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moody-alcoholic · 3 days ago

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This Is Going To Hurt

Part 6 - The Price of Love

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, torture, descriptions of injuries, use of weapons, blood, suicidal thoughts, all hurt very little comfort, angst.

Previous parts - masterlist- next

AO3

Enjoy <3

Johnny regretted his decision as soon as he gets out the window. He can already hear Price’s voice ringing in his head, he can deal with Price though he’s been in trouble before. It’s not Price he’s worried about, it's Simon, the cold stare, the low authoritative voice that only comes out once in a blue moon. It sends shivers up his spine just thinking about it.

At least he has the makeup sex to look forward to. If he makes it out alive, and Simon doesn’t kill him.

He can’t let you do this alone, he can’t let them keep hurting you. They’re so fuckin’ close and they have to sit around waiting for what? Red tape bullshit? For Price to decide now is the time while you suffer more?

He looks out at the guards on the gate to the compound, he has no idea what he’s going to say. Maybe they’ll kill him on site? No, he’s useful, if anything he can take some of the torture off you.

He just needs to see you, hold you in his arms again, even if it means him getting hurt. He steps out from behind the broken wall he’s using to scout the base. The place seems emptier than they thought it was, maybe not hundreds of people a couple of dozen, he counted maybe 30, less than that during the day.

He sucks up a breath, it’s now or never. He walks over to the gate raising his hands as they point their weapons and shout at him. Another person comes out as he’s forced to his knees. Hands grip his wrists pulling them shapely against his back.

“Easy, you’ve got to work on your greeting.” He says. There’s a shout and someone hits him over the head with the butt of their weapon. It makes his head ring, there’s buzzing in his ears and his vision is blurred.

The next thing he knows he’s being dragged into the building.

…

Sayyid walks into your cell. Fuck him. You’re not going to say a word to him.

He throws a bandage at you.

“You need to change the one on your arm.” He says. He’s not wrong, you’re not going to do anything under his orders though. “Change it. I have something for you.”

Fuck him.

“Another innocent person to kill?” You spit at him. He doesn’t say anything, you watch him clench his jaw.

“Look, change it yourself or I will. I’m giving you a choice.” He snaps. You get up to your feet rushing over to him.

“Like you gave Naajiya a fucking choice.” You push him, it sends a shooting pain down your arm. He pushes you back and you fall on your ass. You don’t even care, there’s no embarrassment, you're just mad and upset.

“Last chance. I’ll make them pin you down if I have to.” He says. You huff reaching over and ripping the bandage off in one swift movement. You grit your teeth, it hurts. You look over at it the best that you can. It burns, it’s swollen and sore. Most likely infected, you pick the bandage up off the floor shaking the sand off.

“Looks infected.” He says.

“Fuck off.” You say ripping the packaging with your teeth. You press it on the wound, you can feel the heat through the bandage, it needs stitches, too late now. When you’re done you stand up.

“I’m not saving anymore people for you.” You say. He scoffs knocking on the door. You wait letting the guard grab your upper arm and pull you out of the room. You’re following Sayyid, he seems more important than you first thought.

You reach a door with a guard outside. You’re not in the ward, you're in a new place. Sayyid hands you another bandage. The door is opened and you’re shoved in. You stumble but you manage to keep your balance as the door is slammed close behind you.

When you look up your heart sinks. It’s Johnny, his head slumped forward, tied to a chair.

“No, no. no.” you whisper going over to him. You drop the bandage and press your hands on his face. His head comes up and you look at him. Tears cloud your vision. What is he doing here, your fingers run through his hair.

He’s hurt, now he’s tied up, he’s here.

“Hey love.” He says smiling. He’s actually smiling.

“What the hell Johnny.” You say quietly trying to keep your voice level.

“Had to see you. Don’t want you to be alone.” He says. You look at the wound on his head sniffling.

“What did they hit you with?” You say. You feel sick, your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re not even thinking straight, you’re not listening to his answer. Your hands are shaking as you hold his face. You want nothing more than to untie him from the chair.

The door to the room opens and you turn watching 2 people come in. One dragging a chair with them. Your hands leave Johnny, you want to protect him but you can’t, you’re in no position to protect him.

“Sit.” The taller man says, the other man puts the chair down facing Johnny. You swallow and nod moving over to the chair. Johnny’s eyes scan round the room, you watch as the men walk round you both. You’re trying to stop the tears coming down your face but it’s too late. You’re too tired, you didn’t think you would have to worry about Johnny being here.

You didn’t expect him to be here, or even be rescued. You can’t let them hurt Johnny though, you’re used to this you can take the blame. There’s no point in you both getting hurt.

“Where are the rest of your team?” The man asks from behind Johnny. You both look at each other but you don’t say anything. You don’t even know, they must be close though. The man lets out a long sigh, this can’t be good. Hands land on your shoulders.

“I need information and now I have two of you. So who wants to go first?”

“Me.” You call before Johnny gets a chance. He starts to protest, you dig your eyes into him. He shouldn’t have come. This is not his burden to hold, it’s yours.

The man behind you picks up your hand, he holds it in his. You don’t try to fight him, if you fight him they’ll hurt Johnny. You can’t let them do that.

“What we do to her, we’ll then do to you. So maybe it’s best if you start talking.” The other man says looking at Johnny who hasn’t taken his eyes off you. The man takes something out of his back pocket, it looks like pliers.

“Medic’s need their hands right?” He says taking your hand from the other man. You feel ill, you don’t want to lose your hands, if you don’t have your hands you cant work. You watch as the pliers are pressed on your finger gripping the nail.

You feel sad, whatever they do to you, they’re going to do to Johnny.

“Tell us where they are?” The man asks again, you can already feel him pulling on your nail.

Johnny better keep his mouth shut, you’re not going through this for nothing. There’s a few seconds of silence. You can’t look at Johnny when they do it. It will only make it worse, for both of you. They ask the question again and neither of you say anything.

There’s a sigh, you squeeze your eyes closed and scream as the nail is pulled off your finger.

…

“You sure this is a good idea?” Gaz asks.

“No. This is not a good idea, we need help.” Price says as he opens the program on the laptop.

“Captain Price.” Shepherd says as the call connects.

“General.” Price replies, Gaz can almost hear him gritting his teeth.

“Laswell briefed me on what happened. I told you running after her was a bad idea. We have protocols in place for a reason.” He says then sits down in a chair.

“Lucky for you Shadow Company are already on their way. I’m sure commander Graves is capable of getting the hostages back.” Shepherd says. Price is still gritting his teeth.

“Let me tell you though Captain, this is not your mission. You have let yourself get into this mess and now it is my responsibility to fix it. We are not in the position to lose 2 SAS soldiers.”

“But one was okay.” Gaz mutters. Ghost looks over at him.

“You caused this mess. Lets hope there are no further complications. I will make sure Graves is kept up to date. He should be with you in the next few hours.” Shepherd says. Price nods and the call ends.

Gaz can see the tension in his shoulders, he can tell how much he hates doing this. Running back to Shepherd to ask for help with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

“We’re not going to have a medevac.” Ghost says, Price stands up.

“Based on what we’ve seen we have to assume she’s in a worse state than Soap.” Price says standing up.

“Graves will have medics right?” Gaz asks, Price looks over at him.

“We have to hope so.”

“She’s still alive, that's what matters. We’re going to get them both out. With or without Grave’s help.” Ghost says. Price nods, looking between them both.

…

Your fingers throb, your arm is shaking. It didn’t help that they did this on your already injured arm. Johnny didn’t talk, you didn’t talk. That's all that matters.

They seemed mad, leaving the room when they were done pulling each nail off your hand. You can’t even bare to look at Johnny, you can’t do this. You can’t hear him go through what you just went through. You tried not to scream, you tried so hard to keep it together at least for Johnny’s sake.

“Love?” Johnny asks, you can hear the break in his voice, the pain. He shouldn't be here.

“Don’t-” The words catch in your throat. All you can feel is pain pulsing through your arm. Nails grow back, just like hair nails grow back. Right? You can’t remember, all you can think about is pain. You feel cold, you’re in the desert inside a windowless room with no ventilation but you’re cold, there’s a shiver running through you.

You look up at Johnny, your head is swimming. If this gets any worse you might break. If they hurt Johnny you might break.

“Johnny. Don’t tell them anything.” You say watching his face. He looks worried, his eyes look glassy through your foggy vision.

“I won’t.” He says. You drop your head again as tears come. You feel sick but there's nothing in your stomach, you haven’t eaten in days. You need to keep it together, at least until this is over, you’re not sure how long this is going to last though.

You hear the door open behind you again. There’s only one person now, you can only hear one pair of feet on the floor. Hands land on your shoulders, it makes you sit up straight, whoever it is they bend down by your face, you can feel their breath on your neck.

They don’t have their face covered. The only person you’ve seen without that has been Sayyid, and the patients you’ve treated.

“It’s a shame it had to end like this.” You watch as Sayyid walks around you.

“Who are you?” You ask, he’s definitely more connected to Khalid than you thought. He would stress over Khalid’s associates being injured, he knew people, he stopped your execution. He’s not just a random soldier.

“Does it matter?” He asks.

No it doesn’t.

“They want to make sure you don’t die.” He says morbidly. You must look worse than you feel if they’re worried about you dying. He comes over to you and you shoot up out the chair. You can’t keep your balance though and you’re on the floor before you can stop yourself.

You can hear Johnny shouting at him, you can hear the anger in his voice. This is not his fight, it's yours.

“Touch me and i’ll break your fucking wrists.” You shout.

“Good luck with that.” He says bending over and hauling you to your feet. You try to fight him, you don’t want him to help you.

“Fuck you!” You shout as you squirm from his grip. You manage to get away and press yourself into the corner of the room. He stops coming to you, for a second you have the upper hand.

“Do no harm.” You say, it comes off with a sob.

“I fucking helped you save the lives of people who would rather see me dead. That is what I took the hippocratic oath for.” You’re almost screaming at him, you don’t care how loud you’re being. “Do no harm.”

He sighs walking round the chair.

“You’re the enemy.” He says. “Your friend here has killed so many of us.” Your legs wobble as he gets closer to you. Whatever advantage you thought you had you’ve lost.

“I’ve killed so many of you.” You say. Your whole body silvers as your adrenaline wains, you look over at Johnny his body is leaned forward almost like he’s trying to throw himself out the chair. He looks worried, confused, he doesn’t know about the people you helped. Maybe he’ll hate you.

“I’ve saved just as many. Do no fucking harm.” You spit, he sighs, stepping back and calling something in arabic. The door to the room opens and two men walk in, they both stand there looking at Sayyid.

Something clicks in your brain. Who else would let you treat the people so freely, who else would let you work on people unless he knew he could kill you if things go wrong. You’ve let yourself fall into a trap.

“Sayyid Al-Asad? That's your name right?” You ask, he doesn’t even need to nod, you can tell from the look in his eyes, the clench of his jaw. He’s Khaled’s brother, this is his base. You don’t know what to say. You feel sick, and you rub your stomach as tears form in your eyes. Hands grab you, pulling your arms behind your back as your walked back over to the chair.

It’s kicked out of the way and you’re just stood facing Johnny. Sayyid reaches over taking a weapon from the man behind you.

“Sayyid!” You call, it’s like your body already knows what is about to happen. He pulls the barrel back on the weapon walking over to Johnny. He looks over at you quickly then his eyes switch to Sayyid.

“Please! Sayyid!” you beg fighting the grip of the people behind you, you’re not going to go down without a fight. You’re not going to let him hurt Johnny, your body throbs as the guards hands grip you tighter. You end up on your knees, your feet kicking into the sand.

“Baby.” Johnny calls, can barely see him through the tears and the fuzziness in your head. He’s calling you baby, he knows what's going to happen and it breaks your heart. You sob your head drops. A second later someone grips your hair painfully pulling your head up so you’re forced to look at him.

“Please. I’ll tell you anything, just don’t hurt him.” You beg, you’re begging. It’s pathetic what a mess you must look. This is what it took to break you, Johnny sitting there seemingly accepting his fate. That feels worse, it’s almost like he knew this would happen.

“It’s too late.” Sayyid says. It doesn’t feel real when the weapon goes off. The sound is so loud it makes your ears ring. You fight with the people holding you screaming trying to get to Johnny.

They drag you out the room though. You fight them the whole way, screaming and crying out for Johnny.

They killed him. They actually killed him.

...

You haven’t moved since they threw you back in your cell. All you can smell is blood, all you can think about is the sound of the weapon. They didn’t shoot his head, they’re going to make him suffer, let him bleed out slowly while they torture him for intel.

Why does it feel like this is all your fault? You can’t stop crying, the sobbing has given way to shivers and silent tears. He's dead, you don’t care what happens now. You don’t care about a rescue, how are you supposed to move on without him?

How will you tell the others what happened-if you ever see them again. How would you break it to Simon, he’s going to take it the worse. It’ll ruin him, he’ll never be the same again, maybe he’ll never forgive you.

You hear shouting, you look down at your hand, the bloody emptied nail beds throb with pain. Another shout some banging. They’re coming for you again. They’re going to take you and hurt you, maybe even kill you. You go over to the corner of the room digging in the sand. You don’t care anymore, you’re going to kill whoever comes into your cell. You don’t care who it is.

You raise the blade standing by the door, as it’s kicked open. Someone in full combat gear walks in with a weapon raised.

You almost don’t believe your eyes, you recognise that gear. You recognise the hair sticking out from under the helmet, the o-positive blood patch. He turns towards you, you drop the scalpel from your hand.

“John?” You ask. He straightens up looking at you, he lowers his weapon and you watch as his eyes widen. You feel relief, you reach out for him but instead of going into a hug your body goes limp and you fall against him.

“John.” You call again, it almost doesn't feel real he arms wrap round you as he guides you to the floor.

“Yeah, I'm here. I got you.” He says pulling you tight against his chest.

“Ghost, I’ve got her. What about Soap?” Hearing his name makes you panic. You watched him get shot. You won’t be able to hear a reply but you look up at him. You never thought you would see him again, now he’s here rescuing you. It almost doesn’t feel real

“I need-” You fight John’s grip. “-Johnny, I need to help. They fucking shot him!” you can hear the desperation in your voice.

“It’s okay, you’ve helped enough.” Price says fighting your grip and pulling you tighter against him.

“Johnny.” You say again, you need to find him.

“We’ve got him. Ghost’s got him, you're both okay.” Price says. You move your hand up his chest, looking in his eyes. “We’ve got you. I got you.”

You feel round hus vest trying to ground yourself, you blink trying to focus on him as your head throbs. He calls something into his radio as he helps you up to your feet. You slump against him your whole body shaking. As soon as you’re taken out the room you see Kyle coming towards you.

“Kyle.” You sob reaching out for him, you need to feel him, you need to know it’s real.

“Holy shit.” He calls as you fall into his embrace. John’s hand is on your back.

“You two over here!” John shouts. It makes you jump. What two? “Get her out of here Gaz.”

“John!” You call as he tries to walk away from you. You grip his arm.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. Gaz’ll get you out of here. I’m going to help Ghost.” He explains. It takes all the energy you have to turn to John.

“He needs me. He’s hurt.”

“You’re in no position to help right now we’ve got this. Graves has medics here.” Kyle says almost having to drag you down the halls.

“Graves?” You see more people now, more shadows. Shadow Company are here. You’re led out the building. The sun makes you squint, you lose your balance stumbling against Kyle. Black spots flash across your vision.

“Kyle.” You call out for him, gripping his vest tighter. This is a horrible place to pass out. You hear him shout something then there are more hands on you, holding you up. Pain shoots through your body, it feels like the first time you’ve relaxed in days.

“I’m here.” You hear him say but you can’t see him in the low sun shining in your eyes and the people surrounding you. You’re laid onto something soft, you try to roll over to reach out for Kyle. You just need to feel him. His fingers find yours, you look up at him letting your eyes adjust to the shade, people start talking and pressing around your body.

“Don’t leave.” You say, he comes round to bend down by your head.

“Never.”

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witherby · 2 days ago

Note

how would the batfam have gone about Flit's initial presentation of their secondary gender? (as in when they first showed signs of presenting and presented).

Oh, great question!

Early signs:

You're developing a slight fever and your scent is changing. Gone is the milky, powdery, pup scent everybody has when they're young, and now it's developing into something noticeable.

Tim immediately starts placing bets on what you'll become. He thinks you'll be another beta. Dick is factoring in your spunky little attitude and assumes you'll become an alpha like him. Bruce does not know or care; he just wants you to have a healthy presentation with no complications. Hal already instinctively knows what you'll be. Something in his gut is already aware you'll be an Omega and he's gathering nesting materials for you to ease the transition.

You start scenting your family members more as your secondary glands develop. Has your dad always had this really strong, dark chocolate scent? Has Alfred always smelled like the tea he drinks? You're quickly learning how to discern their moods from their scents as well, and whatever sensations or feelings they're trying to push through them. Jason gives you a big squeeze and you smell lovepacklove, and you cry because that's so nice that it can be conveyed so instinctively!

The Shift:

Your fever reaches a crescendo and your body feels unbelievably sore. You can do little else but lie in bed and breathe through it. Your scent is sharpening and developing further as your caste reaches maturity.

Hal nests you with clothes pilfered from the entire family. Everybody takes shifts keeping an eye on you and ensuring you're healthy and hydrated through the process. Their scents all keep you comforted and help you feel safe while you're in such a vulnerable condition for the next day and a half. At this point, it's clear that you're presenting as an Omega, and only two of them are really surprised.

Post-Presentation:

It's a bit of a sensory overload for a while. Everything feels like it's been shifted a little to the left, and you now have to navigate the world of scents and deferment and challenges and heats. God, you didn't realize how fucking annoying a heat was until you started experiencing them for yourself.

But you don't mind the change overall. In a family of emotionally-stunted vigilantes, now you can read them a hell of a lot better with a quick whiff. Your dad is not indifferent to you wanting to start a cafe that caters to heroes, civilians, and villains after all — he's actually broadcasting panicpupdanger pretty fucking loudly in his scent despite the straight face.

Your family helps you navigate this new layer of the world, too, gently correcting your mistakes when you accidentally keep challenging Dick for the TV remote (it's not an accident, you wanna put your fucking show on!) or keep deferring to Tim over what you should eat for dinner (it's not an accident, you can't make up your mind between tacos or spaghetti and want him to pick).

All in all, they're very supportive of your changes and want to help you become a confident Omega!

Bonus: Conner

This boy did not go through a natural presentation. Lex Luthor implanted information about secondary sexes in his mind when he was cooking in the tank, but not how to navigate them. He's the freakiest alpha to ever alpha when he pops out. Deferring to people he shouldn't. Deferring to objects he shouldn't. Challenging everybody and everything unintentionally. Ignoring actual Challenges posed against him. Unsure how to mask his scent so his emotions are on full fucking display 24/7/365. Ruts are a confusing mess for him. Conner needs some help.

"I'm sorry, I'm not Challenging your bat plushy on purpose I just don't know how to reel these instincts in. I've been alive for two months. I also think we're meant to be together forever. Can I bite you? My body is screaming at me to bite you. You can bite me back. Maybe. You might break your teeth trying actually. I'm so sorry. You smell amazing btw. That was weird to say? I'm sorry. I'm Conner what's your name?"

#littlest wayne au #batfam x reader #littlest a/b/o au #gn reader #omega reader

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literaila · 3 days ago

Note

gojo accidentally calling reader his girlfriend/wife in front of other people

(u don’t have to do this they r just infiltrating my mind rn)

accidentally is really a strong word, isn’t it?

satoru gojo doesn’t make “mistakes.” that one time he forgot to make lunch for both of the kids? well, that was a test of their survival skills. when he let a cursed spirit get away because he saw a new bakery down the street and had to try it? that was just for fun—he likes a little chase.

satoru doesn’t do things on accident, of course, because he lacks basically all faults—but he’s only human, okay?

there’s only so long one man can go sleeping next to the same person every night—suffocating said person with the entire weight of his body and being lulled to sleep by a strong heartbeat—before he accidentally gets a little bit confused.

and so, you’re standing in an aisle at a grocery store, staring at a collection of snacks and trying to discern what, exactly, tsumiki meant by “the blue sweet things.”

you’ve been there for about three minutes—satoru having gone to hide some impulse purchases, probably, or annoy a poor stock person—when a gentleman taps you on the shoulder.

you look lost, he says, but kindly—and oh, he’s got a name tag, the stores logo embedded on the front of his hat—how can he help?

so you reluctantly launch into a story about your nine-year-old daughter, and your daughter’s friend, who introduced her to some snack, which, apparently, until tsumiki can have again, she won’t be able to eat anything else.

she’s not being picky, you quote, just particular.

and it’s right when you’re laughing with this man, telling him about tsumiki’s puppy dog eyes and completely unhelpful descriptions, that satoru rounds the corner.

he’s already focused in on you, as always, so his eyes don’t have to do a lot of seeking. it takes one breath, a clarification of what he already knew, and he’s walking towards the both of you.

(though, having the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, blessed since birth, trained since a child, heading directly for you—target in mind—can’t really be classified as walking. running, maybe. teleporting ten meters in a matter of seconds. what bounds does satoru gojo know, after all?)

“there you are,” he says, in some sweet version of a strange man who’s been stalking you. which, honestly, he has. “i’ve been looking all over.”

satoru announces this basically into the back of your head, because he’s not even a step behind you.

he’s just appeared, suddenly, and you don’t even have the time to be shocked about it. no time to flinch, or tell him to stop scaring you like that.

and satoru has no regard for personal space, or respecting other people’s bubbles, but this is excessively close, even for him.

so immediately, you’re suspicious. but when aren’t you, around your curse of a co-parent?

“you ran away from me,” you say, trying to push him back with your elbow, giving him a side eye you hope he can feel.

“i get lost. who’s this?”

the man opens his mouth, already looking wildly uncomfortable. it is a bit bewildering to have a tall, strange blindfolded man stare at you like you’re a threat, you guess.

satoru really must be taking intimidation lessons from megumi.

you breathe out, nudging him again. “he was trying to help me find the treat tsumiki wanted.”

“oh, was he?” satoru says this completely pleasantly, but he’s not grinning. and, by this point, he’s made a wet spot on the back of your neck from breathing too hard.

he’s entirely too warm and far too strong to push away. honestly, satoru is a playbook for abusing one’s power.

at least you’re not completely, totally disgusted by him. at least.

you refrain from rolling your eyes. “yup. i think we narrowed it down to three or four options.”

the man smiles, taking a not-so-subtle step back. “there’s a popular brand that i—“

“i already know what tsumiki wants.”

you turn, irritation spiking. “what? no, you don’t, satoru, you already told—“

“thanks for trying to help my wife, though. we’ve got it.”

both of his hands come to rest on your shoulders, basically holding you to him while satoru probably places a hex on this poor man with his glare.

and you would laugh, honestly. you would cackle in satoru’s face and grab the attendant by the arm, leaving your fake husband—and his lies—behind without a second thought.

but you can’t. maybe you’ve lost your mind. maybe satoru’s just a little bit too close in this very moment—for thinking rational thoughts, at least.

“o-of course, have a…” the man begins to say, but he doesn’t even attempt to finish his sentence before he’s turning around, quickly exiting the isle before satoru can say anything else completely idiotic.

you shake his hands off, turning. “what are you doing?”

it’s like a switch has flipped because satoru immediately grins, looking as clueless and irritating as ever. “what? i’m just trying to shop.”

“you just scared that man off for no reason. and now i don’t even know which ones to get.”

“i’ll find them.”

“he could’ve found them if you weren’t glaring at him like an animal.”

satoru begins to trifle through the packages on the display, oh so oblivious. “we should just get one of each. tsumiki can share with her friends.”

“she doesn’t want all of them, satoru.”

“then i’ll eat the rest.”

“hey,” you say, pulling at his sleeve. “you called me your wife.”

satoru looks at you, tapping his chin. “oh, did i?”

“i told you to quit it with that.”

“oops,” he shrugs. “i must’ve gotten confused.”

“satoru.”

“what? sometimes my words get mixed up.”

“this is the sixth time this month.”

he sighs, tilting his head back in a display of agony. “working hard puts such a strain on my head.”

“you haven’t had work in a week.”

“a big strain. ginormous. lasts for years.”

“im serious,” you say, pulling at the hair sticking up from his blindfold. “i don’t want you to call me that.”

satoru’s mouth turns. “why not?”

“because it’s not true.”

he waves a hand, turning away once again. “a little white lie never hurt anyone.”

“i’ll hurt you if you keep doing that.”

“ooh,” he mock shivers. “that was scary. say it again.”

“satoru.”

“he was looking at you weird,” he relents, tapping on your head like you’re a small child he needs to console. satoru pouts, looking down at you. “and you had that little wrinkle on your face. i wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

he says this so pathetically, faking a sort of sympathy he has obviously never felt. satoru then takes his thumb to smooth out the so-called wrinkle.

you slap his hand away. “you walked up from behind me,” you point out, incredulous, “and he wasn’t even looking at me. he was looking at the wall so he could help.”

satoru blinks at you. he whispers, very dryly, “you were laughing.”

“i was telling him what tsumiki said.”

“he was probably gathering information so he could follow you home. i saved you. you’re welcome.”

“are you kidding me?”

satoru grins. “don’t worry. i’d never let that happen.”

“he was like eighty years old. i don’t even think he could follow me out of this isle without needing to stop and catch his breath.”

“better safe than sorry,” he runs that very same thumb—the one you pushed away—down the side of your cheek. just to watch you shiver.

you take a breath in and will yourself not to react. “better go find someone to help us before i kick you.”

he just laughs. “okay, wifey. whatever you say.”

you scowl. “stop calling me that!”

“it was an accident,” satoru looks away, grinning. “jeez, i can’t even make one mistake with you.”

#a typical family #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n

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thecheshireprincess · 3 days ago

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The Game Itself

Chapter V: Paint Swatches, A New Pal, and Your First Party

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) AU Series

Content Warning: Flirting with someone you don't like (at all) to get something you want, use of alcohol, mentions of drugs, a small portion of time where Reader receives attention she might not want (dub con, but not explicitly sexual), canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of vomiting, mentions/memories of an abusive father, curse words

Previous Chapter The Game Itself Masterlist

Newcomers arrive to The Beach in droves every single day, finally driving the once peaceful resort to become the raucous utopia Hatter had in mind from the beginning. Parties rage on, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding to the beat, alcohol and drugs of their choice surging through their veins. The new citizens of The Beach were quickly becoming a living embodiment of the cliche 'Seize the Day'. All of it felt strange to you, too much liveliness and exuberance in a world so forlorn. You were trying to keep an open mind; maybe these people really did need the hope and promise that Hatter was offering them in the form of your new home. They certainly seemed to hang onto every word that dribbled out of his cocky mouth.

It has been three days since your Six of Spades game; the injuries you and Aguni had sustained mercifully granted you some time off from playing. In the back of your mind, you knew that if it had not been for Aguni, you would have been thrown right back into the snake pit the next night fighting for the next card in Hatter's collection. Not to mention your life.

You'd spent the first two days mostly sleeping and eating, Chishiya an obvious constant at your side. In the small amount of time that you were actually awake, you helped Chishiya carve out a hiding place in the wall behind an ugly abstract painting in the bathroom. One place where the cameras were not. It was the perfect location to stow your pistols and whatever other crazy gadgets Chishiya came up with. The man was always tinkering with random pieces of junk he found lying around. This thought made you roll your eyes affectionately, but you were truly happy for him that he had a hobby of his own.

Yesterday you had felt much stronger, so you spent some time leisurely wandering the resort looking for inspiration for your renovation project while Chishiya performed a few Executive errands. You had just been lucky not to run into your brother or his newest lacky while meandering alone - something he had explicitly warned against. Annoyingly.

Today looked like it would be more of the same, Chishiya being called away to perform Executive duties early in the morning. You were being excused from them for now to give your body and mind time to heal, but at this point you kind of wished you weren't. In your friend's absence, you were truly alone. You wouldn't typically mind being alone for a little while. It was kind of enjoyable even, to have the house to yourself and dance around to blaring music and stuff your face with chips. But being left alone with your thoughts was decidedly not a very good thing for you right now. You still felt that strange darkness bubbling and brewing, threatening to take you over completely. You had hoped that some space from playing the games would make that disappear back into the deep abyss of your soul, but you were wrong.

Rage simmered under your skin that Niragi was avoiding you; that he was a completely different person since coming to this world. You hadn't even seen him in days. Did he even care about how you were doing? The same man who had for years completely lost his mind over every little cut or fever that plagued you hadn't visited you once even after witnessing you dripping blood all over the conference room floor. And he'd called you an idiot. If you didn't know any better, you'd say his behavior was not unlike that of someone else you knew, but honestly you didn't think you could handle thinking like that of Niragi. He couldn't ever become him.

Compounding your anger was your best friend; the one person who rarely, if ever, made you upset. Why had Chishiya given you the pistol from your first game? What did he mean by "be ready to use it"? What did he understand that you didn't? Neither you nor Chishiya had brought up whatever had obviously happened between the two men during their first game together, but there was definitely tension that hadn't been there before.

This made your heart clench tightly in your chest; Chishiya would never do anything to defy or hurt Niragi, you knew that. Your brother had basically raised both of you, Chishiya's father being an absent father at best. So it must have been Niragi. What could he have said or done to change the dynamic of their relationship so quickly? The longer you sat in your bed with these thoughts swirling around you, the more you felt you were about to be swallowed whole by them.

You desperately needed a fun distraction.

You weren't particularly interested in any of The Beach's main happenings, the majority of the citizens spending their days getting drunk, high, or having sex constantly. You were, however, intent on getting started on your renovation project. Who knew how long you would really have here to be able to re-decorate? You wanted to be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor for as long as possible. You'd be back in a game arena tomorrow night, you never knew if it could be your last.

While you were resting, you'd decided on some paint colors for the main lobby and some of the hallways, knowing that even just brightening up the walls would make a big difference in the vibes around here. In order to get the things you needed, you'd have to get permission to leave the resort premises. That unfortunately meant talking to Hatter, and probably being a little bit persuasive with him.

Allowing the doors the carved mahogany wardrobe to swing open, you select a flirty blush colored bikini covered with fluffy faux rose details and a sheer, loose fitting white cover up. You smile - this little number should be enough to get you what you want. You quickly run a brush haphazardly through your hair, trying to ignore the burning pain of your still partially unhealed shoulder. You wish you'd allowed Chishiya to do your hair for you earlier before he'd left, but you had still been half asleep and too cranky. You quickly twist your hair up into cute space buns, securing them with clear elastics.

Taking a look once more in the mirror, you check out your stitches finally starting to heal. You were surprised that in only three days, the traumatized skin had healed enough to keep the bandages off the majority of the time. No one seemed to have an answer for how time was flowing in this "country", but you knew it wasn't the same as you've always known.

Satisfied with your appearance, you work your way down the brightly lit hall to the executive suite. Hatter should still be in his room at this time, hopefully not yet completely drunk or high. Nodding politely but authoritatively to the two shirtless and proudly muscular men standing guard outside the door, you enter. Perks of being an Executive, you suppose? It had taken Hatter only a day or two to find those large guys, convince them that he was right about everything, and get them to pledge to "live AND die for him if necessary". You had wanted to roll your eyes at this soliloquy, but you can't really blame the man for being charismatic; plus it had worked.

The aforementioned man is sitting on a plush green and gold couch with a lady perched on either side of him. Though it's definitely only mid-morning at this point, a drink sloshes in his always wildly gesticulating hand, ice clinking noisily against the sides of the glass. You feel awkward sitting across from the group as the girls continue their exploration of the man sitting between them as though you weren't there at all. Though you tried to remain composed, you knew your face was shining a crimson color in secondhand embarrassment.

"Our Princess graces us with her presence! And what can I do for you, pretty little thing?" He preens, flirting with you unabashedly. A somewhat unspoken rule of being at The Beach is that once you're here, you only leave to play games or if you're assigned an errand. Death to the traitors. To get what you want, you'll have to flirt back, no matter how gross it makes you feel. That's what you're here in your skimpiest bikini for. Just add it to the list of games you're playing. You still enjoy playing games, right?

You put your prettiest puppy dog eyes on, batting your eyelashes at Hatter as he flirts. Pushing down the urge to vomit, knowing you shouldn't be doing this. "It's good to see you again," you gush, "The Beach has been kind to you, you look amazing. Happy." The man throws his head back in a boisterous laugh, saying your actual name for the first time ever.

"You are a little minx, aren't you?" He asks, eyes shining like the glass of liquor in his hand. "It's no wonder that your brother is so protective," he hums. You simply smile and bat your eyelashes again in innocence, left hand twisting the earring in your ear absentmindedly. "I suppose you probably aren't here just to flirt with me, but if you are, I can make them go away," he winks, speaking about the ladies on either side of him as if they weren't literally right there.

You giggle, "Since you so graciously offered me so much time to rest and recover, I was able to come up with a lot of really great ideas for The Beach renovation. I was hoping to have your permission to go out and look for some things that I need to get started."

Hatter clicks his tongue, sitting up to look at you over the top of his aviators, "I see. Well this is my kingdom and I do want it to be "good vibes" as you've mentioned before. Plus, in this utopia, the idea is for everyone to have something that brings them hope. I'm getting the sense that for you, this project might just be that source." You blink in surprise at this revelation, you really hadn't thought of it that way. He was sort of right. You didn't think someone like Hatter would be able to read you like that. Interesting.

The man breaks you from you reverie, "Niragi has made it clear that lives will be ruined if anything happens to you, so I'll have to request an escort. I can't just let you wander the city alone."

You stifle the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's nonsense - quietly dictating your every move in this place but treating you as though you'd caught the plague. Irritation prickles under your skin - you can't seem to figure out the rules to Niragi's game. His bullshit is just a game too, right? It was the only explanation. You're all still good people, as long as you're just playing a game.

Niragi is still a good person.

While you were lost again in your twisted and confusing thoughts about your brother, Hatter had slammed his drink on the messy coffee table separating the two of you and stood to his feet. He was walking away from you, towards the bathroom, leaving the two girls looking bewildered and incensed. Meeting adjourned, you guessed.

"Be ready to go in the lobby in thirty minutes!" he booms in his always way too loud voice, calling back over his shoulder.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Wind tousles your hair and gently kisses your skin as you cruise down the highway with Hatter himself. The fresh air felt amazing, refreshing your senses after being cooped up inside a dusty hotel for so many days. The breeze inspired you further, you'd have to find a way to make the resort feel more like a breath of fresh air than a grimy prison. Hatter had insisted on being the one to bring you to Shibuya in search of your items, and you certainly couldn't argue with the "King" of The Beach. Somehow, you didn't think Niragi would be terribly pleased by this fact, but at least you weren't causing trouble for him. He had told you not to make Hatter mad, not to necessarily avoid him completely. Chishiya on the other hand would probably be furious with your little escapade, flouncing around in a tiny bikini and using your attractiveness to get what you want from a dangerous man. Maybe he'd even be a little jealous? That particular thought lit your entire core on fire.

What those two don't know won't hurt them. Besides, they're keeping secrets from you too.

Time to focus. You knew you wanted to paint the lobby a seafoamy shade of blue-green to mirror the ocean and make the space more inviting. Since there was no actual ocean surrounding The Beach, you'd have to bring it to the resort yourself in your decorating choices. You'd love to get your hands on the filthy carpet too, excited that there was probably gorgeous wood flooring hiding underneath. For that magnitude of a project, you'd need a lot more manpower on your side. You briefly wonder if Hatter would allow you to recruit citizens for your project. Perhaps you'd have to look for another flirty bikini for that question.

Does it feel a little irrelevant to be hunting down paint and papasan chairs for a hotel while you're constantly in a state of fighting for your life? Of course it does. But you also can't deny that it's helping you feel a tiny bit lighter, to forget the problems you're having and your concerns about staying alive in general. Hatter had been right earlier, the idea of accomplishing this project did give you a rush of hope.

The two of you find a brightly colored paint store that has remained relatively untouched over the course of time that people have been here. Of course, because who would need paint in a world like this? Just someone silly like you, attempting to carry light into the darkness surrounding you. You scoff at yourself again, opening the door and hearing the cheerful chime that used to signal the arrival of a customer to the employees on duty.

You approach the wall of paint swatches, targeting the section right between blue and green. This task isn't as simple as it would have been if the lights were on, now having to use what little sunlight filtered into the shop to compare colors. You heard yourself sigh once more, whether in exasperation with the lack of light or with yourself for making Hatter do this with you, you don't know.

"It isn't stupid, you know," Hatter begins in his sing-song tone, following a few paces behind you as you work, "to want to feel something normal. To want to control something in a world filled with things you can't." You blink slowly, shocked by him for a second time this morning.

"How did you . . . ?" Looking at the man with widened eyes, holding the two samples you've narrowed it down to.

"I can see it in your eyes, you're conflicted. It's okay to want a distraction from it all - that's what The Beach is all about!" He states, plucking the card from your right hand to hold it in front of him, indicating that was the one he liked more. Your mouth drops open a tiny bit, surprised. Had your first impression of this man been entirely wrong?

"Thank you, Hatter," you whisper quietly, actually grateful to him for encouraging you that it was okay to want this. He smiles at you gently, an ACTUAL smile, not the fake charismatic one he usually uses. He speaks your name lowly, "In a setting like this, you can call me Takeru." You smile back, nodding, taking the paint sample he's chosen back.

You slip behind the dusty desk to where the paint is stored, searching for the color Hatter had chosen, but your mind suddenly felt very far away. Is it possible that the Hatter you thought you knew was just a persona? A way for Takeru to survive in this deadly place and maybe even protect his friend? It was not unlike the game you played every time you entered a game area. Not unlike the game you played to convince him to bring you shopping.

Maybe, just maybe . . . Takeru wasn't so bad after all.

After putting the cans of paint in the car, you continue down the street to the furniture store that you knew should have the exact pieces you had in mind for curating the perfect beachy hangout spot in the lobby. As you walk, you suddenly find a surge of bravery, "what was your life like before you came here?" The man grinned a lazy grin, lighting up his face in way that made him seem almost friendly instead of menacing. This was the true Takeru.

The man told you about how he ran a successful club called The Beach, the original namesake for his newest project, before settling in to take over his late father's hat shop. He laughed loudly, recounting all of his and Aguni's old stories. The two of them were thick as thieves. Brothers, even. Several of his stories make you laugh along with him, reminding you a lot of the two people you loved the most too.

Suddenly, a flash from the other night appears in your mind.

You carelessly flick the bloodied Six of Spades card to land in front of Hatter on the cheap wooden conference table. You felt irritation pulsing in your veins seeing his greedy grin as he stares at the card as though you hadn't just dragged Aguni dripping blood into the space.

Hatter had literally ignored his best friend and you that night, despite blood actively flowing from both of you. He was too far deep in his obsession with the cards in that moment, a crazed look in his eyes that you'd never forget. That man - completely different from the one standing in front of you, reminiscing about the good times he'd had with Aguni in the other world.

Your mind began to race, wondering if this place and the stress and the power were going to Hatter's head. If the game he had entered this place with the intention of playing had gone too far, and was driving him crazy. Could that same thing happen to Niragi, if his behavior was indeed just another game? Could it happen to you? Chishiya? You felt your body go clammy and you stopped laughing along. If Hatter noticed your shift in demeanor, he chose not to say anything.

Just how far could you push before you lost your own game?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Covered head to toe in splotches of paint, roller soaked with color wielded in hand - this was your element. The lobby was coming along beautifully, the color already drying in some areas exactly as you'd imagined. It gave you a pang of nostalgia, the familar scent of home ghosting your senses. You had begged Niragi to let you paint the living room a similar shade, desperate to bring a taste of the coast home with you permanently.

Though you'd only been to the beach once in your life, when you were very young, it was one of the only happy memories you had of your father. A piece of your history that actually kept you safe, warming you from the inside out. Where most memories of your father left empty, bleeding holes in your chest, this one filled you with joy, calmness.

You could just about hear Niragi's voice describing the details, curled up with you under the covers. The aftermath. No longer was there loud shouting echoing the halls, the sound of leather against skin had all but dissolved. When all the bad was said and done, it was your brother's soft voice that remained. Promising that things would be okay, if you just held onto those good thoughts a little longer.

The spray of the ocean tickling your skin, blue waves lapping gently at your feet. The funny scream of the seagulls flapping overhead, waiting for a child to drop a fry so they can feast. The gritty sand making its way between your toes, grounding you into this Earth. The serene feeling of freedom, of wholeness that being there brought you. You could almost feel all of it.

Things will be okay if you just hold onto those good thoughts. Niragi will be okay.

You wondered briefly if the color of The Beach's lobby would do anything for your brother. If it would transport him home, or make him think of the same shared memory you were having.

Breaking from these thoughts to continue your task, you climb up the tall metal ladder Aguni had found for you earlier, beginning to roll the paint onto the next section of wall. You start to lose yourself again in the hypnotizing sound of the roller against the wall when someone approaches from behind you.

"Oh! I've always wanted to try painting! You're doing such a good job in here. Can I help?" A kind, but unfamiliar voice calls to you from below. You smile a little bit, looking down to find a tall girl with dreads in a cute blue floral bikini. She is adorable.

You set the roller down in the paint tray and climb down, wiping your hands on your oversized t-shirt in the process. "Of course you can help. I need all the help I can get! What's your name?"

"Kuina," she tells you excitedly, "it's really nice to meet you." You tell her your name in turn, shaking her hand in greeting. Her excitement is contagious, and you get the feeling that you'll be really fast friends.

With Kuina's help, the walls of the lobby have their first and second coat of paint in no time. The two of you move on to rearranging the new furniture you and Hatter had brought back with you, chattering like old besties the entire time. You had had Hatter's hunky guards move the old, dusty chairs and couches out by the dumpsters before you started painting - not that they'd ever make their way to a landfill - the less obstacles in here the better.

The new sand colored wicker furniture really brightened up the space, creating a fun little nook for people to hang out in the air conditioning if they wanted to. There were a couple more final details you felt were needed to really pull the look together, but you were really pleased with the progress for one day. Your vision had been realized, AND you'd made a new friend.

It would be good for you to not rely so heavily on Niragi and Chishiya.

"Do you want to get lunch together?" you ask the girl cautiously, as if overstepping. She nods her head enthusiastically, agreeing to meet you by the pool after getting cleaned up and changing.

"So how long have you been here?" the girl asks through a bite - well, slurp - of instant noodles. It was a great perk that food was easy to come by at The Beach, though meals were still far from gourmet. You briefly wonder if there's anything that can be done about that.

Left hand coming to twist the earring in your ear once again, you consider the question for a beat. "My best friend and I have been at The Beach for five days now, I think? But here in this world for eleven?" you say questioningly, trying to do the mental calculation. How had time passed by so quickly? You furrow your brow in concern.

Kuina nods thoughtfully, "time moves weirdly here, I've noticed too. I've been in this place for about a week myself, but just got to The Beach last night." She takes the cap off of her water bottle, "I came back with a bored blonde guy and an angry looking one with a gun - do you know them?" You nearly spit out the juice you'd taken a swig of while she was talking, wanting to laugh at the very accurate description of the two people you cared about most.

You raise your eyebrow, stirring the beans? on your plate, trying not to burst out laughing. "So you've met both my best friend AND my brother," you smirk, "lucky you! And yet you still came seeking my friendship, I'm honored." The girl smacks you playfully with her towel and you yelp mockingly, placing a hand on your chest in faux offense.

"You're definitely better than them," she laughs, "not only are they boring, but I also don't think they will let me do makeovers on them." You laugh at this, but pretend to think about it; stroking your chin thoughtfully.

"I probably wouldn't mess with my brother, but we could probably convince Chishiya to try a little bit of eyeliner!" Both of you dissolve into a fit of giggles, your lunches left forgotten on the plastic beach chairs.

With a friend like Kuina, things in this strange land might not be so bad after all.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You were looking forward to a quiet night with your best friend; he was finally being allowed a rare night off after clearing a Nine of Diamonds yesterday. The same game that had brought Kuina to The Beach.

He had been gone all day. You hadn't initially noticed, thankfully, because of the shopping excursion, painting, and meeting Kuina - you had done a pretty good job of keeping yourself distracted AND out of trouble. Once you saw him again when it was time for the evening Executive meeting, you realized how much you'd missed him.

You squirm in your chair at the board table in the conference room, right leg bouncing in anticipation. Your eyes begin to stray from Hatter to your surroundings - Niragi to your left, leaning with his head on the back of his chair, rolling his eyes in disbelief; Chishiya to your right, also looking, well, bored. The room was still as ugly as ever, you'd really need to prioritize it after the lobby renovation was complete. Hatter was back to being facetious, pompous, and damn boring. Couldn't this meeting have been an email?

Kuzuryu, Mira, and Ann were given their assignments for the games tonight, everyone else taking the night off. After several more minutes of tedious reminders, Hatter finally dismisses the meeting, and you spring up out of your chair with renewed energy. You latch onto Chishiya's arm, "let's get dinner and catch up, okay?" You ask excitedly, "I missed you today."

Chishiya's eyes flick up briefly to something - someone - behind you, but quickly back to your face. When you look back, no one is there. "I have some stuff to take care of tonight. You'll have to occupy yourself," he deadpans, removing your hand from his arm and walking quickly out of the conference room before you can even pick your jaw up off the floor. What the fuck was that about?

Not for the first time in this stupid country, you feel like you've been punched in the gut. You hadn't expected Niragi to change, of course not. And yet, he had. You were on your way to accepting that. But Chishiya? Chishiya ALWAYS took your side. Was always there. Was always yours.

And now? Now you don't know. Don't understand where his head is at. What could he possibly "need to take care of" that he couldn't tell you about? Your mind briefly flickers back to the pistol hidden behind the painting in your room, your stomach churning as usual. Your gut told you it had something to do with Niragi, that he was probably the person who'd been behind you before. Something to do with why their relationship was so strained right now. You know that you cannot go back to your own room, that you can't sit alone with these feelings all night. Numbly, you allow your feet to lead you to the only other place you know you can go - Kuina.

Your new friend excitedly lets you in the door, face falling a little bit when she notices your bad mood. Without saying a word, she opens her arms to offer a hug, and you melt gratefully into her arms. The hug comforts you so much that your resolve breaks down and you spill your guts; telling her about the men in your life acting weird. You decide against telling her all the details, as you still don't know what kind of game these two idiots are playing, and you don't want to ruin whatever it is if it ends up being life or death.

"I don't know, Kuina. Both of them are just acting weird, and I really don't know what to do with it," you say dejectedly. Kuina looks at you sadly for a minute, obviously unsure of what to say. She'd never been in a position like this.

Then suddenly, a twinkle of mischief pops into her eyes as an idea appears.

"Let's get dressed up and party! Everyone else is enjoying the pool and dancing, we should too!" She runs into her bathroom, bringing out her tackle box filled with makeup.

She lifts an eyebrow, "priorities, right?" You laugh a little now, realizing you hadn't even seen makeup in over a week. It could be fun to see how the rest of The Beach citizens live, after all. Do as the Romans do, right? You nod in agreement, allowing her to sit you down on her bed to do your makeup. You had discussed makeovers earlier by the pool, why not get started now?.

"You're going to wear a red bikini tonight," she decides for you, "if you don't have one, we're going to find you one. It will help you feel better." You chuckle, not knowing how a red bikini would make you feel better, but you decide to trust the process. You do, in fact, have a red bikini to wear. Kuina smacks you for laughing, "stop moving! I'm trying to do your cat eye!" You have to fight the urge to giggle again. You had really been missing out on having a best girlfriend.

The girl is efficient, but amazing. When she hands you a mirror to check yourself out, you gasp in awe. Your eyes sparkle brightly, no longer showcasing how tired you were. Your face shape was contoured and highlighted immaculately, it really took your breath away. Any previous gripes that you'd had with the way you looked disappeared because of Kuina's makeover. She needed to give you lessons.

She sees your eyes starting to tear up in joy, "no! Your mascara isn't waterproof! There will be no crying tonight." You're smiling again, grateful to have found a friend like her in a place like this. She takes this moment to run a curling iron through your hair, creating perfect beach waves "for the perfect beach princess" she mocked. You groan, Hatter's nickname for you obviously not staying very private. Once Kuina is satisfied with your appearance and hers, you link arms and walk to your room to change into your red bikini. Finally ready for your first beach party.

The party is already bumping, more people than you've ever seen at The Beach before are out swaying to the music and shouting in joy. Everyone is having a great time. You stare down at the liquor sitting in front of you, sparkling in the light like it was laughing at you. It wasn't as though you hadn't had alcohol before - Niragi had allowed it on a few occasions in recent years. But never shots of straight liquor. A flash of the old Niragi enters your head as if he was your conscience trying to tell you it's a bad idea.

But that version of your brother is seemingly non-existent. Replaced with a person who won't even look at you, and likely gets all of his information through your so-called best friend who ALSO wasn't vibing with him. For that reason alone, you take the first shot. And then the next. And the next. And so on until you've drunk your way through the rainbow and feel yourself being tugged by Kuina to the dance floor.

You faintly recognize the song as being something popular back in the other world, though it mostly just sounded loud. Kuina took both of your hands, spinning you around and around with her as you both found your rhythm. You could barely breathe with how hard the two of you were giggling, a mixture of the liquor burning through your veins and the jubilent atmosphere infecting you.

You stay like that with Kuina for a few songs, jumping and screaming the wrong lyrics, and laughing like you weren't stuck living in a place that forced you to face your mortality nearly every night. Maybe the citizens of The Beach weren't so stupid after all. The longer you dance, the fuzzier your surroundings become. The alcohol is starting to take over your system and you love the feeling of freedom it's affording you.

After a while, you feel a pair of hands grasp onto your hips, guiding your movements slightly as you continue your movements. You were suddenly too drunk and starting to spin out of control, so you couldn't even turn around to find out. The majority of your brain was telling you it was fine, just play along with this too. You were just dancing with someone, right?

Kuina had become preoccupied too, dancing with a girl you'd seen earlier tanning by the pool. The music was pounding deliciously through your body, lights flashing around you. For the first time in maybe forever, you felt totally free. Free from the concerns about Niragi, free from worrying about whatever was going on between you and Chishiya, free from worrying about your potentially imminent death.

You couldn't be bothered in this moment, letting this feeling wash over you entirely. All was well until the person dancing with you got a little too aggressive. A little too handsy. A little too pushy. It was one thing to dance innocently with a stranger, but another thing entirely for that stranger to be suddenly sucking on your neck.

"Wanna get out of here?" his gravelly, unfamiliar voice asks you, already starting to lead you towards the building. Your stomach turns, you really shouldn't have let Kuina talk you into the rainbow shots. You open your mouth to tell him no, to tell him to get lost. You just wanted to dance, nothing more. The words don't come out, and he takes that silence as agreement. No.

The man that you still haven't had the courage to look up at clamps onto your upper arm and guides you forcefully away from the dance floor. The ground spins dangerously under you, threatening to come closer to your face with every passing moment. You've lost sight of Kuina in the throng of bodies, all still moving collectively to the way too loud music. Not a single person noticing that something was amiss around them.

"Steady there, sweetheart. Let's get you out of here," he purrs, doing nothing to settle your stomach or the nerves that have lit on fire within you. You can just barely hear the chatter of the crowd through your pulse pounding in your ears. The fuzziness is growing stronger and you know that you have lost all control. You do not like this part of drinking.

Before you know it, you're being pushed up against the brick wall of the hallway just inside the resort's doors, caged between the stranger's arms. You try pushing your arm against his chest, to push him away from you half-heartedly. Unfortunately, he seems to like that. Your brain feels too foggy to actually fight back, and you know immediately that this guy isn't someone you recognize. A new arrival.

His hot breath hits your face as he brings his closer to yours, noses nearly grazing. You want to get away, letting out a squeak of protest. You're going to be sick.

"I don't believe silence is consent," a monotone voice rings out from down the hall. Chishiya. Your glassy eyes find his blonde hair, and he isn't alone. Your eyes are too blurry, too filled with tears and drunkenness to make out who the other person is, but you have a feeling you know anyway based on the way tension fills the hallway. Chishiya walks closer to the man, saying your name softly. He reaches a hand to you, "come." You jump at the chance, pushing away from the man who is now too scared to even look at you again, arms raised in the air.

Chishiya's arms wrap around you just as your vision finally goes black.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Cold, tiled floor. That is what you felt as your mind started to wake. The next thing? A throbbing, fully radiating headache. You groan, rolling over onto your back with your eyes still squeezed shut tight. Why the hell had you let Kuina talk you into partying anyway? Stupid. You don't escape your problems like that without paying a cost, and here it was. It didn't take a genius to realize that you'd probably been sick as a dog all night.

A hand reaches out to brush some stringy hair from your face, "good morning, Koko." Ah. So you weren't alone on the freezing bathroom floor.

You wince hearing his voice, though he had spoken softly. You still want to be mad at him for ditching you last night. "Oh, so you actually want to be my friend today?" You scoff, "it's your fault I'm hungover anyway."

You can hear the smirk in your friend's voice as he shifts closer to you, "is it, darling? And how is that?" He brushes his fingers through your hair, coaxing you to lean into his touch, though still slightly unwillingly. You can feel his gaze studying you, even without opening your eyes.

You simply sigh, crossing your arms over your chest but making no move to get off the bathroom floor, or answer Chishiya's question. Crabby.

He breathes out through his nose gently, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow, teasing, "were you trying to make me jealous, Koko?" Your eyes fly open in surprise, the bright light immediately agitating your headache. You groan loudly and cover your face with your hands. You pause for a moment. Had you been trying to make Chishiya jealous last night? Maybe a little bit.

"Did it work?" You query hesitantly through your hands, too sick and slightly embarrassed to move your hands.

The blonde hums thoughtfully, still toying with a piece of your hair. You feel him lay down next to you again, arm propping his head up and still studying you, "When I saw you caged between that man's arms I wanted to kill him." He sighs, "I was so afraid for you, and yes. I was certainly jealous until I noticed that you were wasted."

Guy? You remember taking shots with Kuina and getting out on the dancefloor, but everything after that was pretty fuzzy. Your memory of last night not very good. "What happened?" you ask hesitantly, not exactly sure you want to know the answer.

"You'll have to talk to Kuina to get most of the story, but when I walked in, he was already trying to drag you to his room. I pulled you away from him and got you back up here before you threw up on yourself," he chuckles a little bit near the end. You smack him on the arm for laughing at your expense. So much for the sexy red bikini, then.

"Thanks for that," you say sarcastically, though taking his hand and squeezing it. You rack your brain for a moment, trying to remember exactly who you'd been dancing with. "Who was it?" you finally ask.

Chishiya clicks his tongue and looks away for a minute. Great, something he doesn't want to tell you. "He was one of the new militants, just arrived to The Beach yesterday. I don't think he knew who you were yet. . ." Chishiya trails off in thought. Your heart starts beating faster, knocking against your ribcage unpleasantly.

"What do you mean, WAS?" you ask in instant panic, suddenly having a flicker of memory from last night.

Chishiya walks closer to the man, saying your name softly. He reaches a hand to you, "come." You jump at the chance, pushing away from the man who is now too scared to even look at you again. Your blurry eyes flicker from his frightened countenance to the pissed off one behind him. You knew the second face, but the look on it was not something you had seen in your lifetime. If you hadn't been beyond wasted, you'd have been terrified too.

Niragi had been the second person in the hallway when Chishiya showed up. Niragi had looked at the man with a murderous gaze. Your eyes search your friend's, "he didn't. . ."

Chishiya didn't respond but pulled you immediately into his chest, shushing you, "It's what had to be done." He doesn't need to say anything else, you know he's finally done it.

Your brother murdered someone for touching you.

Your stomach turns violently, forcing you to push Chishiya away and throw yourself back towards the toilet. With absolutely nothing left in your system, you're left dry heaving with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. This is the worst.

Chishiya sits up, pulling your hair out of your face and stroking your back. "Easy, darling. You're going to hurt yourself," he coos. Gulping for air and allowing the tears to flow loudly, you lay your forehead against the cool porcelain; eventually sinking back to the floor in despair. Could Niragi still be redeemed from something so heinous?

Chishiya allows you to ground yourself against the cool floor, hanging onto the front of his jacket like a lifeline, crying and blubbering nonsensically about everything that had been happening with Niragi, and whatever was going on with their relationship. In true Chishiya fashion, he doesn't say a word. Just hums in agreement, shushing and stroking your back to help you to relax. For all of your complaints about your best friend, you were grateful that he could continuously see you at your worst and still want to be around you. Eventually you succumb to how tired your body was, obviously not sleeping well last night from the hangover wracking your body.

As you feel yourself being carried into the room and tucked into bed for actual sleep, your friend speaks again when he's pretty sure you're already in dreamland, "don't give up on him yet, Koko. Just keep playing the game, and we'll be home soon enough."

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Previous Chapter

The Game Itself Masterlist

The Game Itself Tag List: @moonchild323232 @princesskatxo @lovelygias @carlgrimesfuturegf @audiiix @maxinehufflepuffprincess @aeristocrats @unhinged-sorcerer @potato-vagina @kimsrie @mocchii-writes

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list! I hope you guys are loving this story as much as I am loving writing it! 💕 My messages and asks are always open, please reach out ily ✨️❤️

#aib #alice in borderland #fanfiction #ima wa no kuni no alice #aib chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #niragi aib #suguru niragi #niragi alice in borderland #the game itself #aib niragi #niragi suguru #niragi #chishiya x you #chishiya aib #shuntaro chishiya

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batboyblog · 3 days ago

Note

So…..Trump wants the US to make the rules in Gaza apparently. What are your thoughts about that at least from what we do know about it?

its really a little hard to know what the fuck is going on,

based on Trump's public comments and his fucked up repost of an AI video of Trump Gaza, it sounds like what Trump wants is the the US to... basically take over Gaza not as some kind of peace keeping mission or UN Mandate but as.... a colony effectively? and to largely if not totally depopulate it of its Arab Palestinian population to be replaced by ???? Americas maybe? Gulf Arabs? tourists for sure but who will in fact live and work in this beach front tourist hot spot with Trump branded properties? unclear.

there's a lot of debate about how real or serious this idea is. My default is not to think that Trump is playing 5D chess, so much as eating the pieces. Trump clearly has a hang on on the 19th century and wanting to be William McKinney and get his own American Empire he's made a lot of comments about different things, like all the shit with Greenland or Canada, or about McKinney himself etc. So I tend to think at least Trump himself is serious.

That said it came out the other day that the Trump Team went behind Israel's back to talk directly with Hamas, something no past US government has done. The Israelis told them not to, particularly without any preconditions, Trump's team ignored them and didn't even tell the Israelis they were doing it.

Now normally I'd say this is a play, Trump is wacky in public to pressure Hamas in private "look we're reasonable but the boss is crazy, work with us to get a deal before..." and maybe that's the line these people are using on Hamas, but I'd be shocked if Trump was in on the play, because he's stupid, lazy, and crazy. Someone told him Gaza would be nice beach front if not for all the war and his rotting haunted house of a brain ran with that to his happy place "making money from my scams"

any ways. It's really bad when the leader of your country is floating ethnic cleansing as a policy idea, and while the why is not important there's something super insulting and depressing that the reason is "so I can built a casino" Trump really wants to be King Leopold (look it up) in Gaza.

finally... a lot of people in America, just don't live in reality when it comes to the Israel-Palestine conflict. Don't have any understanding of what October 7th was, what it was like, I'm lucky I didn't lose anyone close to me, but I had met a few people in passing and they were dead and that was November 2023 realizing "oh shit, I know him" about people who were killed in the worst ways imaginable. I can only imagine what it was like inside Israel when it was your friends, neighbors, family, through work I've met a lot of hostage families and that suffering is just unimaginable. Any ways point being Israel suffered a 9/11 level event, with rape and torture on top of the body count. The Two State Solution has been on life support since 2001, with slowly worsening vitals every year. 10/7 killed it for the Israelis.

And this is where the unreality many Americans live in comes in, they don't understand Biden's involvement in the war was a last ditch effort to keep that Two State Solution alive, time and time again pushing Netanyahu off from re-settlement or annexation in Gaza, pushing to involve the Palestinian Authority, forcing a refocus on hostages, over and over again.

so certain people loudly declared that nothing could be worse than the war, that it didn't matter who was President, that punishing Biden, Harris, Democrats mattered more than any results that might come from Trump.

well here we are, the President of the United States endorsing ethnic cleansing in the name of enriching himself... that is, at least on paper, the policy of the United States, we've gone from Biden's policy of a path to statehood, to Trump's of "GTFO of Gaza so I can build a Trump Casino!"

at the very end of Biden's term he managed to deliver a ceasefire that brought home most of the hostages and stopped the fighting and had Israeli forces pulling back. Under Trump that ceasefire is falling apart. I think that's the clearest split in the timeline? like what would have been vs what we will see.

idk what's gonna happen, I don't have a great deal of optimism.

#Politics #political #Trump #us politics #Gaza #Trump Gaza #Israel #israel palestine conflict

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cosmiclily · 13 hours ago

Note

ugh, here i go again, can i ask for a (really) jealous Vi?

the os "when she sees me" with Ellie (hope is ellie from tlou), made me think in other scenario, where reader and Ellie are good friends, but Vi doesn't like Ellie that much, cause she knows that Ellie likes reader and she's trying to make a move, but reader it's clueless about it, maybe college au?

so, if you can and want to do it, here's my request 🩷

★ jealousy jealousy

vi x f!reader

wc: 3k

notes: jealous vi save me!!! (it was ellie from tlou but i’ve never played it i just think she’s hot 😝). i really liked this, hope you enjoy it! 💕 thank you for the request heehee

Vi was jealous — that much was painfully obvious. She hated how Ellie seemed to be everywhere, how she looked at you, how she touched you, how she talked to you like she owned the right to your attention. It wasn’t subtle either; Vi’s jealousy burned so brightly that half your friend group had started a bet. The stakes? Whether you’d finally clue in to how hopelessly in love Vi was, or if she’d snap and punch Ellie in the face for never giving you a moment alone.

“God, she’s everywhere. She’s like a fucking leech, sucking Y/N’s energy all the time,” Vi grumbled, stabbing at her lunch with unnecessary force. She barely touched her food, too focused on watching you in line at the cafeteria. Ellie had one arm slung over your shoulder, leaning in too close, her smile just a little too flirty. And, of course, you were blissfully unaware — which was a talent of yours, honestly. You had a downright supernatural ability to miss the fact that people had feelings for you.

“And you don’t have the balls to do anything about it,” Jinx snorted, shoveling mac and cheese into her mouth like her life depended on it. “If you stopped being a total wuss and, I don’t know, confessed already, maybe you wouldn’t have to sit here glaring at them like a fucking creep.”

Vi shot her sister a deadly look, jaw clenching so tight it could crack. “I am not a creep.”

“Okay, stalker,” Jinx said, licking cheese off her spoon. “You’re like two seconds away from growling at her like some feral animal. And, honestly? I think Ellie likes the attention.”

“I’m not giving her attention.”

Jinx cackled. “Yeah? So why do you know exactly how many times she’s touched Y/N’s arm in the last five minutes?”

Vi opened her mouth to argue, but just then, you and Ellie started making your way over to the table, laughing at something she said. Vi immediately straightened up, shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact.

“Hi, Vi!” You slid into the seat next to her, offering her a small, shy wave. “Where is everyone else?”

Vi’s heart skipped, the frustration temporarily fading just from hearing your voice. “Uh, I think Ekko and Cait are still in class,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Jinx and I were just hanging out.”

Ellie plopped down on the other side of you, and Vi had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Ellie said, pointing between you and Vi with a shit-eating grin as she leaned her chin on her hand. She said it like a joke, but there was that undercurrent of smugness — like she knew exactly where to twist the knife.

Vi stiffened, her fingers curling into fists under the table so tightly her knuckles went white. Jinx, meanwhile, didn’t even try to hide her glee, practically choking on her drink as she watched her sister suffer.

You blinked, completely oblivious to the tension radiating across the table. “Oh! No, we’re just friends,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I hang out with Vi all the time.”

Vi felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Just friends. The words echoed in her head, sharp and unforgiving.

Jinx kicked Vi under the table, leaning close to mutter, “If you don’t do something soon, she’s gonna end up dating Ellie out of sheer obliviousness.”

Vi clenched her jaw, her pulse hammering in her ears. She wasn’t sure which would happen first — her heart imploding from how badly she wanted you, or her patience finally snapping in half.

Either way, something was going to break.

“Did you guys hear about the party the girls from the football team are hosting?” you asked, poking at your salad with your fork. Vi watched as a crumb slipped from your sandwich and rested on your chin, her fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it away. You looked so effortlessly cute like that, and it took everything in her not to reach out and brush it off — or worse, lick it off.

“Oh yeah, it’s an annual thing they do,” Ellie chimed in. “Do you wanna go?”

And just like that, the moment was ruined. Vi’s brain screeched to a halt. Any thought of crumbs or lingering touches evaporated the second Ellie opened her mouth. The idea of you at a party, laughing and dancing, with Ellie glued to your side all night? It made Vi feel like her chest was caught in a vice.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” you mused, chewing thoughtfully. Then you turned to Vi, your eyes bright and expectant. “What do you think, Vi?”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. “Huh?”

Jinx bit down on her fist to keep from laughing, her shoulders shaking with poorly contained amusement. “Smooth” she coughed, barely covering the sound of her giggles.

Vi cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck to cover how flushed she felt. “Uh, yeah. I think it would be cool” she said, her voice awkward and stilted. “To go, you know... to the party.”

Ellie grinned like a cat who’d cornered a mouse. “Perfect! Maybe we can all pregame together.” She reached over and wiped the crumb off your chin with her thumb, her touch lingering just a little too long.

Vi felt her jaw clench so hard it hurt.

“Ellie, don’t be weird” you laughed, swatting her hand away, completely unaware of the way Vi was mentally preparing herself to throw hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ellie said, but she didn’t sound sorry. “Just looking out for my girl.”

Vi couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed her fists down on the table, the sound echoing through the cafeteria like a gunshot. “Okay, what the fuck is your deal?”

The table fell silent. Even Jinx looked surprised, eyes flicking between her sister and Ellie like she was watching a live soap opera unfold.

“My deal?” Ellie blinked, feigning innocence, though her smirk gave her away. “I’m just being friendly, Vi. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Vi leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, her eyes burning with barely contained rage. “Friendly? You’re all over her like a parasite.”

Your eyes widened, glancing between the two of them. “Vi, what are you talking about?”

Vi swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming like a war drum. She knew she was seconds away from saying something she couldn’t take back — something that would rip her heart out and hand it to you, whether you wanted it or not.

She was breathing hard, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to either punch something (or someone) or grab your hand and beg you to understand. But instead, she shut down.

“Just… forget it” she muttered, her voice tight and raw. She shoved her chair back so hard it screeched against the floor, standing up and storming out of the cafeteria without another word, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence.

You sat there, stunned, your lunch suddenly forgotten. Jinx picked at her food like this was just another tuesday, only sparing you a side glance as you stared after Vi, confusion gnawing at your chest.

“What… just happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jinx shrugged, stuffing a fry in her mouth. “That? That was my sister throwing a tantrum.” She wiped her hands on her pants and leaned back in her chair. “Congrats, you broke her.”

“I didn’t do anything!” you protested, rubbing your temples.

“Exactly” Jinx said, pointing at you with her fork like she’d just delivered some life-altering revelation.

──────────────────────

After the tantrum —as Jinx so helpfully called it— Vi avoided you for the rest of the week. She skipped lunch, disappeared from your usual hangouts, and even left group chats on read. You hated to admit it, but her absence left this gaping, hollow ache in you, like something essential had been ripped away.

You missed her.

The way she always saved you a seat, how she’d absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt when you sat close, or how she’d walk you to class even when it was out of her way. You missed her laugh, her stupid jokes, and the way she always looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

And the worst part? Ellie didn't disappear. If anything, she was around even more — sticking to you like glue, inviting herself over to your dorm to "study," and draping herself over you like a human blanket anytime you sat down.

Which led to you finally cracking.

“What do you think Vi meant by Ellie being all over me like a parasite?” you asked Caitlyn during one of your walks through campus. The two of you had become fast friends on the first day of college — you’d been hopelessly lost, and Caitlyn had looked so smart and put together that you’d mistaken her for an upperclassman. Turns out she was just a very organized freshman with an almost scary level of preparedness.

Caitlyn gave you a look like you’d just asked her if the sky was blue. “Are you serious?”

You frowned, shoving your hands in your hoodie pockets. “What? I don’t get it.”

Caitlyn stopped walking, turning to face you. “Y/N, Ellie is always all over you. It’s actually painful to watch sometimes. She hangs off you like a needy koala.”

You scratched your arm awkwardly, heat creeping up your neck. “She’s just being friendly…”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yeah, because friends totally caress your arm every time they talk to you and pull you into their laps at parties.”

“I say on her lap once, and it was because there weren’t enough chairs” you argued weakly.

Caitlyn snorted. “There were plenty of chairs.” She started walking again, and you had to jog a little to catch up. “Look, I get it — you’re a little oblivious, and that’s fine. But you can’t seriously tell me you haven’t noticed how she only acts like that when Vi’s around.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. Because the truth was… you had noticed. At first, you thought Ellie was just affectionate, but the way she ramped it up anytime Vi got within a ten-foot radius of you? The way she’d cling to your arm and flirt way too hard whenever Vi was watching?

It felt intentional.

And now that you were thinking about it, Vi always got quiet when Ellie was around. She’d stiffen, her whole body tensing up like she was ready for a fight. And those looks she gave Ellie — sharp and burning, like she wanted to tear her apart?

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“... Oh my God” you whispered, stopping in your tracks.

Caitlyn turned around, tilting her head. “Finally catching up?”

You stared at her, your pulse ringing in your ears. “Vi likes me.”

Caitlyn’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “No way.“

You felt dizzy, your mind racing through every interaction you’d ever had with Vi — every lingering touch, every lingering stare, every time she showed up at your door with your favorite snack just because.

Vi had feelings for you. Vi had feelings for you.

And you might’ve just broken her heart without even realizing it.

“I have to find her,” you blurted out, already turning on your heel.

Caitlyn chuckled, watching you sprint across campus like your life depended on it. “Go get your girl, Y/N.”

──────────────────────

You looked everywhere you could think of — the gym, the cafeteria, the library, the field. But Vi was nowhere to be found. You tried calling her, over and over, but every call went to voicemail. She’d gone full ghost mode, ignoring all your messages like you didn’t even exist.

Your chest tightened, frustration and guilt tangling together like vines. You hated the thought of her hurting, especially because of you.

There was only one place left to check: the roof.

It was your shared hideout — a quiet escape from the noise of campus life. Sometimes the two of you would sneak up there to talk for hours, and on rare nights when you could slip past security, you’d lay side by side, staring at the stars until you fell asleep.

It had been a while since you’d done that.

Your heart thudded as you climbed the stairs, the metal door creaking as you pushed it open. Cool air rushed past you, the evening sky stretching endlessly above, painted in soft hues of purple and gold as the sun dipped below the horizon.

And there she was.

Vi sat on the ledge, legs dangling over the side, her back to you. She had a small flask in her hand, though it looked like she hadn’t actually drunk from it. The cap remained on, and she just kept passing it from one hand to the other, over and over, like she needed something to do with her hands.

“Vi?” you called out, voice barely above a whisper.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. “Go away, Y/N.”

Your chest ached at the sound of her voice — low and rough, like she’d been holding back tears all day. But you weren’t about to give up. Not now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping onto the roof and letting the door slam shut behind you. The sound echoed across the rooftop, but Vi still didn’t move. “Not until you talk to me.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

You walked closer, cautiously, like she might disappear if you got too close. “Vi, please,” you said, voice softening. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. You stormed out of the cafeteria like I personally stabbed you in the heart. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Vi finally turned to face you, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, her jaw clenched so tight you thought her teeth might crack. “It’s not about what you did, Y/N. It’s about what you don’t see.”

You swallowed hard, taking another step toward her. “Then help me see it.”

Vi looked at you for a long, agonizing moment. The wind tousled her pink hair, and the fading sunlight cast a golden glow on her skin, making her look almost unreal — like something fragile and fleeting.

Then she broke.

“I like you,” she blurted out, the words ripping from her chest like they physically hurt to say. She shoved the flask in her pocket, running both hands through her hair. “I’ve liked you since the first time we hung out, and every single day I tell myself to get over it, but I can’t.”

You stood frozen, heart hammering against your ribs.

Vi laughed bitterly, pacing along the edge of the roof. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch Ellie hang all over you? To watch her touch you, flirt with you, and know that she can do all of that, and I can’t? Because I’m too much of a coward to tell you how I feel?” She turned to you, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N. It’s killing me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the realization fully sank in — Caitlyn had been right. Jinx had been right. Everyone had seen it but you.

Vi, the person you trusted more than anyone else in the world, was in love with you. And she had been for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, stepping back toward the door. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll figure out how to deal with it, okay? I just... I need some space.”

Before she could leave, you grabbed her hand.

Vi froze, her breath hitching.

“You don’t have to deal with it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Because I don’t want you to get over it.”

Vi turned to face you, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You took a shaky breath, heart pounding as you stepped closer, until there was barely any space left between you. “I don’t want you to get over me” you repeated, your fingers tightening around hers. “Because I think... I think I like you too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Vi stared at you, wide-eyed and speechless, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

And then, without warning, she grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was desperate and messy, pent-up feelings pouring out all at once. Her hands cradled your cheeks like you were something precious, and she kissed you like she was terrified this might be her only chance.

But you kissed her back.

You kissed her with everything you had, standing on your tiptoes to get closer, your fingers tangling in her hoodie as if letting go would shatter the moment.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

You let out a small chuckle, even if there was nothing to laugh about. “I’m sorry for being so blind.”

Vi shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her lips. “It’s fine. I should have said something sooner” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “I was just scared.”

You cupped her face, brushing your thumb along her jawline. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Vi smiled, the kind of smile that made your chest ache with how much you cared for her. She pulled you into her arms, hugging you so tightly it felt like she was trying to make up for every second she’d spent holding back.

“Can we stay up here a little longer?” she asked, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You nodded, lacing your fingers with hers. “Yeah,” you whispered, leaning your head against hers as you both sat down. “We can stay as long as you want.”

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes #mootie ✰#request ♡

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bluemotifofsleep · 19 hours ago

Text

i’m not the one you want, babe.

roommate!toji fushiguro x reader

content: swearing, not beta read!

PS: please do not be fooled, gojo is one of my favourite characters of all time, i just have to be mean to him for a bit… for the plot…

chapter one: running away is easy, it’s the living that’s hard.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

gojo satoru is a self-righteous, condescending prick with a head so damn big you’re surprised it doesn’t just fucking blow up. you wish it would, sometimes.

and look, you’re not… petty, you just have a strong moral compass. there are certain things you’re willing to put up with, and things that you absolutely will not fucking stand for.

number one on that list of things is the so called “honoured one” pointing his stupid self-righteous finger in your face and telling you that you’re useless.

…well, he didn’t exactly say it like that. he had a much more roundabout, holier-than-thou way of saying things, but you’re good at reading between the lines.

because he’s your older brother, and you’ve been dealing with his bullshit for your whole damn life.

he just has this… way, of shitting on people without them realizing it. to the untrained eye it may look like praise, but when he stretches his face into that stupid smile and squints his blue eyes condescendingly, no amount of sugared words will stop you from seeing it as the big “fuck you” it really is.

truly, it pisses you off to no end. he gets to drag everyone else’s name through the dirt, while keeping his the same pristine white as his hair. he gets the fucking sixteen-tier, overdecorated, extravagant cake that is his cushy life, and he gets to eat it, too.

if the guy wasn’t your family and you hadn’t known him forever, you’d probably pray on his downfall more often. unfortunately you share blood and memories with him, so you only wish for his demise the normal, sibling amount

you’ve had lots of petty fights with him. hell, it was hard not to. as his younger sister you were always viewed as the softer, smaller, less significant gojo. living in his stupidly tall shadow, it was hard not to want to knock him down as many pegs as you could.

this fight, however, definitely took the cake. a full screaming match that ended in tears, with you packing your shit, and running the hell away.

yeah, maybe it was a bit dramatic, but being looked down upon your whole life because you were the little sister of the satoru gojo was fucking exhausting. you just needed space, that’s all. you needed time and room away from the gojo estate so you could breath, to stop feeling so damn trapped in your own lineage.

so, here you are, in a less-than-shabby apartment with a roommate you barely even know the name of.

toji fu…something? fujimoto? fukushima? whatever.

you probably should know more about the person you’re sharing a living space with, but in reality you barely see the back end of the guy heading out the front door. that’s all he does; come and go. in and out, all the time. you still don’t even know what he does for work. just that it’s something that has him leaving for days at a time, coming back looking slightly worse for wear, and then leaving again.

the main thing that drew you to this cheap ass place was… well, exactly that. it was cheap. that, and you could move in right away. the other apartments required a “background check” that left you hanging without somewhere to go, but toji obviously needed someone to pay the other half of the rent quick.

the description of the ad was “low rent, looking for a quiet roommate that pays bills on time” and while it may not have been the most attractive ad to most people, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

now toji fushi-whateverthefuck was honestly a pretty good roommate when compared to horror stories you’ve heard. he was fairly tidy save the occasional towel left on the ground and the messy ashtray on the balcony ledge. he never left any dirty dishes… and actually now that you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the guy cook before. you don’t really understand how he got enough sustenance to be that, well, beefy, for lack of a better word. somehow he fucking managed.

his size and prowess had scared you at first, because you’re not naive enough to think that you could ever take him in a fight. you’ve certainly seen enough true crime to see that it would fit his MO; young girl moves in, big scary man with the intimidating scar on his face likes stabbin’, and he buries her under the floorboards.

the only neighbours you have are the old, deaf woman to your right and the junkyard of a man (who you once saw smoking out of a crack pipe in the stairway) to the left who’s away for months at a time, so no one would hear you scream. then you’d be just another missing persons poster on a telephone pole people pass by without a glance, your image slowly being worn into the wood by the elements and eventually covered by other posters.

a fitting end for a runaway, probably.

while the possibility that he’s a murderer and he just really likes to take his time planning before he strikes is still there, he’s a lot nicer than you expected from his looks. which isn’t saying much, because really the gap between serial killer and the nice, deaf lady next door who bakes you bread sometimes is so large, he could fall anywhere in between.

yeah, nice isn’t really the right word for him. polite, maybe?

honestly, it’s more like a mutual agreement between a gazelle and a leopard by a watering hole; you stay on your side, and i’ll stay on mine.

from the almost predatory look of him, the wide set of his shoulders and the roguishly handsome way his face was put together, you expected something sinister to lurk beneath the surface. heck, men half as good-looking as him usually use their gift for evil, using their pretty privilege as a get-of-jail-free card. they think that because of their looks, they can behave however the fuck they want.

(a certain name comes to mind, something rhyming with dojo...)

so when you first eyed up six-foot-something of beefy muscle and the devilish face-card toji sported, you reasoned that something had to be horrifically wrong with him. as far as you could tell, he was single. and a man his age, with his wide set shoulders and wolfish smirk that could drop a woman’s panties from a mile away, wasn’t just single without something being clinically diagnosable about him.

at first, you were worried he’d be super macho and demand everything was done his way. maybe that your shower products were taking up too much space or your pink throw blanket you kept on the couch was too girly or that your music taste sucked.

and if he wasn’t mean… you were worried he’d fly too far past friendly and be some sort of creep, eyeing you up like a piece of meat and expecting something out of you just from proximity.

but he just…didn’t. he doesn’t do anything.

he gives you polite words if your paths happen to cross each other, wether that be in the kitchen, the balcony (where he smoked, and you enjoyed a cup of tea) or the couch to watch tv where he always offered the remote to you because he claimed he “didn’t give a shit”.

and yeah, most people would probably call that the bare minimum of what’s considered polite, but you found it intriguing.

sure he was gruff, rough around the edges, and when you’d first came to view the apartment he sat on the couch and watched them announce lotto numbers telling you to “knock yourself out” instead of giving you a proper tour, but the whole thing was attractive to you in some way.

your whole life, you were treated as a gojo. the daughter to two of the wealthiest people in the country and the sister of “the honoured one” or “the strongest”, or “the world’s most blue-eyed fuckhead” or whatever the hell the idiot went by these days. but with toji, you were just some girl (that he probably thought was an idiot for living in a banged up apartment with a possible serial killer) but really, that’s fine by you.

as interesting as toji was to you, you couldn’t really get a proper read on him. maybe that’s why you were so interested. he was like a dark pond that you couldn’t see the bottom of; you had no idea what lurked beneath, but his surface was incredibly alluring.

you wanted to dive right in.

you… are not a good cook.

growing up at the gojo estate, you never had to be. as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve always had people better trained than you to do it for you. which was all fine and dandy, when you still lived there.

but now…

“fuck!” the exclamation is yelled into the empty house as you burn yourself on the hot pan you were trying to use. key word: trying.

there’s smoke billowing out because the oil was…burning? how does that even happen? isn’t oil there so it doesn’t burn?

you were heating up the pan to try to cook an egg, because all you’ve been eating for the past couple of weeks is instant ramen and various raw vegetables easy for snacking on. you should probably give up on your culinary dreams though, because the pan looks as charred and depressing as you feel.

all you wanted was real food.

it was fine, at first, living off of “garbage food” as your family would call it. it was kind of refreshing to eat things you hadn’t been allowed to growing up, taking back some stolen part of your childhood when you craved junk food.

but now you were sick of it.

all you could think of was the good, home cooked meals you were fed regularly at the estate. sautéed vegetables, raw cuts of fatty tuna, seasoned riced, expensive and perfectly cooked wagyu beef… the thought of it all made your stomach growl as you tossed the soiled pan into the sink to soak, and grabbed some baby carrots from the fridge instead.

you absolutely would not admit you had made the wrong decision in leaving. and truly, you didn’t even think it either.

as depressing as your life had been for the past couple of weeks; spent with all your contacts on silent (because you just know satoru would blow the fuck out of your phone) and eating meals fit for a collage frat boy living off his last dime, you’re pride was more important.

you were proving a point. a point that put your livelihood on the line, your whole way of being. if you crumbled now you would just be giving up in battle of wills between you and your brother, something you were not willing to do for any cost.

you may have lost the genetic lottery by being born second, but you would not lose this.

you’ll stay eating baby carrots for breakfast and sitting on a shitty couch, watching shitty cable television (that your mother once told you would rot your brain out of your nose) to prove your point.

in the midst of a very shittily done action scene playing out on the grainy tv, a door opens from the hallway behind you.

toji must have snuck in last night again while you were sleeping. (you find yourself once again questioning what he does for work to have such a weird ass schedule, but then you think that you probably don’t want to know.)

to your surprise, instead of heading out onto the balcony to smoke like he usually does first thing, he plops down on the couch next to you, the springs squeaking under his weight.

despite sitting on the couch with him being a regular occurrence in your shared apartment, you still tense when he settles into the seat beside you. he takes up the space so easily, manspreading his giant thighs instantly and draping one of his beefy arms across the back of the couch. you try hard not to notice how your side of the couch is tilted towards him, his weight pulling you sideways, dragging you into his orbit.

when he rolls his head to the side to stare you down, you freeze like a deer trying to camouflage into a forest background, hoping to not get caught by the apex predator stalking it. his eyes are like two headlights, digging into your primal instinct to freeze.

“mornin’.” it’s just one word, barely a greeting, but the sleep-induced gravel in his voice drags across your skin anyways, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“good morning.” you’ll play this feeling inside of you off for as long as you have to, until you stop feeling it. you pop another carrot into your mouth to stop from saying anything else.

he leans over you, staring into the bowl that harbours your poor excuse for a breakfast and twists his face up in disgust.

“you’re going to turn orange if you keep eating carrots for every meal. what are you, a damn bunny?”

you snort. “that’s just a myth, you know.”

he smirks, and just like every other time he does, it twists something in your stomach up into a knot.

“nah,” his expression turns serious for a second, as he scrutinizes your rapidly heating face. “in fact, i think it’s happening already.”

“what?!” you scramble out of the sunken-in couch, running to check yourself in the bathroom mirror. when you do, you scowl and yell out a “jerk!” as toji cackles nefariously from the living room.

you’re not orange, in the slightest. in fact, your face is bright red.

toji fushiguro was polite in most ways, but he loved to tease.

deciding you’ve had enough teasing for one day, you head back to your room instead of returning to the couch.

that night, the power in the apartment goes out.

a transformer had exploded up the street, causing a large outage across the neighbourhood. the second the loud boom! had hit and the lights flickered and then vanished all together, fear had gripped you tightly.

you’re not… scared of the dark, per say. it’s just being alone, alone with your thoughts, sitting in a dark room that scares you.

your phone was pretty much useless without wifi, so you scrambled for something, anything to do to keep your mind busy, to keep from feeling so terribly alone.

you feel… stupid. silly, even, like a child that had a nightmare seeking comfort from a grown up.

you’re standing outside of toji’s door, with your hand raised, but no courage to knock.

it was stupid. you were being stupid. it’s just the dark, you’ll be fine. the power should be on in a couple of hours. you’ll survive, right?

just as you’re about to turn and retreat back to your room, toji’s door opens and you’re suddenly face to face (face to chest?) with him.

“what is it? you’ve been standing outside my door for the past five minutes like a little creep.” the words would sound angry to anyone else, but you’ve spent enough time around him to know that’s just how he speaks.

it’s one of the things that draws you to him, how he never feels the need to sweeten his words. he doesn’t limit himself with things like politeness and niceties, he just says what he needs to say.

right now though, you would appreciate some decorum.

“i um… wanted to know… sorry, it’s stupid. i’ll leave you alone.” but as you turn to leave, he heaves a giant sigh like he’s pained.

“stop whining like a baby and say what you want.”

jesus… so no decorum, then.

“…do you want to play uno with me?”

the cards look comically small in his large hands…

you were both in the living room, using the coffee table and some candles to play the riveting, timeless game that is uno. it was one of the few things that you had brought with you from home, distant memories of playing with satoru as a kid and getting in physical fights over it flickering across your mind.

the thoughts made your chest ache, but that’s why you’re here with toji, right? to stop thinking about it so damn much.

“pick up four, and i change the colour to… blue.” toji growls at your words, a scowl painting his features periodically lit up by candle light. he picks up four cards from the deck painfully slow, making a deal out of each one and pouting like a baby.

you hadn’t expected him to be so… competitive.

honestly, you hadn’t expected him to say yes in the first place. maybe a laugh in your face proceeded by his door slamming or even just a simple look of disgust, not the grumbled “okay” that he gave you as he followed you to the living room.

it was… weird, doing something so mundane with him.

toji looked like a creature built to kill. there was something brutal and dangerous about the way he carried himself, the words he spoke and the voice he spoke them in.

it felt like using a loaded handgun as a spoon for your cereal.

you giggle at the thought, but then you’re staring down the barrel of the actual handgun that is toji fushiguro’s glare.

“you ain’t gonna be laughing for long, brat.” and then in a jaw dropping display of utter brutality, he puts down three of his gathered pickup-four cards and two pickup-twos, leaving him with nothing in his hand. how was that even possible?

“you jerk! i only had two cards left.” you whine and toss your cards into the pile on the table.

“yeah, that’s what happens when you mess with me, kid.” he puts his recently emptied hands behind his head, smirking down at you like someone who had just one at poker and took home the largest pot ever, not a meek game of uno.

truthfully, you’re uninterested in wining or losing. his company was so alluring to you, that it was entertainment in itself. like watching a leopard at the zoo, relaxed in his own element. his broad shoulders melting into a bulging bicep stretched over his head, his toned chest peeking through his shirt-

“so,” fuck. you jump like you’ve been caught ogling him, poking the glass of his enclosure when there were clearly signs not to. “i’ve been meaning to ask, what are you running away from, kid?”

what?

you gape at him like a fish trying to breath air, completely dumbfounded by his question. he couldn’t mean-

“you think i’m stupid or somethin’?” he’s leaning over the table now, the leopard tapping back at the glass that separated you. you feel hunted.

“cute little rich girl gets her panties in a twist, stomps her feet, and runs away from home, ive seen it all before. m’just surprised you’ve lasted this long, honestly.”

you feel like a bug that’s been pinned to a cork board for examination, spread out and exposed. your inner turmoil and darkest guilts have been torn out of you to lay bleeding and squirming on the coffee table.

“how the hell did you figure that out?” your words are borderline suspicious, borderline accusing.

if he was some kind of freak, you were going to make a break for the front door. though you’ll have to slip right by his large arm span to do that, so you’ll have to be quick about it-

he laughs like he’s amused by the clear discomfort on your face.

“relax. i just pay attention, is all.” he’s got an easy smirk on his face, and he doesn’t look nefarious in any way, so you relax your shoulders a bit.

“you don’t have a job, and yet all of your shit is fancy. you’re always bringing home groceries that you don’t know how to cook properly, expensive crap with the word organic pasted all over it, so you clearly have expensive taste, and yet you picked one of the shittiest apartments on the market. most definitely so you could move in right away, right?”

wow. you feel sort of bad for underestimating his observation skills. this whole time you felt like you were spectating him, but clearly it was the other way around.

he leans in again, his easy smirk and sea green eyes lit up by the candlelight, making him look almost supernaturally pretty.

“so you’re running, but from what?”

suddenly, all the tension you’ve been carrying spills out of you like water from a squeezed sponge. you let out a sigh that collapses your chest, your whole body sinking with it.

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oflightningandstars · 3 days ago

Text

"Okay, Mr. Sphinx? I just, I think I realized that, you know, look. Not the smartest guy, right?

But, with enough time, I usually figure out what I need to figure out.

A lot of people said I couldn't make a cell tower. I definitely could not, but after a while, I figured out something else, with the help of other people.

Anyways, my point is eventually I will solve problems that maybe smarter people can solve in a shorter amount of time. So what my point is-"

Zac out of character: This is what Gorgug's thinking, is that it's scarier to admit that he's too stupid to figure this out, and he's just gonna say

"I'm a dumbass. Eat me, you stupid bug."

#I love this scene #'eventually I will solve problems that maybe smarter people can solve #in a shorter amount of time'#thinking of this always #gorgug thistlespring #fantasy high #fhsy

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satancopilotsmytardis · 3 days ago

Text

It Can Be Good

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @oh-deerio. Dabi has recently taken a job working as a security guard at a very luxurious and expansive sex club in Kamino. Not only is this job forcing him to become much more accepting of all kinds of kinks, but he’s being confronted with the fact that maybe sex isn’t always bad– at least the people in the club seem to be enjoying it. And one of the regulars, a strange guy called Tomura Shigaraki, seems to want to show him that for himself.

Contents: Dabi’s Terrible Self-Esteem, Internalized Kink Shaming, Tomura’s Massive Cock, BDSM, Public Sex, Feminization, Daddy Kink, Lingerie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Premature Ejaculation, Cumming In Pants, Cum Eating, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Dry Orgasm, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aftercare, Other sexual acts are mentioned in the setting but not focused on.

Word Count: 15,953

Ending up homeless from a young age means that Dabi has ended up taking a lot of different odd jobs. He's been a beggar on the street, he's been a thief, he's been a customer service 'specialist', and, of course, he's been an arsonist. But the main thing is that he's been busy. Trying to stay alive from such a young age on his own has always been hard. His broken body made it so that he had to spend so much of his time looking for ways to get the medicine he needs. The fact that he had to hide his identity means that he was also scraping by to get false documents to even get his foot in the door when it came to any more legitimate work, especially since he had to have that to get an apartment, and once his skin started to fall off, he didn't have a choice about that anymore. He needed somewhere to live that he could control so he wouldn't die of an infection long before he would be able to actually go and fight his father. So Dabi has been working hard for as long as he's been in this life and he knows better than to turn his nose up at the contacts and possible work that can come his way. Usually that means various criminal gigs, but when Simon Says mentions that he's worked security at some fancy night club in Kamino that pays very well for scary fucks like them to keep an eye on things, and that they're looking to fill some vacancies now that they're done renovating, Dabi perks right up. Working security at night would be a great job. He already doesn't sleep well, so staying up all night will probably make collapsing into his bed a bit easier when he gets off of his shift. The thought of having a steady paycheck is absolutely not something he's going to sneeze at either. He needs to have something to make his life a little easier, and at this point it would be cheaper for him to pick up and find an apartment in Kamino than to stay where he's at with zero prospects.

So Dabi tells Simon to give their hiring department his number and he waits by his phone. He gets a call three days later and shows up for an interview in a tattered leather coat that he hopes accentuates how scary he already looks. He thinks it ends up working pretty well because he walks out with a packet of onboarding paperwork that he needs to finish and return before he can get on the schedule.

He just also happens to walk out with the more concrete knowledge that this isn't just a nightclub, it's a sex club, and he better get very familiar and comfortable with the laundry list of play that La Vénus allows before he turns up for his first shift.

///

That was three months ago. Dabi hasn't taken any other jobs outside of his work at V, more than happy with the amount of hours that he has and the pay for the job. In general, the work itself isn't even that bad. While he thought that his sleep schedule at first would be fine through the switch to sleeping in the morning after his shift, it did take about three weeks to adjust completely, but really, that had been the most difficult part. Dabi doesn't have an ounce of issue with throwing people out if they disrespect the boundaries of people around them. He's learned the safe words that the club uses and knows how to turn a blind eye to play that makes him uncomfortable, but that isn't wrong because the people engaging in it are enjoying it. He stands outside in the colder months checking IDs and because he doesn't feel the chill in the air and that wins him plenty of favor with his co-workers and bosses. He can scare the shit out of just about anyone with his flashy quirk, and just a sneer from him with his skin stretching around his staples is usually enough to put people on their back foot if they were trying something stupid. It's a good job, probably the best and most legitimate one that he's had in his whole life, and that means that Dabi wants to keep it for as long as possible.

The one thing that he hasn't gotten on board with, however, does keep him on the edge of the social group that his co-workers have formed. For as welcome as they are to enjoy the club when they're off duty, and for as much as so many of his co-workers do, Dabi hasn't ever partaken. He's pretty sure some people just think he's ace, and if that's the assumption they want to make, he's not about to correct them and make his life more difficult. But without confirming anything, others tend to come and prod at him, trying to figure out what exactly he's into.

"There's something for everyone here." His direct boss, a French-Japanese woman named Aki, told him with a knowing smile after his first shift when he hadn't been able to stop blushing, his skin going hot enough that little whorls of smoke were trickling out of his seams. "We'll find something for you."

He had learned to keep his composure more since then and he's glad that he did. Working at a place like this means that he had to get over any hang-ups that he had over certain kinds of play very quickly. He can't wince every time he sees Kaneko because he knows the guy likes to get pissed on or cringe because he knows that Fukunaga likes to dress up like a dog and bark for mommy doms. But learning to be so composed and never coming in on his off hours to partake means that all of his co-workers are looking for any little slip. It's been three months since Dabi got here, but he wasn't the only new hire once the building renovation had been completed. A new room for the play area, a second level dedicated to the more traditional night club atmosphere, and the lower levels function as a love hotel. There's a lot of staff and as far as he's seen, most of them only hold out for about a month before they come to experience things on their off hours. Everyone is just waiting for him to break or to tell them all to fuck off and he isn't about to draw more attention to himself by doing either.

Because maybe he's learned that other people can get into whatever play they want and it doesn't change anything about their work life, but none of the other security guards want what... he's been curious about since he got here.

Dabi usually prefers to be in the play area when he's inside for his shift. The night club area is fine, but more often than not, in that section, he's just getting overly intoxicated people downstairs to cabs and breaking up fights. He really isn't at nearly the same risk of getting clocked or barfed on when he's in the play area. He makes his rounds, the front area more like a traditional night club, though there are always a few people getting up to some handsy stuff on the dance floor or at the tables around the edge of the room. This room is closer to the nightclub in atmosphere.

The red hall that connects the front area to the lounge is the place where people have to really decide if this is for them or not. Either side of this hallway is lined with three large viewing windows that go into intimate bedroom sets that can be booked by the customers who really want to feel like they're staring in their own porno as they do whatever they want inside of those bedrooms with the option to have rooms that have a two-way mirror covering the big open window, or just the window itself so they can see if anyone has stopped to watch them and masturbate off to the side of the hall. This is, technically, the only place in the club where people are allowed to masturbate outside of partner play, though that rule only really gets enforced if the person masturbating elsewhere is bothering the people around them as they do it. The red hall is the thing that really asks the people in the club area if they're ready to see what V is actually like and plenty of people try to either rush past it and end up having to turn around and go back to the main area when they see something they don't like, or they never make it past this hall.

The lounge is supposed to invoke the feeling of a speakeasy or an old fashioned cigar bar from the 20s. Dim lights, a low thrum of slow, sensual music, a smaller, more intimate bar with seating there as well as emphasis on table service with booths on the first floor and around the balcony that circles around the upper section, all of it arranged to look on two large leather lounges that are about the size of queen beds at the center of the room. Those are almost always full, always with a tangle of bodies on top of them, with people coming and going as they satisfy their desires, but there is a ... quietness to pleasure in this room. The focus in this area is on the senses and a loud noise would be disruptive, so things are usually slow and drawn out in this place. Dabi can't ever remember having to specifically escort someone out of this area, and it's one that he doesn't mind keeping an eye on because things are all hushed conversations and slow fucking in booths, or focusing on other power dynamics here that don't require overt shows of their prowess.

There are three more rooms beyond the lounge, the third being the new renovation. The one he really doesn't love working in is the showers. This area was made for people who wanted to do play with piss, scat, mud, and other messy or unsanitary substances that they didn't want out in the rest of the club. There are lockers that they keep a security guard stationed at because anyone engaging in play in this room are required to actually take a real shower in the stalls available outside of play before changing their clothes, so that they don't bring anything unsanitary into areas where they're serving food or drinks. That section of this play area looks like a unisex locker room, with the main area a bunch of tiled areas with drains in the floor, toilets in the open, and clear acrylic furniture to make use of that can be thoroughly cleaned by their staff in the morning. Dabi is not into any of the play in this room, but he also doesn't like it because he is at higher risk than most people for getting a bad infection if he gets something unsavory on his skin if he has to break something up. Thankfully, he usually doesn't have to cover that section because people can take one look at the staples holding his skin together and usually come to that conclusion for himself too and he isn't often assigned to it.

To the left of that room is the dungeon. This is what Dabi thought he was in for when people talked about BDSM. Breeding benches, bondage gear, floggers, whips, and paddles galore, with people in leather, latex, nipple clamps, chastity devices, and more. This is one of the places that they always have to have high security in, making sure that no one is taking anything too far. The club requires everyone to use the traffic-light system for their safe words so if security hears someone say 'red' and don't see the activity cease, they can intervene as soon as they physically can. This is the room where newbies who think they know everything they need to because they've watched bad porn or read worse books, or who just think they can hurt their partners indiscriminately because they don't know the difference between consensual sadomasochism and physical abuse, need to be shown the ropes or need to be shown out. This is the room he spends the most time in and he doesn't have any issue with that.

The strip club was the second newest addition to the building, and it is set up with a t-shaped stage that the performers use. The main difference here is that in the booths and on the floors in front of seats around the stage, there is enough room for someone to keel and the floors in those areas are made out of the padding in gym floors so that subs don't end up bruised in any way their doms don't intend as they get on their knees. This is another hot spot for trouble because there is always some asshole or another who doesn't understand that they don't have permission to touch their performers outright and that their dancers, like the professional subs and doms who are contracted to the building, are not prostitutes and will not have any exchange of fluids with them the way that anyone coming here for entertainment on their own can. Their workers have big black collars that say 'staff', but not everyone who comes here bothers to actually read the rules that are posted.

The last area... is the one that Dabi tries to avoid, but not too overtly. There's no reason for him to avoid it. This newly added area has a very different vibe from the rest of the club and it's really been made for two types of play though there is definitely crossover from other areas. The room itself is all soft lighting, but brighter than the lounge, and not the harsh red glow of the hall or dungeon. The ceiling is covered in cloud light fixtures that make it look like a dreamy lavender sky, the walls and floor pale pink, big vinyl bean bag chairs, chaise lounges, and adult-sized cribs along with play pens, a section of fake grass, and changing areas are all set up in this section for people into play that pertains to feminization and age play, though he always sees a few puppies, kittens, and bunnies in the area too playing with their owners in sweeter ways. It's all... cutesy stuff. People dressed in frilly lingerie and dresses, subs being forced into makeup as a power play from their doms if they don't show up at the club already gussied up. People of all genders wearing things that are too sexual to belong on children, but only just. There are sometimes temper tantrums in this room, though all of them have their own unique issues, but in general, Dabi tries not to be the one to take care of things in here. He doesn't want... anyone to notice the way that he smells a little more like smoke when he has to stand in this room.

He had snorted when he saw the Pink room when he was getting his first tour of the place before opening hours. He thought it would be a bunch of sex kitten girls out of lingerie advertisements sucking on their thumbs or twirling their pigtails until they got their doms to stuff them up with their dicks. And then he had actually had his first shift at V. He saw that the people who came here are not models for the most part. They are just people, like any other club might get, and that there were so many people, people who he never would have guessed just by looking at them, were going to be the kind who wanted to have the kinds of play that he saw them engaging in. He expected burly, hairy, muscular men to want to be the ones beating their marks into their sub's skin in the dungeon, but they were just as likely to be the ones who were getting fucked by men and woman alike, taking hits, or putting on a pair of panties themselves and enjoying whatever they wanted in the club. He expected tiny fairy-like women to be coquettish and nervous coming to the club alone and then he watched them make their subs cry and drool, begging them to hurt them more or be fucked harder. Being at V had quickly told him that he not only had to get over his hang-ups about the kinds of sex that people could be into, but also about what he believed people who were into BDSM and public sex like this could look like too. He has spent long enough at V to unlearn so many of his expectations about sex but he... he can't let go of those things when it comes to his own sexuality.

Dabi doesn't think he cares much about the gender of his partners. He is not a person who has been spoiled for choice looking the way he does. He hasn't ever thought, looking like this, that he should be anything other than whatever the person who joins him in bed wants. So he has always focused on service in bed. Ninety percent of the time he doesn't even end up getting to cum when he has sex, but he keeps trying anyway like there will be the right person or combination of acts that will make him feel good. But he hasn't found that yet. He doesn't think he ever would have gained the capacity to even consider the other things that might bring him to that point if he hadn't taken this job, even if he's refusing to engage in the things that he wants so badly. But he knows that looking at men and women in those lacy, silky, frilly scraps of fabric, the glittery makeup, the cute accessories, that those things make his skin tingle as he imagines how they might feel if he had them against his body. He feels the way that it heats him, making him want to squirm with his embarrassment over being seen wearing something like that, but he also knows that he wouldn't ever do it. Even though that humiliation is a feeling that other people chase while they're here, he won't. He has his reputation to think about.

Sure, the situation at V is a good one, but he is going to take more villain work eventually, when he finds a place to do so that will allow him to make the moves against his father that he actually wants to. But that means, if anyone ever finds out about the things he tried at V, that he'll have to fight them to prove that he can be more than what he likes in bed. That's not a battle that he wants to have to deal with at any point in his near future, and he doesn't... need that. He doesn't even need sex if he's being entirely honest with himself. His goals come first, and why would he jeopardize those for something he doesn't even know will be good? No. He tries not to let his gaze linger too long in the pink room and tries not to let himself imagine that sex... could be good if he was forced to play the way the subs in that room do. His co-workers keep trying to guess what he might be into, but he never lets up, and he goes about his life as normal.

///

Working anywhere for long enough makes a person familiarize themselves with the regular customers who come into the establishment. There are regulars that he knows by sight, kinks, quirky behaviors, even if he hasn't ever had any trouble with them. They just are people who come to the club a lot and who he recognizes now. He doesn't know most of those people by name, but that is probably because most of the time he is moving through the rooms and keeping an eye out for trouble. He isn't like the servers or other staff members who sometimes can stand by and chat with the patrons. That's fine by him, but there is one customer he knows by name because he was told to keep an eye on him before Dabi even started his very first shift, and that customer is a young man named Tomura Shigaraki.

Tomura Shigaraki is a dom who, presumably, is twenty years old, though Dabi isn't sure that he buys that. He's a scrawny man who is a few centimeters shorter than himself with an unfortunate, messy hair cut of pale blue hair, red eyes, a birthmark, and a couple of scars on his face. He is not physically imposing in the slightest, and his voice is a raspy tenor that is always one that Dabi can pick out in a crowd. And he is never to be charged when he is let into the club, his drinks are always on the house, and if he wants a red room then they get him one as soon as possible if all of them are full when he makes his request, if there's any vacancies then he and his partner, or partners, get them next. There is only one rule that they are supposed to enforce when it comes to the scrawny man, and that is that he never removes a pair of his gloves inside of the club. He always is wearing gloves, ones that remind Dabi of an archery glove, that are usually buckled on in two places to secure them, though the material changes between visits, sometimes black or red leather, sometimes cloth, once, notably, lace which had gotten their staff in such a tizzy that Aki was called onto the floor to have a conversation with him, but he hadn't seemed to get into any trouble. Dabi doesn't know why Shigaraki is such a big deal, especially not when he has also heard that the owner of the club won't even show his face here if he knows that Shigaraki is in the club, and no one seems to have an answer for him. He just knows that, overall, he gets along just fine with the rest of the staff, but not him.

Dabi didn't mean to antagonize the guy that the owner lets run wild, but the first time he'd seen him he'd been absolutely certain that he wasn't of age and he'd gone over and asked him for his ID. That had gotten him an incredulous look before Shigaraki picked his drink right back up and had told him to fuck off. It was only as Dabi was telling him to get up from the lounge that one of the more experienced staff had spotted what was happening and had come over to tell him exactly who Shigaraki was. He apologized vaguely, even though the entire encounter had rubbed him the wrong way, and since then, Shigaraki was always more hostile to him than Dabi wanted. Shigaraki never broke any of the rules, so in all honesty, there wasn't ever really need to deal with him during his shifts, but he couldn't help being annoyed that the bratty fuck would make snide little comments about him in earshot. Sometimes it was about his 'zombie-like' appearance, sometimes it was about how he couldn't command a drunkard, let alone anything else and people who are so naturally inclined to follow orders should just be on their knees in V, not trying to show people to the door. He hated Shigaraki for every snappy little quip that he always sent in his direction, especially when it became abundantly clear that he gets along very well with the rest of their staff from servers to strippers. Shigaraki knows everyone by name, he's always polite, he doesn't have to pay for his drinks, but he tips well almost as a point of pride, and he is a... very hotly sought after dom. He can get a red room whenever he wants it, but he does schedule one the way that other people are expected to when it comes up. And when people know that he's going to be in one of the red rooms, the red hall is full up on seating. They usually have to shoo people standing in the actual walkway through to not create a fire hazard, and Dabi doesn't fucking get it. Yeah, Shigaraki has a massive dick. Yeah, the sensory play with the half gloves seems like it could be nice. Yeah, the guy seems to know exactly the right words to take apart whatever sub he's with, but there are plenty of good doms in this club. He doesn't get why he's such an attention-getter.

So Shigaraki is a dick to him, the prince of the club, and not someone Dabi wants to piss off lest it come back on his job. For the most part, the snide comments aren't really doing anything to him that make him feel like his work is in jeopardy, so he just ignores them. And then one of his co-workers says hi to the other man when they're switching shifts. Shigaraki is polite, as always, saying that he hasn't seen Fukunaga at the club in a non-work capacity in a while, and Fukunaga replies,

"New girlfriend, she isn't sure this is for her yet." He shrugs and then reaches to clap his hand against Dabi's shoulder. "But sparky here hasn't ever shown up outside of his shifts."

He doesn't mean to bristle, that's common knowledge and he doesn't really think that it's anything besides a bit of a fascination to the others. But as soon as Shigaraki hears that, Dabi realizes that it's not something that he wanted the strange man to know. He isn't sure why it makes his skin prickle with discomfort, but the way that those red eyes turn their attention back to his face and take him in so sharply, tells him that this is something new that Shigaraki will remember about him.

"Is that so? Shy?" He asks, but the tone isn't warm or teasing, it's calculating and Dabi is filled with the desire to not be known by this strange man who seems like he can always figure out a new way of playing on people's wants and weaknesses. He doesn't know anything at all about who Shigaraki is when he leaves the club, but he would bet his last name that the man does something criminal because no normal civilian just acts the way he does when it comes to gathering information.

"Not interested." He says flatly, hoping to end this conversation and get Fukunaga's arm from around his shoulder so he can just get out of here and go home.

"In anything? No. You can find anything that you want here. So what you want," Shigaraki says, without hesitation, "Must be something you're too embarrassed to actually ask for."

"No." He keeps his tone as neutral as possible as he shrugs out from beneath his co-worker's arm. "I'm just not interested." He doesn't care if he's being rude, his shift is over and he doesn't want to have this conversation with Shigaraki. So he gives a lazy wave goodbye as he turns to go to the staff area, meaning to change from his uniform shirt and head home. He really doesn't like the way that he feels so watched as he makes his way to the exit.

///

After that, whenever Shigaraki happens to be at the club, he always lingers around until Dabi's shift is over. He never talks to him when he's on duty, but like clockwork, as soon as his shift has ended, he seeks him out before he can leave and he... 'talks' to him. More like talks at him, if he's being honest, the dom musing out loud why someone wouldn't engage in the club, why someone like him might be nervous about being vulnerable in a place like this, how he could be taken apart more efficiently when he isn't all together in the first place. He always bristles, which, unfortunately, he knows means that it's just more likely that the bastard will keep doing that, but he can't help it. He hasn't ever seen Shigaraki in the pink area since he started working here, the weirdo mostly haunting the lounge, dungeon, or strip club areas, even on the majority of nights that he doesn't take a partner for himself. He doesn't know what the fuck his deal is, but Dabi manages to put up with the belittling for about two weeks before he finally snaps,

"Look, creep, I'm not interested and I don't know why the fuck you care in the first place. We all know this club is your fucking playground, go find someone else to entertain you." Dabi has never lost his temper with any of the patrons here, even when trying to get them out of the club, but something about the way that Shigaraki, in particular, looks at him, makes it feel impossible to keep his cool.

He really doesn't like the fact that the other man just... keeps watching him like he's a bug under a microscope when he considers him after his outburst. "I thought that would be obvious." The man says, taking half a step closer. Even that is too much for Dabi, smoke starting to trickle out of his skin because he doesn't want this creep to touch him. Shigaraki stops where he is and then takes a step back when his discomfort becomes manifested in his quirk. "If you haven't had an experience here yet, then I want to be your first, pretty boy." He all but purrs. "It's always the most stubborn ones who end up turning into the sweetest subs, and I don't think you'll be any different, firefly. I want to see you fall apart for the first time and know that you're never going to be able to do so without thinking about me for the rest of your life."

"You're fucking insane." Dabi isn't expecting the way that his voice is so hoarse when it comes from his throat. But no one has ever talked to him like that. He's never said anything remotely similar during any of his sexual encounters. This isn't the kind of thing that someone like him ends up engaged in, let alone with this weird guy who seems to own the club more than the owner himself does. "I'm not interested, and just because you get away with a lot, doesn't mean they'll put up with you harassing employees. Back off."

Shigaraki blinks, like somehow that surprises him. "They would fire you long before they stopped letting me in." And Dabi's stomach goes absolutely hollow at the absentminded declaration. "But I'm not trying to cause you any trouble." He says more deliberately. "I'm trying to hit on you. But if you really aren't interested, I'll stop." Shigaraki's eyes never stop dragging over his features, picking him apart like he doesn't need to peel back his staples to peer beneath his skin. "But I don't think you're uninterested. I think that you're scared of how much you want whatever it is that you do. I think that you'll be much happier if you have someone to take you through that and let you try what you've been wanting so badly. You may not like me, but you know that I'm the best dom here. I can make it so good for you, firefly. You just have to let yourself have it."

"Leave me alone." Those are the only words that Dabi can find as his whole body burns with heat that he can't parse from fear or arousal. He has heard a lot of filthy things said in this club. He's even gotten a lot of filthy things said to him here when people don't immediately realize that he's staff, but they've never made him... feel the way that Shigaraki's words do.

"Okay." And that's it. Shigaraki turns and disappears back into the crowd of people. Dabi doesn't know why that doesn't help him breathe any easier.

///

It would be a lie to say he doesn't see Shigaraki plenty after that. He sees Shigaraki all the time. He is almost always at the club during Dabi's shifts, and he is almost always making himself comfortable in whatever areas Dabi is supposed to be keeping an eye on. But they never speak to each other again. Shigaraki gives him a wide berth and Dabi tries not to pay any special attention to him. It's just... hard to ignore him. Shigaraki used to mainly show up at the club, get a bottle of whatever he felt like drinking for his table, and then he would spend the entire time just having conversations with people who came over to drink with him, and very, very occasionally he would get into a dynamic with someone who was there. Sometimes that was just having them kneel for him, or hold his drinks, or using them as a footstool, but sometimes he would let them warm his cock or suck him off. Sometimes he would just tie someone up in the dungeon, press a vibrator to their most sensitive parts, and then use that and his filthy fucking words to walk them over the edge. But it's been months of Dabi working here and seeing Shigaraki in passing, and he has never been the kind who comes to V to get off himself. He doesn't seem to care about that, almost to the point that Dabi doesn't know why he chooses to drink here instead of anywhere else. He wonders if the other man will even have a functioning liver by the time he's actually twenty. Whatever. The point is that Shigaraki is usually in a small handful of areas, and he mostly is just haunting a booth while subs come and throw themselves at him, and he mostly turns them down.

So when all of the sudden he starts showing up and accepting every offer that comes his way, it's very, very noticeable. Shigaraki arrives, barely has a drink, and then finds someone to hold his interest for a while, and brings them into the different rooms. In the lounge he becomes a conductor over the large benches. The tangle of bodies beneath him try to drag him down into their debauchery, but they can't get a hold of him as he directs hands, mouths, genitals, to the places he wants the tangle of bodies to entwine. He engages, but never lets them take away that position of power that he seems to want above all else. Then he shows up in the dungeon on one of the nights that they don't have a professional working over someone, or being worked over at the center of the room. Shigaraki finds a woman who wants to spread her legs, nipple clamps squeezing her chest tight, as Shigaraki brings a riding crop against her clit until she's gushing all over the floor, sobbing around the ball gag that is stretching her jaw open wide. Dabi is back in the dungeon again for his next shift, and Shigaraki comes right back into that area, stretching his new sub's balls until he's sobbing too, the dom saying such filthy things that Dabi isn't surprised that even though he's got the guy in a ring, his dick still goes off before Shigaraki gives him permission. He shows up in the strip club, siting in the area right in front of the stage and fucking his sub's mouth until there is cum streaking their face and drooling out of their mouths.

He just... seems to follow Dabi around and fuck whoever he wants and there's really nothing that he can say about it. Maybe the man took the hard rejection of his weird advances and decided that he wanted to have a sub badly enough that he was just going to try a bunch of them to find something new to hold his interest. That's what Dabi tells himself when he makes his eyes stray away from the scrawny creep who seems to have no other joy in life outside of drinking and domming, But he doesn't believe it when he sometimes feels red eyes lingering on him instead of his subs when Dabi enters a room that the other man is already playing in. The little voice in the back of his head that has always kept him out of too much trouble, tells him that this isn't Shigaraki trying to prove that he doesn't still want him. This is Shigaraki trying to show Dabi everything that he could have with him if he chose to let him touch. He's trying different things, tormenting different subs, to try and find the one that Dabi wants. But he hasn't approached him, hasn't spoken to him, barely looks at him since he told him off. He's keeping his distance, not harassing him in any way that Dabi could actually put a name to, but he certainly has not given up.

Dabi doesn't think that he's going to get what he wants though either, not until he finds Shigaraki in the pink room. He is just doing his rounds, he didn't even know the other man was here tonight, but he isn't expecting to see him there. He doesn't expect to find Shigaraki with a Little of his own, a woman again, wearing a sexy schoolgirl uniform and bent over Shigaraki's lap as he brings a pink heart paddle against her ass and thighs. It's not an uncommon refrain, but hearing her squeal,

"No, Daddy! Please! I promise I'll be a good girl!" And hearing Shigaraki's voice rasp,

"You can't be a good girl for Daddy again until after you've taken all of your punishments, princess," makes Dabi's skin tingle. He doesn't want it to. He would much rather the play make him nauseous, but that's not what happens. No, instead, hearing that declaration from Shigaraki makes his skin hot enough that he's worried that he might start to smoke, so he barely gives the rest of the room a cursory once-over before he leaves as quickly as possible.

He had hoped that no one saw him or smelled the smoke on his skin as he fled, but when Shigaraki is getting ready to leave for the night, he pauses by him and murmurs, "You would look so cute in pink, baby girl." Before he continues on his way. Dabi is glad that his shift ends not long after, because he needs to get out of the club and the crushing heat of bodies and smell of sex.

He still feels delirious when he gets home and barely manages to throw his door shut before he's got his back against it and is shoving his hand down his pants, his other knuckles between his teeth to gag himself and keep the awful word that is sitting in his throat inside. It only takes a few strokes before he's already dripping into his hand as he lets himself imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to be laid out on one of those plush pink benches with a skirt pushed up around his hips, Shigaraki's filthy words in his ear as his thick cock grinds against his hole.

Be a good girl for Daddy.

The words are rasped into his ear and he can't keep smoke from trailing out of his seams or the ache of his scars beneath his eyes as his shame and arousal heat his veins in equal measure. He's not supposed to like this, not supposed to want it, but he... does. He wants it so badly. Dabi cums hard with a sob in his throat as he wishes so desperately that he could turn off the part of his brain that took one look at the softness that so many of the subs in the pink room get treated with and told him that would be the thing that would make sex actually feel good for him. He is going to be the villain who kills Endeavor. He doesn't want to know how other villains will treat him if they find out what he wants at V.

Dabi has spent his whole life not ever getting anything that he wants. He can survive denying himself this as well. He just might be a little more miserable than usual as he does it.

///

Shigaraki, seeming to have gotten what he wants out of tormenting him, goes back to mostly just hanging out in the lounge and drinking. He doesn't pick up subs constantly and it seems like the ones who had been waiting to get their turn are a bit more dower in the wake of that than even Dabi is as he tries to keep himself sane. But Shigaraki doesn't make any other comments, doesn't even glance his way when it comes to what he might have caught on to being his preference. He just lets him go about his business. Dabi tries to focus on his training outside of work. He takes more arson jobs on his nights off so that he's never tempted to come back to V and let his good sense lapse.

He's not expecting to go to a job and see the guy who's hiring him is a regular at the club. He doesn't know his name, but he knows the neon shock of his bright green hair and knows that he likes to pretend to be a dirty piggy rolling around in filth in the locker room area of the club. But even though he's sure that the guy must recognize him too, he treats Dabi like he isn't anything but a new contractor. He doesn't say anything either, he just does the job. He doesn't get more than a glance from the man the next time he sees him at V either.

But when he starts to look for more work elsewhere, he starts to get hired by more people that he recognizes from V. Doms, subs, people who are into all kinds of play and who seem to not have any trouble conducting their business outside of it. That all makes an itch start to tingle in the back of his mind. A treacherous thing that says if they can have whatever they want, why can't he? But Dabi was hired at V to be scary, to be muscle, and the jobs that he takes outside of it all rely on him being intimidating and effective, ranging from more security on jobs to actual arson gigs. He doesn't know if the... separation that he sees the other people from V getting in their villain work will apply to him if he ever let himself... have what he wants.

Dabi doesn't know, but he... doesn't think anyone can possibly find out about it when he lets himself order some women's underwear online. He had to guess his size and he doesn't get it quite right, the pale pink panties too loose on his ass and too tight around his crotch, but he has them. He only lets himself wear them in his apartment, only wanting to when he's trying to give himself some relief and not really finding the appeal in keeping them on once he's got his cum cooling against his stomach, but they do help work him up much faster than he's ever been able to before, with or without a partner. He doesn't know what that says about him, but that little voice cautiously suggests that maybe... it doesn't mean anything. Maybe he can just be allowed to like whatever he wants to.

He doesn't know if he believes it, but he doesn't try to smother that voice as violently as he had been before.

///

He's been working at V for almost a year before he is just. Tired. He's tired of leaving the club and trying to find someone to hook up with. Tired of the rare occasion when he's successful and the person just wants him to be a convenient cock or hole for them. Tired of never getting to cum. Tired of feeling like shit as soon as they throw him out of their space or leave his apartment without so much as a 'thanks' before they're gone. Tired of no one ever leaving the lights on because they don't want to see him. Sex outside of V is awful. It's cold, rushed, and unsatisfying, and Dabi feels so terrible after every encounter that he really has considered just giving it up entirely. But it's so hard to go forward with that when he knows that sex can be good. He sees it every night he works in the club. He sees other people engaging in kinks that he would never have spoken the name of out loud, let alone done in public, and he sees how they are allowed to enjoy them to their fullest. He sees other people... happy with sex and Dabi is filled with an aching in his chest that begs for him to be allowed that too.

He's tired, and it's the end of spring, still chilly enough for him to be the one outside of the building acting as a bouncer when Shigaraki leaves the club at around one in the morning. He hasn't said a word to him in months, and all of Dabi's seem trapped in his throat as he reaches out and catches the edge of his sleeve as he starts to walk away. Shigaraki pauses, but there aren't any people waiting in line anymore, so he steps closer to Dabi's body. He wonders if he thinks the heat is just him trying to stay warm in the cool air or if he thinks that he's as nervous as he was the first time Shigaraki approached him.

Maybe not because the strange man just wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in without hesitation. Dabi's whole body feels a surge through it, the electric kind of spark that he got the first time he saw a guy in the pink room as a sub. Shigaraki's mouth is cool against his, but his chapped, scarred lips are sure and demanding as they move against his. He kisses him like he already owns him, like Dabi's body should already know just how good surrender can taste. And when his tongue is behind his teeth, all he can do to not tremble apart is curl his fingers into his palms to put a spark of pain along the seams there.

Shigaraki kisses him until he's breathless and when he parts he murmurs, "When's your next day off, firefly?"

Dabi barely manages to give him his schedule and his phone number, feeling like an idiot when he feels how hot his skin is with his embarrassment as he... actually gets to set up a hook up. Normally he just takes what he can get. He's never been someone other people would go out of their way to try to bed. He wonders if he looks as lost and nervous as he feels because Shigaraki gives him another peck, this one to the edge of his lips, and murmurs, "You can change your mind, sweetheart. Just text me."

But that's all he says before he turns and starts to move down the street, leaving Dabi standing alone as he waits to see how long it takes for his heart to stop racing.

///

Shigaraki texts him periodically throughout the next week, making Dabi pass two days off without inviting him to the club as his sub. He makes him wait because he's trying to... negotiate with him. Dabi knows about negotiation from the same way he knows about kinks, not from experiencing it himself, but from watching it happen at the club. In addition to just wanting to have plenty of furniture for people to utilize, the many benches, booths, and couches are places where people can sit down and discuss what they want out of their play in the club. Dabi hasn't ever had someone ask what he wants in bed before beyond asking if he's clean or if he wants a condom. He isn't expecting Shigaraki to start by asking him if he has any hard limits that he should know about. When he says that he can do anything short of ruining his seams that has the other man sending him checklists and consent sheets. He tells Dabi to text or call him with any questions and he struggles to actually sit down and respond to the messages, struggles to see how many things that Shigaraki is willing to do with him, for him in their scene, even telling him he would be more than happy to just do this... privately. He doesn't have to go to V. He doesn't have to be put on display for other people to see. He can have this in the privacy of a love hotel, his apartment, Shigaraki's apartment. It's up to him and what he wants.

But he tells the other man he wants it at V. At V... villains do whatever they want and it doesn't follow them outside of the building. Dabi needs that assurance to let himself do this at all. He needs... barriers between what he wants and what he's allowing himself to have, because asking for any of it outright is making his skin smoke. Shigaraki rolls with his hesitance, his hang-ups, and the texts he sends are so much... kinder than Dabi expected. After how he approached him and teased him at the club initially, he thought that Shigaraki would be more demanding, more controlling, but even just over text he... makes Dabi feel... safe. He never is snappy in his replies, never rushes him, never asks him for something that Dabi has to debate over being able to provide. He is slow and methodical as he starts to craft a scene for them and sets a date, always leaving room open for him to cancel or change his mind. Dabi does, twice, because he's just too nervous, but Shigaraki doesn't pester or rush him. He never approaches him while he's working, and it takes a few weeks, but after one more terrible hookup outside of V, Dabi is finally ready to actually see this through.

The night of, Dabi has showered, checked over his seams meticulously, and considered canceling another half a dozen times before he sucks it up and leaves his apartment. If he doesn't just do this and figure out if it really does make sex better, then he won't be able to move on. Maybe this won't work for him, maybe sex does always feel terrible because it's not the sex he wants, it's just the relief from pain that can come with the pleasure or the vague possibility of closeness afterward that he's always been denied. He doesn't know and he won't until he just tries this. He's wearing his usual clothes, as Shigaraki instructed him, when he approaches the door. He doesn't really need his ID, given he's recognized as soon as it comes to his turn in line.

"Oh, hey, Dabi. You filling in or forget something in your locker?" Fukunaga asks when he gets to him.

Before he can answer, a hand curls around his hip and Dabi's whole body goes warm as he is pulled into Shigaraki's side. "My guest tonight." He says, raising a brow.

Fukunaga blanches slightly and then steps aside so that they can move into the building. He gets an employee discount, but apparently whatever weird arrangement Shigaraki has with this place supersedes that. They head straight up to the Play area, the final bag check in a small lounge that is just off of the bathrooms, lockers, and changing rooms that are outside of the club. The dress code at V is strict. If one is not wearing blatant fetish gear, then the people inside are expected to look appropriate for a high-end club. He doesn't think that his white t-shirt would cut it, but he's not going to be wearing his clothes for long. Shigaraki steers him towards one of the changing rooms and pauses him in front of it.

"What color are you, darling?" He asks softly. They aren't the only two having a soft conversation before going in. It's very common from people who haven't ever been here before and he knows that they tend to decide that they aren't ready for public sex yet and decide to go to the non-play club a few floors down instead of staying up here. One word and Dabi doesn't have to go through with this. But Shigaraki's voice is soft, his expression relaxed and sweet, and... he wants him. Dabi hasn't ever been wanted by any of the people he's ever gone to bed with before. He's been tolerated, but they never came to him, searched for the ways that could make him hot, and brought him into their beds because they wanted to make him feel good. He has seen Shigaraki be a dom of all kinds in the time that he's been working at V. But a pleasure dom wasn't something he gravitated to on his own. One look at the checklist Dabi sent back to him had the other man changing his tune. He didn't even hesitate to offer it.

"Green." He manages to say, trying to sound normal even though his whole mouth is dry.

"Good. Now, you're going to put on everything that I brought for you and then we're going to your favorite place."

"Yes, sir." He was given a list of honorifics that he could use while they were here, but Dabi had blushed so hotly at all of the other ones. Maybe... maybe he'll be able to use some of the others once they're actually playing, but for now this is all he can manage. He takes the crisp white bag that Shigaraki hands him and steps into the changing room, trying to keep from smoking as he opens it. Inside he finds things he expected, lacy, ruffly things that are soft to the touch and in pale pink and white. Shigaraki made him send along his measurements so he could shop for him, and as Dabi forces himself out of his leather and cotton in exchange for lace and satin, he is startled to find how much better these pieces fit him. The front of the pink panties hug his crotch, just tight enough to show the way his cock and balls are hugged in the fabric, the rest curving over his ass in a cut that makes him actually look like he has one. The bra is soft and slightly padded at the bottom, forcing the muscle of his chest up until he looks like he has more feminine cleavage. The stockings and garter belt come next, the silky soft fabric not snagging against his scars or staples and making his legs look longer when he steps into the kitten heels at the bottom of the bag. He wants to smother himself when he sees that those are little slipper heels with a sparkly pink pompom on the top of the open toe section. The dressing gown definitely looks like something that he would expect a 'distraught widow' with a husband who died under mysterious circumstances to wear. The body of it is sheer pink with a brighter fur trim around the bell sleeves , collar, and hem that brushes the backs of his calves. The last thing Shigaraki left in the bag for him is something that he requested specifically. He knew that trying to get through this night would be hard, but doing it without quirk suppression cuffs would be absolutely impossible. He didn't expect Shigaraki to have also gotten him frilly lolita-style wrist cuffs to go over them and make them cute. When he looks at himself in the mirror, Dabi finds his heart starting to race. He doesn't look like a girl, not really. The clothes are cute and feminine, sure, but they don't make him a girl. He knows that, knows from seeing so many different people who come to the club and wear such a wide variety of things. He just also knows that he associates these things with feminine beauty. He knows he's never going to be a looker when he burned himself to a crisp years ago, but he doesn't feel like he's falling as far from what he thinks of as 'handsome' when these clothes are made to be 'pretty'. No one wants to look at him when he's dressed the way that he normally does, but maybe, just maybe Shigaraki really will want to look when he's dressed like this instead. He is still nervous, but there is a sweeter tinge of excitement in that now as he puts his clothes into the white garment bag and opens the door back up.

Shigaraki has taken off his long red coat, but other than that, his appearance hasn't changed any. He's wearing slacks and a button down shirt made of black lace with a more solid cotton at the collar, cuffs, and down the placard. Even with the lace, it's a far cry from what Dabi is wearing and he stands with his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for the other man's reaction.

He doesn't think that he's ever seen Shigaraki give anyone such a soft smile before. "There's my baby girl. You look so pretty in those clothes, princess."

Dabi wonders if he has just been starved for affection and approval for so long that the first person to give him a single compliment would be able to turn his insides to mush. But it doesn't really matter because Shigaraki is the person to do it and that's all he needs to make himself step out of the changing room. He wobbles a little on the heels, but the actual heel itself is thick enough that it's not too difficult, and they aren't even as tall as some pairs of boots that he's worn, so he thinks he'll be able to manage it as long as Shigaraki lets him go slowly over the padded floors of the pink room.

Shigaraki lets him step up to him before he takes a pink ribbon leash from his pocket. It has a cross-brace that hooks onto the two small, hidden loops of his cuffs and lets Shigaraki lead him over to the locker that he's gotten a key for. "Just one more thing, princess." He says easily before he reaches back into his pocket. He extracts a tube of sparkly pink lip gloss that has Dabi's cheeks heating. He means to take it, but Shigaraki is the one who uncaps it and catches his chin, making him tilt his head so that he can swipe the thick, gooey makeup over his lips. It's sticky and smells like strawberries and somehow that makes Dabi's head start to feel like it's a little farther away from his body. "Perfect." No one has ever called him that before and he thinks he might let Shigaraki do anything he wants to him if he keeps doing it.

His coat and Dabi's bag of street clothes go inside the locker before he's leading him to the final check, making sure they don't have any weapons or toys that aren't clearly marked, the club only allowing clear bags inside past this point and absolutely no phones or other recording devices. It's easy for them to get through without any of that stuff even if Dabi is already blushing hot enough that he thinks he would have combusted without the quirk cuffs when another of his co-workers sees him and her mouth falls open when she does.

Shigaraki ushers him past that, past the night club area, and through the red hall. They aren't going into one of the red rooms on the other sides, even though Shigaraki offered him that, saying that it was more private without being completely isolated like the love hotel rooms downstairs, but he... wanted the pink room. He wanted the soft pinks, plush furniture, and the expectation that anyone in that room was allowed to wrap themself in soft pink things that they might not be allowed to anywhere else. So Shigaraki takes him there, leading him so gently on his leash without ever letting anyone come between them or moving at a pace that Dabi can't manage in his heels. He takes him into the pink room and there are already plenty of people making use of it. Puppies and kittens crawling around on the soft floor, littles sitting in their caregiver's laps, babies being soothed with a dildo or cock in their mouths to suck like a pacifier. No one pays him and Shigaraki any particular attention in this room and some of the nervousness in his gut manages to uncoil. Shigaraki looks around the room for a moment before he seems to find what he wants and he brings Dabi over to a far corner where a modular couch is not currently in use.

"Come here, princess, come sit on Daddy's lap."

Dabi's entire body starts to tingle, arousal feeling strange beneath his skin without his quirk rushing up to meet it. He doesn't hesitate though, expecting to sit on his lap side saddle, but Shigaraki pulls him down so that his knees are spread wide around his thighs, his crotch pressed into the other's stomach, his cuffed hands trapped between their chests, and the other's face so close to his own. He can't help the shiver that goes through him. Even with his quirk locked away, his skin is so much warmer than Shigaraki's. He wonders if that has to do with his quirk. Maybe one touch from the other man would freeze him into a popsicle. Maybe that's why he has to wear the gloves.

"You're already so pink, baby girl. Is being dressed up so cute for Daddy really making you so hot?"

Dabi knows he's supposed to answer, he's supposed to behave. That's all he has to do to get more from his dom for the night, but finding his tongue is so hard and all he manages to do is drop his eyes from the intensity of Shigaraki's before he nods weakly.

"I'm so glad you decided to show me how cute you are first, princess." The other man goes on without hesitation. His hands wrap around his hips, his bare thumb stroking over the jut of his bone. "It makes me feel so special knowing that you only trusted me to help you pick out such cute clothes." Shigaraki punctuates the words by leaning in and making Dabi's breath catch in the back of his throat. But the other man only rubs their noses together in a little nuzzle that makes Dabi's whole face go warm with a blush. And then he smiles again, one of those soft, warm ones that he got outside too, and it makes Dabi's insides feel like they might turn into a puddle and ooze out from between his seams. "Do you feel as cute as I think you look, beautiful?"

Dabi isn't sure what he's feeling anymore as the sweet, gentle tone that Shigaraki is using to speak to him, the way his hands are soft against his skin instead of pulling on it roughly, are all making his head a little foggy. "Cute?" He doesn't think he's been called that since it was being paired with 'precocious' back when he was still a child.

Shigaraki's smile widens a little more, but he doesn't sound mocking when he responds. "Yes, princess. So cute. I might just have to eat you up."

Dabi's whole body goes a little warmer and he swallows dryly before he manages to nod. He likes these clothes better than the panties he bought for himself, but he wonders if he just would have liked anything better if he had Shigaraki telling him that he looks good in the clothes.

"Is your mouth dry, baby girl? Daddy can get you something to drink." He lifts a hand from his hip to wave one of the servers over. The pink room doesn't have a bar of its own inside, mainly to maintain the ambiance of the area, but there are servers who walk around with the usual trays of lube and condoms, and can bring drinks from the other bars upon request. There are some room-specific cocktails and Shigaraki just raises a finger to get what he wants before he turns his attention right back to Dabi, leaning in as he curls his hand around the back of his neck. "You're so cute, blushing like this, sweetheart." He says before his lips fall gently against the seam curving over his cheek. "And it's okay if you want to be quiet for now. But you just have to show Daddy that you remember how to say 'stop' if you stop feeling good. Can you show me your signals, princess?"

Dabi has never felt himself clam up like this, but he can't make his words come, so he pulls his hand from Shigaraki's chest and runs through his signals, three fingers, then two, then a fist with his thumb tucked against his palm so Shigaraki can't mistake him just holding onto something like his shirt or a blanket for a sign to stop.

"You're already doing such a good job, precious." He says in that sweet tone again. "Can I give you a kiss, sweetheart?"

Dabi is breathless as he nods again. He hasn't stopped thinking about the first one Shigaraki gave him since he got it. Shigaraki guides his mouth down with the hand around the back of his neck and Dabi all but melts against his chest. It's just as slow and deliberate as the first time, but this one has his tongue lingering against his own, curling into the different places in his mouth that have mostly just been touched by plunging, sloppy strokes that taste like stale alcohol if he's even earned a kiss at all. He hasn't had anyone try to make a kiss feel so good for him, and he aches with how badly he wants everything that Shigaraki does to him tonight to keep feeling like this. Shigaraki kisses him deep and slow, like he's trying to make Dabi's body so warm that he stops noticing the places where his quirk is trapped underneath his skin. His other hand moves from his hip to pressing against the small of his back, holding him close like he can't bear the thought of him slipping through his fingers. But he's not pulling roughly at his skin, not rushing him along to find his own pleasure. He kisses him again and again until Dabi's breaths are coming a little shorter, only getting to gasp for them between the soft parting of their lips. His lip gloss is sticky and smeared between their mouths, tinting Shigaraki's lips pink too, and flavoring each of their kisses with strawberry. Dabi has kissed people who were wearing makeup like this before, but it's never been his lipstick between their mouths. His mark on Shigaraki's skin.

"Daddy," he gasps, pushing his body closer, like he can get any closer at all when he's already in his lap. Tomura gives him one more hot kiss, his hand sliding down from his lower back to his ass, pulling him in tight so he can feel how Dabi's cock is hardening in his panties. He moans softly as he is pressed against his hard stomach a bit more, his hips automatically seeking out more friction as he's devoured again by his Daddy's tongue.

But this kiss ends too soon and leaves him trying to lean in for more, being denied with a patient smile. "There's my pretty girl's voice." He says before the hand on his neck pulls away. Dabi didn't notice the server who came over, but one of them must have because there's one of the fruity cocktails sitting in its margarita glass on the little table nearby along with an assortment of lube and condoms. Daddy picks up the glass and brings it to Dabi's lips. He never drinks anything at the club, knowing that the drinks and the door fee are the way that the club makes back its money for everything else, and knowing that he does not have the money to blow. But even if he had, he would never have ordered this. The cocktail is overwhelmingly sweet and fruity, like someone melted a popsicle into a glass, garnished it with sugar around the rim, and then added an extra two shots of simple syrup for good measure. But underneath that overwhelming sweetness that doesn't taste like anything but candy, there is the distinct warming burn of alcohol that screams to him that three of these without his quirk able to burn through the contents, would likely have him on the fucking floor. But his Daddy makes him take a few small sips, just enough to have him feeling that burn settling in his stomach before he sets it aside and puts the coaster through the clip on the rim so that no one can pull it away and slip something inside without them noticing.

"There, did that help, princess?"

Dabi thinks he would have to actually be plastered to stop noticing so acutely that he's dressed like this in a place where anyone can see him, but the kisses have been an extremely good distraction and he wants to get more of those. "Uh-huh." He mumbles, trying to lean in again. Tomura's smile seems even more genuine as he lets out a soft laugh before he gives him another sweet peck.

"You're so cute, baby girl." His hands start to move over Dabi's body, going to his thighs and thumbing over the seam of his stockings, dragging slowly up over his hips. "So pretty in these clothes. I've been imagining all of those hard edges in something so delicate," He speaks softly, just loud enough for Dabi to hear over the drone of music that is coming from other places in the club. There are so many noises in the club. Dabi has had to train himself to hear 'red' and 'security' as much as he's learned to watch the crowd to make sure that nothing goes under his radar, but he didn't know he could be so locked in on one voice that it feels like the entire world has fallen away. "And you're so lovely like this, darling. Pretty tits made soft in your cute bra." His hands slide up his chest, cupping both halves in his palms, not squeezing him roughly, but palming him deliberately so that he can feel the softness of the cups against his skin and the way that his piercings are rubbing against the inside too. He lets out a gasp, that light touch sending so much heat through his veins that his cock is thickening in his panties.

Pressed so closely together, Tomura feels it right away too, and his eyes are still warm as he leans back a bit so that he can look down and see Dabi. He has to look too and his whole body only gets hotter, which makes his cock harder, in turn making the way he's pressing against the panties more distinct. The way that his cock strains against the thin material has his head swimming. He can see the outline of himself, the bumps of his piercings, and he knows that when he's fully hard, he's going to make the thin fabric gape from how it will be straining to try to keep him contained.

"Oh, baby girl, has it been a long time since anyone was good enough to be allowed to touch you?" Tomura's voice is still too sweet to be mocking. Genuine. Dabi's whole body shivers as he thinks about the impossibility that the other is offering him. As if he has ever had a choice in who he lets touch him if he wants the privilege of being touched at all. Tomura's hands go down to his hips again, his thumbs stroking closer to his root along the edge of his pretty new panties. "God, you look so cute straining your panties with your pretty little clit, princess."

Dabi doesn't think that a single word has ever made his body so desperate, but he's tasting what's left of his lip gloss as his... clit twitches hard in the thin underwear. He aches as a gush of precum spills from his tip and wets the fabric so much that it goes see-through over his head. He thinks that Tomura is as surprised as he is that that's enough to make him so, so hard, because he sucks in a sharper breath too when he sees Dabi's reaction.

"Oh, baby girl," he teases, "you just love hearing Daddy tell you how cute you are, don't you? Your pretty, eager little clit is making your panties all wet and I've barely even touched you." It’s humiliating to be reminded of that, but Dabi is starting to tremble so badly as he tries to force his arousal away from the edge of his nerves. He hasn't ever gotten worked up like this before, but no one else has ever... said that they want him the way that Shigaraki is. "Are you going to get too excited, princess?" He sound delighted at the thought, his hands slipping along the inside of Dabi's thighs and forcing him to spread his legs even wider as Dabi clutches onto his shirt with his bound wrists for dear life, uncertain if he'll be able to keep his balance without the other man anchoring him there.

"N-no, Daddy," but he isn't sure and Tomura pounces on that wavering uncertainty in his voice.

"Really? Your cute clitty isn't so sensitive that it's going to make a big mess in your panties? Daddy isn't going to have to walk you out of here all sticky because you made your panties all messy?"

Dabi has never felt himself unraveling just from words before, but he can't help the weak, humiliating moan that comes out of his throat. "Daddy," he begs, not sure if he wants Tomura to stop or to give him more. Having to walk back through the main area with his underwear a mess, cum stained on the front, more dripping down the back of his thighs, that has his head spinning, his clit straining hard against the thin fabric.

"My sweet little girl, you didn't tell Daddy that you were so inexperienced." The words make his embarrassment brighter and that makes him harder. He can't find a reprieve from any angle, especially not when Daddy uses his grip on his legs to shift his weight, making Dabi's ass grind against his crotch, letting him feel that Daddy's dick is hardening too, that he's getting excited from seeing him falling apart like this. That he... really does think that he's pretty like this, really does want him. "Getting so excited like this. I'm going to have so much fun playing with you." And his hard cock against his ass promises him that he means every word.

Dabi doesn't know how he's supposed to last when Daddy moves his hand so that he can rub his thumb up the bump of piercings along his clit. He whimpers, biting his lip hard like that spark of pain might make him not fall apart completely, but it doesn't help. His orgasm is sharp as it comes over him like he's a teenager again, his clit twitching and balls going tight as he paints his spend all along the inside of the fabric. He is about ready to bolt, so humiliated as the pleasure ebbs away, but Tomura doesn't give him a chance. He's still shaking when he lets out a startled cry as his Daddy picks him up with more strength than he'd been expecting and pushes him back on the couch.

"Wait--" his voice is hoarse and watery, terrified that he has been so unworthy of all of the time that Shigaraki put into trying to get him ready for this play that the other will just leave him here completely.

"You're so cute, baby girl." Daddy's voice is rougher too, as he moves to his knees, pushing Dabi's hips back against the cushions as he gets between his thighs. The mess of his orgasm can't be hidden with him spread out like this but Dabi still fumbles with the edge of his sheer dressing gown like he'll find a way to manage it. But Daddy's hands push his away, making him lift his hips as soon as his garters have been unclipped, so that he can catch the edge of his soiled panties. Dabi squeaks as he pulls those down and shows the mess he's made of himself even more clearly. "I didn't know that you would be so sensitive. It's going to be so easy for me to keep making you feel good, isn't it?"

Dabi doesn't have an answer for him because no one else has ever bothered. But his Daddy doesn't hesitate. His head is dipping down. He kisses along his stomach, his tongue dragging over the places his cum managed to escape the fabric, and licking it away with a hum. Like it's not bitter, not disgusting, not pathetic that so little could bring his arousal to such heights. And then his mouth is lower. He licks his sticky, softening clit and all of the muscles in Dabi's body go so tight. He barely gets a single orgasm with other partners, he's never had someone's mouth against him after he's already cum. He doesn't know if he's ever even had a mouth on his cock, let alone when he's pretending it's something else. He keens, the slickness and softness of Tomura's tongue feeling good, but so sharp from how sensitive his nerves are in the wake of his orgasm. He didn't know something could feel so good that it's painful, but that's the sensation he's grappling with as his Daddy doesn't hesitate to cup his balls in one hand as he laves his tongue along his length, cleaning away his cum and kissing his head sweetly before he takes him all the way inside. Dabi's back arches off of the couch, his hips only not jumping from the tight hold Tomura has on him and the hard press of his other hand against his hip. Dabi hasn't ever heard himself howl with pleasure like this before. But his whole body is on fire without actually having to burn. He thinks that one of his shoes falls off as his toes curl from the sharp tug that feels like it's spreading over every overworked nerve ending in a spiderweb of pleasure-pain that is radiating out from his clit that is being held so sweetly in the gentle embrace of his Daddy's mouth.

When Daddy starts to suck at him softly, Dabi can't stop himself from sobbing. He hasn't ever cried in bed like this before, normally the tears come after he's alone again and unsatisfied. But now they come because his body doesn't know what to do with the overwhelming way that every new ministration Tomura gives him makes him feel. He isn't expecting it when the hands leave him again, but they come back soon enough, fingers wet with lube, as they move around his hole, making him wet for his cock the way a... good girl should be for their Daddy. Dabi feels like his whole head might be coming apart as he spreads his legs wider, looking down the length of his body to find Tomura watching him from between his legs, his tongue continuing to move against him, teasing along his ladder, swirling over his head, tracing every inch of him until the touches are forcing his body to put blood back inside too soon. Dabi whimpers as that sharpness over his nerves gets bigger, and then Daddy takes him out of his mouth. He does it as his first finger sinks inside and starts to stretch his walls, keeping his arousal too high for him to soften again.

"There, baby girl, made your cute clit blush for me." He says, trailing kisses along his inner thigh. "You know that good girls can cum as many times as their Daddies want, don't you baby?"

Through the haze of his need, that sparks something in the back of his mind that thinks he should worry, but he can't make himself focus enough for it to fully register. Instead he just gasps, "Yes, Daddy." Because he doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than he wants to be a good girl for Tomura right now.

"Good. Now, Daddy wants to taste your pretty pink cunt too, but you need to remember your colors first." He waits patiently between his legs and Dabi manages to gasp out,

"Green, Daddy," through the arousal choking his throat.

"Good girl." His nerves are singing before Daddy's mouth even goes back to his hole.

Daddy's tongue is slicker and softer than his fingers that he keeps working inside of him. He circles his slick rim, dips his tongue inside and teases at his nerves until Dabi is all tangled up in the ribbon leash from how he's trying to thrash away? Closer? He isn't sure which. He just knows that he doesn't have to be sure because his Daddy is telling his body what it needs. His fingers and his tongue are teasing him until his pussy is as sensitive as his clit and he forgets that other people can see and hear him. He's too busy falling apart as his Daddy makes his pussy all messy.

He has no idea how long it takes before his clit is pulsing with that sharp pleasure-pain again before he cums for the second time. He knows that it was too close to his first orgasm though because there's very little cum that actually spills against his stomach when he does. He also knows that he hasn't had an orgasm feel like this inside of his body before. Not when he's never had someone care about making that penetration feel so good for him. But it's not until he's sobbing through the aftermath of his second orgasm that his Daddy moves back up his body and gives him a kiss. His mouth tastes like kiwi and him, but he doesn't resist that. He would let Tomura do anything to his body if it just means that he can keep feeling this good. He will take the sting of this kind of pain on his nerves happily if it means that he's allowed to have sex that feels good for the first time.

"You're doing such a good job, princess." Daddy coos so sweetly at him, one hand still moving his fingers against his aching prostate and the other reaching up to stroke through his sweat-soaked hair. "Do you think you can take one more, baby girl? Do you want to feel Daddy's cock stretching open your tight cunt?"

Dabi didn't know that his clit would even be capable of twitching, and it hurts when it does, but the thought of being full of his Daddy's cock makes him delirious."Please, Daddy?" He begs. He feels so good. But he used to make other people feel good. It was so rare they ever let him in turn. He doesn't want his Daddy to walk away from him not feeling as good as he does right now. He wants him to be good, wants to be good for him.

Tomura kisses him again, so sweet, so slow, like even after how long he's waited, he would keep doing it if it made Dabi's body keep feeling like this. "You're such a sweet girl for Daddy." He praises as his fingers slip out of his body and he starts to trail kisses along Dabi's skin. "I'm so happy, princess. I was so worried that my baby girl would be too shy to show me how beautiful he is when he’s feeling so good." He pulls down the cups of his bra so that his mouth can seal over one of his nipples, licking at it and sucking on his skin. Finding another place to force his nerves so hot beneath the cuffs that he thinks he would have set them both on fire if he could reach his quirk. He doesn't hear Daddy's zipper pull, but he feels him shift. He still doesn't rush. He takes his time to worry at his tits until his nipples are sore and swollen around his piercings and Dabi's clit is so sensitive again that even just the open air of the room makes it hurt. The tightness on his nerves is screaming his arousal, but he must look like he doesn't like how his Daddy is touching him because his clit stays soft this time, unable to get hard like Daddy's cock is between his legs. Dabi moans just from the sight of him, his whole body aching as he sees how big and thick he is, his head wet from how much he wants him after waiting for so long.

That makes Daddy chuckle, "I know, baby girl, I could feel how long it's been since you were full. Don't worry, princess, Daddy is going to make sure that you feel so good." He already feels so good. He might unravel completely if his Daddy somehow makes him feel even better. But he doesn't protest when Tomura slicks up his cock with another packet of lube before he moves back between his legs, shifting his position on the couch so that it's more comfortable, and pushing one of the triangular cushions beneath Dabi's hips. He can't see his hole, but he can see the way that his soft clit moves when his lower half is tilted at this angle and that only makes his need higher beneath his veins as he feels Daddy bring his cock against his pussy.

There's no resistance in his body as he is filled, Tomura's tongue and fingers, and his orgasms having taken away any drop of tension that was living beneath his skin. He lets out another thready moan as Tomura sinks in all the way, every inch of him spreading him so much wider than he has felt, stroking his insides in deeper places than have ever been touched before. Dabi thinks that he's going to melt when he finally feels his Daddy bottom out. He does have a fresh wave of bloody tears streaking over his temples when he gives the first little, rolling thrust. He can't help it. There are stars exploding behind his eyes, heat so deep in his body that he thinks that the moment his quirk is free he will explode into a supernova. This can't be what sex feels like for other people all of the time. It can't possibly be this good. It just has to be sex with Tomura. That's why subs are always throwing themselves at him. He makes them feel like this, and if he'll do it for him again, Dabi will dress like this every single night he has off and line up with the others. He would do anything to keep feeling as good as he does as his Daddy sees him thrashing and moaning beneath him and decides that he can take more.

Dabi is incoherent by the time his third orgasm is ripping itself across his nerves. His clit barely twitches, unable to give even a drop of cum, but this orgasm is deeper than that, spilling out along every nerve with the continued stimulation of his prostate as the epicenter of that bliss. It's only when his walls are clenched so tight around his Daddy's cock that Tomura sinks in deep a few more times before he’s kissing him again as Dabi feels his insides go warm and wet with his cum. And then he's gone.

///

Dabi was so blissed out that Shigaraki booked a room in the hotel for them because he didn't come out of the hazy headspace that he was in after being fucked. He remembers Tomura bringing him downstairs, getting him showered and put into a pair of the complimentary pajamas that the hotel offered and the other man making him eat something. But all he wanted was his Daddy's attention on him, his soft smiles and soothing words. He had been so happy to get to crawl into bed with him and fall asleep with Daddy running his fingers through his hair. He had been so happy, felt so good, and when he woke up the next morning, he felt like someone hit him with a truck. He only had half of one drink, but coming out of the rush of endorphins made him feel like he was getting over the worst hangover of his life.

Shigaraki hadn't let him just leave after that, staying and ordering them breakfast, which Dabi didn't even know the love hotel offered, before he made him... debrief from the night before. It was so much harder to tell someone, in person, how bad his sex life had been up until that point, but Shigaraki hadn't mocked him. He'd spoken softly when he said,

"I'm sorry that you've had experiences like that. I hope that last night was as good for you as it was for me, and if it was, I would like to do this again, Dabi. At V, anywhere else. Whether you want to dress up again or not, I would be happy to take care of you again, firefly." And those words had left Dabi fighting back stupid tears because why would anyone want him? He couldn't bear to verbalize those doubts any further, so he gave a tight nod.

He was half certain that Shigaraki had just been trying to placate him that morning, but he texted him again the day before his next day off to ask if he could see him, and Dabi had been more than eager to show up. He didn't have him dress like a girl this time, instead taking him to a red room and running a vibe along him until he managed four orgasms in rapid succession this time, and Dabi figured out that bringing him to pleasure so sharp it stung his nerves really was something the other man wanted. So he would give it to Tomura happily, whenever he wanted and for as long as he still wants him.

What Dabi wasn't expecting on top of all of having someone who regularly wants to be in his bed, was the fact that other villains started to hire him more after he started to go to V recreationally. He hasn't asked Shigaraki if that has something to do with him, but he figures that it can wait. He's happy to have the work and if Tomura is some big hot-shot villain, Dabi would rather spend time working with the contacts he's pushing in his direction and proving that he is a good arsonist first and foremost, not just a good... sub.

He gets more time to do so when Tomura texts him and tells him that he's not going to be at V for a few weeks while he's working on a business dealing of his own, but that he'll be calling him at his normal time and expecting pictures of Dabi's panties any time he requests them. That still makes him hot as his entire wardrobe of undergarments have been replaced with feminine pieces the other man has picked out for him. It soothes the part of his mind that thought he might be getting dumped, and he is always eager to show his Daddy that he's being a good girl no matter how far apart they are.

Getting a text from Tomura about five minutes before he and a teenage bloodsucker are teleported to meet the leader of the League of Villains is not the best time for it, but he excuses himself to take a piss before they go so he can actually show his Daddy that he's wearing his favorite pair, a cute lacy red thong that he always gets so worked up seeing. But he's still quick to rejoin the others.

"Did you wash your hands?" The bratty fifteen year old asks mockingly as a black hole opens up in front of them.

"None of your business, brat." He says flatly, cracking his neck. For as much fun as spending time with Tomura is, he needs to focus on work now.

They step through the portal, the chill and lack of air making his quirk roar back beneath his skin so much faster when they're on the other side again. The bar they step into is a dingy little place that would be at capacity with ten people in it, though the large desk with a computer and couch beside it might be contributing significantly to that fact. The mist man that he'd been expecting is standing at the bar and the leader of the League must be--

Dabi freezes as the man with the hand over his face looks up from his phone, his shoulders tensing automatically too. He might be covering his face and in far more casual clothes than he's used to, but he knows his Daddy anywhere now. He just didn't know that he would find him here.

"They're in," Tomura says, waving off the mist man. "Take her to see our costume maker. I have something to speak with Dabi about."

"What, whoa! How did he know your name?" Toga asks, bouncing on her toes.

"We have some shared interests." Tomura tells her flatly. "More than I initially assumed, apparently."

The mist man opens another portal and this time follows Toga through it as Tomura stands from the bar, taking the mask from his face as he does. Dabi's whole body is warm, heat and a thin curl of anxiety going through him.

"You wore red to meet with a 'stranger'? Oh, princess," He says, stepping right into his space and being very careful to keep one finger on each hand raised, "Were you really missing your Daddy so much?"

Dabi all but melts, pressing himself close, absolutely more than ready to actually have Tomura's hands on him again for the first time in two months. "So much, Daddy." They can talk about the League stuff later, and maybe after that he can finally find out what Tomura's quirk is. But for now, all he wants are his Daddy's sweet words and soft touches. He’s gotten so spoiled with how good that sex can be since becoming his, he wants to be indulged now.

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, consider leaving a comment! For commission information, check out my pinned FAQ.

#shigadabi #my writing

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demonslayedher · 11 hours ago

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Giyuu's not antisocial, he's a nice guy who cares a lot

It's very easy to find Giyuu overly cold or thoroughly convinced that everyone hates him, but this is the guy who very confidently stated, "I am not disliked."

So like, even though he believes he doesn't deserve to be counted among the Hashira, much less the Corp, and he carries a heck of a lot of survivor's guilt, to the point that he probably hates himself, but he doesn't have any reason to believe other people hate him. Nobody has seen how much he doesn't deserve to be alive, and nobody's been outright mean to him. They just don't know. They don't know how much better it would have been for Sabito to be in this place instead.

Giyuu tries not to get in the actual Hashiras' way and all. That's just him being considerate; he's trying not to be dead weight while being a placeholder in the Water Hashira position. That's why instead of mingle where he doesn't deserve to mingle, he stays to himself to train.

And then when he meets that boy in the forest who has just been through the worst experience of his life and is about to lose the only family he has left, like, yeah, Giyuu knows what he has to do and what this boy has to hear if he has any hope of standing up against the wrongs that have been done to his loved ones. He's been there, Giyuu knows how tempting is just want to give up and die right there after losing your family. But in his heart!! This is why Giyuu is rooting so hard for that boy!!! And that's making his mouth just run and run and run, because he so passionately wants to see this boy not give in to the overwhelming grief.

And then!!! Oh!!! There really might be new hope in this sibling pair!! The boy has a surprising knack for this, he even has a sense of smell like Urokodaki, there is hope that the Corp will finally get a Water Hashira again! The girl, defying her compulsion to eat and give in to her demon nature, is a sign that even a change like this can--and has!--occurred among demons, a strange cause for hope in hundreds of years of endless violence!

And Giyuu treats that demon--no, that girl--kindly and gently as he dresses her in a clean kimono (which he presumably... already had? Or he ran with Hashira speed to the Kamado house?) and nicely crafted muzzle. He cares so much about the hope these siblings may bring that he watches over them until the boy wakes up so he can make sure to tell him about Urokodaki and that he shouldn't let his sister be exposed to sunlight.

And then, presumably, Giyuu feels alight with hope for a while! Maybe only a realistic amount, but still, he's encountered something stunning enough to make him choose to leave a demon alive, much less care for her welfare. We know he trusted Urokodaki with them, and we know Urokodaki later wrote a letter, but I must wonder, did Giyuu tell Kagaya about Nezuko? He'd of course have trusted him. He probably felt responsible to report the matter. But there's also the chance that he didn't feel it was his place to bother Kagaya, because he's not a Hashira and does not deserve the master's attention.

But everything else goes on being as frustrating as always. There are still many nights when Giyuu doesn't make it in time. People die because of his failures. Maybe Sabito would have made it.

And he goes on like this, year after year of being a placeholder while the Water Hashira position is left empty. The other Hashira are all working so hard, and they would be helped so much by having someone like Sabito around.

On a night like any other, Giyuu finds a bunch of slain Corp members. If only he had come sooner. He hurries to help any other survivors, and finds a weird one in a boar mask who needs to be tied up if he's going to survive the night. It's for his own good that Giyuu took the trouble. (And presumably he carries rope around like he carries around spare kimono and woodworking tools.)

Giyuu finds another Corp member he can save, and slays the demon responsible for all this. But that boy he saved is ridiculously showing sympathy for it. He's even more ridiculous than Kochou, who obviously doesn't mean it whenever she makes that insensitive joke about humans and demons getting along. It's completely irrational and thinking like that seriously will just get more people killed--

--oh!!! It's that boy!!! And that girl!!!!!

And yes, he does need to act fast to prevent Kochou from killing the girl over a misunderstanding, and she's right to act that way without knowing the full story, but then one the immediate danger has passed, Giyuu's back to not bothering the Hashira. He knows it's not his place. But man, how he hopes this is going to go over well. He really had to have put faith in Kagaya being understanding.

Ok, but also, like, he's never given anyone a reason to dislike him?? He never bothered them, he didn't think???? Who? Who is it that dislikes him? Is it everyone????? They hate having a fraud around, don't they? That must be it. Nobody would have this problem if Sabito was there instead. He's going to stay far out of the way and make doubly sure he's not going to bother anyone with his completely undeserved existence.

But here in the moment, Giyuu is willing to stake his undeserved life on his faith in that demon girl, and he wants so badly for that boy to go on to be the Water Hashira the Corp so desperately needs, but if it doesn't go that way, Giyuu is just going to have to deal with it. It's out of his hands; he is not in a position to speak for them, but he has such faith in them that he will stand against the Hashira if it is necessary for saving those children in a moment of tension.

The relief Giyuu must have felt when the Hashira tacitly accepted letting them live and stay in the Corp! Maybe even that glimmer of hope again. That boy still has a long way to go before he can take the Water Hashira position, but Urokodaki has trained him, and he's well on his way. He's already come so far in standing up for himself and for his sister; this boy is really it! How eager Giyuu must have felt for him to keep gaining the experience he needs!

The Corp loses yet another Hashira in Giyuu's span of filling a hole. The sooner that boy can prepare himself for the position, the better.

And!!! It's working!! He helps defeat an Upper Moon!! But Giyuu's stomach must have been filled with dread when he didn't wake up, and when he must have heard about how close Nezuko came to dashing all his hopes.

But! Almost as soon as the boy wakes up, he helps defeat another Upper Moon!! That makes three for the Corp; the tides really have been changing ever since those siblings appeared. It won't be much longer until the boy attain enough strength to match the others and serves the Corp as a master of Water Breath---

wait wtf is Hinokami Kagura

Poor Giyuu!! His poor hopes, drowned!! Of course he was upset. He's been waiting so long for this important position the Corp relies on to finally be filled. By someone who deserves it. Someone who would have made it in time, all those times. Someone like Sabito.

This boy isn't like Sabito.

So it's back to zero, as far as Giyuu's personal hopes and desires are concerned. Oh, but that girl mastered the sun. Yay... whoo...

That means the progenitor of demons will be out to get her, and the Corp now faces a bigger threat than ever. Giyuu's best going back to what he's always done, all these years.

Train on his own so that he's not a burden or a failure. Stay out of the Hashiras' way. Stay out of the whole Corp's way, since he doesn't deserve to be there in the first place.

They all deserve Sabito.

#tomioka giyu #tomioka giyuu #i used to write thought-out meta and now I just write from the heart with passion and love #rewatched episode 1 last Sunday night with a friend who was getting back into it and wanted to show her boyfriend #we were both silently super emotional watching it and taking in Giyuu's every line #also said boyfriend just finished watching season 1 MWAHAHA another one bites the dust

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love-ethell · 3 days ago

Note

omg I've been dying to ask someone for this

Telemachus x siren reader who's actually a good siren and helped Telemachus when he was on his mission and they fall in love and him telling his father and ody absolutely crash out because he remembers the sirens he killed

if you write for other characters, maybe circe with sailor(?) reader/or let say reader was part of ody crew, maybe disguise as a man so she can go to war and circe find out and offer them to stay with her and her nymphs since she have nothing to go back to im ithaca

Thank you for your listening and have a great day!!

𝔸 𝕋𝕣𝕦𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖

Circe x female in disguise reader

Word count: 475

Summary: Being part of the crew sent to secure the island, your group stumbles upon a palace. You follow a voice inside, your about to eat the food offered but you get pulled aside from none other than Circe herself, she feels a different energy from you. She then finds out you are not quite what you claim to be, you have no place back in Ithaca so she offers you to stay with her and her nymphs. You accept the offer and as you settle in you find out what a real home is really like.

(not proof read)

You were sent to make sure the Island was secure with Eurylochus and the rest of his crew. Walking up a path surrounded by trees and colored plants you come upon a palace, inside you hear a voice friendly sounding enough, you follow the rest of the crew inside while Eurylochus stays back.

A beautiful woman leads you inside, she sits you and the crew at a table adorned with all sorts of food.

You were about to take a bite but she pulled your hand back, " you, I would like a word with you please." Confused, you stand up as she takes you to a room away from the others.

"Is there anything you need my lady..?" You say with a skeptical look. "I'm getting an odd feeling from you.." she starts "are you really a man? Cause ill say you have quite soft features for a warrior.." your heart drops, people have pointed out how you have pretty feminine features but no one has actually questioned you about it.

"Of course I am.." you stammer, looking at the floor.

"you're also a bit short for a male," she chuckles. "Tell me what's your name?" she asks "Its uhm F/n." (fake name) you tell her still trying to keep the facade. She walks over to you, places her hand on your shoulder and looks you in the eyes.

By the gods she was beautiful. "Are you lying to me?" she prods.

You succumb to her, I mean how could you not? Yes.."

she grins, satisfied, "well? What's your real name?"

"Its Y/n." you respond almost immediately.

"If I may ask, why did you join a flock of men, princess?" she teases while genuinely asking.

"I grew up on the streets, no family, no home, so when I heard they were sending all eligible men to war I decided to join, I've always been good at fighting so I cut my hair and I joined them as an escape." you explain.

Her eyes widen and her brows furrow at your story, "well I'm sorry, and if you would like.. you could stay with us here?"

" Really..? You mean it?" you ask, pondering her offer. After the run in with Poseidon and the wind bag. You want to get off that boat.

She nods, seeing that you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders, you hug her

"thank you."

"Of course princess." she kisses your forehead, making you giggle and flush up.

As time passes you grow closer and closer with Circe and her nymphs, they see you as a mother along with Circe after you and Circe start dating

you find peace within yourself and the palace, you couldn't ask for more. A comfortable place to live, a loving girlfriend and True home.

(AUGGHHH I LOVE HER SMMM, also sorry if this is a bit short I rushed cause I'm working on the next chapter of blooming hearts and I wanted to get this one out fast I wouldn't mind doing a follow up on this if anyone wanted! >0<)

#epic the musical #epic the musical fanfic #epic the musical x reader #circe #epic the circe saga #circe epic the musical #circe x reader

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sergeantxrogers · 1 day ago

Text

The Space Between - 1

"You have enough blood on your hands that not even four lifetimes of atonement could wipe off, Barnes."

He stared at you, blue eyes critical and assessing. "Funny."

"What?" you snapped.

"Funny how you think I'm not aware."

The US Secretary of State, backed by the government, has given James Buchanan Barnes an ultimatum: spend the rest of his old, unnaturally prolonged life behind bars, being poked and prodded and tested on, or be pardoned of all charges of treason, mass murder, kidnapping, blackmail, property damage, terrorism, torture, abuse, breaking and entering, and stalking (just to name a few), on one condition: he's to live with someone who the US government deems credible and fit enough to keep him on the right path. Obviously, he chose option number two. Just his luck that the credible person assigned was none other than Tony Stark. And double that luck with you, Tony's younger sister, in the equation. As if the guilt wasn't already eating away at his soul enough.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter warnings: Swearing, mentions of minor character death, hostility, mixed feelings, angst

series masterlist | main masterlist

If there was anything Tony Stark prided himself on more than his money and his good looks, it was his genius brain. The genius brain that built an empire up from nothing, that used scraps and heaps of metal to create things the world had previously only dreamt of, the brain that earned him PhDs in physics, mechanical engineering and electrical engineering.

That same brain was the one that brought Avengers compound to life, of course, with copious amounts of help and advice from one Pepper Potts. Yet that same, genius brain was the one that decided the layout, how to maximize the size of the compound to its fullest potential, how to best make the entire place seem even bigger than it already was with an open-floor plan throughout most of it.

Right now, however, that maximized open-floor layout seemed to be the bane of his existence, fueled by the loud echoes and hysterical shrieks filling the main living area as you yelled at him. And yelled. And yelled. And yelled.

And now, Tony's big, brilliant brain was at risk of detonating.

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be sleeping under the same fucking roof as that - that murderer!" you seethed, fists clenching and unclenching as you paced in front of your brother, trying to collect yourself and failing.

Tony sighed, pulling his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He leaned forward, throwing them on the table, and rested his elbows on his knees. "It's not like you have a choice-"

"I should have a choice! Who the hell does Ross think he is, shoving a problem like that into our lives - into our home - with no regard for our feelings or our safety?"

"He's the Secretary of State, and our feelings matter very little to people like him when they have different things to take into consideration."

"Yeah? Things like what?" you asked, hands on your hips.

Tony's voice rose steadily, parallel to yours, and you could tell he was nearing his breaking point but trying to put it off. "Oh, I don't know, maybe things like the safety of the entire country. Things like not having a pardoned criminal fresh from HYDRA's refrigerator roaming around the city however he pleases."

"So we're being punished? Is that it? Did you do something to piss him off-"

"No, I didn't." He hesitated.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tony sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. You waited, watching him.

"A few years back, before you moved back to New York, I had... a phase..."

You blinked at him. Your jaw ticked.

"What kind of phase, Anthony?"

"Well, it wasn't a phase so much as it was a hobby of sorts."

"Spit it out or I swear-"

"I spent a couple years making and selling weapons... illegally," he muttered.

You froze.

Tony looked up at you sheepishly, and scrambled to continue. "I didn't know it was illegal at the time! I only found out later, and then I cut off all ties and broke off every contract I had with those contacts. However, dear Secretary Ross has his fingers in every pie imaginable, so when he came to me and told me I had to take in Barnes, I sort of didn't have a choice."

A heavy sigh escaped your lungs, and you moved over to collapse onto the couch next to him. "So, basically he blackmailed you."

"He liked to think of it more like a favor: he's allowing me to take in Barnes, and in doing so, he'll strike every illegal job I've ever done off the records and keep me out of jail."

He leaned back to match your position, and the two of you sat side by side, staring up at the high ceiling. Silence surrounded you for a few minutes as you were both thrown deep into thought. Then, Tony broke it in a soft, tired tone.

"Trust me, I don't like it either. If I had any say in the matter, Barnes would be anywhere but here. But now all we can do is weather the storm together."

He twisted his head to look at you, and you did the same. You couldn't help the tears gathering in your eyes as you let out another sigh, this one defeated and resigned.

"I suppose you're right," you whispered, and you felt him grab your hand and squeeze it tightly, once, twice.

And then, in true Tony fashion, he ruined the moment: "And wipe your tears before someone gets here. You always were ugly when you cried."

He ran off with a smirk on his face before you had the chance to throw something at his head.

Bucky Barnes stood with all of his possessions and belongings packed tight in a small navy backpack, thrown over his shoulder just as haphazardly as the baseball cap on his head. He stared up at the looming building above him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his anxiety from skyrocketing. Better than prison, he thought to himself as he followed his five assigned agents through the large entrance of the Avengers compound and headquarters.

Personally, he thought five highly skilled and trained agents for one of him was a bit of an overkill, but then again, what did he know about government business. If it made everyone else feel safe, he was more than happy to comply. These days, confrontation was the last thing on his mind.

One of the agents, a tall man with broad shoulders and a shiny bald head, turned around to face Bucky. His hands clasped in front of him, he cleared his throat.

"This is as far as we go."

"What?"

"Unfortunately, we're not authorized to go any further, or step foot into the compound. Mr. Stark still has some say in the matter, it seems."

Bucky took in a deep breath through his nostrils, then nodded. The agents turned to leave, falling into a single file line as they passed by him and went in the direction they came from, towards the two black vans waiting for them. He watched them go, jaw clenched and hand squeezing the strap of his backpack.

His ears picked up on a sound. A low, vibrational sort of hum, so faint he doubted he would've heard it if his hearing wasn't advanced. The hum grew closer, behind him, until it came to a stop. And Bucky knew someone was standing at the entrance behind him.

Turning slowly, his eyes followed the ground until they landed on a pair of bare feet - or, at least something that looked like feet. If feet were normally red, then yes, these would be considered feet. His brows ticking slightly in confusion, Bucky's eyes travelled up khaki pant legs and a torso clad in a black sweater, before finally landing on a face. A red face, seemingly without imperfections, with bright eyes that stared at him so intently and uncannily that Bucky subconsciously shifted in place.

"Hello," the man - robot, person - spoke. Bucky said nothing.

"Sergeant Barnes," the robot continued, voice steady and clear. "We have been expecting you."

Bucky almost scoffed at the sentence. Expecting him, as if he was a guest, here of his own free will. As if he was wanted here.

"What are you?" he asked blankly. If the tone of the question bothered the creature, it didn't show. He merely tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as he studied Bucky.

"You may call me how everyone else does."

Bucky quirked a dark brow. "And that is...?"

"Vision."

The person - Vision - turned suddenly, and it was only then that Bucky noticed his feet were a few inches off the ground. He was floating, not standing. Vision motioned with his head for Bucky to follow, and then began floating his way down the large entry hall of the compound.

"What the hell," Bucky muttered under his breath as he fell into step behind him.

Vision led him down a hallway with high ceilings and windows instead of walls, the greenery from the forest and lake outside seeping in through the glass and giving the entire space a more natural feel. Bucky supposed, in any other circumstance, the sight would be quite relaxing. They passed by multiple doors on either side, the rooms behind them closed off and teasing Bucky's curiosity with their secrecy. At last, they reached some sort of bridge structure, closed off on all sides, and as Bucky walked down it, his boots left hollow thumps with each step he took. The end of the bridge flared out into four large, wide stairs, and beyond those stairs, a magnificent sight greeted Bucky.

He slowed as he descended the steps, looking straight ahead in poorly-concealed awe. The main living area of the Avengers facility was gigantic, with an open layout and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on every side, letting in sunlight and a slight breeze from the nearby lake. Everything was sleek, modern, expensive and definitely made Bucky feel as if he stuck out like a sore thumb. The couches were white, the rugs were white, the furniture was dark mahogany, the chandeliers were large and shiny, the technology was more than he could take in. Everything was clean, bright and new, and it only amplified Bucky's feeling of being too dark, too broken, too out of place wherever he went.

His eyes travelled up, glancing at the second floor landing, the bars of the balcony wrapping around the entire area. Every single little thing was out in the open. It made him squirm.

Bucky had almost forgotten Vision was there, staring at him patiently, waiting for Bucky to take in his fill, until he spoke and broke the semi-trance he had found himself in.

"You may have a seat. Mr. Stark will be here shortly," Vision said politely, waving an elegant hand towards the sitting area. Bucky nodded mutely and, as if on auto-pilot, felt his feet carry him to the couch Vision had guided him to.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was interrupted by a harsh, female voice.

"Thank you, Vis. I'll take it from here."

Bucky's brows furrowed as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the voice, and his eyes scanned the area until they landed on you, standing right above him on the second floor landing, hands resting on the railing. Your eyes were already focused on him, narrowed and intense, and he narrowed his in response. Some deep instinct told him yours was not a friendly face.

Vision nodded, hesitating only a moment as he looked between the two of you, then floated off through the wall behind him. Bucky tried not to let that weird fact distract him as he watched you circle around, one hand never leaving the railing, towards the side and down the spiraling staircase.

You made your way over to him, and the tension in your body called out to the tension in his own, preparing him for a fight or a risk. He felt on edge, vulnerable in his seated position as you reached him and stood in front him him, arms crossed and glaring.

"I know what you are," you said, and Bucky's brows furrowed imperceptibly.

"Wh-"

"I know what you are, Barnes. I know what you've done, and how much of it you've done, and you're kidding yourself if you think there's any amount of community service, court-mandated therapy and apologies that'll change that."

Bucky stayed silent, but got to his feet, bringing him even closer to you. Now, your faces were inches apart, and you no longer had the advantage of height. He stood a head taller than you, making you crane your neck to keep your eye contact. Steel blue eyes bore into yours, not faltering, not backing down, as he mimicked your stance and crossed his arms.

"And what, exactly, am I?" he said lowly into the space between you.

You steadied your breathing, and clenched your jaw to keep your gaze from falling to his lips as he spoke. "A murderer. A cold-blooded killer who finds enjoyment in other people's pain and grief. That's what you are, and nobody on this God-given planet can convince me otherwise."

You stepped closer, closing the gap between you even more, until only an inch separated your angry eyes and flaring nostrils, and your next words came out in a whisper.

"I see right through you, Barnes. You can't fool me."

Before Bucky could react and do something he would've most likely regretted, a cough brought your attention to the railing where you had stood moments before.

"Barnes," Tony Stark said as he scratched the back of his neck with a wince. "I see you've met my sister."

Those words washed over Bucky like a bucket of ice water, and his eyes found yours again as he stepped back, almost stumbling. A maelstrom of emotion whipped around inside him; regret, fear, grief, pain, sorrow, anger, disbelief. All of them whirled and shot through his nerves, like fire in his veins as he took a deep breath to try to calm himself and seem more composed than he felt.

"I didn't know there was a sister," he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. Of course there was a sister. Of course the universe liked to make Bucky's life hell even more than it already was. Of course fate would find a way to amplify Bucky's grief and regret tenfold. As if he didn't already despise himself enough, standing before him, looking at him with eyes that he now recognized as hurt, was another reason to hate himself. Another person whose life he ruined even as he tried his very hardest not to and still failed. Another person who had every right to say and do whatever they pleased to him, because he deserved it, for taking away something so precious and something so irreplaceable: your parents.

Tony sighed heavily as he came down the stairs you had descended minutes before. "Yeah, she's a real ray of sunshine."

"Fuck you, Tony," you snapped, eyes still glaring at Bucky.

You watched him, carefully. You saw the exact moment the realization and recognition flared behind his eyes, even though he tried to hide them. You saw the feelings rippling beneath the surface, locked away. And you couldn't help but feel happy about it. You hoped it hurt. You hoped it burned him as much as it burned you your entire fucking life. You hoped he would waste away in his misery. It wouldn't bring your parents back, but it would be something.

"Smalls..."

You inhaled sharply through your nose at the nickname, and shot Tony a look. "Don't."

"Please, just - just go. There's no reason for you to be here right now," Tony said, eyes pleading and sending messages he hoped you would receive.

"There's no reason for him to be here, either," you said sharply, jerking your chin at Bucky. "Yet, here he is. Standing in my living room. Free."

"Not free," Tony amended, stepping towards you and grabbing your shoulders gently. "And definitely not your living room. It's my living room, and I, of course, am just being a good brother and letting you mooch off me and my money."

You rolled your eyes and tore them away from Bucky, who was standing silent and still as a statue, eyes flickering between you and your sibling. You looked up at Tony, and softened slightly when you saw the truth behind his sarcastic attitude: it wasn't easy for him either. In fact, it was tearing him apart inside, but you had both already come to the conclusion that there was no other choice.

Tony stepped to the side ever so slightly, effectively blocking your view of the man standing behind him, and shook your arms softly. "Please, go upstairs. You'll only make it worse if you stay here, for everyone involved, and that includes you."

His words were whispered into the air, and you bit your cheek but nodded. He placed a kiss to your forehead before letting you go, and wordlessly, you retreated back up the stairs, not bothering to spare Barnes a second glance. You felt, however, the weight of his stare on your back right up until the moment you rounded the corner of the upper hallway and left his sight. And you felt it branding your skin long after you slammed your bedroom door shut behind you.

You hated him. You hated him and his stupid blue eyes that intimidated you when you stood too close, you hated the slope of his mouth that twitched when he decided not to say something. You hated those stupid leather gloves under which you knew a metal arm was hidden; a metal arm that caused so much pain and strife, and it was now living under the same roof as you.

You hated the fear you felt in his presence, something visceral and innate, rooted deep in your bones, as if every molecule of your DNA was singing the same song: danger, danger, danger.

Because, at the end of the day, that's exactly what Barnes was: dangerous. Highly skilled, highly trained, every single pore seeping with the energy of threat and peril, as if he's always ready to attack at a moment's notice. And he probably was. His ledger was dripping, and no amount of walls or security or reassurance from Tony was going to make you feel safe sleeping at night with someone like him in the same vicinity.

You let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a growl, throwing yourself onto your bed. When you felt tears stinging your eyes and the familiar tickle in the back of your throat, you shoved your face into your pillow and let out a long scream. You had no idea how you were going to survive living with your mother and father's murderer. You only prayed for the strength not to go insane.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

A gasp clawed its way up Bucky's throat as he shot up off the floor, scattering his pillow and blanket across the linoleum floors.

"Fuck," he whispered, running a hand through his hair, now sweaty and sticking to the back of his neck. "Fuck."

He sat there for a long while, waiting for his breathing to go back to normal, for his chest to stop heaving and his lungs to stop burning, as he stared at a patch of moonlight illuminating the floor by the foot of the bed. Trying his very hardest not to think of the nightmare that had woken him from sleep, he shook his head and stood, wobbling slightly on his feet.

Bucky interlocked his fingers and held them on the back of his neck as he walked over to the large wall of windows in the room he was given. It was nice, quiet luxury spilling out in every corner, but it was nicer than he was used to, and nicer than he believed he deserved. The bed was too soft, the rug was too rich, the view was too beautiful, the floors were too shiny.

The windows in his room gave him a perfect view of the lake behind the compound, and the forest that stretched beyond it. He had no idea what time it was, but he could now see the gray tinge covering his surroundings, showing the very first signs of dawn about to break, the moon leaving and about to be replaced by the sun.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

The night he took two lives, and ruined two more in the process.

You seemed young. Incredibly young, at least younger than Tony, and definitely younger than Bucky, and he couldn't help but wonder how old you were when you got the news that your parents had died in that crash. If his guess was correct, you were only a child, probably just starting school when your life was turned on its axis completely.

He shook out the tension in his arms and let out a heavy sigh. Bucky was certain that sleep was no longer in the picture for him, so he decided he may as well leave his room and explore his new living quarters before anyone else woke up.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt he could find, going to the bathroom and splashing his face with some cold water just to try and shake the remnants of his nightmare - no, memory - from his mind.

Leaving his room, his steps were quiet as he walked down the west wing, taking in the amount of doors and windows and opulent décor that Tony obviously had no problems spending his riches on. He made his way down the staircase, crossing the sitting area and heading over to the kitchen in the corner.

Bucky paused, realizing he had no idea where things were stored here, or how to use any of the fancy machines Tony had set up, so he decided on just a glass of water. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip and leaned against the counter behind him, watching as the breaking dawn slowly but surely lit up the compound. This was the most peaceful part of the day, Bucky thought, where the world was still asleep but the planet was just waking up, calm, quiet and unbothered by human touch and sound.

He let his mind wander as he stared at a point somewhere in the distance. He thought back to his conversation with Tony just a few hours before, and involuntarily winced.

"Listen, Barnes," Tony turned to him as soon as your bedroom door slammed shut and echoed throughout the compound. "Just because I saved you from the wrath of my sister, doesn't mean I like the fact that your here, or that I even like you. If anything, I'm only tolerating your presence because a) I don't have much of a choice, and b) consider it a favor for Rogers. Capsicle owes me a lot, but I owe him that much and then some."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "You spoke to Steve?"

"Of course. What, you think because we had a little skirmish, almost killed each other, then went our separate ways, we can't keep in touch? Be serious, Barnes."

"He - Steve knows I'm here?"

"Yep. Don't get your hopes up too much. He won't be visiting in a long while, since he's off God knows where with Natasha and Wilson, doing off-record crime fighting and do-gooding."

Bucky couldn't ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at that - he had hoped Steve's presence would act as a calming balm on his soul, maybe even help him transition into a regular life.

"Anyways, that's not the point. The point is, I'll be keeping an eye on you. This isn't going to be some sort of vacation for you, so you can relax and lounge about away from the press and prying eyes. You better watch how you act because I swear to God, Barnes, one wrong move and I'll have bullets raining into your body from every corner of this goddamn house. You'd be dead before you could blink."

Bucky sighed and finished off his water, turning to put the glass in the sink, when movement caught his eye.

In the faint first light of the morning, the soft sunrise made you seem to glow as you made your way carefully down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. Bucky stayed quiet and perfectly still, realizing you hadn't noticed him standing there yet. His body and mind already reacted, sending him into overdrive, ready to fight or flee at the first sign of trouble from you, but he stayed still, eyes following you. They trailed up your legs, bare from the mid-thigh down, the soft light catching on them as you walked. The huge shirt that was hanging on your body seemed to be three sizes too big, and made you look shorter than you normally were.

A tired yawn escaped your lips, and as you rubbed an eye, you finally focused on the figure standing like a statue in the kitchen. You froze.

Your pulse accelerated, and you didn't know whether it was from anger, surprise, fear, or a strange mixture of all three. Your eyes locked with his, and you felt as if the blood in your veins slowed to a stop. Was this what loathing felt like? You were certain it was.

Bucky continued his quiet streak, waiting for you to say something or nothing at all. You seemed content to do the same.

You finally padded over to the kitchen, closing the gap between you, and stood on the other side of the island. You stared. Bucky stared back. You narrowed your eyes. Bucky raised a brow.

You broke the silence first.

"Already looking for an escape route?"

Bucky clenched his jaw. "How'd you know?"

You rolled your eyes.

Stepping around the island, you made a point of ignoring him as you reached into the fridge for something - what, exactly, you couldn't remember. Not with his gaze bearing into the side of your face like he could see right through you. You blinked at the contents of the fridge a couple times, before giving up. Closing it empty-handed, you turned your attention back to Barnes, who was still staring at you in silence.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer."

That seemed to do the trick. Bucky scoffed, breaking his silent streak as he pushed off the counter. "Yeah, because I definitely want that."

He stepped away from you until the two of you were standing a few feet apart, and then swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided better of it, and closed it with a barely-there shake of his head. He seemed to scoff to himself, before turning on his heel without a last look at you, retreating back to his room. It was now your turn to watch his back has he left, staring at him until you could no longer see him, all the while trying to calm your anger and slow your breathing. His presence caused you to feel unbalanced, unstable and irrational. You hated it, and everything about him.

Up in his room, Bucky paced the floor by the windows, running his hands over his face as he calmed his breath. A hot flash shot through him as the voice from his nightmare echoed in his brain, however this time it was accompanied by the sight of your furious, grief-stricken eyes, and Bucky let out a frustrated growl.

It was only later, when the sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the lake, birds outside chirping and signs of life chiming through the world, that Bucky lied in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized he had no idea why you were up so early, too.

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