled.

She looked over at him and smiled. The same charming smile she uses on everyone. You'd only met her officially  six hours ago, but you'd seen her use it a numerous amount of times. Unwarranted jealousy curled up in your stomach and made its way into your throat.

Your cheeks burned from a fresh sunburn and your shoulders ached from opting to not put sunscreen on them. You moved slightly your shirt scratching the burns and you let out a quiet groan. When you moved your eyes up to scan the room again, his eyes were on you. The sunburn hides the flush to your cheeks as your eyes meet and you turn your head. The feeling of shame washing over you for even looking at him.

Megumi Fushiguro. The stupidly attractive 'mean' emo boy that'd you'd had a crush on for the last six years. You met when you were a seventh grader and he was a tenth grader. You'd hung out with a lot of kids older than you. Kids your age were mean, and so Yuuji being your nice older brother took it upon himself to bring you around.

The first time you'd ever seen him was when he had shown up while you were hanging out with Yuuji. Your brother had invited him over only to then drag Megumi away to a party. A small smile on his lips as he looked at you, and waved. After that night, it was over for you.

So now sitting in front of him, freshly eighteen. Wide eyed baked out of your mind— it starts all over again.

Misa hops over to him, and plops down beside him. His lidded eyes move over to her as she smiles big at him. Words are spoken that you can't hear, and you leave to fill your cup back up.

You chug your drink and go to fill it again, "easy there killer, don't you have to drive t'night?" His voice is deeper than you'd remembered, and you turn, blearily looking up at him. "Nah, came with Itsumi and Misa." He hums grabbing your cup from you, "tsk, underage drinking. I'm pretty sure that's a no no." You roll your eyes and turn to grab another plastic cup. "So it's only okay when you do it?"

He ignores your last statement. "Does that mean ur all gonna be at that party tomorrow? At Nobara's?" I take another swig and turn, "obviously, why? Trying to see Misa again?" The alcohol and weed have made you brave. You've never been able to banter with him before.

He gets quiet before diverting the topic, "heard you guys we're going to the beach tomorrow... you got room for more?" You shrug, "not my car." There's a distant yell and then Misa is fast walking up to us, "Megumi you gotta come see this!" She drags him away and you let out a shuddered breath.

You drag yourself to the car and move yourself into the backseat, grabbing your phone and sighing in self pity.

"Whatcha doin back here?" The sound of your brother's presence shakes you from your stupor. Reminding you of where you are. "Just chillin." You smile at him trying to hide the pained look from your face.

He laughs, "oh really?" He scoots in next to you shoving you over. "The party is in there, why're you out here?" His voice is gentle this time and you sigh.

You'd kept this secret from him forever. How could you tell your brother that you've been secretly pining over his best friend for years. He'd be sick to his stomach.

But the mix of alcohol and weed makes you word vomit. "Have you ever wanted something so bad, even though you know you shouldn't. Even though you know you can never have it."

He eyes you suspiciously, "is this about Megumi?" You sputter. Your face heating up all the way to your ears. "How'd you know?" He laughs at your question and slaps a hand on your shoulder. You wince slightly from the sting.

"Im stupid but I'm not blind imouto-san. I know when you like someone. Megumi's oblivious, and a little cold, but he's a good guy, and I approve."

You're taken aback by his soft confession, but it's pointless. "Yeah but... but he'll never feel the same. Im just your little imouto to him, and misa exists. So you know." He laughs again before rubbing your back soothingly. "We've known misa since our freshman year of college. Don't be worried. I think you'd be surprised." And with that he's exiting the car and walking away.

What does that even mean?

That night ended in salty tears and bated breath as you fell asleep in your childhood bed. You thought about crawling into bed with Yuuji, but decided against it. You weren't ten anymore.

Now as you sit on the beach you'd spent countless summers on. You watch as Misa sits thigh to thigh with Megumi, and your chest grows tight. Thanks for your wise words of wisdom Niichan.

The black bikini you'd picked had done nothing to draw his attention, and as you looked out across the water you mentally scolded yourself. What were you doing trying to catch his attention? Stupid. It's summer. Your first summer as a legal adult. You should only be worried about having fun.

So you ran out into the tide, and you heard Itsumi and Nobara laughing as they followed.

Itsumi slightly pushed you but the ocean took its own jab at you as a wave knocked you on your ass. You all laughed and Nobara helped you up. All three of you waded out into the water until you could no longer feel the sandy floor.

"What do you guys think of misa?" You asked kicking your feet to keep yourself afloat. "Shes cool but she's totally only here cause she's had the hots for Megumi since she met him." Itsumi laughed and you grumbled.

"I wouldn't worry about it y/n.. Megumi is a man he probably thinks she's being his friend. Cause that's what he thinks of her." Nobara says, and Itsumi splashes her. "Yeah I dunno, they're def fucking, but I'm rooting for y/n to get that mean emo dick."

You splash her and giggle opting to ignore the comment she made about them sleeping around, "shut up you know I don't care about that." She shakes her head, "obviously not you've been a virgin for eighteen years." You blush and dunk her under the water, and before you know it, all three of you have taken turns trying to drown each other.

After your conversation on the beach you'd relaxed. If it was meant to be than it's meant to be and if not than oh well. So what if he was piping Misa. You'd move on... hopefully. You'd had a good time with everyone. Sipping on something Yuuji and Nobara had concocted and put into a metal water bottle.

You hadn't felt this relaxed in months.

You'd been so relaxed that when it came time for Nobaras party, you hadn't even thought about your silly little crush.

You'd gotten all dressed up with Nobara, Itsumi, and Misa. Music blasting in Nobara's room as you all sipped on Smirnoff's.

They'd already headed downstairs, but you couldn't pull yourself away from the mirror. A cute pink mini skirt covered your lower half, and you'd paired it with a floral halter top. You put cute pink clips in your hair, and did your makeup light and glossed up your lips.

You knew you were pretty, and looking at yourself all dressed up—slightly tipsy. You actually felt it. You smiled at yourself. Pearly white teeth peeking out from behind glossy lips, and as you smoothed down your skirt. You finally decided it was time.

You walked down the stairs of a home you'd been in a million times, but you felt brand new.

You skipped your way through sweaty bodies to the make-shift bar. liquor lined the counters along with some snacks, and you began fixing yourself a drink. Vodka and cranberry juice.

You took a sip of it and grimaced. Okay maybe you'd overdone it with the vodka, but that was okay cause it's summer, and you deserved to let loose.

"Underage drinking again? Bad y/n." At the sound of his smooth deep voice you tensed. "Maneee and I thought I was gonna get away with it." You giggled spinning around to look up at him.

His eyes drank you in from head to toe, and you almost shivered. The way he was inspecting you made you feel like you'd stripped down naked in front of him.

"You look..." he swallowed thickly hooded eyes still studying you. "You look nice." It was your turn to swallow thickly, and you felt no shame as you studied him. Black jeans and a black t-shirt. The same black necklace fitted around his neck that he always wore, and his hair spiked up as usual.

"So do you gumi." You smiled brightly at him taking a sip from your cup. You fought the wince but you were sure he caught it.

"Gumi? That's new, I like it." He looked down at your drink before swiping it from you. "What're you drinking?" He took a sip and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

He choked out a laugh, "what is this vodka with a shot of cranberry juice?" You gasped and tried to snatch your drink from him but he raised his hand higher out of reach.

"What?! It's good.." he shook his head, "it's fucking disgusting." You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. "Give it back Megumi."

He kissed his tongue to the back of his teeth, before taking a step closer to you. Now in your personal space he leaned his head down. "That wasn't very polite.. that's not how you ask for things, is it?" He cocked his head slightly, eyes shining mischievously.

"May I please have my drink back Megumi?" You asked sweetly, sugar dripping from your lips as you smile cutely at him. And as Megumi studies you, eyes flitting down to your glossy lips, he's positive that in this room, under these lights, in the fog of all the smoke, you're the prettiest girl he's ever laid eyes on.

"Try again. You're missing something." You look at him puzzled and if he were a weaker man he would've given in and smashed his lips against your pouty, glossy lips.

"Oh! I know!" You clear your throat before continuing sweeter this time. "Gumi, may I please have my drink back?" He stares at you. The same bored look he always sports making you nervous as he takes a deep breath. "Yeah uh." He coughs. "Here... just uhm be careful, be smart." He says gripping your chin and rattling your head.

"Ew gross. Quit flirting and get a room." Nobara says cheekily, hands on her hips. You turn three shades darker as you splutter choking on your drink.

"No no we weren't flirting just talking! Nothing wEird is happening here." You say waving your hands around before shooting her a look that says—im gonna kill you—she laughs moving around you to make herself another drink, and Misa pops up out of nowhere.

"Megumi! Come try this blunt it's so good!" She exclaims smiling as she grabs his arm and pulls him away. He turns his head back to see you already looking at him and he waves at you.

You wave back mouthing "bye" before you turn around to see Itsumi has now popped up with Yuuji. He's got red lipstick smeared against his mouth and he's grinning sheepishly at you.

Her lipsticks smudged and you bark out a laugh. "Good for you sumi." She looks at you then Nobara and then in the direction Megumi has been dragged off to.

"We gotta come up with a plan to get you that emo boy dick" she says determined and Yuuji groans, "eww gross that's my imouto."

Despite Megumi getting dragged off, you've been having a fantastic time. You've danced all over the house. The alcohol thrumming in your veins making you loose. Unaware of the eyes that have watched you all night.

You feel good, weightless, as you dance to the beat with your girl friends, and your brother trying—and failing—to throw ass. You've not had a good laugh like this in a minute, and it's nice.

It's so nice that you don't even care that Megumi is pressed thigh to thigh with Misa on the couch, as they pass a blunt back and forth. You don't care that you've had a crush on him since you were twelve years old, and you don't care that you're now pressed against some random dude.

He's tall, he smells good, and he's whispering naughty stuff in your ear that would usually make you blush. But you don't care, you turn around to loop your arms around the back of his neck and when he leans down to try and kiss you, you dodge it. You shake your finger at him and turn back around. "Saving it." You yell over the music.

"For what?" He whispers in your ear, and the question stumps you. What were you saving it for? Deep down you knew, but when were you going to let go of that childish dream. Megumi was never going to be your first kiss. So why not him? But before you let him press his lips against yours, someone is dragging you by your arm.

You yelp and try to twist your arm free. "Hey! I was just about to—" you don't get to finish your sentence though, his spiky hair coming into view through your bleary vision.

"About to waste your first kiss on that loser. You're drunk. Go drink water." You're taken back by his rough tone and you yank your arm from his grip, even though it makes you grit your teeth in pain.

"Excuse me? Who do you think you are?" You're glaring at him now. How dare he pull you away from your fun. He's a Party pooper and you tell him as much.

"Oh yeah? Ya think so?" He asks dangerous lilt in his voice as he backs you up against the wall of the hallway. Both hands on either side of your head, and the music sounds far-away now as you stare into his eyes. His nose pressed up against yours.

You stare into Megumi's eyes. Longer than you ever have and he really is the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

You feel a stirring in your chest. His eyes a magnetic, intense blue. The color of the sky right before the day ends and night takes hold—the color of dusk.

You shivered, and he rubs your bare arms, "cold?" You shook you head, "no." Those same eyes flickered down to your lips, and as he watched you close your eyes, he clears his throat, and backs away from you. Ruining the moment.

"No why—" You balled his shirt up in your tiny fists, and pulled him in closer. "Don't you feel it?" You asked gesturing in between you both, and he pushes off the wall, hands coming to rest at his sides.

And in the next breath he utters words he wished he could take back immediately. "Feel what?" You turned beet red. Embarrassment, and shame filled you. You pushed him away, unable to hide the hurt on your face and he lets you. Lets you walk to Nobara's room, and out of sight.

The sun shines brightly in Nobara's room. You groan and move the blankets up over your face. "Someone turn off that light."

"It's called the sun dummy. Now get up." Nobara says as Itsumi yanks the blanket completely off of you. "We're going to hang out at your house today." You groan but sit up anyways. Your head thrumming against your skull.

"Who let me get that drunk." You huff as you get out of bed. "Girl bye you're such a lightweight you disappeared way before the party was over." You glare at both of them.

"For good reason too, so shut up." You say noticing you’d passed out in your party outfit. "Someone take me home. Please."

The minute you walk into your house you wanna bolt. Megumi is passed out on the couch, and nostalgia hits you. You watch him for a moment. He looks so young. Cheek smushed into the pillow as he softly snores.

Despite the sadness rising up in you, you make your way up to your room. You collapse on your bed, and the only thing that gets you up again is the sound of the girls all giggling downstairs.

You grab your pink fluffy towel and make your way towards the bathroom. The shower helps with your headache, but does nothing to ease the nausea building inside of you.

Once out of the shower you wrap the towel around yourself, and open the door.

Your eyes land on Megumi's form outside your door. Closed fist hesitating as if he's debating on knocking.

"Why're you standing outside my door like that?" He jumps at the sound of your voice and whips around.

"Uhm well I... see well i?" He pauses, rolling his eyes at himself. "I came to talk to you about last night." You shake your head. "We don't have anything to talk about. You didn't feel it. We're good."

He shakes his head and you sidestep him into your room. "No that's not what I meant. I just didn't want to talk about it while you're hammered." He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I mean I'd just watched you dance on some random for like an hour."

You roll your eyes, "whatever. I need to get dressed." He fixes you with a glare so ínstense that you shut up. "Don't be like that. Im trying..." he sighs, "im trying to be vulnerable and you just need to... to.. shut up and listen."

You stand there looking around awkwardly in your pink towel, "uh okay. I'll just stand here naked while you spill your innermost thoughts and feelings." It seems to really dawn on him that you're only in a towel and he clears his throat. "I'll uhm.. I'll turn around." And he does just that.

"Nu uh, get out. Im naked, you're a man, im not getting dressed in front of you." You cross the room and begin pushing him towards the door, but he protests. "But im turned around."

You shake your head. "I don't care. Im a lady. Wait outside the door." He sighs exasperatedly but does what you say. You close the door and lean against it as you take a deep breath.

You finish dressing, putting on pink sweatpants and a tank top. You open the door as your brushing you hair to let him in but he's gone. You shrug before slipping on fuzzy socks and making your way downstairs.

"Okay what's the—" you stop talking as you enter the living room. Misa is all up on Megumi again, and you fix your gaze somewhere else. "Plan for today."

"Movie marathon!!" Yuuji yells as he jumps up. "Megumi help me with snacks."

"Why m-" Megumi starts but the sound of your brothers voice shouts from the kitchen, "just get in here and help me, jeez"

You sit on the couch next to Itsumi, and she ruffles your wet hair. "How ya feeling?" You groan. "Like I could fill an entire bucket with vomit." She snickers "lightweight." A beat of silence passes before you've realized Megumi and your brother are taking forever.

You sneak up to the kitchen to scare them. Tip toeing your sock covered feet up to the corner when you hear them.

"But did you feel it?" Yuuji asks whispering so that no one past where you're standing can hear them. "Man if I told you what I had felt you'd bury me six feet under." Megumi quips looking down at the ground very interested in the tile. "Ew gross, okay whatever. Just know if you hurt her, then I really will bury you. Alive, in an unmarked grave."

Megumi laughs dryly, and you walk as fast as you can back to the couch but not before hearing, "and you need to find a way to let Misa down gently."

The group is halfway through the movie, passing around a blunt, but you can't seem to focus on anything except what you'd overheard.

How long had they been having conversations like that? Did it mean what you thought it meant? No. It had to be about another girl. That's what he wanted to tell you. That's why he didn't feel it.

If not misa, and definitely not you, then who? You tried to rack your brain of everyone they hung out with at college, but Megumi was pretty closed off. Even in your own group. Maybe it was someone you'd all yet to meet.

"Are you gonna keep the rotation going, or are you gonna hold the blunt hostage?" Misa laughs and you shoot her a playful glare before you're passing it off to your brother.

He nudges you, "you okay?" You nod smiling at him keeping any look of discomfort off your face before you settle back onto the movie.

A couple hours later you hear Nobara groaning and moaning about how she wants to do a bonfire on the beach, and everyone is begging to do it another night.

"How about we do it tomorrow, and I'll make weed brownies," you offer and you can see the wheels turning in her brain. "Okay deal, but they better be good. That last batch was weak AF."

"Eww did you just say af out loud," Itsumi laughs. Nobara sticks her tongue out at her, and you all laugh at them.

The night goes on, and by the time it's dusk outside, everyone has left. Yuuji knocks his knee against yours, and you hum.

"Whatcha thinkin about?"

"The bonfire tomorrow. What I'm gonna wear." It's not entirely a lie, but after Megumi never pulled you aside to talk again, and the conversation you'd overheard you really weren't in the mood to talk about it.

You can feel his eyes on you. Studying you. "Im fine Niichan. I promise!" You say smiling at him and patting his knee to put him at ease.

"I should bake the brownies." You say before swiftly getting up and heading into the kitchen.

Baking has always helped you clear your mind, and so you do just that. Using it as a distraction to finally get some relief from the train wreck your thoughts have become.

The next morning you stood fussing over clothes in your room. Throwing them around, and trying on different outfits. You hated all of them.

You could hear Yuuji yelling at you from downstairs. Giving you a five minute warning, but you tuned him out.

When you finally decided twenty minutes later, much to Yuuji's dismay as you could hear him yelling up at you.

You stood in the mirror, the pink bikini you'd picked out set comfortably under your flowery sundress. The beige sheer shaw you'd picked out slung over your shoulders. Your dark hair in waves from your sleep braids that fell down to your waist.

You grabbed your beach bag, and finally headed downstairs to a grumbling Yuuji.

When you finally arrived to the bonfire on the beach, the music was bumping, and the sun was settling over the horizon.

You sat away from the crowd watching as the tide pushed and pulled the water along the shore. You were two pot brownies in, and honestly you felt at ease. The sun setting casted a golden glow along the beach that warmed your skin and you closed your eyes enjoying the warmth.

"You're always running off." Misa says as she takes a seat next to you. You smile at her, and the wind softly blows your hair off your shoulders.

"I just needed a minute to enjoy the sunset. Isn't it beautiful?" You say wistfully. Watching it with a childlike wonder. No matter how many times you'd seen it, it never got old.

"It really is." She smiled before knocking her shoulder against yours, "just like you." You rolled your eyes, and moved your gaze over her. "Says you, you're goregous misa." She brushes you off, before the mood dips.

"Tell that to Megumi." You tilt your head a look of confusion forming itself onto your face. "Whaddya mean?"

"He just... I dunno, ended? things? between us." The sick feeling of joy spreads through you, but you kept it off your face. Instead opting to wrap an arm around her shoulder genuinely feeling sorry for the girl, despite your horrible glee. "Im so sorry misa I had no idea."

She laughed bitterly. "Yeah. You wanna know something funny?" She paused pain etched onto her beautiful face.

"What?"

"You're the reason. I mean he didn't say it, but it's been pretty clear since we got here.” The words ring in your ears over and over again, and you feel like the butt of some sick joke. Like everyone knew something you didn't.

"Im definitely not the reason misa. I've known Megumi for six years. He's never taken an interest." You try to keep the longing out of your voice, but you’re sure it's reached her.

She knows, everyone did at this point.

"Then you've not been paying attention." She gets up leaving you dumbfounded mouth agape. What did that mean? You found yourself asking this question a lot. How was it that everyone but you knew what was going on.

You want to dwell on it. Turn the words over and over in your head until it makes you sick, but you rejoin the party instead.

You're sitting around the fire when he plops down next to you. Two drinks in his hands, he wordlessly holds one out to you. You take it, a small smile lighting up your face.

"Handing an underage girl alcohol? Im pretty sure that's a no no gumi," you laugh as you mock him his own laugh joining in with yours. "Touché."

You turn to look at him, and your breath catches in your throat. He's wearing a casual egg white button down. The top three buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is messy, and the light from the fire casts shadows on his face. He looks... beautiful.

Megumi's thoughts mirror yours as he looks you over. The light of the fire illuminates your skin, your hair in messy waves, and your pouty lips are as usual, glossy. He flexes his fingers. Fighting the urge to squish your puffy cheeks together and plant a searing kiss to your mouth.

Instead he compliments your brownies.

"You look really pretty tonight." He mumbles it so low you almost don't catch it. You chew on your bottom lip, and he really wishes you would stop drawing attention to your lips.

"Thank you gumi. So do you." You facepalm as the words come out. "I mean... uhm well what I meant was that you uhm.." you clear your throat, "You look very handsome tonight." His face reddens and he brings his hand up to cover it.

The smile that makes its way onto your face has Megumi melting into a puddle. His stomach swoops, and he swears he's never felt this way before.

A comfortable silence falls over you, as the music plays in the background. You place your hands in the sand and thunder rumbles above you. The feeling of his hand brushing against yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and rain begins to fall from the sky.

You look up a pout forming on your lips. "Mane. It wasn't supposed to rain today." He grumbles before standing up and dusting off his jeans. He holds a hand out for you, and by the time he's helping you up the rain is steadily falling.

Everyone begins scrambling to grab their things and hightail it off the beach. You look around and notice that Itsumi and your brother are nowhere to be seen and his car is gone.

The rain is pouring now, and thunder cracks above you. You jump and Megumi chuckles swinging his key around his finger. “Need a ride?"

You smile sheepishly, nodding, before you begin to follow him to his car. By the time you get to the road to your house it's flooded and you huff, "I can't believe Yuuji AND Itsumi abandoned me!"

You smack your lips together running your fingers through your hair, "those traitors." Megumi steals a glance at you, and lets out a laugh. "You're cute when you're grumpy." The comment startles you, your heart now hammering against your ribcage.

"You... you.. OH HUSH." You giggle smacking a hand over your face. "Focus on the road."

When you make it into Megumi's house, you follow him to his room. The thought of being here so many times, but never seeing inside his room almost makes you laugh.

You pass the threshold after him, and study the room. Your eyes sweeping over it. It's so different from your own. The grey walls are covered in band posters, and there's a small black desk pushed up against the window.

The bed is pushed up against the wall in the middle of the room, and a black duvet lays neatly over the mattress. The only spot of color is the green stuffie set atop his dresser. You briskly walk towards it and pick it up.

"Gojo got that for me." He says standing very close behind you. "Of course he did. Silly man." You laugh to yourself. "He's cute, does he have a name."

"No he doesn't." You gasp whipping around to look at him. "That's horrible. You're a terrible stuffie dad. I will name him… Meggy!!" He shakes his head at you before plucking it from your hands and placing it back in its spot.

"That's perfect."

After changing into one of Megumi's very large blue hoodies, and his black sweatpants, you make your way out of the bathroom and to the living room.

You stand in front of him shrunken into his clothes and he snorts. "You're so tiny." You roll your eyes, "or maybe you're just freakishly large."

He scoots to the edge of the couch and grabs your arm dragging you to halfway straddle his lap. You hesitate over him. Unsure and nervous as you look down at him.

"Sit." He commands and you find it hard to oppose him so you do. You straddle your childhood crush a furious blush taking space over your cheeks.

"Why do you want me on your lap?" You ask playing with the sleeves of his hoodie that spill past your hands.

"Cause I wanna talk to you sweet girl." He says tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Ew don't do that I'll look like a goblin." You say untucking the hair from your ear. "And you can only do that like this?"

He laughs a real genuine laugh finding you so unbearably adorable, and you look up at him unsure of yourself. "I thought you wanted to talk yesterday, but you were gone." He looks away from you, "yeah Misa needed help with something." You roll your eyes feeling brave "of course she did."

"You've gotten really mouthy." He states. Squishing your cheeks in his hand. "Yeah well you've become a slut so.." he thumps you on the forehead, "ow that hurt dickhead." He shrugs coolly.

"Watch your mouth."

You groan, "quit talking to me like that, get back with misa or whatever." He eyes you as you sit up. "Shut up and Listen." He drags you closer to him, and he rests his hands on your hips. "You're such a big baby, what I was going to say yesterday was, I didn't want you talking to me about feelings when you're drunk and grinding up on random dudes-"

You cross your arms over your chest. "You've been all the way up Misa's ass. And you've definitely done you know what... so.. so I don't want to hear it"

"Done what?!" He laughs poking your cheek. "Done sex you know what I was talking about don't be an ass." He smirks. "Yeah we have, but you keep getting me off track. will you close your trap."

You scoff in disgust and go to move off him, but he keeps you firmly planted in his lap. "Ugh, fine. go on!"

"Look at me." He snaps sharply, and you're unable to do anything but obey. "You gonna be good now?" You shiver at the roughness of his voice and you nod, "yes gumi. I'll be good."

He smooths your hair down and smiles, "atta girl."

"Now as I was saying. I did feel it. I've felt this undeniable pull to you, and I don't know why I can never do this, I over complicate it, but I just need to say it. Get it out of my system before you go and move on." He takes a deep breath, and for the first time since you were thirteen, you feel hope bloom inside you.

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, heart pounding as his eyes hold the softest look you'd ever seen. The weight of your feelings pressing down like a thousand unspoken words. You had tried, over and over, to hide it—to bury it deep where it couldn't hurt. But now, sitting on his lap, it was finally real.

It was right here. He was going to confess, be yours. Finally he was in your reach. It was finally something tangible. You could see it playing out so clearly you could touch it. Taste it on your tongue.

"I... I've tried so many times to say it without actually saying it," he began, voice cracking slightly. "I've tried to convince myself that maybe it was just a passing thing, just a phase or some kind of illusion. But I can't lie to myself anymore."

He took a deep breath, the world around you fading into the background as you focused on the only person who mattered. Not some random guy at a party, and certainly not Misa.

"I like you, y/n. I've liked you for longer than I care to admit. It's not just the way you make me feel when you're near—though that's more than I ever thought possible—but it's the way you see the world, the way you make everything brighter just by existing in it. I know what I said in the hallway was fucked, and I'm not asking for anything in return. I just... after seeing you at Nobara's party it finally clicked. I can't go on pretending I don't feel like this."

You let out the biggest breath. A breath you'd been holding for years as the weight of his confession lulled over you. You relished in it. Delighted in it. This is what misa and Yuuji had been talking about.

Everything was starting to make sense. Him lingering around you. The staring you mistook for him looking out for you. The dragging you away from the random guy. Trying to make plans to tag along to the beach. You really were the only one not paying attention. Too caught up in your own feelings of self pity.

You took a deep breath as you carefully considered your next words "Gumi. When I was dancing on that guy at the party, before I turned around to kiss him he asked me a question. I dodged his first kiss. Told him I was saving it, and he asked 'for what?'... it really made me think, and what i realized was, I've been saving it for you, and I knew you and misa were like a thing so I decided I was gonna move on. Get it over with"

You paused taking a deep breath and you watched him, watch you with baited breath waiting for you to tell him off. After all those years of indifference, but you couldn't.

"But Im so glad you pulled me away." You sighed. "I really like you too gumi, ever since I was twelve all I've ever wanted is you. You have no idea how long I've waited."

"What I had going on with misa is over by the way." You hummed fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I know." A beat of silence passed as he studied you.

He gripped your hips tighter. "You've been saving your first kiss for me?" The question is innocent, simple, sweet, or at least it would be if the fire burning in his cerulean eyes wasn't threatening to swallow you up.

You nodded sheepishly and he groaned, "you have no idea what you do to me. Skipping around in your pink mini skirts. With your fucking hair clips, staring up at me with big doe eyes and glossy lips. And now this" He presses the crown of his head to your collarbone, and let's out a shaky breath.

He looks back up, an expression you'd never seen from him etched onto his handsome face. It had you shrinking in on yourself.

"Do you want this?" He breathes, and the air around you crackles to life. You nod squeaking out, "yes gumi."

"Yeah? You want me baby?" He whispers breath ghosting over your skin, and you bite back the whine building up in your throat.

"Been saving yourself for me?" His voice holds an edge now, barely containing himself as he walks a dangerous line.

All it takes is a nod, and he's pressing his lips against yours. It's soft and sweet at first, but he pries open your mouth with his tongue, and it becomes haughty. Messy. Heavy. The air heats up around you, and you can feel a nervous sweat break out on your hairline.

He's threading his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back as he devours your mouth. Kissing you like a man who's never really been full, and you respond with equal enthusiasm. This was the first time in your life that you'd felt like you would never be able to get enough. Like no matter how long you sat glued to his lap swirling your tongues around each other, you would always crave more of him.

He pulls away slightly resting his forehead against yours. His chest heaving and you're panting into his open mouth. "Beg for it. Beg for me. Know you want it," he rasps. So you do. You beg him to touch you, kiss you, fill you up, anything he wants, just ease the fire burning inside of you.

Soon he's lifting you up, and carrying you to his bedroom. He gently plops you onto the bed. You look up at him, his dark spiky hair, and lust blown eyes has your panties dampening.

“Fuck. You really have no idea what you do to me.” He looms over you, brushing the hair out of your face. You wide innocent eyes watching him barely contain himself.

“So good and innocent. Saving your firsts for me. Do you know what that does to a guy like me?” He asks dragging the hem of his hoodie up slightly to touch your skin.

“No,” you respond meekly. Nerve endings in your body lighting up.

“I’ll tell you then silly girl.” He kisses your neck panting against you, “Makes my cock hard. Makes me wanna ruin you. Corrupt you, until all you can do is state up at me with watery eyes while I stretch out that pretty pussy.”

The words slip from his mouth so easily. They’re so dirty and yet he’s saying them like it’s no big deal. It has your face heating up.

“You want that baby? Hm?” His voice is gruff as he speaks, and you nod.

“Tsk, uh uh, I need words pretty girl. Tell gumi how much you want it.” You bite your bottom lip. Watery eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

“Please gumi want you to take my virginity. Want you to stretch my pussy out. Want you so bad please.” You pout making grabby hands at him, and he’s groaning against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet. So innocent. It’s a shame really. How im about to ruin you.” And with that he’s pulling the hoodie over your head. Then he's quickly pulling off your panties and sweatpants.

He sits back on his haunches, and drinks in your naked body. Long fingers splayed over your tummy. "Can't believe this is all for me. You're so perfect baby. No one's ever seen you like this?" He asks dipping his head down to suck a pert nipple into his mouth.

"Hhh~ No gumi." You whimper out tangling your fingers in his soft hair, and he pulls off your nipple with a loud, wet, pop. "Yeah. Just me right baby? Only for me?"

You nod frantically squirming as he toys with the other nipple, circling his pointer finger around it, making your chest heave.

"Gumiiii please touch me." You whine arching your back off the bed. He smiles at you sadistically, wolfishly, "I am touching you pretty girl. Ur gonna haveta be more specific."

You whine again, pouting at him as you try to push his hand down to where you're dripping between your legs.

"Ah ah ah, I said be specific, otherwise you're not getting anything." The lilt in his voice has another wave of slick sliding out of you, and you shyly whimper, "my pussy... please gumi."

"What about your pussy baby?" He bites his lip enjoying the way you struggle. You groan and writhe around. "Touch my pussy gumi please. Hurts so bad."

"Aww baby.. do you need me to make it better?" He slides his hand down your body. Roughly prying your legs open as he lays on his stomach to inspect your achey cunt.

"Oh baby. You're so wet, Ive barely done anything and you're leaking all over my sheets, naughty girl." He says spreading the lips of your pussy open before letting out a low groan, "fuckkk, can't wait to sink my cock into your slutty little pussy. I think she likes me."

You cover your face with your hands and try to close your legs out of embarrassment, “stop… stop that.” Which megumi doesn’t seem to like because he’s biting the inside of your thigh, and hooking an arm under your leg to keep it open, “behave.” He shoots you a warning look and you clench around nothing.

Which he doesn’t seem to miss cause he’s cooing at you condescendingly, before he’s sliding a long finger into your pussy. Just the stretch of his fingers has you twisting your body, brain fuzzy as he curves it up.

He groans sliding in a second finger. “You’re so wet baby.” He throws you a wolfish grin, “you’re such a nasty girl, letting me play with your cute pussy like this.” You keen arching your back off the bed again and he begins pumping his fingers into you. He used the pad of his fingers to prod at a spot inside of you that has you whimpering and squirming.

It’s all too much and it’s only just his fingers. White hot pleasure spreads through your body, and as he wraps his lips around your clit, swirling and flicking his tongue around it. It only gets worse. The steady flow of whines that leave your mouth won’t stop, and you’d be ashamed if you weren’t so embarrassingly close.

“Gumi gunna” hic “gunna cum.” His fingers mover quicker now, and before you know it your body is tightening up, legs shaking as he makes you cum for the first time in your life. He releases your clit with a wet pop, before he’s moving back up to hover over your body.

You’re panting as he slots his covered dick over your wet heat, and despite his words has this look on his face that turns your insides to goo. “Good girl, took my fingers so well.” The temperature in the room spikes as he rolls his hips over your core. The rough material of his jeans catches on your clit and you gasp.

“Yeah baby? Sensitive? Already?” He chuckles, finding your red scrunched up face and pouty lips amusing.

“Don’t know how you’re gonna fit my cock in that tiny little pussy, but you’ll try for me right baby?” He’s sitting up removing his shirt, jeans, and underwear. Your lips part as you shamelessly eye his body.

He’s lean yet muscular, his pale skin illuminated by the soft light of the moon peaking in through the window. And that’s when you see it, the absolute monster he’s been hiding He’s thick, and long. It’s the first dick you’ve ever seen, but you know it’s pretty. You can tell it’s heavy cause it’s hangs the thickness weighing down.

He watches you, breath heaving as you take him in, a smug smile tilting up his lips as you gawk at him. There’s something strange about his tip though. Poking out of the thick mushroom head is a silver piece of jewelry, and you gasp.

“Is that-“ he nods moving back over you. He hooks a leg around his waist, and rubs your thigh soothingly. “It’s a Prince Albert piercing. Don’t worry, it’ll feel really good.” You eye him skeptically. “It’s not gonna fit gumi.” He coos at you again, slapping his bulbous tip over your clit, “Then I’ll make it fit.”

With that he’s knocking his sticky mushroom tip into your entrance. “Take a deep breath for me pretty girl.” And you do. You take the as much air as you can get into your lungs before the initial stretch of him sliding just the tip into your gummy walls has you choking out a gasp.

“Shit.. ah, you’re squeezing me so tight. You gotta relax, take another big breathe for me.” And you do. If you thought the tip was the worst part you were wrong. He’s made it a little more than halfway down, and each inch feels like your being stretched beyond your limit. It burns, and you’re looking up at his strained face with wet teary eyes.

He pushes the last little bit to the hilt and rocks into you gyrating his hips and you can feel the piercing press into your cervix. It immediately has you squeezing his biceps, nails digging into the muscle, and he groans.

“Gumi no, tooo big.” He shakes his head looking down to where you’re virgin cunt is swallowing him whole. He can feel everything. The way your gummy walls clamp and gush around him has him holding onto his sanity by a thread.

You sit like this for a moment, bodies pressed together as he kisses you gently. One arm is curled around your head, and the other is being used to hold him up using his forearm. He pulls back his long lashes standing out to you as your mind goes fuzzy. The pain has ebbed away. Replaced by a pulsing need that thrums throughout your entire body.

“Gonna move now. okay pretty baby?” He asks bumping his nose against yours gently, and you nod. The first thrust is shallow, but it still feels overwhelming. This time though it’s in a much better way. It has your mouth dropping open.

He’s got his eyebrows pinched together as he looks into your eyes. It has you shyly turning away, but he’s not having any of that. He grips your jaw squeezing your cheeks together. “Uh uh eyes on me. Wanna see your face while I ruin this pussy.”

You can’t seem to do anything but moan as he begins a steady pace of rocking into you, and with every push into your wet heat. He starts to lose his composure.

First you can see it in his eyes. Hazy and lidded as holds your gaze. Then he starts snapping his hips into you. You’re letting out embarrassing sounds. Gasping, moaning, whining, whimpering his name. Like a mantra over and over again.

You can see when the cord really snaps though. When he really loses it, he’s groaning and plowing into you. The pap pap pap of his balls against your ass and the sounds you both make are the only thing that fills the room, he hits something inside your cunt that is so good, you cum.

That’s when he loses it. You see the wheels turning in his brain, and now he’s fixing you with a depraved look. “Didn’t say you could do that.. did i?” All you can do is shake your head. Glazed over eyes staring up at him stupidly.

“You’re such a nasty slut. I give you a little bit of dick, and you forget your manners.” He’s gripping your face in his hand, “stick out your tongue.” Albeit a little confused you do as your told. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue. What he does next has you clamping tightly around his cock.

He corrugates his lips a loud pff sound echoes around as his spit lands on your tongue. You’re too far gone now to be embarrassed and he does it again letting it drip into your mouth this time. “Swallow it.” He says words breaking off into a groan as you wrap your other leg around his waist.

You do, and it’s so lewd and nasty but it makes you impossibly wetter. You never knew Megumi was so dirty. “Liked that didn’t you? Can feel your messy cunt squeezing me so tight… fuck.”

His thrusts become erratic and messy. His own eyes now glazed over as he chases his high. “Shit.. this pussy is s’good.” He huffs blowing out a puff of air, and you look up at him wonder in your eyes. He’s sweaty, his face is tinted pink, and his hair lays flat over his head.

“Atta girl, taking me so well, look so cute lookin up at me like that. So innocent even though I’m fuckin you dumb.” He bites your neck, sucking a purple bruise on it, and you feel your orgasm building up in your tummy.

“This slutty little cunts mine now, you’re mine. Im the first and last man that’s ever gonna fill this cunt. Right baby.” You nod feverishly, “all yours gumi. Never anyone else’s.”

“Fuck.” He groans forehead resting against yours. “Gonna,” hhh— “fill you up real good. You want that? Hm?” You whimper, “yes gumi please.”

He brings a hand down over your stomach pushing down, erratic thrusts increasing in speed. He sits up using his other hand to drag you onto his cock by gripping your hip. You’ve still got your leg locked around his hip.

The new angle has him hitting a spot inside you that had you preening. You gasp body thrashing as you cum hard around him again, and he smiles so softly in contrast to the way he’s fucking you. “Atta girl, been taking me so well.”

He huffs eyebrows furrowing together again as he looks at where he disappears inside of you. “Gonna fill you up, g’na cum so much. Gonna make you take it all,” and no later after the words leave his mouth in rushed, whiney, desperation. He’s filling you up with hot, sticky cum that warms you from the inside out.

There’s so much that you wiggle your hips in discomfort only for him to grip your hips tighter and hold you to him. His hips rolling into you without pulling out to push it deeper and you whine. “Gumiii no more please.” You’re pushing at his stomach flexed abs hard, yet soft under your fingertips.

He ruffles his hair, dragging a heavy hand through it before he’s grinning at you. “S’lright baby just making sure it stays in.” You clench again at the sound of his rough voice, and he’s swatting your hip. “Knock that shit off before I get hard again.”

After you both get cleaned up, you’re laying on his chest as he scrolls through Netflix. He’s absentmindedly playing with your hair, and you feel perfectly content. Finally at peace.

“Sooo does this mean we’re dating now?” He asks as he chooses a movie. You giggle as you draw shapes on his skin.

“I’d say so gumi. Im all yours now.”

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you?「✦Pt.2✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: Oh man, you're screwed. Can you save your friend? Can you play the game right? Or are your cards all wrong, closed off with a deranged man who is enthralled with you? Simple truth or dare, or is it far worse for you? And is that large hand caressing your thigh more intricate than you thought? This one is roller-coaster, please strap in. Warnings: I think I may see what everyone saw in this hot lunatic NSFW language, obsession, kidnapping, bondage, gagging, guns, using said guns, abuse, fondling, drugging, no consent and dubious consent, mentions of death, threat of death, mentions of sexual themes and a very enamoured maniac. MDNI, 18+. Porn with a plot. Word count: 6k A/N: *chuckles* I'm in danger. ˙ᵕ˙ Seriously, this man is quite something, doing my best here but I do finally see why so many requests featured this handsome mother----. Link to previous Link to next If you enjoy my works, I'm grateful for every like // reblog // follow // request // message! ♥

Mishko, Mishko, Mishko…

You ran.

The train would take too long.

You dodged dark streets and glittering puddles, streetlamps casting an orange glow that only helped fuel your desperation. Your eyes, momentarily dizzy from each scene leaving a burnt image of itself the faster you ran, darted to your phone screen, and you followed the little red square as if life depended on it. Masterfully dodging inhabitants, your own feet, reflecting puddles.

Every light was hope you clung to. The rhythmic move of your dark tights blurring against the reflective surfaces reminding you to hurry.

Surely he isn’t that unhinged, surely this is all a big stupid joke. Maybe Mishko put you up to this.

Maybe he’s in on it, yes, you huff as you turn another corner into a dark alley, coat flying behind you. You didn’t even notice it start to rain again. Droplets cling to your hair which clings to your face.

You stop before what looks like a motel. A tall building with a burnt-out sign, barely flickering a pink glow around letters that no longer work. It has begun to pour.

Your hair clings to your head and your shoulders, as if trying to shield you from the oncoming inevitable.

You walk up the soaked path, noting the dead flower garden. Though you detest roses, you’d give anything to see some kind of life reassure you that life indeed has a place in the decrepit building.

Doorbell? Knock? Tear down the door? No time for that, you look at your phone one last time to make sure you’re breaking into the right place and run against it shoulder first.

It was unlocked and you fall inside unceremoniously, catching yourself mid-stumble.

Your coat only just now catching up whooshes past your legs and swings back, the crinkling sound and your hurried breaths the only thing you can register. Everything is so eerily…silent.

Like a forest with no life, indicating a predator on the prowl.

“Mishko?!”

You yell into unlit hallways, the ominous reddish pink barely reflected from the outside the only means of light. This place won’t even let light in, let alone hope.

Nothing. Nobody answers.

Just the tapping and flow of rain on a tin roof, drips and water hitting the ground, the downpour covering all else.

You begin to check each empty room, each room with a door, anything. So hectic you don’t notice your breath and vision unable to keep up. You’ve wrapped your arms around you, and you don’t even notice. If anyone were to see you, they’d think someone stole Death’s cape and was trying to blend in with little success.

All you get in return is creaking floorboards, the stench of rotting wood, and a place that looks at best deserted. At worst like the cliché scene of a murder.

How did I manage to turn this into such a tragedy in a matter of minutes?

You drag the hair out of your face and stare ahead. The way up is blocked. One room left. One more shaky breath, as deep as you can muster in your burning shallow lungs. Your fists clench.

You dart to the door, but rest your hand on the doorknob, not moving. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You’re…so sure yet terrified.

It all feels so…gaudily maquette-like. Fake. Like you’re unknowingly on a theatre stage, not knowing the play for the amusement of an unseen audience.

Until you open the door, this is all just a bad dream and none of it counts. No real-world repercussions. Until you twist the knob on the door. You feel water on your cheeks and realise it is no longer rain. Almost angrily does your hand shoot up, pushing the moisture from your eyes – you need to see clearly, not cry, for goodness’ sake. Even though your lips are quivering and your breath running through a barely open throat, your resolve strengthens.  

You kick the door open ready to jump at or be jumped, but you are ready.

Yet the sight that greeted you left you as unprepared as could be.

Your colleague, your friend, sits tied up, mouth gagged, eyes carved with terror and tension.

They meet yours with utter confusion and blind fear. The moment he sees you, he immediately stops blinking, pleading at you with no words, arms wrestling against the ropes. His head is shaking so vigorously you see droplets of sweat fly away, even in the pale-yellow light from the streetlamps outside. You’re almost paralysed but act on nothing but impulse and placid resolve to get him out.

“Mishko!” Your voice is barely a cracked tone, you’re chilled to the bone and shaking but cannot let your friend be hurt. Continue to be hurt.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

You run to him, kneel to him, softly placing a hand on each cheek, his forehead, checking his body for harm. No blood. No bruises. Yet. You put his shaking face in your own shivering hands and cup his cheeks.

“Please, just nod or shake your head. Are you hurt?”

You gaze into his soft dark eyes darting back and forth chaotically, tears streaming down his face.

But he shakes his head, and you feel the vibrations going through him, his stifled breathing, his attempts to speak.

You pull his face to yours and lay your forehead on his, knowing that calms him down when he’s panicked. “Oh, thank god, Mishi, Mishi...” And you’re also providing a human shield should anyone wish to visit.

With a gentle whisper, you try to assess the situation and look like you’re not panicking out of your mind yourself.

He’s tied to a chair, there’s furniture in the room, a window. The dark red carpet doesn’t do anything to ease your mind, and the walls are ostentatiously empty. No potential weapons. One way out.

You look back at him, his eyes visibly wishing to convey something. With a slow gaze you follow his chaotic movements and whisper once more, slowly, barely above the rain outside.

“Are we alone?”

His eyes stop darting like tennis balls across the room and gaze into you with utter desperation. Very slowly his head moves to make an almost unnoticeable motion from left to right.

Your heart drops.

You guide your hands to his cheeks and try to hush both him and yourself again.

“Shh, Mishi, it’s ok. I’ll get you out of here.” Fuck fuck fuck… “It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” Why are you lying to the both of you?

You fling the coat down for more range of motion and resolve to compartmentalise – the gag. Then ropes. Then window.

Although the light provided should be enough, and your fingers are usually long and nimble, the gag is well knotted, and you can’t seem to get rid of it yourself even though you’re doing your level best.

Fingers shaking, paralyzed, losing feeling. Rain pouring through your thoughts. You feel your own mind begin to try to leave the horrendous situation but you drag it back kicking and screaming.

With exasperation and a huffed curse you leave the back of his head unable to undo the gag, instead endeavouring to fish out your phone---but suddenly your friend starts frantically shaking his head, staring above you and behind you, looking to your phone and vigorously trying to convey disagreement.

“No…phone? Ok…don’t worry.” You go back to him, trying to undo the ropes instead, but you did dial out a small emergency number. Just didn’t press ‘call’.

“Got it. I’ll get you out.” You both inadvertently yet subconsciously hold him through the ropes as you lower to get rid of the restraints and search for a way to undo the knots. They’re good, but the ropes were too thick for any intricacies.

“Almost…almost…”

You’re breathing so fast that the sharp intakes of air are actively hurting your throat.

The sharp movements and concentration against your own cold shivers and the hush of rain outside completely envelop you, and you don’t notice something very important.

Your friend has stopped fidgeting under you.

Even though your arm is halfway around him fighting with the restraints, his heart beating into it is the only motion you feel now. His breathing is low, turned to muffled whimpers. His body language is pointed to a single source, no longer aiding your rescue attempts. A chill runs through you.

“Mishko?” You barely utter his name, fear gripping your shoulders.

Just as you were before the door, now you do not wish to continue the next few seconds lest you find out the source of his paralysis and breath turned to whimpers. Your eyes are caught in a wide look into nowhere, clutching your friend’s chest with your arm unmoving, and you do not wish to recognize what made his startled breath stop.

And the source was delighted to make itself known.

❥❥❥

The voice carves through the thick silence; through rain, through caught breaths, through your shivers turning the atmosphere blurry, like a hot knife through butter.

“What a pair of lovebirds.”

The familiar voice.

That self-satisfied smile.

That curve of inflection that could be making a sales pitch.

All have been burnt into your brain; you don’t even have to turn around to see. And you don’t. You cup your friend’s face once more and stare directly into his eyes, ignoring the visitor entirely for one last whisper.

“Look at me. Mishi. I’ll get you out. It’s ok. It’s all ok. I promise, I’ll get you out.”

A firm hand on your cold, soaked through shoulder reminded you of how futile your words felt. The shirt clung to your skin so closely that his fingers felt like they were directly on you with no layer between, exacerbated by the sensitivity of your tingling neck.

You shake out of the grip, pushing the hand away as you would a worrisome insect, and spin around. Now face to face with what you knew was waiting for you, but hoped against hope against it.

In dim light reflecting orange streetlamps and burnt out pink signs, half enveloped in shadows now in full height driving nails of frost through your spine…

Is that charming face, reptile-like smile, the smart suit, and the eyes…eyes far darker than you remember from the subway.

Looking down at you with such feigned pity your heart skips several beats, and your breath catches in your throat anew.

❥❥❥

“Clever girl…” he articulates to himself with feigned surprise, as he rests his hand back to his side, almost hurt that you deprived him of your touch so fast.

But he continues, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. His eyes are following your friend, reminding you of a predator satisfied with its ensnared prey and enjoying the seconds before its feast.

“The lady got here so fast I didn’t even get a say in the way the evening was going to go,” he sighs, leaning into the area behind you as if he’s reading the latest headline of Gardening Weekly.

Calm. Jovial. Nonchalant.

You cannot even gather a reply; you’re in a state of shock. Your friend’s muffled crying slaps you in the face and you shake through and through, mustering the words.

“What the hell, what in the god damn hell is wrong with you?! He didn’t do anything---”

The salesman’s hand lifts to his face with a single finger resting against his smiling lips.

“Hush, miss Y/N. Nobody’s harmed…just yet.” He smiles his cheshire grin and steps closer. You don’t step back, firmly planted between the man and your friend.

Amusement flickers in his eyes. Almost a hint of affection curled in something depraved and waiting, yearning to leap out.

“Brave little lady, aren’t you…” his hand lifts to your cheek and you still.

Refuse.

To move.

His eyebrows lift, and he makes a small, cut off movement to your skin. Teasing. Closing the distance.

Then another.

Those lips slightly open, the plastic smile, those dark eyes piercing you…was that an “ah?” sound as he moved to you?

You still don’t flinch.

“And. One. More.” He smiles as he brushes your skin.

Eyes so sickeningly soft and hands so falsely gentle you feel nauseous.

Suddenly, the salesman grabs your cheeks into his hand, his large palm and long fingers easily able to hold your jaw and dig into your skin with no effort at all.

“Very brave little lady…” his words curl into a slow purr in exaggerated amusement. He pulls his hand away, leaving you with red indentations on each cheek and an aching shivering jaw.

“Perhaps…a very naïve little lady. With such adorable new dimples.” His head cranes to one side, studying you. As he straightens slowly, brushing down his suit, he simply asks as if nothing were terribly wrong:

“Now that we’re all here, how about a game?”

❥❥❥

Truth or dare?!

Did you hear that right?

“Truth or dare…?” You utter, the salesman nodding with a polite, closed-lip smile. Somehow, the man is closer to you than he seemed before. You can once again smell his cologne, the spicy mix of his contemptuous persona and effort he must be putting into this play.

“Quite self-explanatory. Dare – one of you must do as they are told, or there will be consequences.”

You don’t even manage to muster a flinch as he pulls out a gun in place of a spinner.

You know you’d flinch back into him, slowly realising how far ahead he thinks in the game behind the game.

As he lays his briefcase down beside the table, he leans into you, brushing the tip of your ear as if whispering a secret.

His hand strokes your hair as he does so, periodically, ever so lightly.

You feel his hot breath on each millimetre of your earlobe and neck, driving ice through your back anew. He remains there before speaking, as if knowing exactly what he’s doing to you and relishing it.

“And truth, as in, ‘truth be told, I would far prefer my little lady in place of her boring paramour as we speak, tied and pleading with those big doll eyes of hers that leave me no rest, begging for me’ but rules should be respected.” His smile never fades as he pulls away and sees you visibly shiver from your toes to your ears.

❥❥❥

All three of you sit at the dingy table, the gun lying in the middle.

The salesman kindly did undo your friend’s gag but left him tied up. You can see Mishko's mind racing and his mouth uttering unsaid words, eyes darting from you to the salesman and back to the gun on the table repetitively. His soft brown hair clings to his forehead as yours does to your skin, though it’s through sweat and tears – and you want nothing more than to reassure him.

Yet you’re very aware that every word can and will be used against you.

You don’t want to tempt the volatile substance of a man now uncomfortably close to your side – you feel like you’re swimming in a room full of ether trying not to light a match with each breath.

The salesman remains ever jovial.

“I think the lady should go first.” He coos, cocking his head to you, sinking those eyes into yours. How is his hair still perfectly in place, how does he still look charming while I feel like I’m the one to blame and doing everything wrong?!

You touch the gun and make sure to not even brush the trigger, motioning it to spin. The barrel points to the salesman.

“Oh my…” he turns to you, self-satisfied eyes closed into coin slots and a smile playing with each corner of his mouth. He leans into you, so close your noses threaten to touch and whispers:

“Dare.”

“I dare you to let him go.” You reply, in monotone, not pulling away. Not playing his game.

He pulls away in feigned disappointment, mouth curling into a frown.

“How disappointing…but no, I can’t do that, we wouldn’t have enough players. The game wouldn’t work. Try again, little lady, and…try to play fair.” He nudges the gun with a single finger never letting his gaze off you. “I don’t like to be bored.”

“Take away any weapons you still have on you, your phone, any recording devices – all electronics, anything – take it out and place it far away from reach.” Your mind was racing, you tried to think of something better – like daring him to take out every single bullet from the gun’s chamber, but you were sure the rules wouldn’t let you sabotage the game.

Wordlessly, he shifts through his pockets, still gazing at you. Nothing.

Breast pocket, nothing. A pat in a playful manner to indicate emptiness, you hate him so much in this moment your eyes will set fire to the table.

With a single circular elegant leg motion, he slides his briefcase away from the ground below the table, circling his leg back and laying a hand on your thigh as he straightens back into the chair.

“Such a clever girl.”

He spins the gun, still resting his other hand on your thigh. The place where he caresses seems to burn straight through into the chair. You daren’t move and feel the outline of his watch digging into your skin as he ever so teasingly moves his hand up.

The gun lands on your friend, whose eyes dart from the barrel to your face, wordlessly pleading for help. Your lips curl into a voiceless whisper of his name, trying to say “don’t worry, it’s ok” but he doesn’t look like he’s even remotely there.

His eyes dart to your legs to see the contrast of a large hand covering your upper thigh, almost digging into your tender flesh as you sit, paralysed, and it seems the gears in his head are spinning for dear life.

Once more you understand that you’re behind on the game behind the game; he’s not the only piece of collateral in this room. He’s playing you against each other while the both of you are each other’s bargaining chips.

“T…truth…” his shaky voice stumbles out, and you realise it’s the first time this cursed evening you’ve heard him speak. It hits you like a brick of reality – it’s not a game, the gun is loaded, and you’re fucked.

“Mishi…” you whisper, unable to contain the fear and sorrow and in your voice, unable to stop the worry lining your face from spilling out. Don’t try anything. Please let me take care of it.

The salesman smiles and rubs your thigh, momentarily letting you go as he gathers his hands under his chin, gazing from you straight into your friend. He leans into his words and the table creaks in utter indifference.

“Do you love her?”

❥❥❥

That self-satisfied cheshire grin, as if he laid down a royal flush. Your heart stopped in your throat. The man before you, frozen in place. Everything could have stopped breathing and held its breath, and you wouldn’t notice.

You’re growing dizzy, this must be a bad dream. Just a bad dream. This is so stupid, so fucked up, so stupid!

Your friend looks like he’s going to be sick.

“As…as…a…friend…friend…y--yes…”

Perhaps it was your hypervigilance, your head-counting proclivities, but you could sense the atmosphere stiffen around you, air growing hard to breathe. Did you imagine it, or did the man beside you somehow darken without moving a brow? You say nothing, but your eyes growing wide and inability to speak say enough. You don’t take another breath.

Both your hand and the hand of the salesman darted for the gun at the same time, only yours failed to grab it first and landed straight on the salesman’s wrist.

With undue resolve you do not let go, trying to keep his pinned arm locked and unable to raise from the table.

From the corner of your eye which is darting from your friend to the gun, you see a head lift in amusement and slowly lean down to one side, mouth growing from an open expression of entertained indulgence into a closed mouth grin, watching you from your periphery.

“Amusing, little lady. As much as I enjoy your tender fingers grabbing me, do let go. Or I will be forced to end the game prematurely for lack of viable players.”

With heavy reluctance, you let go of his wrist, pulling your arm away.

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t break the rules. Please.”

It’s barely a whisper and he doesn’t react. Merely takes the gun and places a finger on the trigger.

“I truly dislike people who do not listen. People who speak so much and say so little. I detest people who are impolite, people who break the rules so carefully put in place to protect them, people who think they can just skirt by and cheat and…” he stands up, gun pointed straight at your friend, “…waste my time and my breath. Say it once, why say it again? Let’s see…” he lets the gun grow limp in his hand, checking the chamber.

“Mhhm.” The gun is pointing at your friend again. The salesman’s stance is straight, arm outstretched, a perfect line with the gun’s barrel.

“First time player’s privilege,” he says, the joy leaving his voice entirely. “Answer truthfully, one last chance.”

“Y…yes, I do, I …I…love her, please…please…don’t shoot----I----”

The gunshot rings through your ears leaving your head a ringing, blurry mess and your voice sounding screams without your influence into a slow-motion void.

For a moment you cannot see, won’t look, growing sick from the sudden chaos and noise and a heart stopped with the unforgiving shot.

Forcing yourself to open your eyes into the smoke and horror, you see the salesman still holding the gun. He is unmoving, dominant arm cocked slightly to the side of your friend’s shivering form. A bullet hole gapes in the wall behind him, narrowly missing his head.

“Was it that hard?” He purrs, sitting back down, straightening his suit as he does so. Treating the gun as a mere extension of his arm, nothing more.

He lays it back on the table and spins it. Through the fog and frozen shock, you register something about your friend being in no position to spin, favours, you don’t know anymore, you want to drop dead or faint or just wake up…

“Be glad there is a lady present, young man – I could have just as easily asked you how often you’ve touched yourself to thoughts of those ethereal legs alone.”

His tone darkens, and a very short glance in his direction shows something…ominous in his penetrating, dead eyes. His movements have grown slow, underlined in their oddness, as if he were moving in honey. The way he cocked his head with that smile frozen in place as he spoke could chill a corpse.

“Or…how often you’ve offered her tea with a little bit of that pesky white powder still undissolved…hm? Poor little thing doesn’t even know why she missed our dates – she’d never stand me up like that! I thought it so odd. When I found out. I was a tad. Angry. Hm…My little lady. Helpless in the crude intentions of another. Tell me. Will she or I ask you first, just what exactly did you have planned? The two of us know your sick answer to that...”

The salesman lifts his eyebrows, his hand teasingly back to caressing your thigh – this time, with added fervour. His unblinking eyes, his speeded breaths, his focused demeanour – he’s grown excited. And the fingers of his large hand echo it directly in the way he grabs at the inner side of your thigh, almost prying your legs apart the more you push them together.

“…Does she know about the photographs? Does she know about where your dirty, undeserving, pitiful little hands have been? I bet she’d be very eager to find out…where the audacity you had when she was conscious ends and the depravity of the trash you are once she is not begins.”

As if on cue, the hand stops and merely rests in your lap. You realise that a large part of his words was reverberating through the walls and the rain, loud and sharp with something resembling cold venom, cold anger, cold…abhorrence. You look down at the hand in your lap.

Resting there. Perfectly cut nails. Strong fingers. Still.

You think you’d very much like to hold it, but don’t move.

❥❥❥

All of a sudden, you shiver straight through.

You've grown so cold.

The tension in your thighs gives way to weakness.

The words turn poisonous in your ears and against your wishes, you feel violated.

Less by the hand on your thigh stroking its fingers upwards, now having stopped, satisfied with your surrender.

As silly as it seems, even to you in your current state. Violated.

More so by his words, because...you know. You know it's true and feel disgusting. Your brain somehow compartmentalised too hard and the scene in front of you fades away leaving only your thoughts and fears; circling a maelstrom to drag you down with no sound.

His clingy love, his unwanted touches, his abuse of your kindness – your gestures of care swallowed by shallow need and hormonal outbursts.

On those late evenings.

Wherever you were, he was.

Wherever you tried to make a place for you with boundaries.

There he was.

Playfully violating them.

Ignoring your tenth 'no thank you'.

Stealing touches and hugs and even playing on your compassionate strings, asking for cuddles and head pats and telling you to softly caress his hair as he leaned into your chest and dragged his head down to your breasts pretending to search for a tense heartbeat.

All because he was stressed. He needed it. He needed you and pretended that what he gave back was adequate. Though all you wanted was safety, peace, and to be left alone. That never featured in the equation.

You remember how it was always suddenly four, five in the morning. The bitter taste in your mouth. The way the tea tasted funny. How clouded your head was.

Suddenly, the soaked shirt clinging to every inch of your skin feels so very exposing. The mess of a friend in front of you blurs as you try not cry.

So fucking stupid, Y/N. So fucking stupid.

Naked, violated, stupid.

You register the lower, slow voice, almost mocking in its sympathy and disdain.

"Oh, now, look at what you've done. And I was being so very reserved, ignoring a chance to ask for a truth I thought better of asking sooner. Anyhow. No matter. Tell me, young man…"

The salesman lifts a hand, leaving it to hover over the gun but only caressing the air above it.

"Tell us what you told your colleagues, when discussing that interesting study you grew so invested in. I hear it was quite the riot among men of your position. Tell me what got you so mesmerised, so...worked up as miss Y/N worked hard only a few rooms away. Careful, don't let your trousers grow too tight when you do..."

His hand lightly brushed the gun's trigger.

"...my fingers are itchy."

"That's…that's against the rules," you half-whisper, half-rasp into air that barely carries your words.

The hand on your thigh begins to slide up and down, as if reassuring you. The whole dynamic is so fucked up you feel your limbs losing sense of touch, growing colder. So cold they might as well be stone.

"So is making my little lady so disconcerted. Pardon the rudeness, miss Y/N, if you may. But I am so very interested and want you to hear it with me. Let the trash talk."

You know he's making that puppy-eyed expression in your direction, toying with you. You don't even have to look.

"Making my dear so very…" his hand finds yours and holds your dead fingers between his warmth, rubbing them in what has to be faux, manipulative, performative care. This is all pretend. He's lying. You know he's lying. One worse than the other. Your sister was more correct than she knew.

Funny. It would remind you of a play you liked, a fun performance where a bloke goes by each member of the audience with a list, yelling as he scratches out lines - "Twit, dumbass, twit, dumbass..." he stops mid-performance and gazes with hope to the back of the audience and announces: "Ah! But back there! There's a change! Two dumbasses right next to each other!" You don't laugh, but feel that is very much your situation.

"…cold." He frowns and rests his hand in your lap with yours still inside.

Now you look. His face isn't smiling. His voice isn't warm. His lips aren't cheeky, his eyes are zoned in and glassy. Aimed at the man ahead like a bayonet right under the chin.

What's happening to you? Is it the transfer of affect? Your emotions both high and subdued? The tension, shock, adrenalin find each nook in your body and mind, forcing you to cling desperately to the safest thing around?

Or spewing over everything like a sickening cloud of mustard gas and clouding rational thought? Which is it?!

Your breath had grown slow, shallow, and the walls of the dingy room were fading together in nondescript floating blurs. You heard him. You heard someone you trusted, cared for, when all was said and done, speak of what you were aware of but didn't know the details of.

A study concerning human behaviour and what some men would do, should they face no consequences.

The salesman nudged the gun if the words were growing slow.

You learned that the friend you trusted would endeavour to do things to you that you hoped were only categories in bad adult content. You learned he thought of you that way and dreamed of it, even if he hated himself for it afterwards. He did try it, over and over. He lied to you. Over and over.

Couldn’t help himself.

Limp, lifeless, dead eyed – no consequences.

Fair game.

You felt like being sick and setting the whole building on fire, the two of them included.

❥❥❥

So, you did what any rational person in your situation would do.

You stood up.

“I need some fresh air,” you hear your lips mumble and don’t even register that the hand doesn’t try to stop you. Mechanically you turn around and walk slowly towards the exit. Two voices follow you out:

“Of course, miss Y/N. The game is paused. Do come back as soon as you can. We’re having such fun, aren’t we?”

And:

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way…I thought you felt…I thought you would…”

You don’t even turn around as you hear the blunt sound of something slapping against something else hard. No more voices follow.

You only walk to the very first door and when you are nearly sure you’re at least partly alone, you sink to your knees in sobbing shivers that make no sound, only force your face to grimace and your hands to hold you around your body in nothing short of desperation and being done.

Why don’t I just play a truth and lie? He’ll shoot me. Everything works out. Boom. Peace. Maybe a dare, so I can ask to shoot the gun into the wall. And shoot myself. Fuck. Such a dumb bitch you are, Y/N. All your fault.

You’re leaning against the doorframe, half outside, and the rain is helping wash your thoughts away. How you wish it would go straight through and dissolve you with it.

“Tender flower, tender flower…” a voice humms behind you as if caught in a fond memory. You don’t look up or behind you. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re beginning to feel like you have nothing much to lose, over something so...silly.

“You know, you remind me of my favourite flower, little lady.” The voice stops beside you and you still don’t lift your head. You just stare into the pavement, far away from yourself.

The salesman bends down to be level with you, hands behind his back. Head cocking to the side in his usual manner, almost in a play of affection. Your heart sublimates from frost straight to anger and then…nothing. You grow numb again. But do look into his eyes as he speaks, noting the small smirk.

“Beautiful white blossoms, sharp, geometrical. Elegant. Everything in place, everything in order. Even closed, the flowers seem to sleep in a manner that exudes quiet beauty. Leaving one waiting for them to open, just to see them in bloom.”

Is he truly that mental?

“But what I appreciate most about this flower is the fact…that its leaves have nothing but sharp prickles around every edge. They themselves carry a smooth surface with unnoticeable little hooks should anyone try to touch their flowers. The stems are thorny, even in their dark, mesmerising stature and grace. And the parts hidden below ground…where the life of the plant resides…are safely covered by a shell enclosed in sharp thorns.”

He is truly that mental.

“And…” he leans closer, making sure to not touch you, but you can see that small smile and those piercing dark eyes almost caressing you through the rain, “the whole plant is deathly poisonous. Not only does it help you die, but you will desire death every second that your hallucinating brain cannot see its own lungs unable to lift…as you suffocate on dry land, slowly, slowly…so very slowly.”

He smiles as if remembering a fond memory.

“The blossoms carry the poison. The leaves carry the poison. The stem carries the poison. The seedpods and their precious seeds are the most poisonous parts of the whole plant. Imagine that. The grace of the plant, the beautiful life-giving hidden piece, the essence itself…so very lethal.”

You look up at him. You know the plant he’s describing. You know it because it happens to be one of your favourites too. Your lips open just a tiny bit and you see something else in those eyes for only a little fleeting while. Something you’re surely placing there yourself. You really must be damaged, out of it, desperate.

But you speak nonetheless:

“…Funny…the whole flower, in its beauty…with each sharp edge and prickle…simply says…don’t touch me. It won’t hurt you until you transgress and grab at what doesn’t belong to you…But the being wordlessly says…Don’t touch my flowers. Don’t touch my leaves. Don’t touch my stem. And don’t fucking touch me.”

You see his smile grow in a small act of genuine amusement. The salesman’s eyes are looking at you, through you, but you sense no lies in that look now.

He genuinely looks…affectionately satisfied. Am I high? He looks…sweet.

“What if I were to be very cautious with each blossom, and ask the plant for permission when she’s feeling shy? Would she bloom in my presence? I know her well, I know where I may and may not lay my fingers – I have studied her quite closely. I know when to let her grow in peace and gather strength in solitude. Tell me, miss Y/N. Would she bloom for me if I tended to her?”

“Depends. What if the plant asks you to throw her into a wall?”

A very surprised chuckle escapes his lips and wanders into the night rain.

“Then I’ll take her upstairs and arrange for that to be possible. Anything for her little lethal, tender heart.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Okay, so I kinda have baby fever currently and was hoping you could help cure it. Maybe a baby girl with Max? Like using that kelly is pregnant and the baby is a little girl and max is introducing the baby to Penelope for thr first time? Or something like that. Max looks good with babies.

Big sister

The house was unusually quiet without Max and Kelly. Penelope had been staying with her grandma, but she couldn't sit still. Since her parents left for the hospital, she had been waiting for what felt like forever. She missed them. But more than anything, she was desperate to meet her baby sister.

"How much longer, Oma?" Penelope asked for what had to be the tenth time in the past hour. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her little hands twisting the hem of her dress.

Sophie smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Penelope's ear. "Soon, sweetheart. I promise. Papa said he'd call when it was time for us to visit."

Penelope sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch. "But I've been waiting forever," she groaned. "What if the baby doesn’t like me?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Sophie chuckled, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her. "Your little sister is going to love you so much. And you’re going to be the best big sister ever."

Penelope smiled a little, leaning into the hug. "I hope so. I have so many things to teach her."

Before Sophie could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Penelope's head shot up as Sophie checked the screen. A warm smile spread across her face.

"Come on, my sweet girl," she said, holding out her hand. "It's time."

Penelope jumped to her feet, her heart pounding with excitement. "Really? I get to see Mama and Papa and my sister?"

"Yes," Sophie laughed softly, grabbing her purse. "Let’s go meet her."

---

The hospital room was warm and quiet when Sophie gently pushed the door open, guiding Penelope inside. The second she spotted Kelly sitting up in bed, Penelope ran straight to her.

"Mama!" she cried, launching herself onto the bed and into Kelly’s open arms. "Where is she? Where’s my sister?"

Kelly laughed softly, pulling her into a warm hug. "Hey, baby," she murmured, pressing a kiss to Penelope’s hair. "She’s right here."

At Kelly’s words, Penelope turned her head—and there was Max, standing a few steps away. In his arms, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, was the tiniest, most perfect baby Penelope had ever seen.

Her mouth fell open. "Is that her?" she whispered.

Max smiled softly, his voice warm with pride and tenderness. "Yeah, P. This is your baby sister, Yn."

Penelope scrambled to sit up straighter. "Can I hold her? Please, Papa?"

"Of course you can," Max said gently. "But you need to be very careful, okay? Sit next to Mama so you can be comfy."

Without hesitation, Penelope scooted over, her small legs dangling over the side of the bed. Kelly kept a protective arm around her while Max moved closer.

"Ready?" Max asked softly.

Penelope nodded eagerly, holding out her arms the way Max had taught her earlier that week. She held her breath as he carefully placed Yn into her waiting arms, making sure her hands were steady.

The moment Yn was settled, Penelope’s face lit up with wonder. "She’s so tiny," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "And soft."

Kelly laughed quietly, brushing a hand over Penelope’s hair. "She is. She already loves her big sister so much."

Penelope’s fingers gently traced Yn’s cheek, her touch feather-light. Yn stirred slightly but didn’t fuss, and Penelope beamed. "She likes me," she whispered.

"Of course, she does," Max said, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching them both closely. His heart swelled at the sight of his two girls together. "You’re her big sister—you’re already her favorite person."

Penelope looked up at her parents, her heart nearly bursting with happiness. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

Kelly tilted her head in confusion. "For what, baby?"

"For giving me a sister," Penelope said, her voice soft but full of joy.

Max chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "You’re very welcome, P. We’re so happy you love her already."

"I do," Penelope said quickly, cuddling Yn a little closer. "I love her so, so much. And I’m gonna teach her everything."

Kelly’s smile grew as she shared a tender look with Max. It meant the world to both of them that Penelope was so happy. "I know you will," Kelly said softly.

For a while, they sat in quiet peace—just the four of them. Penelope kept her eyes on her sister, watching every little movement she made. When Yn let out a tiny yawn, Penelope giggled quietly.

"She’s so cute," Penelope whispered.

Max couldn’t stop smiling as he watched them. His heart was full, and the love he felt for his girls overwhelmed him. He never thought he could be this happy.

"Alright, P," he said softly after a while. "I should take Yn back now. She might get a little fussy."

But when Max reached out to take the baby, Penelope tightened her arms around her sister and shook her head firmly. "No."

Kelly raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her smile. "No?"

Penelope looked at them seriously. "She’s mine," she declared. "You gave her to me. That means she belongs to me now."

Max chuckled softly, exchanging an amused glance with Kelly. "Sweetheart, that’s not exactly how it works," he said gently.

"But she’s my gift," Penelope insisted, her brow furrowed with determination. "And if she’s my gift, I get to keep her."

Kelly laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Penelope’s head. "Baby, she’s all of ours. You don’t have to worry—she’s not going anywhere."

Penelope pouted slightly, her arms still wrapped protectively around Yn. "But I wanna take her home with me now. We need to pack her things."

Max let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, P," he murmured. "I love how much you care about her already."

Penelope’s pout deepened. "It’s not funny, Papa. She’s my sister."

Kelly bit back another smile, smoothing a hand over Penelope’s back. "And you’re the best big sister. But Yn needs to stay here a little longer with Mama and Papa so the doctors can make sure she’s healthy."

"But…" Penelope trailed off, glancing down at the baby again. "I just love her so much."

Max’s heart melted at her words. He reached out to stroke her hair gently. "We know you do, sweetheart. And you’ll get to be with her every single day. You’ll help us take care of her, teach her things—everything."

Penelope perked up a little at that. "Everything?"

"Everything," Max promised. "She’s going to need you, P. You’re going to be her hero."

Penelope finally relaxed, a smile returning to her face. "Okay," she said softly. "I’ll teach her everything."

Kelly’s eyes softened as she watched them, warmth spreading through her chest. "We love you so much, P," she murmured. "And we’re so proud of you already."

"I love you too," Penelope said sweetly, snuggling closer. "And I love Yn the most."

As Max and Kelly shared a tender smile, they knew that no matter what, their family was complete—and full of love.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoy this story. My requests are always open for you. Max is Penelopes other dad, change my mind.

-💙🦋

[white-poppie]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ⎯⎯ Finale of the '𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇' series

SYNOPSIS — Your life was a mausoleum of sickening memories until light found you again at the end of the bleak tunnel, peering through his big cerulean eyes. Spitfires vanishing till you found your everlasting effervescent flame. And that's how it ends, because you still have your youth.

💿 — Mia and Sebastian's theme from La-la land

TW —breastfeeding, pregnancy, post-partum, grief, loss, crying (obv), jealousy.

WC — 5k

Series masterlist Moon Child ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ Now playing: Part 3

“Hey…shh..it’s okay…I’m here.” He mutters as he winces, closing his eyes while the remnants of his best friend's cursed energy remain.

The next few minutes go by Satoru holding you to his chest, silently as you sob. Now he’s sitting in the front seat of his car, the tinted windows drawn up as he regardless looks outside cautiously while you feed a hungry Tsukiko.

Satoru’s gaze falls to rear mirror, his eyes briefly catching your tender expression when you look at Tsuki as she stays latched to you and an inexplicable warmth erupts in his chest. He cranks up the AC silently, noticing you’re sweating a bit while feeding her.

You can’t help but smile as he turns up the AC, he notices these little things, the things Suguru should have been here for.

You sigh and lean on the headrest of the car, the smell of the faux leather making your head pound harder after crying. Tsuki suckles with soft whimpers, her face covered by your t-shirt. "It’s strange isn't it?" You murmur. "You are doing few of things Suguru was supposed to be doing for his daughter..."

He’s quiet for a long moment before he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s his loss. He missed out.”

You look out of the window, tears pricking in your eyes yet again. Your eyes burn from crying, yet it seems as though gotten used to it, gotten yused to the uncomfortable warmth of excessive tears burning down your eyes.

You tell yourself you’ve gotten immune to heartbreak but image of Suguru tenderly holding Tsuki. His eyes filled with so much regret and pain like he would turn around everything if he could. It’s burned in your head. “I’m so tired, Satoru…” you whisper.

He’s quiet as he listens to you speak, his heart breaking as he hears the way your voice cracks again and how your words carry such a sense of exhaustion and pain, like you’ve been carrying burden that no one could understand. You’re not the same person that you were when you were just shy of seventeen. You’re not the same girl that he used to know at sixteen and he knows that better than anyone else..

"I feel so lost- I no longer know what I am working for. There is this anger that bubbles in me, This vile feeling of resentment towards everyone, everything...hell sometimes even towards Tsuki." You choke, "I feel so selfish for thinking all this when I have a sweet daughter. I hate myself that sometimes my mind conjures up this feeling of anger and blames this little girl who has no fault. I love her so much, but I can't help these sudden feelings."

His heart aches at the way you blame yourself, it all just feels so unfair. It feels…cruel. He can do nothing but sit here and listen to you talk it all out because you so clearly feel suffocated like you’re drowning.

"When he told me he was leaving the Jujutsu society. It felt as though my heart was being ripped apart, like I would stop breathing without him. I dug my nails into him. Clung to him that entire night. I got a call from Shoko in the morning when he had gone rogue and filled so many people. I wanted to rip my skin apart yet not wash the flesh he had touched" You sob viscerally, lowering your head in shame.

At times, it felt like you were living a bitter love song. Penelope unthreading the tapestry, grieving, loyal to gone Odysseus. Yet, ambivalent. Somedays, you unthread the tapestry, other days you beg Artemis to end it instead.

He can’t stop the feeling of pure agony bubbling in his chest, his throat dry. Your grief feels so real. So tangible. You’ve lost yourself to him. A part of you must have still been hoping he would come back, as foolish as that hope was. He reaches out to gently take your hand in his. “It’s okay…it’s not your fault.”

You gulp, wiping your tears with your trembling hands upon realising Tsukuba is done feeding, you fix your shirt, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. Her litttle features relaxed into a blissful expression after having her fill, her pouty pink lips making you smile despite your sorrows.

“Can I hold her?” Satoru asks suddenly hesitantly. The corners of his eyebrows upturned and furrowed almost adorably.

"You are asking as if you weren't the first one to hold her in the hospital." You croak out humourlessly and hand her to him and shift in the front seat beside him.

His face softens as a small smile spreads across his lips and he gives off a quiet breathy chuckle as he sees the way your shoulders soften and the small, weary smile that spreads across your face as you hand him the baby. His eyes are so gentle and loving as he carefully takes Tsuki and cradles her against his chest. The way he’s holding her, it’s so natural - as if he was born to be a father.

Your heart feels so heavy at the scene. Its supposed to be Suguru...Its supposed to be Suguru holding Tsukiko, not Satoru. But there's this swell of affection when you look at him cradle her. She's so loved...

"She looks so tiny against you." You whisper, The way they look like yin and yang makes your breath hitch. Tsuki with her black her and eyes and Satoru with his white hair and blue eyes. Suguru and Satoru—Yin and Yang—the strongest sorcerers.

His lips quirk up in a soft smile as he gently pulls Tsuki just a bit closer to his chest, his hand gently wrapping around the back of her head in a tender hold. “She really is a tiny little thing, isn’t she?” he whispers right back as he continues to softly stroke his hand across her back. “She’s so precious and fragile, like a baby bird.”

“”It’s both a blessing and a curse that she looks exactly like him.” You whisper looking at his strong arms hold the baby.

Satoru looks at you, her eyes softening with a mix of pity and affection for the child in his arms. “She really is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

Your shoulders relax you take in a shaky breath, your head pounding like a those drums from from Physical education classes that banged rhythmically. Sighing you raise your legs up to your chest and lean the seat back.

The sight of you curled up in the passenger seat of his car, the car which, you’ve just about proclaimed as your property is so domestic to him that it hurts a little bit. “You’re tired,” he says softly as he continues to cradle Tsuki against his chest.

"Mhm." You nod as you look at him, eyes fluttering. "You should give her here or you won't be able to drive."

He lets out a sigh as he reaches over to gently buckle her into her baby carrier against you. His breath stutters as his fingers brush against your arms and he finds himself gazing into your eyes before gulping and drawing back.“She’s just so tiny and cute and precious, I just don’t want to let her go.” He mutters, his voice slightly deeper than intended.

You chuckle and carefully cradle her neck so she’s leaning against your chest "She's a very charming little girl." You press a kiss to her forehead.

He watches silently as your breaths even out in a semi- lucid state before he whisper to himself in response. “Just like her pretty mama.” He utters and starts to drive to your house.

The smell in the car is saccharine, your vanilla perfume, and the oddly sweet smell that comes from babies; combined with a heady mix of breast milk and baby products.

Tsukiko and you are settled and curled into his front seat as if you belong here. It's so natural. To think Satoru is being the haven Suguru could never be, he's picking up cracks of you shattered, broken heart; you don't know what to call it, but it feels right. Unclear, whether it’s pity or friendship that makes him care so much for the girl and the kid his best friend abandoned.

You arrive back at you place as he helps you out of the car. You look at Satoru with heavy eyes, "Come in, I'll make tea." you say with a tired smile.

Initially, he thinks of rejecting, yet seeing your swollen red eyes and that weary slouch of your shoulder blades; he surrenders.

The little apartment that's less of a home but a sanctuary, its a cute tapestry of memories. Baby products are neatly kept, such as cribs, baby toys, polaroids of the baby, plants, and, in progress, a crochet baby hat on the couch and adorable little trinkets around.

But to you, as night comes it becomes a glum, cold sanctuary for the most part-- filled with reminders of Suguru. Everywhere. His large shoes were on the front door, his coat was on the rack, his picture with me was on the fridge, and his cologne was on the dresser. Almost everything of his is untouched the way it was, despite everything, you don't have the strength to throw out his things the same way he threw you out of his life.

The more his gaze lingers, his mind immediately drifts to the last time he came here; when Suguru was in your life. The house reeks of his memories. The place doesn’t look like a home, it looks like a museum that’s dedicated to the relationship you had with Suguru, almost like a shrine. The longer he looks at it, the more his chest aches. When he speaks, it comes out as a barely audible whisper. “Y/N...”

"Hmm?" You mutter slowly, tucking Tsuki in her crib. You walk back into the kitchen, your house sandals dragging across the marble flooring.

“Can I just…hug you for a second?” he whispers.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, pausing midway while putting the pan on the stove. "Where did that come from?" You ask confused, but your voice softens immediately, turning into a whisper by the end of the sentence.

"I just…want to hug you right now.” he says in a tender, whispery voice. “You look like you need it.”

You gulp, keeping the pan down and wrapping your arms around him he leans down, his arms wrapping around your waist. A shaky breath leaves your throat at how warm he feels, your throat constricting and nose and cheeks feeling warmer. You close your eyes, a silent tear rolling down your cheek.

His arms slowly snake around your waist as he wraps you in, pulling you to his chest, cradling your soft, exhausted body and holding you against his larger, firm form. His eyes close as he feels you shaking in his arms, his embrace so tender that it hurts. “It’s okay,” he whispers softly to you. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Your chest aches at how comforting his embrace feels. You are suddenly reminded of the way Suguru used to hug you- but for the first time, I push the thought of Suguru away quickly. It’s Satoru in front of you, not Suguru.

"I’ve got you,” he murmurs right up against your ear. “I’ve got you.” He lifts his hand to brush his fingers across your hair, his fingers running across your scalp.

You feel my heart beat faster inexplicably as you raise your head up to look at him. “Satoru, I need your help.” You whisper out as you gulp, briefly closing your eyes.

“Help me…help throw his things away please, I don’t have the strength to do it alone. it’s so haunting." You choke, "I want to move on, I want get better, in a more stable mental place for Tsuki, and I can’t do that with these reminders of him everywhere…” You vent out in one breath.

“You really…want to throw away all of his things?” He asks, his voice a mix of hurt, and relief.

“No.” You reply immediately, “but what other way is there? I don’t want Tsuki to grow up with me being an emotional wreck over a man who abandoned us."

Your eyes fall over to the tiny toddler in the crib, unable to peel your eyes from the beautiful girl.

"I want to keep everything of his, to look at them and grieve for a man who’s alive. I want to keep that damn scarf of his, I don't have the strength to remove his picture from my wallpaper, and his pillow that I sprayed with his perfume and hugged to sleep during pregnancy because his smell calmed me during morning sickness. It’s pathetic I know…but how long am I going to hold on?” You choke up, tears rolling down my eyes.

He feels his breath hitch at your words. He slowly lowers his head to rest his forehead gently against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in slowly and trembles slightly as he gently pulls you into him, his breath trembling and catching in his throat again. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispers in a voice broken with emotion. “Oh sweetheart…”

For a second he wants to gather all of Suguru's things and keep them for himself on the other hand he wants to shatter everything. He's been like the same paradoxical situation as you, day in and day out. He's been a hypocrite. Telling you to move on when he could not get over his best friend. The only person he could ever confide in without being superficial, the only one who cared.

He's aching, just as much as you are. And he aches even more to see his first love so terribly broken apart by his best friend.

"I want us to heal, 'Toru." You mutter. "All of us: Me, you and Shoko. Of course the pain can never truly be gone, but we can't let our lives stagnant like this." You whisper, cupping his face in your palms, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare into his cerulean eyes.

He feels his heart skip several beats in his chest as he feels your soft, warm palms gently cupping his face, your eyes peering into his. He takes in a slow, shuddery breath and swallows again in an attempt to get rid of the aching feeling in his chest - the aching he feels for you.

His eyes glance over towards the crib, seeing the small infant that ties you to his best friend in the most undeniable way that he could never possibly compete, yet she draws him and you closer than ever. From the day he laid his eyes on her, he loved her.

He raises his hand slowly and gently rests it over one of the ones that are cupping his face, his fingers intertwining with yours. He holds your gaze for a long moment in silence, just trying to calm the thundering of his heart in his chest. He let his feelings sit in the backseat when you and Suguru started dating. It hurt, but the ache soon simmered and he accepted reality, he knew his feelings had never left and yet it didn't feel hard to think otherwise. Hell, he was ready to be Suguru's best man. He's finally letting himself be selfish.

"Toru," You breathe out shakily, unsure why you uttered his name like so. This feels like the precipice, the intermission of the movie of your life, right at the climax. These inexplicable feelings brewing in your heart are so heavy. You feel guilty, for letting yourself feel this way, for letting yourself move on-- to develop an affection beyond friendship for Suguru's best friend and your friend.

His heart skips a beat at the way you breathed out his name like so. It almost sounds like a plea, almost like a desperate beg. Toru. It never felt this good, never felt this right, for you to say his name like that. It's so good to hear the way his name sounds when it leaves your lips, your lips that he has never once touched.

His throat aches as he leans down and captures your lips against his own he's wanted this for so long. For so so long he's ached for you. Satoru knows its wrong, you're both vulnerable, but he feels like he would break and sob like a child if he doesn't embrace you. If he can't love you. Its physically impossible for him to control his affection anymore. His nose is red, eyes burning.

A gasp leaves you as you freeze, your fingers clenching into fists. You stand unable to react, frozen still. Your heart beats in a sickly rhythm at the confusion swirling in your chest.

He swallows thickly and instantly pulls back, his eyes wide as he looks into your shocked expression. He takes in a shuddery, shaky breath. He's a idiot, he's an absolute idiot. He knows you don't feel that way about him, knows you're still broken over Suguru, and yet he still kissed you.

"I-" You stutter, your heart shattering at his slightly red eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry..." You breathe out, unable to utter anything else. You want to pull him in again, to kiss him with the same tenderness. His glassy eyes make you sick, but you are not sure you can do this to him, not when you are so conflicted about your feelings...he deserves better than that.

He shakes his head adamantly, his hands trembling slightly as he gently reaches up to place them on your shoulders to keep you at a distance. He doesn’t want your pity. He can’t take your pity.

"You don’t—" Satoru whispers shakily, his eyes still burning. "You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Please, don’t pity me because I feel this way for you."  

"I don't-- I don't pity you 'Toru, not a bit. But you are not a replacement, I never want you to feel like that. I am- there is so much to heal in my heart, I don't think I can love anymore. I am so damn scared after all that I went through." You breathe out reaching to him hesitantly. "You deserve better than whatever mess I am right now."

His heart shatters even more as he feels the way that you demean yourself so harshly - you have no idea how much you're worth. You have no idea how many times he's had to restrain himself from kissing you, holding you, loving you - so many times he's had to tell himself that he has no right to try and love someone that's not his. But his heart is a fragile, weak thing in the face of your sorrow.

"Your daughter needs you," he whispers, his voice cracking a bit. "You're amazing.

“Would you give me time to heal Toru? For myself? For Tsuki? Maybe even for us.” You whisper with a soft voice. “I want to reclaim myself, I’ve lost that ambitious girl somewhere, I want to get her back before I can ever try to find love again.”

.

6 months pass by in a blink of an eye, wasn't she born yesterday? Tsuki's already 8 months old, its a bittersweet feeling. Yet somehow when you think of the times your blood used to run cold when someone mentioned Suguru when you trying to heal; it reminds you how long the year really was.

Those six months were a lifetime for you and Satoru too. He was there all along, for you and Tsuki. He watched you grow and change - every day, every moment, he witnessed the way you healed and slowly came back to yourself. And with each day that passed, the more that he found himself completely and hopelessly in love with you.   

You smile, wrapping the scarf around Tsuki as she sits in her stroller, wide-eyed, observing her mama dressed up differently. A red, velvet a line dress. It feel so weird to wear old clothes again, like watching yourself in your middle school yearbook pictures, cringing at how you looked, but feeling warm as you remember how truly happy you were.

You gulp, fixing your hair for the nth time, waiting for Satoru to pick you. You roam nervously in the apartment, wound like a spinning top and you jump when the bell rings.

You quickly walk up to the door, there he stands in his glory, in a tailored Italian suit, an Armani watch, his fluffy white hair parted at the side with a bouquet of peonies in his nimble hands.

And he freezes just as you do, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing up and down trying ti muster, suave words of praise, but nothing leaves his starstruck self.

“You look so handsome, Toru.” You say fondly.

He slowly holds out the bouquet of peonies for you as his eyes scan over you again. His voice feels weak, barely a whisper as he speaks to you. "Look who's talking."

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You say taking a sniff of the fragrant flowers. Your heart feels warm, despite the chill in the air; warm toasted bread with sweet milk tea in the sheets, an odd sense of euphoric comforting.

"Just beautiful things for a beautiful woman."  He says, finally with his flirtatious grin which causes you to roll your eyes.

You chuckle and look over at Tsuki. “Let’s wait for Shoko” It’s the first time she’d be away from you, she’s too small, too tiny, it makes you anxious for her to be anywhere except in front of your eyes. This is the first time you've ever been apart from the infant who's been attached to your hip since she was born.

"Shoko's a doctor, she'll take good care of her. It's just for a few hours, sweetheart."  He says, interrupting your thoughts.

Soon enough, the bell rings, and the tired woman makes her way in. You go over the same things, same scenarios multiple times until you feel relieved and Shoko on the other hand, exasperated.

"And for the love of god don't smoke around her," you say and finally hug her. "Thank you for doing this Shoko."

Shoko freezes as you suddenly hug her; for a moment, she feels as though her eyes are getting bleary after seeing you smile so brightly after so long. "All good..." She murmurs, unknowingly tightening her grip around you.

"Let's go," you whisper to Satoru, holding out your hand. For a few seconds, he just stands still, unable to form a coherent emotion at the sight of your hand extended to reach his. Gulping he intertwines his large fingers into your palm. the path to his car feels sacred, intimate; he feels as though he's holding you as you walk down the aisle to him. It's an exaggerated, delusional reverie that makes his chest all tight.

The ride towards the restaurant is mostly silent, with you looking out the window and watching as the world passes by like a blur. Satoru steals a few quick glances at you every now and then as he drives, feeling the familiar ache in his chest everytime he looks at you in your beautiful, beautiful red dress.

"You look beautiful, you know that?" He whispers, his voice hushed almost as if he's afraid if he speaks too loudly, the moment will be shattered.  

Your eyes soften at his reverential tone, you tilt my head, staring at him. "You've told," you answer. "But I like hearing you say it."

"I'll say it till you get sick of it," he says with a soft chuckle, his bright cerulean eyes undoing all defenses, all inhibitions. They shine so bright, like stars.

"I don't think I can ever get sick of it," You whisper. It's peaceful, you realise. Not the wild, passionate sort of love you experienced with Suguru, where the flame was brightest before it blew. But this feels like a soft light, whispering in the dark, ebbing the strongest shadows away. It draws you in like a moth to flame. This tender light ignites my very being from the dull, colourless life you were trapped in. You never realised that what you wanted was warmth; you hunted it in a spitfire, but found it in an everlasting flame.

His heart skips a beat at your soft, but honest words. The car slows down as the light turns red, and he takes the opportunity to take a good a long look at you. You are sirenesque, it takes his breath away. He finds himself leaning closer, red lights of the signal reflecting off his face. The soft jazz he put to sound fancy is all static under your gaze. He is all static under your gaze.

Both of you flinch as a car behind you honks, pulling the two of you out of your reverie. You realise the light has already turned green and clear you throat.

He lets out a soft sound before he starts driving again, looking ahead at the road to distract himself from the way his heart still pounds in his chest.

The restaurant comes into view as he parks the car with a sigh. 

You smile as he helps you out of the car. It's a fancy restaurant, the kind you'd see in old Hollywood movies where the main characters take the heroine and a cute song starts playing. You wait for your orders, and there's an awkward silence; neither of you speak for a while. A mix of embarrassment and nervousness blended in with being clueless about what to talk about.

"So...I was thinking," he begins, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he fiddles with his fingers. There is a moment of hesitation as he looks up at you for a second, his heart skipping a beat at your calm expression. He gulps and decides to say it, his words leaving him in a low murmur - barely above a whisper. "Wanna dance?"

"Dance?" You question your eyes fluttering in confusion as you look around and then back at him as if to question, 'here?'

He nods as his nervousness melts away into a small, genuine, bashful smile as he stands up and gently extends his hand towards you from across the table. "Yeah...dance." He mutter, his heart feeling a bit lighter at your innocent question.

He looks at the small dance floor in the restaurant, not even a whole dozen couples dancing on it. "Just one song." 

"Alright, until the food comes in." You smile tenderly and take his hand as the two of you walk to the small wooden flooring. You look up at him as he wraps his hand on your waist, another interlacing with yours. And the song plays, ironically enough, Mia and Sebastian's theme from Lalaland, and you roll your eyes. it's a fancy restaurant; they should at least play jazz or something. Nonetheless, you sigh and just look into his cerulean eyes, and your heart pounds in your ribcage.

He can't stop the way that a small chuckle leaves him at your eye roll. He is in utter bliss in this moment, being so much closer, so much more intimate than he'd been with you in ages: everything around them feels so surreal.

You two dance at first, for a few minutes, a sophisticated pair dance before the two of you just sway, eyes peering intently into each other. The light is dull, dim, centered just at the floor, but nothing shines brighter than his hopeful, loving eyes, and you can't help but feel like you are melting as he holds you in, swaying to the music.

He holds onto you as tightly as he can, his eyes never leaving yours, his breaths growing more labored with each passing second. He can't help but be utterly enamored by you. He can just barely hear his own voice over the sound of his own rapidly beating heart. "I love you." 

Your eyebrows furrow at his admission again, and you can't help but huff out a fond chuckle. He's so sincere, despite all, despite how torn you were, despite how you had hurt everyone, including yourself. He's been there. He's been there and made you realise you don't have to beg for someone's love. It's not transactional as it was with Suguru. "I've made you wait for so long, haven't I?" You whisper, your eyes a little bleary looking at him.

The corners of his eyes crinkle with your huffed chuckle. He smiles softly as you speak, his hand on your waist gently caressing your body lovingly. He smiles and reaches his hand up to caress your soft cheek, gently stroking your skin with the rough pads of his fingers.

"Forever." He mutters, his own eyes slightly glossing over as he looks at you. "You could've made me wait forever, and I still would've waited."

You wrap your arms tighter around him and lean up to kiss him, eyes fluttering close. He tastes like mint; its sweet, and it soothes you so. You let out a shaky breath, and he leans in and kisses you tenderly at first, but then with an adolescent vigour that has you dipping in his arms.

You can't help but giggle at his excitement, somehow, the sound gets him to tone it down, tender and soft, his fingers shaky. You part away to breathe and chuckle fondly. "You've got lipstick on your lips." You shake your head and wipe his lips clean.

"We still have a dance to finish," You say as I keep your hand back on his shoulder, and start to sway, laughing as he spins you around

Outside the restaurant after a late night tussle of the girls begging for icecream and him giving in, Suguru walks with Nanako and Mimiko. Their little hands holding the ice cream he brought, trying to not make it drip.

"Geto-sama, isn't she the woman in the photo frame?" Mimiko points out cluelessly to through the glass to you and Satoru dancing. A woman she's only ever seen through the photo frame he keeps close to him, fondly smiling at the,mystery woman that the twins love to inquire about.

"Hmm...?"

Suguru looks towards the glass, and it takes a few seconds for him to process what he sees. He sighs. It's hard to breathe, but you look so radiant it's like life is back in you. It's so different from when he last saw you six months ago in the grocery store. You looked like your world was crumbling down; you were tired, depressed and alone with his daughter you gave birth to. "Yeah." He says with a smile, his voice heavy.

"That's her."

He keeps looking at you, his smile still on his face as he stares at the sight of the two of you on the dance floor. He can't explain the feeling he has in his heart: hollow and heavy, a feeling of losing something he had and messed up so terribly. The feeling of watching you fall in love with someone else, while he still is in love with you. 

But this is different. He looks at your smiling face now, and all he can feel is a strange sense of peace. His chest feels tight, an inexplicable pang of nostalgia and loss as he watches you dance with his best friend, but the pain he feels in his chest is replaced with a strange sense of acceptance.

It feels nostalgic, you're dancing with Satoru the way you used to with him, old jazz music playing as you stood on his feet and he swayed you around, sneaking kisses on your soft lips, your arms wrapped around him. But just as he remembers these memories, he is reminded of what become of your relationship.

It hurts like crazy but still doesn't compare to the soul-crushing guilt he felt when he saw your in the grocery store with Tsukiko, the baby of his love that he left unknowingly and despite knowing her existence, he was far too gone to step up. All he can remember is the utter agony you held in your eyes when you stood with that little infant so tired, so terrified. He made you go through hell.

The two of you finally stop with the dance. You glance away for a second and freeze as your eyes fall onto Suguru. Your lips part, feeling these conflicting, wretched emotions of anger and bitterness.

He is stoic before he breaks into a smile, a content, tired smile. The smile you give to someone, a goodbye, a good-luck, a smile of nostalgia and well-wish.

You breathe out as if you feel a burden off you existence, your lips twitching up to a smile too.

He looks at you and then glances at the girls, and something in him just wants to approach and hug you so tightly, ask for forgiveness and stay like this, all of you together again.

And yet, when your lips twitch into a smile at him, he smiles back, lifting up his hand to wave softly before walking away.

Life didn't end when he left, though it seemed like it would. Sometimes, we find escapes closest to us, but grief makes us blind. Satoru and Shoko were there to help, but drowning in the agony of loss you didn't find the strength to reach. The point is, no one can help you, unless you want to help yourself.

And once its over, one day you'll find yourself at crossroads with your past again. And its then you'll have courage to look it in the eye and smile, because that's how it goes:

Aches of present become memories of past:

a testament of Our Youth.

[bunni-v1]

May I ask your advice on something? I want to make a cookie that will be loved by shadow milk and I toss and turn the idea in my head thinking about his loneliness, but his arrogance in assuming most cookies aren’t worthy of his time makes it difficult. It leads me to building the cookie to be bigger and more powerful/elaborate than him so he immediately recognizes it, but that’s unsatisfying for me. I’d like them to be ordinary, clever of course, observant, and quick witted to not only keep up with shadow milk, but to even outpace him at times in a verbal sparring match. But most ordinary cookies don’t really fit the bill. They usually either worship or fear him depending on personality and self awareness. Both are good and what he needs/uses, but you can’t really be friends with a tool. Makes it hard to think of an ordinary cookie that might have caught his attention. I liked your analysis of what getting close to him pre corruption was and he’s a more viable candidate, but even he on some level looks down upon ordinary cookies that know less and don’t live as long. Namuwiki and regular wiki categorize his corruption as both an obsession with his own power as well as loneliness in a truth that broke him. I think the truth that did so or that at least planted the seed of corruption was: that cookies/people don’t care about the truth. He states as much so many times to pure vanilla to weaken his resolve, his dedication to truth. How cookies willingly/happily turn from the bitter truth to embrace a sweet lie. How cookies were more interested in listening to him speak than what he was really saying. It’s a one two punch realizing the cookies around you don’t really care about the thing that makes you you. And if they do it may only be for selfish gain, not for knowledge in itself. And the real rub is the reason they don’t care is often times due to some form of ignorance or stupidity. I mentioned this to a friend irl and she said,”oh he got bullied before he got corrupted. 💯” Which made me think of the cookies before his fall, who maybe took for granted that 1. The font of knowledge even exists and 2.That he would willingly and happily answer their questions truthfully forever and 3. Would never lose his patience. Because how much do you want to bet that the illusion from the sugar free road he taunted pure vanilla with, the woman yelling at him saying “tell us where to seek healing! Tell us how to be healthy to live in wealth and happiness! Use your power! Share your power with us! Do it if you truly care!” Were words from a cookie in shadow milks past? How many refused to seek the truth themselves, wishing no demanding he provide it for them. And criticizing him if/when he either refuses or lies, like bratty children. “Nothing but empty promises. All a lie.” Give them! Cookies who were so ignorant and stupid wanting to take away the thing that makes him him. Because that’s all he is isn’t he? His power his soul jam. Neither he nor anyone else it seems has seen him beyond his abilities. To who he is as a cookie.

Which is just another layer to his isolation, but all of which to say. Maybe the ordinary cookie who just happens to be curious, innovative, and above all patient and kind is his only balm against such words. And maybe that cookie crumbles under the weight of their deceit. Maybe that helps crumble his resolve. After all the main thing hes running from, the big lie he tells himself is that nothing bad ever happens to him. Because how could it? He’s a god, he’s all knowing, but not all powerful. Thoughts?

I think Shadow Milk's fall is the most interesting, because it could quite honestly be either he fell first or last. I'm a bigger fan of the him falling last theory, because it's very interesting to see how he would react to his friends becoming beasts and realizing he too will shortly.

With the new costume's story we can get a better look into him, and he's a lot like PV. Patient, kind, gentle, intelligent, and more than willing to share his knowledge with cookies. With such knowledge, he is very separate from other cookies. He knows and understands things that other cookies could never dream of.

That much knowledge will weigh on your being, even if you are a god. Especially if it's all you're supposed to be, a fount of knowledge for cookies. I think he does enjoy sharing his knowledge and the truths of the world. He cares for his cookies. How could he not? they are innocent and freshly baked, full of fear and confusion. His knowledge is meant to soothe them.

But, cookies fear what they do not understand. When they start asking harder questions, and he gives them the truthful answer, they don't like it. They lash out and deny the truth, and he realizes they would rather live in a lie than bear the truth. The fact that, even if it's unintentional, the very cookies he loves and cherishes are rejecting him... well, it would devastate anyone.

Shadow Milk Cookie became a beast because he was rejected by his people. He became the embodiment of lies to become what they wanted, rejecting the truth to show them the error of their ways. This is what they wanted, right?

I think that's why he needs a partner who challenges him. They can't just accept everything he does as okay. He doesn't want or need someone who just sits there and affirms him like his minions. His partner needs a backbone and a strong moral compass, the confidence to look at him and say, "Absolutely not."

They also need to have the awareness that he is the master of lies. They need to be able to see through his lies and illusions by themselves because he can't hold their hand all the time. He has this deep aching need to be seen, though he doesn't acknowledge those feelings. They have to be able to crack his shell by themselves and show that they care, and only then will he open up to them.

It's certainly not an easy feat for a normal cookie, but if Ginger Brave and co. can do it, I'm sure his partner can also do it. It takes a special cookie to get the master of deceit tripping over himself, after all.

[taliabhattwrites]

On the topic of the Edelgard rambling… I’d love to see it! I have so, so many thoughts about her story and character, about how she’s maligned at every turn by readers, about how she’s clearly using her own heart as fuel at every turn (written in BIG BOLD LETTERS AFTER Arianrhod, for the people who missed it), and so on. But I don’t… have the words. I’m not especially well versed in theory as a whole, I have struggle expressing the emotions and thoughts inside of my mind as form.

I’d just like to be able to see both where my interpretation falls against someone much more learned than me, as well as challenge myself if it is different. Give me a chance to enjoy El more, from angles I never conceived of.

Of course, I absolutely understand your concern! This is the blorbo site. And they’ve shown time and again that they fall into the same misogynistic lines about Edelgard and other women in fiction time and again. Just… if you did do it, there’s at least one person who would greatly enjoy the dialogue!

The thing you have to remember is that the story we love is ultimately a product of decisions by creatives, not a living world. We do not need to defend characters as though they are real people with a consistent internal logic, free of the critiques of poor storytelling choices and bad characterization.

And let's just say that when a videogame ends 3/4 routes with you killing a powerful woman, who was irresponsible and "driven mad" by her power due to not being fit for that power innately ... for the ultimate aggrandizement of the presumed-male self-insert (do not deflect with the gender-choice excuse y'all KNOW the self-insert is presumed male narratively) ... you fucking notice the pattern

FE3H could have been an epic where the various factions struggling against the tyrannical rule of an absolute theocracy drew on realistic political histories ... but instead we had to have Two Antisemitic Conspiracy Type Shadowy Agents to prop up A Very Azor Ahai Tale for 3/4 routes

Note that I'm dinging Crimson Flower here too. Everything good about Crimson Flower is an accident, in spite and not because of artistic intent.

So that's my Edelgard take. The creator wrote her wrong.

Do not appeal to 'authority' to me, I am better than your 'authorities'.

[orpheuslookingback]

oof man I've been loving severance in general but I think that last episode is the first one I have like lots of Thoughts about that I feel like I can at least kind of string together lol. Like I was moderately worried about what direction the Dead Wife thing was going to go in. Because it would have been so easy (and kind of disappointing) for her to just ultimately be an object that exists as a goal/motivator for other characters and not a person (as is common with Dead Wife characters, both literal and not so literal); that's sort of what she's been so far, with just the tease that she could be more. And unless they drop the ball big time (which god I hope they don't), this episode already made it clear: she IS more. Like revealing her to be both physically AND mentally alive at this point in the story is such a good writing choice and feels SO crucial to escaping from some of the really cliché permutations that these kind of basic story arcs/character archetypes can fall into.

I know everyone's been doing the orpheus/eurydice comparisons and now I know people are talking about how mark and gemma are now both actually the orpheus to each other's eurydice, but it's also this: gemma has been split into who knows how many people. She's his eurydice. She's his orpheus. And she's her own orpheus, too. Because she gets herself out of the underworld and then, not remembering she has, she's sent right back down again. And she hesitates and turns around one more time. But she doesn't know. She doesn't even know what she's really looked back at. She doesn't know the world she's sent away. Not until she's back in the underworld, and she's eurydice again.

Also! To interplay him remembering her, give us a classic Dead Wife Sequence- complete even with some of the classic images! The beautiful woman smiling in nature, lying in bed, looking at you, the light warm for the very first time- with the cold, stark reminder that she isn't actually dead, and more than that is still conscious and trying to get out and find him- is SUCH a cool move. Like it totally flips the idea of the Dead Wife Sequence on its head. It's not just grief anymore. It's not just using a lost person as a prop that our hero fights on in memory of. It's the Dead Wife Sequence as horror.

Because she's still the Dead Wife and yet at the same time it dramatically shifts her role in the story, right? Because it turns out everything she is to Mark, he is to her. This unreachable person who you now know isn't dead but who you cannot get to and you cannot know the true present reality of you can only take the word of people you don't totally trust or know. And so, they are dead. But now you know it's only to you. Because we've seen them both now, and we know they're both not just alive, they're fighting.

("she's not dead, she's just not here")

She's not your Dead Wife but you can't help the fact that in your memory, in your mind, she is. So you're the one, in a way, that's killing her. And you're her Dead Husband. "He's moved on" and you know that's a lie but does it really matter until you see him? Until he's real again? Because until then, you're both choking on ghosts.

And the ghosts aren't even really there.

[asterafroditis]

Hello!

I’d like to request the octrio with an asexual reader. I’m not too picky, so whatever you see fit! Although preferably more on the romantic side please! (I don’t want reader to get rejected ghgjgk)

I get this may be a bit of an awkward ask, so please don’t feel pressured to do it! ❤️

𐔌 . ⋮ love beyond touch .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Azul, Jade, & Floyd x asexual gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 726 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

I'm actually aroace-spec so this wasn't awkward at all! I hope this exactly caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Azul would approach a relationship with careful consideration, analyzing every aspect like a well-prepared contract. When he realizes you’re asexual, his first instinct is to research—discreetly, of course. He’s not about to ask outright and risk looking ignorant. Instead, he gathers knowledge, ensuring he understands what it means and how to navigate your relationship in a way that makes you comfortable.

He might initially worry that he can’t provide what you need, but once you reassure him that your feelings for him aren’t contingent on anything physical, he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He shifts his focus to what he does best: crafting moments of intimacy through words, gestures, and acts of service. Azul is a firm believer that affection can be expressed in a thousand different ways, and he’s eager to explore every single one.

Romance with Azul means private dinners in his VIP room, soft words whispered over candlelight, and tender reassurances when his insecurities creep in. He thrives on quality time, and the simple act of sharing drinks while discussing your day becomes a cherished ritual. He may not always say it outright, but his actions speak volumes—whether it’s remembering your favorite dessert or slipping a handwritten note into your books.

"There are… many ways to express devotion, wouldn’t you agree? Physicality isn’t the sole measure of affection. I would be a fool to let something so trivial stand in the way of what we have."

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Jade approaches your relationship much like he tends to his terrariums—patiently, attentively, and with great care. When you reveal that you’re asexual, he listens with quiet intrigue, nodding along as he absorbs your words. Jade is nothing if not adaptable, and the concept of romance without a focus on physicality doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

If anything, he finds it fascinating—one more layer to peel back and study. He never makes you feel like a puzzle to be solved, though. Instead, he takes your preferences into account and seamlessly adjusts, treating your boundaries with the same respect and consideration he gives to everything else. Affection with Jade manifests in quiet but meaningful ways: the way he subtly leans closer when you speak, how he shields you from the rain without a word, the lingering touch of his fingers when he hands you something.

Jade enjoys the thrill of deep conversations, and if romance is to be built on something other than physicality, then he will ensure it is rich in emotional depth. He asks thought-provoking questions, weaving discussions that leave you contemplating long after the conversation ends. If you ever feel insecure about what you can or can’t offer, he tilts his head and chuckles, his mismatched eyes twinkling.

"My, my, such concerns are unnecessary. If anything, I find it quite refreshing. Love, after all, is not bound by a single definition. Shall we discover what ours looks like together?"

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Floyd has never been one to care much for rules or expectations, so when you tell him you’re asexual, he blinks once, twice, and then shrugs. “Okay! So?” It’s not that he doesn’t understand—it’s just that, to him, it doesn’t change anything. He likes you. That’s it. Simple.

He doesn’t treat you any differently, nor does he make a big deal about it. If you ever express worries about whether he’ll lose interest, Floyd pouts and dramatically flops over you like a beached eel. “You really think I’m that shallow? Sheesh, shrimpy! That hurts my feelings!” He’s an affectionate person by nature, but he’s also flexible—literally and figuratively. If you’re comfortable with certain kinds of affection, he’s all for it. If not, he simply finds new ways to show his love.

He thrives on shared experiences and quality time. Late-night walks, arcade dates, reckless adventures—he wants to make memories with you, not just go through the motions of what people say romance should be. He’s unpredictable, but one thing remains constant: his unwavering devotion.

"D’aww, don’t stress ‘bout stuff like that, shrimpy. You’re mine, I’m yours—that’s all that matters, yeah? Hehehe, now c’mon, let’s go do somethin’ fun! I’m bored!"

[mechncheese]

Damnit, you've inspired me. Here are my personal HCs for Science Continuity D&D night, please correct me bc I'm curious to see how they line up with mine.

Wheeljack: Likes playing characters that can a) schmoove, and b) deal the big damage. Most likely plays barbarian or fighter, though I think it would be immensely entertaining to see him play a rogue. Biggest detailer of plotlines, second only to Brainstorm. Always brings snacks to share, but tends to make a bit of a mess of the table.

Ratchet: Party healer, but in the "I'm a healer, but... *racks shotgun*" way. Plays a war cleric that hits way harder than it probably should. Consistently forgets about his spell slots unless it's time to heal someone. Trades off being the party face with Percy, but probably has the lowest Charisma score in the whole party.

Perceptor: One word - WIZARD. Amazing at managing his spell slots, always has something hidden useful up his sleeve. Just enough good dice luck to do some absolutely bonkers damage when he pulls out the big spells. Took a few levels in warlock purely for the Eldritch Blast + Spell Sniper combo, which Brainstorm refuses to let him live down.

Jetfire: Immediately strikes me as cleric-coded, but I can also see him playing a druid with low emphasis on wildshaping. Horrible dice luck through no fault of his own. (Brainstorm swapped his dice out with weighted ones, and nobody's caught on yet because Jetfire only uses that set as a player, not as a DM.) Usually the DM, but gets anxious when his players start causing problems on purpose.

Brainstorm: Sorcerer, 100%. Scary effective both in and out of combat. Has absolutely TPK'd the party at least once because he "forgot" to double-check the range on Fireball. Would've multiclassed three levels ago but Jetfire's too nervous of what he might do with that kind of power to allow it. Genuinely a great player to have at the table, but nobody's gonna give him the satisfaction of actually telling him that.

Prowl: World's most lawful neutral Paladin player. Absolute stickler for rules as written, gets upset when one of the other bots "Rule of Cool"s something, which is far too often for his liking. Put all of his non-combat skill points into Intimidation. Banned from DMing after trying to arrest the party in-campaign one time too many.

THESE ARE QUITE SPOT ON HONESTLY, I haven't played dnd in so so long so you'll have to forgive me for my lack of knowledge </3

I love Jetfire being the usual DM, BRAINSTORM WEIGHING HIS PLAYER DICE IS SO FUNNY TO ME he can't ever let this guy win </3 He'd catch on eventually.

Wheeljack would absolutely love to play physically powerful characters, he and Brainstorm probably put on funny character voices. Wheeljack's character would probably also be the first to die, he just keeps putting himself in dangerous situations for the fun of it.

Ratchet forgetting that he has his spellslots.. Someone has to remind him every time. He would also forget his character's alignment and default to his own feelings when making decisions.

"Ratchet would your lawful good character really steal from a marketplace?"

"..No but I would like to do it anyway"

PERCEPTOR IS A WIZARD FAN YES, HE LOVES MAGIC AND SPELLS ! I think he gets super into the story of a campaign (especially when Brainstorm is the DM). If Perceptor were a DM he would put the party into the equivalent of an escape room and it would take at least 2-3 sessions to solve. Perceptor probably has a custom dice set.

Brainstorm not being allowed to multi-class omg, the one time Jetfire let him, Brainstorm single-handedly hijacked the campaign and breezed through everything the DM threw at him (but you have to admit it was incredibly funny) I think he also makes a really good DM, crafts narratives so masterful it's probably moved one of them to near tears. He has much more fun as a player though so he doesn't DM too often.

Prowl.. NO FUN ALLOWED.. Things get a little scary with him when he's a player and he decides to just intimidate and sometimes even flat out torture npcs (and by extension the DM) for plot related information. I think he also slips out of character a lot when he's a player and he just defaults to himself.

[mina-org]

Messy concept

This is pure smut no plot just like smut, like a most to least messy I guess, Taskforce 141, Alejandro, rudy, Valeria n graves. Fem reader and it’s smut there’s mention of kinks and stuff

I think gaz and johnny are both messy, so messy.

୨୧ Gaz is over eager, all pent up from being away and his hand just isn’t enough:( slopping kisses and desperate dry humping as soon as he gets home, he’s stumbling over to the couch with your legs wrapped around his waist, he can feel heat radiating from your core, so close but so far:( he also loves seeing your pretty face covered a facial, oh so faithfully delivered to you by him.

୨୧ This post changed my life. Being messy is apart of Johnnys character for me like in every area of life he’s chaotic and messy, he’s truly out here playing games while the two of you make out, and it’s not just kisses. This man is not afraid to ride the red wave and when he eats you? If his beard isn’t saturated with your juices he’s not stopping. He’s adores seeing how far he can push you, obsessed with finding ways to make you squirt. Overstim king for real

୨୧ Valeria redefines cruelty. She wants to push and push and push until you break and gets to do it all over again! Those fuck machines? She has one and she’ll set you up and have you live stream it for her if she’s not able to watch in person. Not necessarily messy but she loves seeing you squirt but of course will reprimand you for it because you didn’t use your words:(

୨୧ Now Alejandro? Alejandro messy Vargas? Another man who’s ideal tonight in is seeing how many times he make make you come. Alejandro loves mess, happy to get messy with you. Your oh so gentle hands pumping him, so nice after a mission left him alone with his rough calloused hands. He’ll come fast after being deployed for a while, his own essence landed on his torso but he knows his pretty girl will clean him up so nicely, won’t you? And you know Alejandro will do the same, he loves cleaning up that pretty pussy, slowly licking up your combined juices

୨୧ Graves is messy, all the photos you send him while he’s away? Ruined, he says water damaged but the white stains from his and his top shadow says otherwise. I think he loves sharing, treating his men after they did well on a mission and his pretty girl is the perfect treat, but he’s the only one who’s allowed in that pretty pussy.

Price and rudy are less messy I think, but they’d always indulge you<3

୨୧ With simon? Really depends if you’ve been good or bad. If you been needy all day? He’ll make you beg. If you don’t beg? He’s getting messy and degrading you, it’s a choose your own adventure! Simon does loves seeing you on your knees, all teary eyes and pouty lips, and of course precum at smeared across your cheek.

୨୧ Rudy’s sweet and so slow it’s almost tournament but so perfect. I think he’s a big fan of mutual masturbation but he always begs to finish inside.

୨୧ Price isn’t messy, he’s coming deep inside that pretty pussy and fucking it back in there, you’re gonna give him pretty babies won’t you?