#anyway i'm about to have company over so i will stew on it for now

[talentforlying]

kind of want to change my icon for the Aesthetic but i love my little man in the shadows.

[charmercharm3r]

Can I make a request? Lee Know being a soft dom and possessive with a brat gf. They had an argument, but later meet up at an event. She wore a shoooort dress that barely covers her butt just to get to him and she gets punished when the get home. The brain rot is real >.<

I'm so sorry this took almost a month...it's been a loooong December. hopefully this is worth the wait!

Angels in Bodycons

LMH

Masterlist

wc: 5.2k

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, dom!minho, angry sex?, orgasm denial, use of toys, handcuffs, masturbation (m), cumshots, reader is a brat, mean nicknames (slut), jealousy?, also fluff sprinkled in there

-

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” Minho wasn’t budging. It was the same argument about the same dress every time. He loved it and despised it, the glossy black satin was perfectly shaped to your body and bunched slightly at the hips, accentuating your curves. The sweetheart neckline was lined with lace, he couldn’t pry his eyes away. The only other place he ventured to stare at was the decreasing length, your legs completely exposed and your ass just barely covered. Which was the exact reason Minho refused to let you leave the house wearing it.

“You’re sounding a bit possessive there, babe. It’s my body.” You weren’t supposed to be getting ready for another few hours, hair messy and face bare as you reached into your top to adjust your breasts so they filled the cups nicer.

Minho was supposed to be attending another red carpet event and he was allowed a plus one— not that anyone knew. Dating in his profession is, after all, forbidden. No one needed to know anyways, but having to keep you a secret made him all the more anxious to bring you with him. He couldn’t hold your hand or sling an arm around your waist when someone was getting just a bit too close. Being dressed moderately was the one thing he asked of you during times like these.

“No, it’s our body. Because you’re mine,” he stood from his spot on the bed, coming up behind you and kissing your cheek. Just as he did, he slyly unzipped the back of your dress.

The sweet gesture was just a diversion from his words that you processed a second too late. He was already making his way into the bathroom when you spoke again. “My body is my body, Min.” Bathroom door just slightly ajar, you knew he could hear you.

You stepped out of the dress and hung it, displaying it on the bedroom door. “Sure, of course it’s your body, baby,” he called back. “But this is a big event. I don’t want you to embarrass me by wearing something that looks like you just walked out of a love motel.”

Goosebumps raised against your bare skin, temperature suddenly running hot even though you were just in panties and a bra. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin by his words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Your voice raised.

Minho kicked the bathroom door open a bit wider, barely peeking at you from over his shoulder as he picked up his shaving cream and razor. “Don’t make that face. You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t,” you crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed now. “Explain it to me in a way my tiny hooker mind can understand.”

“I never said you were—“

“You didn’t have to.”

“Babe, c’mon. I don’t have time for this now. You know how I feel about the dress. End of story.”

He continued on with his routine, mumbling something about having to get to the company for hair and makeup before going to the event. You sat in your shared bed with the covers up to your neck, almost stewing in petty anger. The conversation about the dress ended the same way every time, there was no winning when Minho was this stubborn.

The goosebumps didn’t fade as you watched him scurry around grabbing what he needed. His words replayed in your mind and only added to your growing temperament. It made you feel small, humiliated, and self conscious. Is that really what he thought of you? Was that the real reason he didn’t want to be seen in public with you?

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with me now? If we get there early, they might have time to do your makeup, too.” Minho offered as he slipped on his shoes.

You hadn’t moved an inch since covering up in bed. “No. Don’t want your hooker girlfriend to embarrass you.” He stopped dead in his movements, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“Please, Y/N. You’re not a hooker and you‘re not an embarrassment.”

He was about ready to leave when you muttered to yourself in anger, “not an embarrassment ‘cus I technically don’t exist.”

“I heard that.” Entirely fed up, Minho almost walked out the door right then. But even through his negative emotions, he made his way to the bedroom to see you off. Coming up to your side of the bed, he leaned in to kiss you. When you didn’t kiss him back, Minho clicked his tongue and grumbled, “fine. Don’t bother coming if you’re going to be like that. See if I care.” And he left.

It had been hours since you last spoke to your boyfriend. Fighting with him was the one thing you hated most, it was tiring and unnecessary. But this was an ongoing issue. If he hated the dress that much, he would’ve thrown it away and not told you. Instead, he ogles you in it and promises to rip it off your body while simultaneously threatening to burn it if you dared to wear it outside the confines of your house. His last parting words sparked what would be the beginning of your worst idea yet.

Pretty, coquette-esque makeup, hair neatly styled, the only thing missing was your dress. The one Minho specifically wanted shredded called out to you. It was screaming for you to put it on and see if he cares. That’s exactly what you did.

You showed up to the event in the dress, adding some sheer tights for the littlest bit of decency possible. You disregarded all the looks you got from strangers as you entered the building and did as told so that you could get in as an artist plus one. Contrary to Minho’s thoughts on the dress, his stylists had another opinion. Befriending them back when you first started dating had since boosted your ego exponentially, they were always kind and supportive. Especially now as you spotted them along the side of the large ceremonial room. You stuck with them, talking about anything and everything as you scanned the crowd. “He’s over there,” one of them mentioned, motioning with her eyes towards your boyfriend and his group members.

They were huddled around their table like a pack of high school boys, laughing amongst themselves when one of them tossed a half empty water bottle into the air and landed straight up. On the far side of the table that faced you, you made eye contact with Chan, who discreetly nudged your boyfriend next to him. Minho shot his head in the direction of his friend's eyes and landed on you. For a moment, he smiled brightly. Then his gaze tracked down and the smile faded. Slumping back in his chair you could see him purse his lips and tongue at his cheek in annoyance.

The displeased expression on his face made you feel vulnerable, heart shaking in your chest a little as you nervously tug the end of the dress down. Perhaps the sudden change in your attitude drew too much attention, the same stylist put her hand on your shoulder and said sweetly, “you look good. Don’t worry about him.” You gave her an apologetic smile.

It was a few more hours of mingling with the hair and makeup group, whom you’d grown accustomed to hanging out with at these events. The few of you found an open table and were chit chatting when someone came up behind you, leaning over your shoulder and saying, “hi, are you new? I’ve never seen you around before.”

The voice was one you didn’t recognize, turning to find a man. He didn’t seem to be dressed as the other idols in flashy clothes but rather a simple dark blue suit. He introduced himself and took the empty seat next to you. Over the course of a few minutes of talking to him, you found out he was a stylist for another group, to which your friends welcomed him happily.

What you didn’t see was your boyfriend boring holes into the back of your head from across the room. If anyone outside of your group had any idea of your relationship, they’d see the steam coming out of his ears.

By the time the end of the night rolled around, you’d only glanced at Minho a handful, each time he was already looking at you with clear anger. The male stylist next to you leaned over to you once more and whispered, “you look amazing.”

Your eyes went wide for a moment, caught off guard. An unknown blush creeped upon your cheeks, “thank you,” was all you’d said in response.

But Minho could see everything. He could see the stranger lingering a little too closely for a little too long, he could see your lips smiling and moving overly enthusiastically, he could see you getting flustered at whatever it was the man was telling you. He watched your little group stand and start to leave for the night. The man put his hand on the small of your back and stayed by your side until it was time for you to part ways. In the minute it took to say goodbye, you never once adjusted the length of your dress, ass practically on display for the entirety of the industry to see. 

All the while, Minho did his best to keep a cool demeanor. But his friends were walking too slow for his liking, ultimately taking the lead and striding perhaps a bit too fast for any normal idol to be taking when parting the spotlight.

You were still conversing with some of the other staff when the group walked into the lounge room. Already stripping off his costume blazer, Minho silently made his way over to you and handed the coat to the stylist, shooing her away as politely as he possibly could in the heat of his anger. “Hey baby,” you whispered, smiling sweetly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He backed you against the wall, keeping his voice low.

“Supporting you? Talking with my friends?” You tilted your head up, “you look great, so cute in white.” The tips of your fingers played with the hem of his button up.

Minho grabbed your hand to stop your fidgeting, gaze hard on your face and dead serious. It was hard to keep up the playful attitude when you could feel the heat of his feverish skin. Your smile faded, meeting his stare. Subconsciously you pulled down the hem of your dress, arms coming up to cover your chest. The way he was looking at you now wasn’t your boyfriend, it wasn’t loving or sweet— instead replaced with exasperation and a bone chilling void that took over his usual warm eyes. He didn’t need to say anything else, only barely furrowing his eyebrows and letting the grip on your hand loosen slightly.

He didn’t need to say anything else when you moved towards his spare change of clothes and took his hoodie and draped it over yourself. He didn’t need to say anything as you pulled your dress down as far as it would go. He didn’t need to say anything as you waited for him to be allowed to leave and ordered a cab as soon as possible. Even as the two of you made your way home in silence, his hands in his lap but knees laid against yours, Minho didn’t say anything. 

The walk from the outside of your building up to your front door felt both too slow and not slow enough, the bubbling nervousness in your gut as your boyfriend threw his keys onto the coffee table and ran a hand through his neatly styled hair finally burst. Word vomit.

“I— I know you’re mad and I’m sorry for not doing as you wanted but I don’t regret wearing the dress. You might not like me in it but I felt pretty for once! In a room full of beautiful people, I felt pretty and I felt confident, then you look at me like you’re disgusted by me and it makes me feel like shit. But damn it, I felt pretty. So I’m sorry for embarrassing you but I’m not sorry for feeling pretty.” No, not word vomit. Completely and utter annihilation of any waning conviction you might’ve had.

By the time you’d caught your breath, Minho was standing with his hands crossed over his chest and eyes blinking blankly at you. He didn’t even so much as breathe loud enough for you to hear. Silence. Deafening silence.

“Say something,” you pleaded, voice cracking as your throat burned and eyes stung with pressing tears.

But Minho didn’t. Instead, he dropped his eyes down from your face towards your chest that was covered by his hoodie. In a blink, he was standing before you in the middle of your living room and was stripping the garment away. Hardly touching you, his hands spun you by the waist to turn around, gently peeling the straps off your shoulders and unzipping the dress. When it fell to the floor, he moved onto the stockings, taking hold of the waistband and ripping the flimsy material in half so it joined the pile at your feet.

You stood there quiet and self conscious. You knew he was looking at you, up and down, arms coming to cover your bare chest once again. The lacy black panties did extremely little to hide the remaining parts of you, your legs pressing together.

“You think,” Minho’s gentle voice whispered in your ear, “I'm disgusted by you?” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, only nodding and shutting your eyes tightly.

“Stupid baby,” tone of voice mockingly sweet, your skin raising goosebumps as he reached around to caress your forearms. The feeling of his shirt against your naked back made you tense up, but also fold at the heat of his body behind yours. “You were the most beautiful one in the room.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours, slowly pulling your hands away from your chest to leave you entirely exposed. Your breathing became more labored as he let you go only to trail his fingers back up your arm towards your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. You almost let your guard down at how kind he was being, shuddering when you felt his lips pressing at the junction of your shoulder. And in a split second, Minho tugged your head back by the roots of your hair and latched onto your neck with his teeth. It made you gasp and emit a broken groan.

You could do nothing but ball up your fists and arch your back into him, do nothing but take the harshness of his bruising teeth. The few seconds he’d take to lap his tongue over the raw skin would transmit into his grip in your hair by pulling tighter. His free hand came back between your legs, hooking his fingers under the thin strap covering your cunt and pulling hard. The arousal-soaked fabric rubbed at your clit, not nearly enough for pleasure but just enough for minor relief. There were so many things happening at once, your brain felt hazy and it was only getting cloudier. You didn’t realize you were rutting your hips into nothing but the tightened panties until he let go, moving to tug you by the hip flush against his. Ass slamming into his clothed erection, your brain screamed at you to stay still, stay still and maybe he’ll be nice.

No, you couldn’t. Adrenaline was coursing through your body and it took over your foggy, horny brain. You rubbed against his crotch, hoping to entice him into taking them off. But he didn’t, all Minho did was let you writhe in his grasp and tease yourself over his clothes. Then, raising his hand from your hip, it came back down and collided with your skin. Your back bent at an almost bone breaking angle. He did it again, and once more, slapping the same reaction out of you until you were gasping for air.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tie you up and punish you until you're begging me to stop.”

His breath was hot against your cheek, if you were just a bit more in your head you wouldn’t have caught that his chest was heaving as heavily as yours.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

Minho clicked his tongue, “not good enough, princess.”

Like on a leash he tugged you in the direction of your bedroom behind him, being thrown into the center of the bed and taking off your panties. Instantly, he stole the garment from you and dangled it from the tip of his finger. Minho loomed over you from the edge of the bed, tall and daunting. In a whisper, “are you sure you want this?” Following his eyes to the panties, you nodded shyly. “I need you to use your words, baby. I’m angry but I don’t want to hurt you… too much. So speak while I’m still letting you.”

Sitting up on your elbows and legs spreading, “I want this.” An unreadable smirk disguised as deviance and mischief crept upon his face.

“I won’t stop. You know the word.”

The word in question; catnip– because why else would you be thinking about catnip while he was torturing you unless it became too much? Or three taps onto him or any hard surface that could get his attention. Minho didn’t need to repeat the safeword aloud for you to know what he meant.

When you nodded, he walked around the side of the bed purposefully. He still towered over you as he reached down to caress your cheek, the only moment of saccharine he’d shown you since that morning before he left. And in a split second, the same hand wrapped around the back of your neck and your panties were being shoved into your mouth. The taste of your arousal was more of a turn on than you’d ever care to admit, but Minho knew you liked it. He knew your limits and had every intention of pushing you to the very brink.

Cunt still exposed, mouth full, you watched and waited as your boyfriend reached under the bed for his black box of goodies. He shook it in his hands, the rattling of toys only making your pussy clench in anticipation. Warmth shot through you as he dug around in it, eventually finding what he was looking for and tilting his head in your direction. “You’ve pushed it too far tonight, princess. Don’t these look too appealing?” The clinging of his favorite gadget made your eyes grow wide. Shiny silver handcuffs, not even lined because he enjoyed being able to reminisce.

Minho dangled them the same way he did your panties then unlocked them, setting the key onto the bedside table. Still fully clothed, he manhandled you onto your stomach and hiked your ass into the air. He was rough in the way he forced your head into the mattress and locked your arms behind your back. There was hardly any room for your wrists to move without the cuffs digging into your skin, only enough to not cut the circulation. Even though he explicitly said he wouldn’t go easy, it wasn’t until you tried to tug on the bondage did it really sink in how badly you’d fucked up tonight.

He’d left you in this compromising position for a split second and left the room, coming back with your dress in hand. You could see him over your shoulder toss it onto the lounge chair in the corner of the room that was perfectly placed in your line of vision. Wordlessly, Minho reached into the black box again, not allowing you to see what he pulled out. But you couldn’t take the silence anymore, attempting to speak but muffled by the panties in your mouth. With a sigh, he pulled the gag from your mouth for just a moment.

“Say what you wanna say. Last chance.” He peered at you with shadowed eyes, not entirely the same way he did in the dressing room but nowhere near your boyfriend’s usual kind demeanor. Stoic, stern, horny beyond belief but the need to prove a point much greater than the straining in his pants.

“Talk to me.” Your voice cracked, weary but prepared for whatever he had in store. Minho’s eyes softened for just a second. “Please. Talk to me.” He nodded just once before gently pushing the panties back into your mouth.

The buzzing sound of a vibration filled the tense room, your ass swaying in the air in response. It was completely involuntary, you were no stranger to those sounds. It made you clench around nothing again, cunt puffy and untouched and so desperate.

Without warning, Minho shoved the vibrator into your clit, dull thrum just enough to make your body jolt forward and push your face further into the sheets. Your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, the stimulation already proving to be more than you anticipated. In fact, it was hardly anything, Minho was hardly giving you anything and yet you were mewling like a cat in heat.

He stood on his knees behind you, caging your legs between his as he held the toy. “Close your legs, slut.” His voice was rough, condescending as he forced your legs shut with his own and entrapping the toy between them. The nickname made you shiver along with the added vibrations throughout your lower half. “If you let go, you won’t be cumming tonight.”

He wanted you to hold the vibrator between your legs, but it was already becoming more difficult to do, especially when he raised the speed by two. It was slightly more than a thrum now, making your muscles clench and body twitch. 

You moaned into the fabric, blinking away the painful and pleasurable tears. Minho moved towards the seat with your dress, turning his back to you and picking it up. “Why can’t you just listen to me? Why do you make me punish you?” The sound of his zipper opening and fumbling fabric stood out between your own lewd moans.

Neck and shoulders already aching, you tried to get a better look at him but as you moved the vibrator shifted. It pressed into your clit at a different angle, a better angle that had your body going stiff at the coil tightening in your gut.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare,” Minho ordered, slumping onto the chair. His cock was out, pants down his thighs and your dress in hand. “Keep looking at me, princess.” The vibrations started to feel stronger and not enough at the same thing, the constant stimulation leading you down a dangerous path.

“You’re always pretty– always so damn pretty it hurts.” You did your best to breathe and force your orgasm back, but your request for him to keep speaking made it hard. Slowly, his free hand came down to his dick, just holding it straight up and tightening his grip around the base. “Do you know how hard it is,” Minho reached down to his balls, “to watch you be so pretty and I can’t do a damn thing about it?”

Bringing your dress to his nose, he inhaled deeply, then exhaled and his eyes rolled closed. “And you smell so good. I bet that guy could smell you, too. I almost yelled across the room to get him to back up.” You watched as he stroked his cock slowly, up and down while your body spasmed in restrained pleasure. “I saw the way you blushed, princess. Did he compliment you? Is that where all that fake courage to talk back to me came from?”

The sudden surge of your high nearing made you whine louder, but fell upon deaf ears as Minho continued. “Yeah, that’s what it was. You’re a little praise slut. My praise slut. Do I not make you feel pretty, angel?” Fending off your orgasm and answering him was the hardest thing you’d faced so far, shaking your head and your muffled words turning into a whimper. “No, I treat you so well. The one time I ask you not to do something, you do it anyway. This fucking dress. You looked so gorgeous tonight.” You moaned louder, unable to stop the tears from seeping into the mattress as he started to twist his wrist faster.

If you weren’t gagged, Minho would’ve heard you begging like your life depended on it. With how intent he was at keeping eye contact, it very well could’ve. You struggled to keep your body up and the cuffs jingled every time you attempted to pull your wrist apart. Every time your orgasm passed, it rose quicker the next time around. You were stuck in a torturous state of give, give, give, deny. Repeat.

A grin washed across your boyfriend’s face as he watched your muscles tighten to fight the high. He was proud that you even lasted this long, and usually he would never tell you that, opting to show you. But he learned something new when your toes curled as he called you beautiful again. “Never gonna let you wear this fucking dress again,” his hand around his cock sped up, heaving in your lingering scent on the fabric.

Through gritted teeth and the taste of your arousal licked gone, you managed to coherently whimper, “please.”

A loud chuckle rumbled in Minho’s chest as he stood, taking the dress with him to stand at the side of the bed just out of reach– not that you could’ve touched him anyways.

“Asking so nicely after being a brat all fucking night.” The pace of his hand moved subconsciously at the same as your body writhed. “Will you be good? If I let you cum, will you be my good princess again?” You nodded furiously. He laughed, “yeah, you will. Because you’re mine. Your pretty little cunt is mine.”

You tugged at the cuffs harder, using all your strength to keep you from falling over while Minho thrusted into his hand, keeping your dress pressed to his nose. Another repressed orgasm faded and you had lost count of how many passed. You were humiliated, overstimulated, exhausted, sweaty, and touch deprived. To top it all off, your boyfriend was still making fun of you. And you couldn’t even hate it. You couldn’t be mad because it was exactly what you wanted despite feeling all those things.

His cock twitched in his hand, so close to release. Minho reached over and pulled the panties from your mouth, a string of spit following as he tossed it to the floor. Even with the new freedom, you didn’t speak, not wanting to disobey again.

Teeth biting into his bottom lip, Minho moaned, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you. L– love you more than anything.” It was as true as true can be, but it didn’t ease the now painful knot in your stomach tightening, already knowing you won’t be able to cut it loose.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, only yours. I belong to you,” your voice was as shaky as the vibrator pressed to your raw bundle of nerves.

He seemed to like that answer, his hand tightening and focusing on the tip, swiping the precum with his thumb and spreading it around. “You belong to me,” Minho mimicked, “I own this dress. I own you. Only I get to ruin you like I’m going to ruin your slutty little dress.”

“Please, ruin me.”

The tears and drool made your face glossy, enough to push him over the edge, muttering the permission for you to cum just as he did. Minho took one step closer to you, holding the dress beneath his cock as his warm release shot onto your back. The raw crashing orgasm made your body burn white hot, vision go blank, and all your muscles lock. The vibrator dropped from between your legs, unable to take anymore. The second you relaxed, Minho used the key to free you from the cuffs. Every inch of your body was sensitive to the touch, even more when Minho used the dress to clean his cum off your skin. It made you shiver.

Minho fell to his knees as you toppled to the side, finally face to face. His cheeks were decorated with blush, eyes warm brown that were swimming with adoration. “Did so good, princess,” he whispered, kissing your cheek and brushing your sweaty hair from your face.

He knew not to touch you just yet, still too sensitive for anything other than a few kisses. While your body recovered, Minho stripped his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, tossing the soiled dress along with it. He gathered wet wipes, water, and icy-hot balm for your muscles. By the time he returned, you wanted nothing more than to hold him, eyes closed and still reaching out blindly for him.

“Min,” you dreamily called out, feeling his presence enter the bedroom again.

“I’m here,” he came over to your side again, placing everything on the nightstand and putting the toys to the side for cleaning later. You only groaned and reached out for him again, feeling his hand in your palm and attempted to pull him closer. “Hold on, baby. Let me wipe you down. It’s gonna be cold.” You didn’t even bother bracing yourself, knowing how warm your body ran that after the initial shock, it’d feel good. And you were right. The coolness of the wet wipe was soothing against your raw pussy, almost moaning again at the sensation. Minho laughed, finishing his duties and moving on to making you hydrate after a few minutes of you fighting him on just letting you sleep.

“One more thing. C’mon, you can do it.” His words of encouragement made you fold and let him maneuver you onto your back. You heard the icy-hot bottle open and close, then the bed dipping between your legs and his big hands gently taking hold of your thighs. The slick of the gel made his gliding palms smooth and the tingling feeling easing your tight muscles.

“You really make me feel like a princess,” you mumbled, half way towards sleep. Minho chuckled at your tired expression, bending over and pressing kisses to your stomach. As he finished his routine and climbed into bed next to you, you found the energy to speak again. “I’ll never wear the dress again. And I’m sorry.”

Arm curling over your torso, Minho pulled you closer, back against his chest. He hummed and peppered kisses over your shoulder and neck, “yeah, it’s kinda wrecked now anyways. I’m sorry, too.”

Sleepily giggling, you rolled over and nuzzled into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was comforting. Minho held you as gently as possible, but the lingering worry that he was still upset kept you awake. Through the haze, you prodded the subject.

“We’re good?”

“Oh angel,” he responded immediately, arm coming up to hold your head against his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair, “we’re always good.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

hi kiaa!! i hope youre doing good and school is going good too :) dont overwork yourself pls girl 😩❤️

since requests are open i figured id come and request something!! how would the assassins (altair, ezio, connor, arno, and jacob) react to the reader being extremely sick? how would they take care of the reader? would they be scared of catching the sickness? etc etc. ❤️

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: yeee, uni's been fine! i'm done until september now so all I really have to do is pray I've passed all my modules (looking at you, spanish and latin american culture and italian history) and do my summer reading for next year's modules <3 and i make sure to never overwork myself on my blog! i really like what i do here anyway so i can manage lots of writing hehe 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: altaïr, ezio, connor, arno, jacob 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍��𝐒: very slight angst in Jacob's part

｡･:*˚:✧｡ altaïr ibn-la'ahad

♡ Altaïr takes a break from his work to look after you. When he knows you'll do alright on your own for a while, he'll go out to train for a few hours to stay in shape but that and cooking meals for you are the only times he'll be leaving your side.

♡ he'll do everything he can to keep your temperature normal whether it's tenderly wiping down your body with a cool, damp cloth while another is folded over your forehead or he's having to bundle you up with blankets while he spoon feeds you, he'll stay by your side to keep you company and will be reading books while you rest.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ezio auditore

♡ Ezio brings in whatever doctors he can find to look after you but he'll be hovering around in the meantime to make sure they're treating you well and being careful (he'll honestly treat you like you're made of glass).

♡ he'll stay by your side for as long as possible and even if he has to leave you in Claudia's or a doctor's care for the day, he's in the kitchen in the evening cooking meals that Maria taught him to make and then sitting on the edge of your bed to feed them to you while he asks how you've been and he tells you about his day.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ratonhnaké:ton | connor kenway

♡ Ratonhnhaké:ton will treat you himself for as much is in his ability to before he goes into town to call out a doctor to see you. He'll diligently follow any perscriptions that you're given and he'll put almost everything on hold to look after you. He grew up without a father, he lost his mother and his whole village - he's not going to lose you too.

♡ he'll make sure you get enough fresh air, enough water, enough to eat. He'll be making herbal concoctions for you to help you heal faster. He just wants to see you better again.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ arno dorian

♡ he calls in the best doctors he can right away. He doesn't want to leave your side and he'll take some time away from the brotherhood is he has to. He'll cook for you, light meals like soups or stews that are easier for you to eat in your current state.

♡ he'll read to you but he keeps his distance a little. He doesn't want the both of you to get sick because then he won't be able to look after you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ jacob frye

♡ Jacob's never really been good at the caretaker role. Even when he was younger and Evie was ill, their father was the one to look after her while he was just left to his own devices. Jacob would always notice that he didn't receive the same level of emotional care from his father when he fell ill though.

♡ so, he calls in a doctor/nurse and follows all the instructions they give him to look after you. He doesn't care if he gets ill too, he'll cuddle with you and chat with you and he'll even sing quietly to you while cooling your forehead with a damp cloth or bundling you up in blankets. He'll basically care for you in every way he's advised and then in every way he noticed Evie got but he didn't from their father but he always wanted. He doesn't want you to feel the way he did.

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[erisxdrifter]

Fuck anonymous, please give us loving smack talk as both guide the guardian through some mission. Please?

Lololol omg, we need more of this type of content in-game 😂 Their smack talk in missions is always hilarious. Thank you so much for this request, hope you love it!

"Guardian. Thank you for taking the time to finalize this patrol. I will be guiding you through it." Eris's voice spoke from over the comms as the Guardian ran through a long and winding tunnel on the Moon, continuing deeper and deeper through the caves in search of Hive to kill.

  "And I'll be taggin' along too." Came the Drifter's crackly voice, joining Eris's over the signal.

  "Rat. I did not invite you to this mission, and I do not recall the Guardian doing so either."

  "No, you didn't, but I figured my company would be appreciated."

  The Guardian countinued to traverse deeper through the dark caves, running at a dangerously high speed which countinued to risk the possibility of them running face first into a rock.

  "And why would you assume such a thing?" Came Eris's voice.

  "Aww- Moondust! You know you enjoy my company. No need to pretend otherwise."

  "This matter is best left spoken of in private, Drifter." Eris replied, ending their current conversation as the Guardian found and shot a Hive scout.

  The Guardian spotted another two Hive scouts a moment later, along with a Knight. They shot a number of rounds at the scouts first, taking them both down in a matter of seconds before rolling out of the way of the Knights oncoming bullets. They ducked behind a large boulder, pulling out their sniper and peeking over the edge. When they got the Knight in view through the large scope, the Guardian took their shot, shooting until the Knight had fallen over dead.

  "Great work, Hero!" The Drifter congratulated them.

  "Drifter, what are you doing now?" Eris asked him.

  "Uhh, makin' lunch. You wanna come over?"

  "No. I'm sure you are cooking some manner of repulsing creature." Eris's voice held a tinge of disgust.

  "Nah, I'm cookin' up a stew. Remember how much you liked my last one?" The Drifter asked.

  "It was surprisingly good." Eris admitted. "What are the ingredients of the one you cook currently?"

  "Hah! The Guardians down there shootin' Hive and we're sittin' here talkin' about food." The Drifter laughed to himself. "Anyway, there's chicken, chopped up celery and onions, and then some dumplings. Sure you'd like it, Moondust."

  "It... sounds quiet appetizing."

  "Yeah... smells pretty good, too." The Drifter said. "Woah, hey now, the Guardians doin' great. I dare say they've already cleared out half that cave. Hah!"

  "Indeed, you do well Guardian." Eris told them as they fired some more rounds at the nearby Hive. "Your assistance in these matters is always greatly appreciated."

  "Yeah, yeah, keep on congratulating the Guardian, but never tell me I do a good job..." The Drifter said with mock gloom.

  "Jealous, are you?" Eris asked, amusement in her voice.

  "Maybe..."

  "You would not agree that the Guardian deserves congratulations?" Eris asked as the Guardian took down another Hive Knight.

  "Oh, no. They deserve congratulatin' all right, that's a fact. I just wish you'd tell me I do a good job more."

  "Then perhaps you should do more that warrants congratulating, Germaine." Eris spoke, almost affectionately.

  "I picked up the Derelict for you." He pointed out.

  "And that is something you should do even when I am not coming to visit." Eris told him. "Though, I do appreciate your consideration of my thoughts. The Derelict does look tidier."

  "Heh... thank you, thats all I wanted." Then softer, as if he was hoping he wouldn't be heard, the Drifter said, "I'll dish up the food in a minute,"

  The Guardian countinued shooting, making the Hive fall one by one, while they dodged their oncoming bullets.

  "Yes, yes." Came Eris's impassioned voice. "Make them fall, make them feel the pain and suffering they have afflicted upon us!"

  "Yeesh, your intense, Moondust. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

  "You have been on my bad side many a time." Eris pointed out.

  "And lived to tell the tale, can you believe that?" He laughed. "Anyway, here's your bowl Eris." His voice was soft again, but the Guardian still heard every word.

  "Thank you." Was Eris's equally quiet reply.

  The Guardian began to shoot at a Hive Wizard, breaking it's shield in a matter if seconds.

  "Whoo!" The Drifter let out when the Guardian successfully took down the Wizard. "Feels almost like Gambit. You should come by, Hero, I'll double your rewards if you'll kill a Wizard by yourself in the first round."

  "Rat, now is not the time for making deals and wagers. The Guardian needs to focus."

  "Alright, fine."

  The Guardian filled the next few moments of silence with the sound of gunshots firing and knives swishing by through the air.

  "The soup is good, Germaine. Thank you." Eris spoke softly.

  "My pleasure, Moondust. I figured you'd like it, glad you came over to have a bite."

  "Indeed." Then returning to normal volume, Eris said, "wonderful work, Guardian. This will surely aid in keeping the Hive population back."

  "And don't forget about Gambit, alright? I always need more Motes." The Drifter jumped in.

  "Last I saw, you seemed to have plenty." Eris interjected.

  "Eh, still always need more." He replied. Then back to the Guardian, "but, uh, I'm gonna be busy for a little while right now. Just drop by later if you wanna take up my offer, yeah?"

  "Indeed, thank you, Guardian, for you much needed assistance. The Drifter and I will be going now."

  The Guardian shrugged off the questions they had pertaining to Eris and the Drifter's strange vagueness, and instead moved on to using their party emote, before heading back up into orbit. 

[pyropsychiccollector]

Ace Attorney: IF (...Part 1)

With all the recent Asks about AAI... I feel inspired enough to dust off some plot bunnies that have been stewing in the back of my head for easily a decade now. Hell, I did begin posting a story for it back in the day... But because the second game wasn't released internationally, and perhaps because my writing left much to be desired, the story didn't make that much of a splash. And I never made it very far because I only had a handful of vague ideas.

... By the way, if you haven't heard the AAI Collection soundtrack, it's a banger. Really. (人◕ω◕)

At any rate, I had some ideas relating to Simon Keyes and the Faraday Clan. I feel like there's some serious potential here because of how close in time the KG-8 and SS-5 incidents were on the timeline (10 years ago and 12 years ago, respectively). I wouldn't feel very good if I just removed all the hardship Simon went through as a child, and I'm a sucker for redemption stories anyway~... Or stories that avert someone from a dark path, like vergilsama922's Hope Universe has done. (人◕ω◕)

I'll get this out of the way: I don't imagine I'll go very far beyond what I post here. Ace Attorney is a fun franchise, but given the usual demographic they seem to aim for, the recurring characters at the very least aren't as fleshed out (looking at you, Blue Hedgehog Attorney). I'll touch on the ideas I have in mind, and I won't dive too much into "howdunit" for certain legal developments. Because as @vergilsama922 would tell you, Ace Attorney might just embellish legal procedures and due process. Just a teeny-weeny bit. Especially the usual judge... Ohh, Vergil loves that old man. (人◕ω◕);;

Instead I'll focus on the plot points and a bit of character relationships. If I skip ahead in time a fair amount, that would be why. I don't expect this to be too extensive because they're just ideas. I don't mind expanding on some points if asked... But I also don't expect this post to get past a handful of notes and feedback. Feel free to prove or disprove me, I just know that generally Ace Attorney content doesn't get much love unless the writer focuses on the ships. ... Which this post will not be doing. Just so you don't get your hopes too high.

And also, Ace Attorney Investigations content is woefully underloved. That's another aspect. Consequence of being a spinoff despite the second game being narratively superior than most main line games. What I wouldn't give to have Ray Shields over the Blue Hedgehog.... I mean, I would've gladly taken Mia, of course. But Ray is still with us, and he's only 36... C'monnn, who doesn't love a more seasoned attorney? (人◕ω◕)***

Let's just get to it.

Simon Keyes (not his birth name; we don't know that one) was the son of Dane Gustavia, a competitor in Jeffrey Master's dessert contest that would crown the world's greatest pastry chef. Dane entered the contest both because of his pride as a dessert chef, and because the prize for the contest besides the title was a recipe book called the Angel's Recipe. Jeffrey is the sole heir to the Masters Group, a pharmaceutical company that produces products like Coldkiller X, which may seem familiar to Ace Attorney buffs. (人◕ω◕) The Angel's Recipe as such is in fact a collection of medicine/pharmaceutical recipes for drugs that haven't been released to the public yet. Jeffrey wished to bequeath the book to someone that he recognized as worthy, and Dane needed the book because he had heightened form of a taste disorder called hypogeusia - basically, he had little to no taste. Detrimental for any chef, let alone a dessert chef.

Naturally, Dane wasn't the only participant in the contest. Besides Delicia Scones, who was actually a pharmacist and entered into the contest by the Master group to keep the Angel's Recipe within the company... There was also Isaac Dover, who also went under an alias of Pierre Hoquet in France. Isaac was actually a famed sculptor that seemed to have money troubles of some kind (he didn't tell his extended family or anyone else about them; just kept an illustrious public image), and the Angel's Recipe could be sold to rival pharmaceutical companies for a great deal of money. Isaac had a son in Horace Knightley (again, not his birth name) that attended the same elementary school as Simon.

In the hopes of winning the contest, Dane and Isaac entered a partnership where Dane would provide the flavor of the desserts and Isaac the design. Dane could keep up his end of the bargain because Simon was a taste tester for him, not that he advertised this to anyone. They would help one another up through the finals, and regardless of who won they would share the spoils. That was the agreement between them, and yet...

Isaac chose to betray Dane, the day of the final round of the contest. December 24, 2000. Dane helped to make the sherbet Isaac would need the day before so it would chill overnight, and Isaac turned around and refused to sculpt Dane's desserts. Isaac called off their deal and planned to take everything for himself, as was the plan from the beginning. He ordered his son to tie up Simon and keep him away from the venue that day, having deduced he contributed to Dane's culinary success.

... In the end, Dane tried getting a picture of the Angel's Recipe to cure his taste disorder. Isaac cornered and attempted to extort him for even that much, going so far as to strike him with a rock salt lamp... And Dane killed him in both self-defense and revenge. This murder spiraled into what would be known as the IS-7 incident, the final case that Gregory Edgeworth worked on with Raymond Shields as his assistant and Manfred Von Karma as the leading prosecutor.

We all know how that sorry tale unfolded. The defendant, Jeffrey Master, was found guilty of being an accomplice to the murder after a whole year of Gregory rattling sabers with Manfred in court - and it all coming to an end when Jeffrey made a forced confession because of a year of torture and interrogation by Manfred and the police... and also because Manfred threatened to find Katherine Hall guilty in his place, if Jeffrey didn't relent. Still, Gregory did manage to prove in court that Manfred forged an autopsy report because the police had never received the body; it was stolen and disappeared before they even arrived on scene. Because of this, Von Karma received his first penalty, which led him to take Gregory's life in DL-6.

But enough about the stuff we all know. (人◕ω◕) I only brought all of that up to establish those tragic beginnings are unchanged. Jeffrey Master was brutalized and falsely convicted, Von Karma got his penalty, Gregory still died, Miles got traumatized... And oh yes, Horace still accidentally trapped him and Simon in his dad's car during a terrible snow storm. Yes, we're circling back around to that. (人◕ω◕) If they were left to freeze much longer, they would've died. But be it luck or fate, the famed assassin Sirhan Dogen saved the boys' lives thanks to his dog Anubis locating them while they were out on a stroll. Sirhan broke open the car, and took the boys to a nearby orphanage since they developed short-term amnesia from those traumatic events. Neither of them could so much as remember his own name. Dane never came looking for his son because he got what he wanted, the cure for his disorder, and just before Jeffrey's trial ended he fled the country to Zheng Fa for further training in dessert making (both flavor and design) for three years. Dane essentially disowned his son and didn't care what happened to him.

Meanwhile, Simon and Horace were left at the Happy Family Home for several years, where Patricia Roland was the main caretaker. That's where they adopted their current names. Over time, they regained some of their memories... But not enough concrete details to go to the police for help in finding their dads. Simon himself remembered that he was supposed to go help prove his dad's desserts were the best in the world, but that Horace stopped him from going. This... soured Simon's opinions of Knightley a great deal; no longer considering the other boy a friend privately. But on the surface he kept up the façade because it was better to have one "friend" than none at the orphanage. Simon just wouldn't open up to anyone else, and his habit of finding a corner to cry about his dad, who he believed to have been killed by Knightley's dad (muddled memories due to that blizzard), made him an easy target of bullying at the orphanage.

All of that established... (人◕ω◕) Let's flash forward to 2006. Byrne Faraday is an average prosecutor with a sense of justice that a lot of his colleagues scoff at. He doesn't automatically believe everyone is guilty, he's more easygoing than his fellow prosecutors. Rather he worries the most about the criminals that "cannot" be brought to court. People "above" the law. For he feels no man should have that much pull and clout. Prosecutors like Manfred Von Karma openly laugh at such philosophies because there is no reason to deal with such "rare exceptions". A prosecutor is a guardian of the court, with no obligation to "outside matters".

... Needless to say, Byrne strongly disagrees. (人◕ω◕) It's a conundrum that eats away at him day and night... But not to an obsessive degree. Not yet. Right now it's fall 2006, and Byrne's wrapped up a frustrating case where he lacked sufficient evidence to prove the defendant's guilt. It was a very near thing; he thought there'd been enough circumstantial evidence piled up in his favor, but the judge ruled not guilty. Byrne needed a walk to clear his head and not stress his daughter Kay out by thoughtlessly snapping at her or being all depressed at his own powerlessness sometimes. Not every defendant is guilty, but when Byrne is nigh well certain of a defendant's guilt it's easier to move a mountain than it is to change his mind. That's just how he was wired. So he left little Kay in his friend Tyrell Badd's hands, and took a stroll by himself.

On top of the depressing verdict, there was the matter that the particular date was the anniversary of his wife's death. She passed a few days after giving birth to Kay, and it was hard being a single father. His income as a prosecutor was acceptable, but he knew that he could probably try harder if only for Kay's sake, and Byrne also knew Tyrell often spoiled Kay while he wasn't around. Still, he could never forget the cold space at his bedside at night and how Kay deserved the warm love and affection that only a mother knows how to give. Kay always carries herself so positively, so bravely, so eager to please him... It makes Byrne privately weep.

Because... he feels unworthy of that adoration. Byrne loves his daughter and wants what's best for her, there is no question about that. He's never once regretted having her in his life. Yet Byrne feels that he's never doing enough to support Kay, to help her with homework, to go to theme parks or other fun events, or to make sure the friends she's making are worth the trust she undoubtedly places in them. Byrne knows that Tyrell occasionally makes an effort to drive by her elementary school between investigations to check up on her, but he's similarly limited as a detective. Not all problems would be solved if Kay's mother was still around... But many of them would be. Byrne would certainly feel less anxious about his daughter's happiness and wellbeing. He can only do so much, and it... galls him. Because he knows that to an extent, Kay is powering through the loneliness she feels at home and always has a smile when he's around. Always. She only ever breaks down if he's too stern about rules or manners not upheld.

And it's not Kay's fault for bending the rules at times. She's only a child, and Byrne always makes it up to Kay if he ever goes too far in punishing her. They struggle as a family of two, but they are managing to make it work. Tyrell chipping in is certainly indispensable.

As Byrne passes by what must be an orphanage, a haunting idea passes through his head. That as a prosecutor, he may one day be targeted by criminals... And should he perish, what will happen to Kay? Byrne doesn't even have the start of a contingency. It felt irresponsible and shameful to ask his longtime friend when Tyrell had already done so much for them... Kay did have relatives on her mother's side, but they lived far away. He didn't like the idea of leaving his little Kay to fend for herself like... like...

Like these children here. The... "Happy Family Home", was it? The children certainly gave the impression that they were having a good day playing in the courtyard here... But Byrne knew that regardless of circumstances, these kids were torn from their original homes and left with next to nothing. The playground equipment appeared cheap, the facility was weather-worn and very old, and just the faces on some of the children... Especially when some of them perceived an outsider peering in at them. Some were guarded, uncertain, others had their eyes alight with hope at a visitor...

And still others seemed to have given up all hope, one especially was brooding in the corner with tears glistening in his puffy red eyes. Byrne couldn't help imagining Kay in such a state if he wasn't around. That was the absolute last thing he ever wanted his daughter to suffer through, losing both of her parents far too soon... More than that, the crying dark-haired boy in the red raincoat. Byrne didn't have the means to help every abandoned child, but he wanted to help this one. Maybe it was because the boy summoned Kay to mind, maybe it was some other reason he couldn't put a name to yet.

Whatever the case, Byrne approached the boy on that cool, crisp autumn day. He couldn't get the boy to respond to him that much, barely got a name of "Simon" out of him. And all the while the other kids kept trying to gain his attention and glare daggers at the "crybaby" for daring to steal the attention of the first visitor they've had in a while, apparently. It was enough hubbub to summon the chief caretaker, who Byrne went off to discuss privately with why he was there. Patricia seemed rather proud of what she had there despite the decrepit state of affairs, but she was rather dismissive of the topic of Simon because the boy never opened up to anyone, not even her. Patricia attempted to get Byrne interested in other kids, or even a charitable donation from the prosecutor's office since they were always so starved for cash.

... Byrne told the woman that he would think about it, and that he would be back to check on Simon. He could tell that Patricia was really just looking to line her own pockets, and he couldn't in good faith approach the Chief Prosecutor if children weren't going to live better here. Moreover, he didn't much like the idea of Simon seeming like a pariah in this quaint "home". He would get the boy to open up. Somehow.

Simon didn't open up. In fact, the more Byrne persisted over the coming weeks and months, the angrier and more bitter he became. From what little Byrne was able to glean the boy was unable to let go of his original family that he had lost; he didn't want a new one. And it's hard to negotiate an adoption when the child isn't willing. December rolled around, then January... and finally, February was in sight. This was around the time that Blaise and the Zheng Fa President's Body Double were approaching Patricia to bring her in as an accomplice to their schemes. Her orphanage was isolated enough to kill the President. Of course... now Byrne's frequent visits were a problem. They needed him to get the hell out of there and not come back, and the only way that was happening was if Simon Keyes agreed to go.

So Patricia called Byrne to her office when he next came to visit, and gave him a one-week ultimatum to get Simon to agree to adoption. That one week would put them just a few days before the President was set to be assassinated, and if all went to plan people shouldn't even know the President had died because the Body Double would effectively replace him. If Byrne didn't play ball, Patricia would lodge harassment complaints with the Chief Prosecutor, who was already aware of his employee's visits and could easily cook up some false charges if Byrne chose to be obstinate.

Though he didn't understand the full implications of what he was up against here, Byrne agreed to the one-week ultimatum. It was insane because he had been chipping away at Simon for months with little to no effect, and now he had a deadline on top of his prosecutorial duties. ... Well, thankfully, he had a stroke of genius in allowing Kay to come out to the orphanage and see if she wouldn't have better luck with Simon. It meant calling her school to allow the girl to miss that week for "family business", but when Byrne promised that Simon could come to live with them if she succeeded in convincing him, Kay couldn't have agreed faster.

A week went by. Simon was initially leery of Kay at first because of who her father was... But between Horace trying to hog her attention and seeing just how young, bubbly, innocent, and vulnerable the girl was... like he had been, back then... Simon felt drawn to the young Kay. He didn't want Horace sinking his claws into this child whether he meant ill will or not; the traitor didn't deserve to steal what little he had left, and this girl and her father kept coming around for him...

So even though Simon was heavily reluctant to capitulate, the chief caretaker informed him that Kay wouldn't be allowed to come around anymore after that week. It was either try something new - allow himself to be adopted - or stay and continue to hopelessly wait for his dad to return.

It wasn't a very easy decision. And even after reaching it, Simon wondered if this was what he wanted.

In little time at all, they packed what few clothes and possessions Simon had, Byrne signed the official documents, and they returned home.

A few days later, Sirhan Dogen assassinated President Huang on the midnight of February 10, 2007. Jack Cameron still witnessed Patricia and Blaise carrying the President's body but misunderstood it as a kidnapping, and got killed by the Body Double. But the incident only got murkier as two more bodies were added to that list - three, if you counted the dog. The legendary blind assassin Sirhan Dogen was slain, but not without taking one of his attackers down with him. … Chief Prosecutor Blaise Debeste.

Prosecutor Von Karma took up the investigation of the incident, and it was ruled to be a case of Sirhan Dogen contracted to kill President Huang, but before he could Blaise Debeste and Jack Cameron heroically ambushed the fiend and his dog. Not the most neat and tidy story, there were a lot of questions left unanswered - like, why there was a $100 million ransom for the President, why did the President go to that orphanage, why Cameron was bludgeoned with a brick and not stabbed to death like Blaise, or the trace amount of blood left at the scene that suggested the President was injured… But in the end, Von Karma gets what he wants. He suppressed all doubts and inquiries that led people to suspect there was something more going on, because as far as Von Karma was aware there wasn't anything shady going on with the President of a foreign country. Huang held no interest for him; the only point of interest was that Blaise had been on-scene before any other law enforcement. As the man that issued Von Karma his first penalty, the "Perfect" prosecutor only thought it appropriate the man met his end in one of his own schemes.

So due to this different outcome of SS-5, no ransom was sent or received, the Body Double simply returned home as the "true" Huang - and to keep Patricia satisfied he would send her suitable monetary compensation for the trouble. So long as she kept her lips sealed, no one would know the real Huang was dead. Though this does mean Patricia would never get recommended for a role as warden of the prison; Von Karma certainly had no use for her. Von Karma would rise to the position of Chief Prosecutor instead, smelling the opportunity for what it was and beating back his rivals for the throne through intimidation or bringing up their most embarrassing failures as prosecutors. Jill Crane would go on not knowing who is hold accountable for her boyfriend Jack's death; no one would clue her in on Blaise's secrets because no one knew about the Zheng Fa President assassination plot. Yet she and Judge Courtney would keep searching for answers, years later. No Blaise means no black market auctions for police evidence - at least none hosted at the Prosecutorial Investigation Committee's headquarters. Blaise Debeste's son would be left orphaned, and ignored by Von Karma. However, this in turn would earn Sebastian attention from Ray Shields, who is still bitter about losing Miles to Von Karma and sees an opportunity to salvage his own broken soul. … Even if taking in a kid is an awful lot for a single defense attorney that's only got 5-6 years of experience under his belt as a lawyer. Still, it'd be a healthier environment for Sebastian, no sabotaging his education, toying with, or abusing him. Ray will make a strapping defense attorney out of Sebastian someday~… Besides! Chicks love the single dad look, yeah?!

… Just let Ray have his dreams.

Regardless of all these things happening during and after SS-5, the Faraday Clan are too absorbed in the growing pains of three people under one roof. Simon continues to tiptoe around the Faraday's, only sometimes voicing what he wants - and more often it'll also be what Kay wants at the time, so Byrne knows the boy is only rarely indulging for himself and only himself. Kay is as receptive as expected…though she had to quickly be corrected that bathtimes are to be done separately. Byrne is painfully aware from reading Simon's file that he's hitting 13 that year… And he's not letting his 5-year-old (soon to be 6) daughter get in the habit of bathing with BOYS…

FAR too soon for that pubescent nightmare fuel.

Thankfully, Simon seems just as eager to…not get into that physical intimacy angle. Hugs are sometimes fine. Head pats, awkwardly ruffling Kay's hair, all that's fine. Mixed baths cross the line, and Simon doesn't want any part in that either.

It's more tight on the expenses with Simon around, but Byrne feels it's well worth the price. Kay doesn't have to come to the courthouse all the time after school, Simon will either be home or will offer to take her somewhere. Sometimes Tyrell will drive them around. One curiousity Byrne picked up immediately was Simon's aversion to sweets… Tyrell was rather put out by this development, and Simon was simply vague or unsure why he disliked them. He did make the exception to try the courthouse swiss rolls that Kay sung such high praises about. The poor kid looked like he was choking down lumps of iron as he forced himself to, though. Like the very act of eating sweets was…Byrne didn't know how to describe it. Like it was sacrilege? Like the boy was seriously forcing his body to eat just to please Kay. Points for maintaining that million-watt smile for Kay's benefit, but Byrne could see the tears pricking at his eyes. Tyrell could, too.

Hence why Tyrell suggested trying to dig into Simon's background more. Frankly, there was something familiar about the boy that Tyrell couldn't put his finger on. But it was way too early for any blood or DNA tests. With Simon so new to the family, Byrne wanted to win him over for a while before seeing about tracking down his old family's whereabouts. Plus, if he made any moves that unsettled Simon, Kay would get upset… They would wait on that stuff. Perhaps if they waited long enough, Simon's memories would return on their own.

Those first couple years were peaceful, but slow. Despite the 7-year gap between them, Kay and Simon were joined at the hip. Simon didn't seem in a rush to make new friends at school, and often kept in touch with that Horace boy at the orphanage. Usually chess correspondence through the mail. Oddly enough, Simon seemed formal and plastic whenever Horace came up… Like it was just another thing he was forcing himself to do. Go through the motions. Byrne talked with Simon about potentially seeing a therapist, since Simon never wanted to talk about what he DID remember of his childhood, the reasons he was crying and alone at the orphanage… But Simon near-violently refused, stating he didn't need a shrink poking around in his head. That he wasn't CRAZY. And Byrne agreed, he just wanted Simon to know if he ever needed help, all Simon had to do was ask or open up to them.

It was…rough seeing Simon so doubtful even after months of living in the same house. Whatever happened had scarred Simon, and Byrne wasn't about to force the boy to reopen those wounds until he was ready. It just hurts to catch the boy walking on eggshells even when they're welcoming him with open arms. Simon obviously conceals his reservations around Kay, and there is genuine fondness for his daughter, but Simon still looks so lost and uncertain.

Eventually, the original KG-8 incident happens. Byrne and Tyrell are drawn away from caring for the kids, and the kids…hash things out a bit. Kay can see Simon and Daddy don't get along, and she wants to know what she can do to help. Simon doesn't like having this conversation with Kay… But it's easier since she's another kid like him. He explains that when he was her age, something bad happened and he lost his father. His "friend" back at the orphanage helped in that… And as a result, they lost their memories and everything they used to have. Living at the orphanage, Simon quietly accepted his pariah status and came to believe no one could care for him. If his own father abandoned him, who could he even trust? Simon doesn't know the kind of guy Kay's father is, but Simon's experience has shown him that adults do whatever they want, often abusing the power they have like how caretaker Roland makes the kids do chores or they don't get supper. Kay's dismayed that this is how Simon feels, and she hugs it out with him and promises that she and Daddy are different from everyone else Simon's known. They're not gonna just leave him. Simon says he's trying really hard to believe that… It's just a work-in-progress. He's mostly convinced with Kay. … It's her dad that he needs to assess what kind of guy he is. And, well, one thing leads to another, and Kay suggests they watch Daddy in his trials. That might help. Simon can't exactly refuse, much to his chagrin.

Sitting in on the KG-8 trial was… depressing for Simon. He was old enough to get a clearer picture than Kay. Her father had evidence, and it was stolen from under his nose. The trial itself was a trainwreck, no witnesses to testify against the smuggling ring after Cece Yew was killed, no compelling evidence…. There was just this sense of overwhelming powerlessness. So even adults could feel this way, huh? Both Byrne and Tyrell looked dead where they were standing as the judge declared Manny Coachen not guilty. Not all adults wielded power…

… But when they did, they abused the hell out of it.

Honestly, this wasn't enough to convince Simon what kind of person Byrne Faraday was. However… He was willing to see what Byrne would do from here.

(I'll hafta do a followup post later.... Aiyiyi, the plot bunnies are multitasking, and my muse is going off. XD)

[journey-to-the-attic]

(Spoilers for Lesson 37, pls ignore if not caught up!!)

So how about that Lucifer angst. So I had a thought, you know the how IK gets sin-stained and has a sort of corruption break in her version of NB S2? What if it's her who gets sent to Cocytus instead of Lucifer?

Think about it... in her state she's probably causing a lot of damage. The old farts in the Devildom government who made Diavolo do that test in S1 probably already don't like her, because she's on the brothers' side and they know she played a large role in them getting established as lords. So when they hear about IK's sudden destructive break they see it as an opportunity.

Idk it's just... IK deals with so much in her first year alone and things just get harder in NB. The catharsis-loving part of my heart just wants to see the brothers walk through hell to save her.

(Also Solomon felt weirdly detached from the situation, like he didn't seem to care that much? Anyway I wanna make that man CRY with worry over the little human who's meant to be under his protection.)

i always say to myself "that's enough suffering, let her rest" but then y'all drop ideas like THIS and i agree immediately because the angst is just too good and i just have to. get in there and make things even WORSE

let's up the stakes. let's make the break even worse than originally conceptualised. let's say the stains of sin didn't just give ik an overload of their traumas and internal conflicts, but also shards of their hellish 'core' as demons, and it's too much for a mundane human body to handle

it's explosive and destructive and the real ik is drowning somewhere within this barrage of outside emotion and inexplicable pain. she tries to rein it in but all she can do is internalise it until it threatens to implode and nothing they try is working

and it just keeps getting worse. in a twisted way, it might even be a good thing she gets locked up when she does, because the chains are the only thing stopping her from tearing her own limbs off, and they still don't know how to stop this frenzy

but they have to try anyway because ik absolutely, unequivocally cannot be given up on. they'll keep her company there for all eternity if they have to, as long as she isn't left alone. from the moment they step into cocytus this is a matter of life or death and they will claw their way out of the ice to get there

head in hands can you imagine them getting there but ik just howls for them to leave because it's all too loud and she can't breathe when they're nearby. they need to leave right now because she's going to hurt them and it hurts when they touch her and she just wants to die

honestly i can't even think of a clever way of rescuing her right now, i'm just stewing in the pain

[more-better-words]

This was supposed to be a one off thing, but this is part three! And now I'm thinking there's going to at least be a part 4! I blame all of you for this! (you know who you are)

(thank you friends ☺️)

Parts 1 and 2

It had been occurring more and more often lately - whenever Trip and T'Pol parted company, one of them would offer the other their right hand, first two fingers extended, and they would briefly touch their fingertips before going their separate ways. It was a quick gesture, sometimes so fast you had to be looking for it to see it happen, but when it happened as T'Pol rose to return to the bridge, Malcolm saw his in.

"So what's that about?" he asked, cultivating a casual air as one would a bed of flowers. Trip, his fork halfway to his mouth, shrugged.

"It's a Vulcan thing."

"Obviously."

Trip, chewing, did not seem inclined to expand, and Malcolm realized this wasn't going be as easy as he'd hoped. "So I take the answer to my question regarding your intentions has changed?"

"Last time I checked, you're still not her father."

Malcolm fixed him with a narrow, reproving look. "Oh, come on! If you can't tell me-"

"What's there to tell, Malcolm?"

"Well, the hand thing is new."

Trip sighed, setting down his fork. "Look, things were...complicated with me and T'Pol, and-"

"Understatement," Malcolm muttered into his coffee cup. Trip glared.

"And they're not now! At least...not that kind of complicated." He glanced down at his plate, a little smile stealing across his face. "We're good, her and me. Really good." He looked up. "And I don't wanna jinx it, so you'll have to forgive me if I leave it at that, okay?"

"Alright." Malcolm raised his hands in surrender. "You've made your point."

"Anyway," Trip said, gathering up his dishes, "I got a list of re-calibrations as long as my arm waitin' for me down in Engineering, but if I get 'em knocked out, I should be done in time for the movie tonight. It's The Sea Hawk, right? Swashbuckler...right up your alley." He grinned. "See ya round, Malcolm."

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, stewing. The direct approach had been his best bet to get a clean, aboveboard win, and that had just failed miserably. And Hoshi had a powerful weapon on her side, one that Malcolm knew was capable of devastating results - Little Sister Mode. She'd bat her eyelashes and it'd be all over. No, if he wanted to win this, he was going to have to resort to dirty tricks.

There was nothing for it. He was going to have to get his best friend blind drunk.

[cetrouz]

Okay, I remember that I didn't share the little thing I wrote of Jun's letter to Grey, two years after his departure. Because there are some new PTSD fans, it would be fun to share it.

Jun's Letter to Grey

Hello Grey. How are you doing from up above?

It's been two years now, I know. A long time, but I can't help but remember you sometimes. It's like I can still feel your presence some days, like you're watching over me. Whether you are or not, I wanted to let you know how things have been going here.

I've been taking good care of Red. He is still as daring and gentle as ever despite his age. He is good company, not just for me, but anyone. He also misses you dearly, he gives me company whenever I come to visit you. I've also been visiting your old place to check on your animals… although most of them left after your disappearance. Anyways, I did my best to take care of them for you. I thought you would enjoy knowing that.

Oh, I've improved and now I'm working as a medic, traveling around the city and treating other vets and others in need… I should have realized sooner that fighting and isolating myself for survival wouldn't bring me anywhere. But I found my humanity by treating and taking care of people. They were the ones who brought me hope. And I wanted to redeem myself by offering them the help that the drug dealers weren't offering before. Things aren't perfect, of course, but… it's largely an improvement. I feel much better than before, and without Sam's help, another kind veteran that helped me get out of the hole I was digging, it would probably be more difficult. I opened a clinic, right by Leona's shop, where I settled in.

Oh, and Leona… I wish you had met her… She was the kindest soul that still held onto me even when I was at my lowest. She was eager to help me and anyone she found that were struggling. I tell her about you, and she wishes she had met you as well. She would have tried to help you if she knew you before. Without her kindness and help, I wouldn't be the same as I am now. I owe her a lot… Really, I… I wish you could have met her. Sometimes I wish I could take you to her restaurant so you can have a taste of her unique cuisine… Her stews are the best.

Everyday… I feel more satisfied with this life. But as always, the memories of the war still haunt me. The nightmares are constant, and I'm reminded of the scar that marks it all. But… I'm not alone. I guess all of us veterans are left with this haunting scar of our past. I… still have a lot to do, to redeem my own person. I don't think I can grow out of this scar, it's just part of me. But, it's growing on me the fact I'm not alone in this. That's why I want to retribute the kindness others gave me, and to give them hope. It's the only way we can grow out of this constant pain we live in… Even if the government gave up on us, there's others willing to take us in and help us. And I wanna be there and do the same too. It's only fair… to let them know we are stronger as a community.

I still wish to live long years achieving to do what I'm doing. It's saddening that not many live long enough to meet the kindness of strangers and fellow vets willing to help each other… I wish you were here to see it. I miss you alot, Grey. The world wasn't fair to us, but you kicked the bucket too early. I also wanted to show you the hope I saw, and that was given to me. We could have gone back and lived normal lives to the most possible extent. You would be happy like this. Sometimes I feel lost and I think about you… A fellow vet who understands the pain of war. We could have held up each other together and followed on with a more satisfying life. But… I understand now you're finally at rest, away from all the pain, all of the scars. I guess you deserved a rest after all of this. I still have things to do while I'm still standing.

Anyways, the future seems brighter and more lively than before. I thought you'd be happy to know that. I've figured out what I want to do and what I need. And now… I'll help others to figure it out too. Like you, Red, Sam, and Leona helped me. And many others too. I'm doing what I can. I've been out of meds for two years, and there's no more bloodshed and fear on my path anymore. A strength I did not harvest alone. So, thank you Grey, thank you so much for everything.

We will meet again some day.

[amplifyme]

More BaTB fanfic. Part 3/4. Explanation here.

The Possibility of Being - Book 4 - Vessel

"Do you ever forget, Father, that he's not like everybody else? You ever, I don't know, catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye and it hits you all over again, how different he is?"

The look she got in response was a curious one, surprised at first, then reflective as he took a minute to think over her question. He folded his half-gloved hands together and rested his chin against them, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

"I suppose I do, from time to time. We've spent so long in each other's company - better than a third of a century now - that I suppose it's only natural I might forget. But I'm generally quickly reminded by something Vincent will say, or do, or perhaps simply by the way he'll hold himself: a certain posture. His utter stillness, the singular focus, his… unique talents and skills. His spirit, though, Diana, his heart, those things can never be forgotten. It is what makes him, I think, the most different of all. I don't know that any of us could have endured what Vincent has and remained so… selfless, so willing still to give to others no matter the cost to himself. Ah, and here's your supper."

The next several minutes were lost to Phyllis playing mother hen as she set a tray with a bowl of thick beef stew in front of her, along with a plate of cornbread and a tall glass of milk. She clucked at Diana's blackened eye and shook out a napkin with the snap of her wrist, handing it to her and leaving with instructions to signal if she wanted seconds.

Diana stared disinterestedly into the bowl with no appetite whatsoever and was a second from shoving it away when she caught Father's look across the table. It very plainly told her if she didn't pick up the spoon and feed herself, he'd be more than happy to do it for her. She vaguely wondered how many children over the years had seen that same look. Sighing in concession, she pulled the bowl closer and dug in.

After a few listless bites, her stomach woke up and pointed out it was still seriously empty - and the stew was damned good, besides. She found herself scraping the bowl clean and licking buttered cornbread crumbs from her fingers before she even ventured another peek at Father. He offered her a smug look of satisfaction and she bit down an urge to make a face at him. But then his eyes got serious and she looked him a question instead.

"And what about you, Diana," he asked, responding to her silent inquiry, taking up their discussion as if there'd been no break. "Do you ever forget?"

She drained the last of the milk and wiped her mouth on the napkin, tossing it down next to the empty bowl. "No," she admitted. "Never. I don't think I ever will. He won't let me."

Off Father's curious frown she went on: "It's not the man in him. That's not what's different. In even the narrowest sense of the definition, he's just like any other man. Wants the same things, worries about the same things. We're pretty simple creatures when it comes right down to it, don't you think? It's the other things, all the stuff around the edges that's different.

"I once told him that he's what he is because of who he is. Because nobody as remarkable as him could ever just blend in with the rest of us. There's so much… more of him, there, than anybody I've ever known." She chuckled under her breath. "I remember when he was finally on his feet at my place, after the Compass Rose blew up, and he'd been poking around the loft while I was downtown – you know: snooping, seeing what he could find out about me. He never admitted it, but I would've done the same thing. You gotta know who you're hunting, or who you might be prey to, right?

"So, anyway, he was kind of pissy with me when I got back, after he'd had a look at some of the stuff I'd dug up investigating Cathy's murder and trying to find him. He was worried and rightly so: he didn't know me from Adam. I explained to him how I work, how I try to get inside other people, imagine what it's like to be them or figure out what their next move might be. And he made some remark about how there was no way I could've imagined him. Said it like it was a challenge or something. And all puffed up about it, a weird sort of cast iron pride at being that different, almost daring me to disagree with him - like he was looking for an argument.

"So I let it slide. I fibbed. Agreed with him and let it go. But he was wrong. Because I could imagine him, I did imagine him. Being with him, just knowing he's here," She glanced at Father and found him regarding her with soft, thoughtful eyes. "Loving him and knowing he loves me. He's a miracle, Father, he's exactly what I needed, like he was made for me. He's what I always knew was missing but didn't ever think I'd find.

"It's like having a large and perfect unicorn who can recite Blake and Yeats in a way that finally makes perfect sense to you, who doesn't require an explanation because simply existing is answer enough; it's having that kind of magic suddenly take up residence smack dab in the middle of your life. No matter where you look it's there, dazzling and beautiful and such a goddam miracle. And no matter how many times you look at it, every time is like the first. And you can't imagine how you ever survived without it, and sometimes I love him so much it hurts, Father. It's like a knife in my heart. I swear to God, I will do whatever I have to do, no matter what it is. I'll find him. I'll bring him back. I have to. Because I can't do this without him anymore. I can't – I won't even bother trying."

Sometime during her declaration, she had begun to cry. But it wasn't until she stopped talking that she felt the hot tears coursing down her face and her nose beginning to run. She grabbed the napkin and made noisy use of it. And right after that was when Father reached across the table and mutely grasped her hand. That simple gesture, full of affection and familial concern, did her in. And it was a relief to finally shrug off the tough cop exterior and give in to the enormity of the fear and the sadness she'd been struggling with all day. It was like popping the lid of a pressure cooker and letting it all out. Safe and surrounded by love, Diana bowed her head and bawled like a baby, clutching at Father's hand.

[keefwho]

February 28 - 2024 Wednesday

10:43pm

6/10

This morning I dusted off my bookshelf and cleaned my little treasures as needed. I made a sort of stir fry using cheap ramen and stuff I'd usually put in stew. I made it how I make the stew just with less water and a little less cooking time. It was okay. I watched the beginning of the MLP Gen5 movie with Bramble and her friend while I ate.

I was once again unsure about work. I warmed up with some commission sketches but I wasn't rested enough to be at my best so I just did the best I could. I moved onto a new YCH which got a few takers so I did one for Storm on stream and started another. We watched Uncle Grandpa as filler while we sort out Rugrats.

After stream I tried reading the Acceptance chapter in my ACT book and was very enlightened. I got distracted halfway through by an XQC stream and a DM from Fiona that made me lose some respect for her. I ended up unfollowing because now Im just a little bitter and it's not like they will ever associate with me anyways now, so.

For lunch I made mac n cheese and fish sticks with a pear cut. I joined David for a round of Helldivers before sticking around to do my work. I did today's request and finished a pic of my otter. It get VERY loud and annoying in the server but I stuck around for some reason. Jared messaged me saying he was free for a bit and I wanted a break so I played 2 rounds of Helldivers with him. We both had to leave to do more work. I started a silly animation of my otter and sketched the pose for 6 frames. Then I worked on Plaz's world for a little over 30 minutes.

I was tuckered out and saw that Rousso had gotten Helldivers and was playing it for the first time in the TDS server so I joined him and others to help in his initiation into the game. I had to leave early because Jared called me. I thought he wanted to play Helldivers but we just chilled while he painted. Then Daisy became free so I started chilling with her instead. It was a very good thing too because I was honestly so tired mentally and socially, but she doesn't tire me out like that. We watched furry con videos and researched the recent Willy Wonka incident, among other AI powered scams. In bed we did puzzles and 102 Dalmatians.

~~~

More hard work today, I was surprisingly able to keep up with everything. Socially I felt like I was being pulled in so many directions and I didn't wanna let anyone down. There are other people I wanna get to as well but I'm re-learning my social limit. I determined it could help to stick to my rotating social list diligently so I can focus on different contacts at different times. If I followed that today, I likely wouldn't have been so overwhelmed.

3 things that made me happy today:

Socializing well with so many different parties.

Having a realization regarding acceptance of my own feelings.

Unwinding in Daisy's company.

[mightbelola]

Joe

The only time I've been truly happy is when I'm with Joe. The first day I saw him, I remember thinking, my goodness, he's so tall. He brought me out to dinner. He told me "Eat like a man," so I quickly got comfortable enough I ate like a pig. I gained 20 kilos after two years being with him. That is normal if you eat everyday with a guy who eats a lot, three times bigger than you. Anyways, the best thing about him is that, he's funny, hardworking and kind. He's naturally an impatient person but he's been patient with me.

I think I'll just write about what he does everyday.

So, every morning, he wakes up at four o'clock, an hour earlier than me because he's in fact a morning person which I am not. It always annoys me how he's so loud and happy when he wakes me up I get so grumpy. He says I fight like a hamster he doesn't feel any punches I swing. After he wakes up, he makes his coffee. He drinks coffee everyday. He then fills my water bottle for me to bring to work, plays with the cats a little and he gets straight into his office which is next to our bedroom. He works for an Australian company so he starts work really early. I don't know how he does it, talking to people that early.

When I come back from work at around 3PM, he would still be in the office. He finishes work at four but he stays in the office longer until six because he studies about a lot of things. He's interested in technology so anything tech related he would study them. He knows a lot about programming and coding, too. He's into Linux and ChatGpt lately and he would explain to me about it over dinner but I don't really understand them.

He's a multitasker. Let me tell you about his office. He has three screen monitors, one for his work, one for YouTube which he plays NBA highlights, some PNG music if he misses home, or Podcasts like most of the time. Last screen would be for the things he's studying on, like coding, maybe. I'm not sure. Then he also has a MacBook, his loud keyboard, all placed on a standing desk. That desk is pretty expensive since you can set it to be sitting or standing. He figured it's not good for his health to be sitting in front of the computer for long hours so we bought the standing desk. After a few hours sitting he can just push a button and the desk would lift up and he stands. He doesn't let me go into his room. I mean, I am his wife and I would want to clean and wipe his desk for him but he doesn't let me because he's afraid I might accidentally trip a wire or something. Oh yes, there are wires, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. Picture a hacker. That's him, with boxes and boxes of CPUs and wires all around them.

I try to make him dinner everyday. I wouldn't if I'm tired and he's always so understanding if I don't cook. He doesn't cook much because he's not good at it. I'm better but I did make him some undercooked chicken before. One time I made some weird European beef stew recipe and I put way too much vinegar in it. Poor thing couldn't finish it, he didn't get angry. He still thanked me..

Everyday, we would sit and have dinner together. He would tell me about different things depending on the day. Last night for example, we were discussing NBA leagues. I know nothing about it, so he made me memorize all the team names. My challenge today is to remember them, and he will test me at dinner later.

Let's see, I remember; his favourite team, Dallas Mavericks. New York Knicks, Atlanta Hawks, Milwaukee Bucks, which Antetokounmpo plays for, the Nigerian blood guy who was born poor in Greece, which surname means The Greek Freak. Miami Heat, which is the best leading team for now. Boston Celtics, San Antonio Spurs, LA Lakers which LeBron James, the best player of all time plays for, um what else.. Brooklyn Nets, Orlando Magic, Philly 76ers, Houston Rockets, oh Denver Nuggets which lost to Miami Heat in the final round today. Then also, Golden State Warriors, Sacramento Kings, Detroit Pistons, Chicago Bulls.. there are twenty four teams and I think I got less than that. Nevermind.

There's a lot I can say about him, but sadly I have to get back to work. So, that's my Joe for now.

[myristicisms]

“ Intelligence wasn't a big factor in the matter; It was communication and understanding that would have solved many of the problems we'd had. Perhaps had I been less vain and more brave things would be different but... ” There was no changing the past, only learning from his mistakes and understanding how to continue forwards with that new knowledge. Pain and anxiety had driven Genesis to biting his tongue and in doing so it cost him dearly though the more he lingers upon it, what could he have said? Zack had been merely a teenager with a dream he hoped to achieve and were Genesis to just come and announce that ShinRa, the company known for producing heroes and being so terribly incredible ( yeah right ) was actually the enemy and he should leave while he could? The ginger knew were he in the younger man's position during such a scenario he would laugh it off, think the deliverer of the message was insane and brush their warnings off, perhaps even share what knowledge he'd gleaned with those in charge.

It's ridiculous though to stew upon the matter, nothing could be done about it now.

As it lingers more within his mind, Genesis recalls many discussions held with those he cherished most over the years and a new grief washes over his tranquil features; He's lost everyone and it had been by his own doing, pushing Angeal to joining his cause despite knowing the honorable man would rot in his guilt, pushing Sephiroth further over the edge over something so foolish and ridiculous just because of his spite and arrogance.

“ That's where the strength comes in. A weaker man would give up and allow ShinRa to rend through his flesh instead of continuing onwards, you might not think it a symbol of strength but I certainly do. ” It could also be seen as incredibly foolish depending on the man but then again courage walked a fine line between bravery and lunacy, there was not much either of them could do aside from play into the hands of the Goddess or risk her ire by going against destiny itself.

Auburn tufts flow with the breeze, sage eyes flickering to Zack's features curiously before he laughs softly, brings a leg to his chest to rest his chin upon with a soft sigh. “ Then when you leave I fear I'll either return to the planet or be taken back by that damned Hojo. I am content with what is to become of me Zack, don't force yourself to babysit me merely out of duty. ” There's a brief, thoughtful pause. “ Though I'm more than happy to answer whatever it is that eats away at your curiosity; Whatever it is you feel the need to ask I'm sure I'll have an answer, that's what 'Geal always said about me anyways. ”

Eyes shut for merely a moment, an amused hum thrumming through the older man's body. “ Philosophical questions, I'm afraid, are too convoluted even for a man of my caliber, I think the meaning of a soul is whatever you make of it; Just the same as there's no such thing as truly good nor truly evil, unless of course your name is Hojo and you have a grating laugh in which case true evil certainly would apply. ” Then a subtle tilt to his head, “ Had things turned out differently I think perhaps I'd have enjoyed working alongside you. ”

"If I was a smarter person, I would have understood how you felt earlier." 'Course, opening the mouth and speaking those feelings out loud would also have helped. Not that Zack imagined he would have understood even if the road was mapped out clearer. There were a hell of a lot of 'what if' scenarios that ran wild through his mind. A natural respond to the trauma of the situation. It was only human to feel like something more could be done, as though their super abilities could extend to combating fate too.

If they couldn't achieve the impossible, what good were they really?

Genesis wasn't the only one he blamed for leaving him in the dark. He had a lot of ill feelings for Angeal too. His friend, his mentor, leaving him in the dust and then asking HIM, of all people, to put an end to it.

"Not sure about strong, Gen, but I have no choice but to keep going forward." Because the only other option was to turn back and that was no choice at all. There were people waiting for him and he wasn't going to disappoint them. He was gonna rise again in whatever capacity that meant.

He abruptly lifted his eyes, leaning toward him just a little bit more. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be fine. I'm here, I'll look after you. Enemy or not, doesn't matter. There's still a lot of things I want to ask you." He could learn a lot from him. Now that he was in a position to actually LISTEN, he might even absorb the information.

"Something like.... what the meaning of a soul is. You like questions like that, right?" He grinned. "Though remember who you're speaking to." Had to Zack Fair modify the answers~

[leggerefiore]

Scotophobia

cw: fluff, chandelure ingo

Pitch black surrounded you as you held your knees to your chest. Your living room was impossible to navigate by sight after your power flickered and failed. Judging by the heavy storm that brewed outside of your apartment building, it was obvious what had happened. Despite the observation, you felt extremely nervous over the darkness. You had a bad fear of the darkness since you were a child. Something always felt like it was lurking out of your sight, just waiting to get you.

It did not help that your childhood neighbourhood often held a variety of ghost types that haunted children for a laugh (or over darker reasons). You knew that as an adult, you had nothing to fear, but the phobia from your youth never left you. It was part of the reason you enjoyed living in Nimbasa so much. A city known for its light would definitely be the place for you to be. Currently, however, the storm knocked out the city's power. You whimpered as you felt the worry about a Duskull appearing before you with its crimson eye piercing the void around it, signifying your end being near.

However, it was not a crimson light the broke your fears. A soft, flickering violet came to you instead as your boyfriend left the kitchen. His ghastly body glowed brilliantly in the darkness, providing a sudden and unexpected comfort. “Dearest…” his voice was controlled and gentle, “What is wrong? I can feel your fear through our bond…” You jumped to your feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and clung to Ingo tightly. His body held his inhuman warmth to it and beautiful, sweet light. While he may, too, be one of the ghost-types you so feared, you knew that Ingo would never harm you. The Chandelure hybrid was absolutely adamant that he never consume your life energy or dare touch yourself, putting aside the way his species bonded themselves to a human mate.

“I-it's dark…” you managed to get out, “I'm afraid of the dark…” He hummed as he gently embraced. The flame burning inside him suddenly grew brighter and bigger, his accent fires that spread from the affixed arms of his shoulders did much the same. The candle-like light flooded the room and provided much respite to your worried mind. He gave a slight laugh and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I suppose I am quite the perfect being for this situation,” he spoke clearly, “I do apologise about dinner, but the power ruined my stew.” You sighed. First darkness, now no dinner. Some things were just annoying to deal with, you accepted. At least you had your cute boyfriend to offer you company and support.

You both returned to the couch. You sat in his lap and buried your face into the nape of his neck. You cuddled him happily. Ingo's presence was a calming one. Despite his stiffness and loudness in public (likely from how humans judged Chandelure hybrids), his persona at home was a much more meek and relaxed home. He always sought to take care of you and make sure you felt loved, just as you did for him. Your fear of ghost-types always felt a bit ironic with how easily you got along with him. Chandelures themselves terrified you, too. Their ability to consume life force and hypnotise people was a scary thought to consider. Even legends about them being used to light homes in the past resorting in deaths commonly.

Truthfully, you shuddered a bit at the thought since you currently had one lighting your home, but you had the most subtle feeling that he was not out to end you. Especially judging by how distressed he became at the thought of not spending his future with you. You had no plans to leave him anyway. There was something so enjoyable about having the ghost help take care of your home. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend. “You know,” you started, “I'm also afraid of ghosts.” He gave you an odd look as a hand rubbed at your back. Clearing his throat, “Is that so? How do you handle being at my side, then?”

You hummed and pulled away from his to look into those glowing yellow eyes. “You're sweet and loving, not soul-eating and haunting,” considering your words a bit more, you changed your mind, “Well, you're a bit haunting. Not too much. Do not enjoy you passing through our front door instead of opening it, though.” This time, he let out a genuine laugh. Your chest felt light at his reaction. Hearing him laugh was such a rare thing, yet you had heard it twice tonight alone. Perhaps the dark was not your enemy as much as you had thought. “Thank you, I do try to be more human in my actions and presentation rather than a creature that consumes the souls of others to thrive,” Ingo gave you a small smile, “Knowing that I make you think that way about me, however… That makes everything feel better, my love. I do worry that I come short in our relationship often… That maybe a human would be a better choice for you.”

You shook your head and pecked a kiss to his cheek. No human could make you as happy as him, neither could any other being. You loved Ingo, not anyone else. Nuzzling your nose to his, you grinned back at him. “I love you, hubby,” you called him the pet name you often teased him with, “I want you. You're the best choice for me.” His flames burned even brighter from his embarrassment. Shaking his head, you giggled when a kiss was pressed to your lips. Your foreheads rested together for a moment.

“I love you, too, dearest,” he replied, “Ah, we should probably call Elesa and see if she's alright. Emmet, too. He's working tonight.”

Before you even realised it, your fears were completely gone.

Ingo had burned them away.

[joanie-writes]

Ohhhh boy! Saw that requests are open and came rushing. I'm a huge RDR2 fan and I've read so much Arthur fic but I can't get enough lol.

There's this fic I've been wanting to write but can't seem around to get to and I thought maybe I'll share my idea, of you would like to write it.

So young Arthur and reader have to pretend to be a couple in a lavish party as part of a scheme with Dutch and Hosea. Throughout the years they had been great friends and enjoyed each other's company, but there had always been some underlying tension.

While sneaking around the mansion looking for documents they almost get caught but end up kissing and getting handy as a way to fool the guard as to why they were there lurking around.

After that barrier was breached they can't seem to look at each other in the same way. Neither want to lose their friendship but this new development makes it hard for them to keep their hands to themselves.

Thanks for the request, I hope this lives up to your ideas <3

Grand Gesture

Well that certainly wasn't supposed to be apart of the job.

Young!Arthur x GN!Reader

Warnings/AN: NSFW, unsafe sex - Arthur and Reader are both in their early twenties

Word Count: 3.3k

I caught him staring at me again. It made my heart jump into my throat like usual. 

I'm not exactly sure what changed over night, but one day Arthur went from being my closest friend to somebody that made my skin feel hot whenever I was close to him, somebody that distracted me from my chores, someone who I imagined a future with before I shut my eyes for the night. I'd never really had a crush before, I only seen the rare stranger that made me turn my head every once and a while, but recently I had only turned to Arthur. 

"Hey," I heard a voice after a quick pat on my shoulder, which brought my mind back down from space, "Dutch and Hosea want to talk about some lead when we're done here." Arthur sat at the table, joining me for an exhilarating dinner of stew. 

I nodded, taking a hopefully nonchalant deep breath before I spoke, "How was hunting?" I had to physically stop myself from cringing. I loathed the awkward small talk of late, it was like our friendship had fizzled into almost nothing. I prayed that he hadn't somehow found out about my feelings towards him, I've only written about it in my journal; not daring to tell anyone.

"Went fine, two bucks and a few rabbits." Arthur said, and I responded with a simple hum. Then the familiar awkward silence settled down, joining us for the rest of dinner. With our bowls joined in the steadily growing pile, Arthur and I took to Dutch's tent to learn about whatever goose chase he was setting us on now. 

Hosea and Dutch both looked up at us as we entered, Hosea smiling and saying proudly, "Ah, my star students." The both of us smiled, looking over to Dutch as he responded, "I believe they're our star students, Hosea, I taught them just as much as you did." 

Hosea batted his hand at Dutch, "Anyways, here's the idea. I scored an few invitations to this big party in a ritzy part of town for tomorrow night." I glanced over at Arthur, more than happy to see him in some sort of proper attire. 

Arthur's brows knitted with confusion, waiting for Hosea to continue, "The four of us will go in pairs, the goal is to mingle and try to pick up some new lead, because whatever is going on in Bradford is well hidden, you two can go together. But we have to act proper and blend in, nobody can know we're degenerates, got it?" 

-

The fabric was itchy and the sleeves were sort of tight, but I don't think I ever looked that put together. Dare I say, styled to perfection. Dutch and Hosea really went all out for this party, somehow they even managed to get their slippery hands on not one, but two stagecoaches that John and Bill would drive us all seperately to town in. A wolf whistle brought my attention upwards to John in the drivers seat, causing me to laugh and give a small spin. "You clean up good!" He let out his raspy laugh.

"You do." I turned to the sound of Arthur's voice, God I hope he couldn't see my heart about to burst at my chest. Arthur looked, so handsome. His hair styled with extra care, a suit that complemented his figure perfectly, and the usual swag that carries him to tie it all together.

I stood up straighter, clasping my hands together, "So do you." I smiled shyly, giving him a subtle glance up and down. 

Dutch pushed his head out of the carriage window, his baritone voice barking out an order, "C'mon you two, quit ogling get a move on!" I want to say that I saw a blush form on Arthur's face, but I couldn't be sure due to him quickly ushering me into the coach. With a snap of the reigns we were off towards the bustling town of Bradford. 

Arthur looked around the carriage, grinning once he found a bottle of champagne under the seat. "We can't show up seeing double, Arthur, Dutch and Hosea will be pissed." I chuckled, shaking my head as he popped the cork anyway. 

"Just a few sips to calm the nerves, you know how I get around fancy folk. Besides, where'd all your fun go?" Arthur teased, taking a drink from the dark green bottle. My eyes shifted to his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he drank, pulling it together when he handed me the bottle. He cheered as I lifted the bottle to my lips, taking a swig of the bubbly liquid. 

We passed it back and forth, deciding to leave some for later, to celebrate our findings or help drown out the sound of Dutch's disappointment lecture. 

Arthur got out first, giving me a polite hand out of the stagecoach. My gaze was brought upwards to the grand manor before us. Fancy lanterns lit the way towards the door, the door surrounded by gaudy statues, two fountains, along with plenty of butlers and a few armed guards to boot. It was surely that fanciest place I had been before. Marble floors greeted us inside, royal paintings that took up half a wall, dazzling chandeliers too. Arthur and I couldn't help but look around sort of star struck for a moment, our inner street kids amazed that we were set foot in what could be a castle. 

I made eye contact with Hosea, returning his sly nod, a wordless push to get to work. Arthur tapped my hand, motioning over to a group of snooty young men that he was going to integrate into, "They look like daddy's money boys, I'll go see what I can find out." He spoke close to my ear, both to convey his message over the string quartet playing and keep his plans private. But I only noticed how is breath on my skin sent goosebumps all over me. 

Almost frantically, I looked around the noisy ballroom, trying to find somebody of importance to strike up a conversation with. An older gentleman caught my eye, mainly it was the gold ring adorning his pinky and confident look about him. I grabbed a glass of champagne and went in for the kill. 

Mr. Perry as I learned, was an easy safe to crack, I quickly learned he was a very close friends with the host of the gala. I made sure to keep Mr. Perry's glass topped up, laughing at his dry humour and leaning in a little closer for his enjoyment. It wasn't long before he began mouthing off about some business he had with the host and a few other men here, ranting on their unwillingness to compromise and all of the money he was apparently wasting. His rant became a bragging fest in no time though, and as he talked of his fortune and how easily he had gotten it my attention drifted off. But in the midst of his boasting, his hand fell causally upon my waist.

My eyes widened slightly, and in the awkwardness again, I found myself looking around the room ultimately catching Arthur shooting daggers at the man with his hold on me. My cheeks grew hot. I apologized to Mr. Perry, not bothering with an explanation as I slipped out of his hold and made my way towards Arthur. 

"Who was that fool?" Arthur grumbled when I met him, I furrowed my brow, confused but flattered by his seemingly jealous reaction. 

"That was Mr. Perry, he's close with the host, I only let him touch me to try and get details." I informed him, wondering why I had just justified perfectly reasonable actions to my friend. 

Arthur flicked another mean stare towards Mr. Perry before turning back to me, "Hm, anyway, I got word of a safe upstairs, supposed to be holding some things of value." Arthur whispered the last part of his sentence. I nodded, wordlessly looking for a way to hunt down this safe. I patted Dutch on the back as I passed him, silently signalling him to keep watch for Arthur and I. 

With Arthur on my tail, we slipped into the other room, locating the servant staircase for a much more secluded way up. What we were met with was a labyrinth of sorts. "Let's split up, try not to run into anybody, give a whistle when you find something." Arthur said, both of us sharing a nod before separating in search of this prized safe. 

Rooms filled with riches proved fruitless somehow on my search, though I did manage to snag a fancy new pocket watch. While I was searching though yet another cabinet, I heard a soft whistle from the hall. 

I walked down the hall, listening to the muffled voices and music downstairs. As I walked into the room, Arthur was just pulling open the safe handle, "You're getting good at that." I complimented, smiling and taking a few papers from inside to snoop on. Arthur chuckled, slipping a few bill stacks into his coat pocket. I leaned up against the front of the big mahogany desk, skimming the words on the pages in search of anything important. 

The sound of the door knob turning caused us to look up at each other in dread. In a matter of seconds, Arthur shut the safe, rushed over to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me so passionately it made me feel almost drunk. He even pressed himself up against me to conceal the papers. I could taste the floral of the champagne, which mingled perfectly with the intoxicating smell of the cologne he had applied. Though it was only a moment, it was hot and needy, his teeth nearly clashing with mine but at the same time it was so tender, the edge softened by his plump lips.

My eyes shut the moment he pressed his lips to mine, only opening when I heard the heavy wooden door creak open, which caused Arthur to pulled away. "O-oh my," The butler gasped and his face turned a bright crimson colour, he cleared his throat before speaking, "I'm afraid guests are not supposed to be upstairs." 

"Sorry pal, we didn't realize, uh we'll get going." Arthur laughed softly, looking down and pretending to fiddle with the buttons on his pants to allow me to hide the papers on my person. I was too shocked to speak, to even look at Arthur really. The breath left my lungs yet again at the feeling of his hand on my lower back, guiding us out of the door being held open by the butler. Shamefully, we were chaperoned by that same butler down the grandeur staircase, catching the attention of Dutch and Hosea immediately. The embarrassment crept up my neck, making the room feel much too hot which only worsened when Arthur took my hand in his, I suspected to keep our little act going.

Following the two older men, we went outside, awaiting John and Bill in impatient silence. Hopefully John hadn't emptied the champagne, we'd need it to drown out the uncomfortableness. 

-

It had been a few weeks since my, interaction, with Arthur. And if I thought our relationship was off before, things got a lot worse. I couldn't bare to look at him, let alone be near him. He hadn't made much an effort to speak to me either, choosing to eat alone and always going out with John. 

I was in the outskirt of camp scrubbing some laundry in the stream when I heard footsteps from behind me. "Hey." I said to Arthur, standing up and dusting myself off, he seemed like he wanted to say something, I'd never seen him look so nervous before. 

"I just uh, wanted to apologize for what I did at the party I-" 

A boost of confidence suddenly bursted through me, the adrenaline pumped as I moved closer to him and cut him off with a kiss. Some kind of switch flipped in him, the nerves were gone and in no time he took control. Arthur carefully walked me backwards, unable to pry our lips apart and letting a tree catch my back. His hands were on my face like the first time, I couldn't taste champagne but the twinge of tobacco and mint wasn't terrible at all. I moaned into the kiss, my mouth left ajar as Arthur kissed down my neck, surely leaving marks on his way. 

Arthur mumbled against my skin, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." I smiled, keeping him close with my hands around his neck. 

"Trust me, I know the feeling." I said, making him laugh while he returned to my lips, taking the chance to deepen the kiss. My fingers tangled into the honey blonde locks, focusing on the feeling of his hands sliding down my body, squeezing and appreciating me. 

"I need you, Arthur." I pulled away to whisper to him, smirking when I noticed the bumps appear on his skin, much like he had done to me at the party. Arthur raised his brows, his thumb absentmindedly stroking my hip. 

He cleared his throat, "W-where do you want to go?" I only smiled in response, abandoning the pile of laundry as I pulled him by the hand farther out from camp.

We both looked around, making sure nobody from camp was out this far. After a quick spin to look for anything to sit on, Arthur pulled off his coat and laid it out in front of a tree. He sat himself down and beckoned me to him, the blush on his face making both of us chuckle. The passion from before was quick to return with me now straddling his lap. 

Breathless, Arthur pulled away and looked to me, "Can I take this off?" He motioned to my shirt, looking more than pleased when I nodded. I helped him pull the fabric off my arms, a gasp leaving me as he kissed down my chest, taking my nipple into his mouth. My back arched with the feeling, my hands gripping the material of his shirt. Arthur moved back up to my neck, kissing the shell of my ear while I unbuttoned his shirt like he had done mine. 

I ran my fingers over the growing patch of his chest hair, smiling before beginning to leave my own signature over his skin. "I didn't know you felt this way, I um, I was so worried something had happened to our friendship." I told Arthur honestly, taking a break from loving up on him. 

"You didn't know? I thought you had maybe realized and starting hating me for it."  Arthur admitted with a soft laugh, stroking my cheek with his thumb. 

"I could never hate you, Arthur." I said, smiling and placing my hands on his broad shoulders. 

Spoken in between kisses, Arthur laughed, "We'll see about that." His hands held me close, moving down to grab at my ass, all while moving me to feel the swell in his jeans. Shyly, I skimmed my hand down his torso, watching his eyes close while I touched him through the denim. Broken out of his sudden trance, he reached down as well, taking things a step farther as he undid his pants, his length hitting his stomach in arousal. 

A familiar heat warmed my ears, he looked so good like this. Hot and bothered, leaned up against a tree and at my disposal. I took his cock in my hand, swiping my thumb over his leaking tip. "Shit." Arthur groaned, his hips thrusting himself up into my hand. I worked him up and down, keeping eye contact until he brought me close, connecting our lips once again. Arthur hummed into the kiss, even breaking it at one point to take a deep breath. He was so hard it seemed like it hurt. I reached down to undo my own bottoms. 

"Do you want to go through with this? I don't know if I'll be able to quit you after." Arthur spoke just above a whisper. 

"That is more than fine with me," I spoke as I tossed my bottoms off to the side, straddling him properly once again before continuing, "I haven't stopped thinking about the party, I wish that butler had just turned around." We both chuckled, Arthur's grip drifting to my waist. 

"I'm sure there'll be another chance to continue what we started there." 

A breathy moan left the both of us as my hips sunk down onto his length; he filled me up perfectly. It took me a moment to adjust, same with Arthur. I watched his eyes screw shut the second he felt the warmth of me, the squeeze. "God, you're so tight," Arthur pried his eyes open, looking up at me with an already glossed over look, "can I move?"

I only nodded in response, silent until his first thrust shot a wave of pleasure over me which caused me to throw my head back and involuntarily moan out his name. The sight seemingly spurred him into continuing his pace. Once I had familiarized myself with the blissful feeling, I took some of the weight off him and began moving with Arthur, lifting myself up and down atop of him. 

With my arms kind of half wrapped around Arthur's shoulders, I tangled my fingers into his hair once again, keeping him just as close to me as he was doing with me. "O-oh, there, again." I sputtered out the jumbled sentence, whimpering out a sound of pleasure with nearly all of his upwards thrusts. 

It didn't feel like all of the time I spent wondering and wanting had led specifically to this moment, like how they would describe the climax of a crush in the stories I would borrow from Mary-Beth sometimes. It felt beautifully unique, like I had chosen the right path to get here.

My clouded mind was no match for the warmth beginning to gather inside me. A groan from Arthur brought my attention upwards again, "I ain't gonna last much longer." His cheeks were pink and a sweat began to gather at his temple. My back arched at the feeling of his cock hitting that spot once again, and again. 

"Please, Arthur ugh!" I moaned, feeling him take the lead from me completely. My hips stilled as he desperately fucked himself into me, chasing. 

The feeling was an uninhabited release of control, of doubt, and of myself. With my legs shaking, I curled inwards, my head falling to Arthur's shoulder while I slowly fell from my place of ecstasy. Jagged and uneven thrusts brought Arthur through his orgasm, I could feel the hot finish filling me to the brim. He moaned and held tightly onto my skin, my skin adorned with red fingermarks at his ease. 

Slowly, I lifted my head, smiling softly at the sight of a faintly teary eyed Arthur Morgan. "That was-" He began and then stopped, searching for a word that could explain that experience.

"Yes, it was." I said with a laugh, lifting his chin and connecting our lips again finally.

Ever the gentleman, Arthur helped clean me up, affectionately doing up my shirt and fixing my hair with great care. And how could I not do the same for him.

-

"What's this gonna be like now?" 

I looked over at Arthur, sat beside me while we overlooked the lake where the gang was holed up by. The sun was shining on us, lighting up the blue in his eyes and causing him to squint, quite adorably I might add. 

"I mean, if you want to give us a try, I would really like that." I chose my words carefully, chewing on my lip while I awaited Arthur's answer.

"Of course I want to." He smiled, taking my hand in his and squeezing. 

So, I guess I could call that crush my boyfriend now.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

putting in a request for shouichi and hikawa, 19 (maybe with some angst inflicted on hikawa right before)

Hm. 19 is a forceful kiss, and I feel like that's a bit tricky for these two, although it certainly suits Hikawa's tendency to be Slightly Too Much. I will do my best!

Shouichi hears the knocking just as he's checking on his cassoulet, but when he gets to the door he doesn't see anyone on the doorstep--that is, until he looks down, and then he says, "Hikawa, why are you sitting on the what happened?"

Hikawa sighs and stands up from the front step. "Guy I was arresting punched me in the face."

"Well, why'd you let him do something like that? Come inside, come on, I'll get you an ice pack. They really should have given you one before."

"We were a little preoccupied, it's not like it's a serious injury. Honestly, I didn't think he'd be able to reach, I'm a lot taller than most people." In the doorway, Hikawa hops on one foot and then the other, removing his shoes, and nearly stumbles, gripping the door frame slightly too hard--Shouichi can see his knuckles going white. "Better me than his girlfriend again, anyway."

Shouichi taps his nose with one finger. "Your face isn't that hard to reach, you know, tall or not. I thought you didn't do domestic violence."

"I don't, he robbed a jewelry store, it just turned out he'd also been hitting his girlfriend."

"Mm."

Five minutes, and Hikawa's sitting on the couch with an ice pack on his black eye and a glass of water waiting on the table, and he leans back and tips his head back and sighs. "I hope you don't mind my dropping by unexpectedly, I just got out of the precinct and really didn't want to go back to my apartment."

"Fair enough!" Shouichi grins at him, even knowing he can really only see out of the one eye right now. "You want to stay and have dinner with me? I'm making cassoulet, it's been going all day."

"I...don't know what that is."

"French food! Stew with beans and chicken and sausage. It's good for cold weather, I figure it's chilly enough out now."

"That would be really nice, thank you."

"All right, wonderful! It'll be nice having company for dinner, it's been weird living all by myself after all that time with Professor Misugi and Taichi and Mana, and anyway there's way too much for just me but I really wanted to try the recipe. Probably too much for two, even. It'll be ready soon."

They lapse into an awkward silence, Hikawa holding the ice pack to his eye and Shouichi drinking water, no sound but faint bubbling from the kitchen and a bird singing near the window.

And then, abruptly, at the same time:

"So how have you--"

"What made you want to--"

Laughter, and then Shouichi nods encouragingly and Hikawa says, "So how have you been? I feel like we haven't talked much recently."

Shouichi grins at him. "I have been pretty busy with the restaurant, you're lucky you caught me here. Good! It's strange living by myself, like I was saying, but I don't mind it. We've started offering some delivery, Ryou's been helping me find a couple of drivers."

"You know, he mentioned that the other day, I ran into him." Hikawa pauses, and then says, "You also started saying something."

"Well, yeah, so, what made you want to come here? If you didn't just want to go home. I mean, I'm flattered, but you could have just gone to a bar or something." Shouichi eyes him for a moment and then says, slyly, "You were hoping for a free dinner, weren't you?"

Hikawa turns bright red, which is cute of him. "No, I--I mean, of course I do enjoy your, I'm happy to share a meal with you. I just..." A long sigh. "Look, I don't know, this just seemed like the place to come to."

Shouichi pauses for a moment, thinking about that, and then nods. "Ok, that's fair. I should go check on the cassoulet again, but let's take a look at your eye first." He unfolds from the only other chair in his tiny living room and goes over to stand in front of Hikawa. "Come on, ice pack off, let me see."

Hikawa pulls the ice pack off of his face and looks up at Shouichi, not quite smiling. He looks...tired, worn out, like maybe he's been under a lot of stress lately. "It doesn't hurt," he says, and maybe he's lying, or maybe not. "Thanks for the ice."

"Sure, of course." Frowning, Shouichi bends down to take a closer look at the bruising, seeing another bruise-color beneath it. "Haven't you been sleeping ok?" He reaches out to tap Hikawa's cheekbone. "You've got dark circles, see, right--"

None of what happens next deliberate, really, it's just Hikawa doing things the way he does them, with slightly too much force. He reaches up to brush Shouichi's hand away, Shouichi loses balance, Hikawa catches him, he lands in Hikawa's lap, his forehead smacks Hikawa's nose, and Hikawa bites off a curse. And now their faces are a breath apart, or maybe less, maybe half a breath, and Hikawa grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him, also with slightly too much force. Which isn't exactly bad when it's kissing.

It's not lengthy. In fact it feels like it's over in an instant, and then Hikawa flushes bright red again and says, "Sorry, that was a stupid impulse, I'll--"

"You'll put the ice pack back on your eye, it's still swelling a bit. I need to go turn off the heat on the stove, anyway, but then the cassoulet can sit a little, there's enough garlic in it that if you're going to go kissing me it should all be before dinner."

Hikawa stares up at him, dazed. "Ok...?"

Shouichi stands back up and head into the kitchen, where he turns off the stove with one hand and digs his phone out of his pocket with the other, flipping it open and sending Mana a message that just says, [iou ¥500]

[i knew it]

[wait is he there]

"Do you want more water? Or a beer or something?"

"A beer would be wonderful, please," says Hikawa, sounding slightly lost. "You're sure you're not mad at me for, uh...that?"

Shouichi smiles to himself as he gets two beers out of the fridge. "No, why would I be mad?" [none of your business,] is what he sends back to Mana. "Hey, do you work tomorrow or are you free?"

[nanaminokanojo]

[10:00 PM] Ryomen Sukuna

LOG 14 OF MY JUJUTSU KAISEN TIMESTAMP DRABBLES

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You WORD COUNT: 1,202 GENRE: fluff | kinda smut? | kinda angst | salaryman Sukuna TRIGGER WARNING: nudity | some touching lol | profanity | possessiveness | unhealthy amounts of jealousy lol SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

photo/fanart credits to @/Natsushio on Weibo

"Baby."

Sukuna knows you heard him. Still, you continued walking as if you didn't, going ahead of him about ten paces ahead, your posture and the overall attitude in your gait speaking volumes of your current mood. He easily kept up with you, placing an arm over your shoulder, but much to his surprise, you shrugged it off you and walked the remaining expanse of sidewalk towards your shared apartment. He just watched in annoyance as you walked into the lobby and got into the elevator before him.

"Trouble with your princess?" this nosy grandma, who lived at one of the units at the first floor, asked.

Sukuna just smiled awkwardly, bowing slightly as he passed her by on his way to the elevator. When he finally got into your unit, he found your coat lying on the hallway, picking it up only to see your jeans a few steps ahead then your shirt. He finally found you in the kitchen already wrapped in a robe which you didn't even bother tying up, agitatedly pouring yourself a glass of wine, the cerise liquid sloshing around the glass violently.

You were behaving rather out of character, making a mess out of your clothes when he knew just how much you hated it when he leaves his things scattered about. On top of that, you left the cutlery drawer open with the corkscrew you used on top of the counter, droplets of red wine littering the granite top. You just passed him by without saying anything, refusing to look at him on your way to your bedroom.

I see how it is, he thought, taking long strides to the direction you went. He eyed you sternly, having had enough of your attitude. "Y/N, what's going on?" he demanded.

You flinched visibly at the way he addressed you. He doesn't call you by your name unless he was dead serious about something. "It's nothing. Don't mind me."

"Woman, don't tell me it's nothing when –"

Before he could finish, you walked into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the tap to the tub to tune him out. You were evidently being passive-aggressive now, and he detested it when you did that.

"Just go back to your party. I'm sure everyone's wondering where you've gone," you told him, picking up your glass from the dresser top. "Especially Miss Hanako." You shot him a sardonic smile before taking a swig out of your wine, the way you said the woman’s name dripping with vitriol.

And then it hit him. You've been dishing out barb since you told him you wanted to leave the company party he was partly hosting for his department. You did so when the secretary to the president arrived and started chatting him up. He was now thinking your behavior thereafter had something to do with it. You were fine before that so it could only mean one thing.

He didn't know whether to laugh or what at the thought of it. When he decided to pursue you, he didn't have qualms about it even if you were a good six years younger than him. He knew how problematic it could get having an immature partner, but that's where you were different. You held yourself with such confidence, grace and equilibrium way beyond your age, you shared the same pragmatic mindset he had and you didn't seem to have a proclivity for drama like others your age. You hardly ever fought because of petty things and he loved that about you.

But then, you're still young and he didn't hold it against you that you're suddenly acting like a brat. If anything, he was happy about it because you were never ever jealous. It sometimes made him doubt how you felt about him when you yourself would be pointing at other chicks for him to look at while saying things like, "Baby, look at her ass. Damn, she's sexy." And now that the green-eyed monster is rearing its head to the surface, he couldn't say he didn't like it.

"What about her?" he asked cautiously, making you jump the hoops.

You sneered, the action very intimidating despite your angelic features. “Oh, I don’t know, Sukuna. You tell me. You seemed to be enjoying her company. Don’t stop at my expense.”

He leveled his expressions to you. “Well, she is something, isn’t she? Smart, too.”

“Yeah, you deserve each other,” you hissed, the anger flaring up in your eyes making him stir alive.

“But she’s married.”

“All the better!” Seeing through what he was doing, you turned towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He didn't hear you lock it so he followed suit.

"If you're jealous, just say so already!" he told you. He wanted to hear it out of your mouth.

"Why would I be jealous? She looks like a bad rip-off of 80s Brooke Shields!" you spat, confirming his thoughts. You climbed into the bathtub sulkily, eyes on the bubbly water.

Sukuna knew he shouldn't even be thrilled about the prospect of it. If you were jealous then that means you were kinda doubting him in terms of his loyalty to you, and he should not like that, but at the same time, you were also being possessive which you rarely do. He couldn't help it.

Loosening his tie, he began shedding his clothes off, stripping naked before you, revealing the tattooed expanse of his skin and his impressive musculature as he tossed one garment after the other.

"What are you doing?" you asked as he approached, the way you mumbled the words causing him to just sigh, feeing defeated at how endearing you looked hugging your knees to yourself. "I thought I told you to go back to your party."

He didn't say anything as he went into the tub, sitting opposite you, but it wasn't long before he was pulling you towards him, positioning you between his legs so your back was pressed against his hard chest. He then began planting hungry kisses on your neck, down to your shoulders, his large hands wandering all over your body, one already having found itself on your breasts while the other coaxed your head to turn towards him so he can kiss you, his movements urgent yet languid and gentle.

"I'm all yours," he breathed against your lips, grinning. "You know that, right?"

"I know." You shrugged, facing forward again. “I don’t like the way that witch was touching you though. And you were all smiles about it, too.” You smacked him on the thigh, eliciting that deep laughter you adored no matter how mad you were at him. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny.”

“It kinda is.”

“If you even think for a second that anyone can have you, Ryomen Sukuna, you’re wrong.” You looked him in the eyes, your dark orbs boring into him while your hand touched the side of his face, your crimson-painted nails looking like claws against his cheek. “You’re mine.”

He wrapped his arm around you, kissing you on the temple before placing his chin on your shoulder. "Jealousy is ugly, baby," he whispered in your ear, "but I gotta say, you wear it so well."

-END-

Okay. Before I get another "untimely (and unsolicited, if I'm allowed to say) lecture" about the etymology of the word "Ryōmen (両面/りょう)" meaning "two-faced/two-sided" and not a surname or given name , let me say it now, I KNOW, but thanks anyway. Sukuna and I are neighbors, just 4 hours by train. Geez. However, I am using his whole name in literature form, so if I do switch it up and use it as a surname for him (cause heaven forbid, the Kamigami rain hell on me) it's all for fun and literary creativity. No need to get too pressed over it.

No more fighting on my comments to point this out @fushigummy @kenkinori XD

And I have nothing against the 1980s or Brooke Shields. *waves at her fans*

It's established. I love bathtub scenes although I detest the idea of stewing in my own filth. But yeah, look forward to more bathtub drabbles.

I say too many things. Bye.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210603]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.