#back to writing chapter 6

[stan-joe]

idk if anyone's pointed out what cxs and lx's hands indicate yet and i haven't played poker in a while but uh

CXS has the 7 of hearts, 8 of spades, and 10 of diamonds. Assuming he has what he needs in his hand, the best hand he could achieve is a straight, or second best would be one of three variations of three of a kind, followed by two pair.

LX has three nines (clubs, hearts, diamonds), which is already relatively high-ranking with three of a kind, and his best plays would be four of a kind followed by a full house, which both outrank three of a kind.

Considering 3/4 nines are in play, it's unlikely either has that last 9. I would, in a real game, assume CXS is going for two pair with both of his hidden cards being the same numbers as two of the cards he has down, and I would assume LX is sticking with three of a kind. but this is fiction, and odds mean nothing. and either could have the 9 of spades. also all high poker hands are unlikely so odds mean nothing for this anyway.

That 9 of spades is vital in this game.

Because if CXS doesn't have it, the highest hand that could be played on this bet overall is four of a kind, which LX would achieve if he has it. If he doesn't, he could still get a full house if he's holding a pair, or just leave it at three of a kind. CXS could also, if LX has nothing and CXS has two 10s, have his own winning three of a kind.

These potential hands rank as follows:

Four of a kind - 9 (LX)

Full house (LX)

Straight (CXS)

Three of a kind - 10 (CXS)

Three of a kind - 9 (LX)

Three of a kind - 7 or 8 (CXS)

Two pair (CXS)

So this entirely hinges on who, if anyone, has the 9 of spades.

If LX does:

He wins automatically. There's no possible combination in CXS's hand that could beat four of a kind. It's also worth nothing that, regardless of the hand CXS plays, LX would only need the one 9 to win, whereas CXS's best hand needs both hidden cards to be valuable.

If CXS does:

Whether he wins or not depends on if LX is hiding a pair. CXS only has two viable routes to winning, but if he has the 9 of spades (and a 6/J), LX still has a way to win so long as he has a pair. Essentially, CXS only wins if he has the straight or two 10s and if LX is completely bluffing.

If neither does:

LX already has most of CXS's options beat in his visible hand if CXS is going for two pair or three of a kind, so LX wins if he has nothing unless CXS has three of a kind on 10, and if they're both bluffing and have nothing, or CXS has any two pair or three of a kind on 7 or 8, LX still wins.

Edit: mad blunder this has already been covered

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 4: placeholder

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.'

---

Yeah, no matter what happens, no matter what changes— you'll live, probably.

word count: ~5k; tws: brief mentions of menstruation maybe?

12-2-2017

Out of everything you wouldn’t have expected this. 

It could have been her telling you about how Valentine’s Day is coming up, complaining about how that one teacher’s been giving her class quizzes every lesson, or gossipping about frivolous things like the drama happening among the girls in her grade. 

But you don’t expect the phone call to go like this. 

“Hello?” you ask into the phone, “Tsumiki?” 

“Hello,” the voice over the phone says. This one is older, more masculine, and you know whose it is. 

It’s Gojo Satoru’s. 

“Ah, Mr… Mr Gojo? Is Tsumiki home?” 

There’s a long pause after that, the silence like paint filling in the gaps of a puzzle when the pieces are lost. 

“…not now,” he says, his tone low and heavy, “Sorry, kid. You should…. you can call on another day, okay?” 

“I… okay. Thank you. Could you help me tell her that her friend [Name] wants to call her? She hasn’t been talking to me anywhere since, um… the start of the year, I think?” 

“Yeah,” he goes, voice aching to the point it makes your heart twinge, “I’ll let her know. Thanks.” 

Then he hangs up. It sounded as if he was holding the phone with all the weight in the world, and had his voice drenched in all the pain in it. 

And you don’t know why. 

-16-2-2017-

It happens once more, and you’re convinced that every time you see them after a while Tsumiki and Megumi slip away completely from your grasp. Tsumiki hasn’t called in months— again, hasn’t responded to nor read any of your text messages and doesn’t even wish you a good morning when you start the week anymore. She always used to do that. You’re sure they would have a reason— you’re definitely sure— but why would they have to go missing on you right after you left? 

And you didn’t even want to speak to Megumi at first. Though the two of you had shared your contacts during your trip in Tokyo and agreed to catch up every so often, you struggled to face him. Perhaps it was childish pride— your wish to have been right and to have him apologise to you, apologise to his sister, too; your wish for him to call you up admitting he was wrong. 

You suppose you wouldn’t mind if he never did, though— you just didn’t want to apologise to him. You didn’t want to lose or give in, not when your life has revolved so much around these two, not when this is the only time you can control things. Your relationship with them is a journey on a swaying boat, and each time they move it you feel you’re about to fall into the water and drown from them turning it over. This is the only way you can do it to them, do it to him in particular, because you’d let only Tsumiki prove you wrong. You’d let both of them do anything to you— at this point you have because no matter how much they promise to call you back, to listen to your voicemails, to meet you again, you’re the one arranging plans to move to Tokyo; you’re the one calling them for what feels like over and over and sitting with your phone pressed to your ear for an eternity only to hear nothing. You moved all over the country, so why did it feel like you were the only one stuck in place as they moved forward from you? 

At this point it’s even hindering you from making any new friends. You choose so much to linger on these two, on two people you met at the age of eight and only knew for a year before you decided to devote yourself to them, that you miss the chance to speak to anyone else your age who could be a lifelong companion no matter where you moved. 

Yet at the same time you can’t handle not saying sorry— if there’s one thing that’s festered in you for years it’s the guilt that’s accumulated from being who you are. Guilt from being a burden, guilt for not having been a better daughter or an easier child to raise, guilt for not apologising after scolding someone over something that never really mattered. What you fought over: in the end, it didn’t matter, right? 

Still, you’d rather be immature than lose control the first time you’ve had it; you’d rather be immature than apologise for something you refuse to say is your fault even if your greater conscience tells you to apologise either way. 

Your thoughts are scribbles on paper, and you can’t decide, really; you can’t make a stand on what you really want: an apology, to apologise, to be proven right, to be able to talk again, to completely refrain from talking to him at all for the rest of your life— 

This really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. So maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day has just passed and you’re lonely and he’s the only one you’ve ever had feelings for, or because this is the compromise you can come up with the part of yourself that wants control and the part of yourself that thinks the world is better off with you being less of a weight on someone’s back. 

Anyway, you phone Megumi up. 

Slowly, you key his number in— you swore not to forget it when he gave it to you last year, when for a few days you had rebuilt your friendship with him through awkward conversations and beating around the bush, only for it to crumble and come crashing down. 

You press the phone to your ear. Its screen feels cold as the side of it grazes the skin on your chin. It vibrates and rings, its hum like a bee’s buzz, as you wait for the reply. 

“This is Fushiguro speaking. If you’re hearing this, I can’t be on the phone right now, so just leave a voicemail message—”

You’ve never felt more hurt after feeling his voice reach your ears. 

-20-2-2017-

You try again. The beep seems to mock you as you put your phone down and collapse against the mattress. 

All of it, the frustration, the melancholic nights spent dialling numbers over and over again, the emptiness that greets you after like an old friend who knows you all too well— 

— it has all happened before. It’s happening again and all you can do is watch as it does, forbidding yourself from interfering with what you’ve claimed is now a relapse of the distancing that you had no control over two years ago.  

10-3-2017

“We may be moving back to Sendai for a while, since we’ve got to settle some things with our old house there,” your father states— you know that you’re guaranteed to be spending your last year of junior high there, though, since it’s less than a month until the next school year— “Are you okay with that?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You don’t have the number of any of your classmates at school, and you don’t really care to ask anymore. “Want me to help with anything?” 

4-5-2017

Anticipation for the summer vacation breaks into your school calendar. The summer of 2017 is the first one you’ve had while having a friend close to you besides Megumi and Tsumiki, with Yuuji and you heading off for arcade games every Tuesday, laughing about goodness knows what in between classes and sending each other videos of old vines on Youtube before Vine died at the start of the year. It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different. 

With a skip in your step, you head to class. Yuuji’s in there, and hey— it’s a Thursday, so today you’re especially excited. 

That’s what’s been happening to you recently: excitement. Colour. Before meeting him it felt as if things were bleak, dull, grey like piles of dust. Yet you suppose becoming his friend has brought that colour back to you, because now you look forward to days instead of dreading them, all for the sake of him. How romantic. 

“So? Which girl in our class do you like, Itadori?”  

“I don’t like any of them.” 

“Yeah, but if you had to pick one!” 

The other boys don’t even mention you. It does make sense. At this point you may just seem to be someone desperate for his attention: of all the people in your class, you talk only to him, mostly because you’d struggle talking to any other girls, even more so any other boys. They were all intimidating at times: the baseball pitcher who dragged Itadori near his table every now and then, the pretty girls always willing to lend you bobby pins and hair ties with the best makeup you’ve seen and rolled-up skirts you feel you could never replicate and look good in, the smart student council leaders sitting at the front of the classroom completing their homework during lunch periods. Even if what would meet you while talking to them was not ridicule, it would be, at the very least, an uncomfortable silence frozen in the air from your awkwardness. 

And hearing all this kills you because you know it would never be you. You wonder why it does— liking him was fun. It was supposed to be something you dallied in for your own sake, because doing what a girl your age should do instead of rotting in your room comforted you. 

Yet your feelings were fickle, you supposed, because what was a source of joy slowly became a slightly painful twinge in your chest that you ignored each time you waited for him to tell you anything that could have indicated any feelings towards you. It was over from the start: you knew you’d never be the type of person he’d like; your handwriting wasn’t pretty, you were an inelegant klutz, weren’t gentle or caring or anything like that, just awkward. Tsumiki could, though, you think. Tsumiki had a natural grace, and a soothing charm that followed her like the scent of eucalyptus from her shampoo and conditioner. If it were Tsumiki, anyone could fall for her— any boy or any girl, anyone. But it’s you, and you find yourself wallowing in self-pity as you hear him say it before noticing one of the girls— Ozawa Yuko, you think— standing in front of you. 

You don’t know her well enough to say anything about her. Still, you know that she’s a good few inches shorter than Yuuji is, and that whenever you walk past her you can vaguely pick up the scent of camellia shampoo. 

That’s the type that people— boys, at least— like. Graceful girls with elegance emanating from them, radiant and warm and friendly, even if they may be shy. You know how some other students have spoken about Ozawa, mocking her for things she couldn’t control. And it was stupid as hell: you guys were teenagers, there’d be no need for her to want to lose weight now— she still had so much time to grow and losing weight would stunt it, plus she would be adorable either way, too. 

In the few months you’ve known him you know Yuuji isn’t like that. There are boys your age, with their boisterous laughs and common cruelty, and then there’s Yuuji. He’s never said a wrong word about anyone; he likes Jennifer Lawrence and tall girls with big asses but he’s like others in the sense that he loves people who are kind, sweet— someone like Ozawa. 

So when you see Ozawa waiting by the door, about to listen in with a light blush on her face, you know you don’t even need to hear his answer. 

[Name]

Yuuji

Sorry

Is it ok if we don’t go today

I think I’ve to stay home and study

[Yuuji]

aw ok its all good

good luck studying man

[Name]

Thanks

You should have fun with the other boys

 And walk home with them

Sounds kinda gay ngl but eh

[Yuuji]

nah not the same when i’m not walking bakc with u

It hurts a bit as you walk home on your own, but you don’t cry. 

Now it’s time to be useful. 

The next day, you talk to Itadori as usual. Nothing changes. 

But then during lunchtime you head to where Ozawa sits— today she’s in the classroom for a change, and she’s all alone, and you should’ve tried your best to prevent that so that others wouldn’t be like you. If Itadori was the one to be sitting by your desk, you’ll be like that for her whenever you see her. 

“Um, Ozawa,” you mumble, tapping her shoulder. 

She looks up. “Ah… hm?” 

“...good luck!” you say, holding your thumb up as support, “I’ll cheer you on…! If you ever want to talk to him, I’ll help you, okay?” 

You run away before things get too awkward, but a connection established is a connection regardless, and you’ve won for today. 

1-12-2017

Your parents seem on-edge these days, your mother stressed and tired as she always is, your father worried about nothing you seem to know. 

One night your mother places her chopsticks on the rim of her plate. The way she does it is in defeat— silently, firmly so as to show that she wasn’t quite done, that she could still hold them with all her strength in defiance. You only see her that way after your parents fight: that frown, the passively violent, deafeningly soundless aura from her actions. Because it was always your father who “won”. You didn’t have a place to judge— your parents were a sterling team together; even if they fought things would be resolved and you’d have no say in the matter. It was only theirs and if they treated their arguments like fights they brought war weapons to, they would agree that you had neither the life experience to stop them nor the wisdom to solve their problems. You couldn’t handle it either: their fighting and how it froze the air solid, the way it could erupt into them shouting at the tip of their throats so long as they were in their bedroom, because they knew you wouldn’t hear. And so beyond words your father always won their arguments, each of them treating the other like an enemy on the battlefield. 

Your mother turns to you. 

“Your father has to go to Tokyo on the 24th,” she states, “They need him back for something.” 

“Jujutsu sorcerer stuff?” 

“I won’t take long,” your father smiles, as if he had not hurt your mother’s feelings to get her to give up, “And I’m not going to be involved in the actual fighting like last time.” 

“Then why do you have to go?” 

“It’s something really important.” 

You frown. 

He sighs. “There’s going to be an attack on the 24th,” he says, “Something planned by a man named Geto Suguru, a curse user with an extremely powerful cursed technique. I’ll just help with healing anyone’s injuries,” he explains, “…you know, I actually wanted to bring you there and see how things work in real time, since it seems you’ve been interested in your cursed technique lately, but someone didn’t want you to do it.” 

“Don’t bring me into this again,” your mother spits at him. 

“I already told you it wouldn’t involve any of us getting hurt,” he retorts, “If I bring her there I won’t even let her use her cursed technique, I just want her to see how Dr Ieiri and I do it—” 

“Ah!” you go, “Dr Ieiri Shoko, right? Megu— ah, I heard about her last time, from… someone.” 

“From Megumi?” your mother says, “Darling, don’t think about those two anymore, it’s better if you don’t get involved with that or that world at all—” 

“Anyway,” your father interjects, “Do you want to try it, sweetheart? And if it all goes well with most of Tokyo still being intact and us having some extra time left, I can see if Dr Ieiri is able to teach you about reverse cursed technique—” 

“I told you, she’s not going anywhere near all of this—” 

“You and I both want the same thing. It’s not like I want her to be a jujutsu sorcerer, I’m just looking out for my daughter’s interests in healing and recovering things—” 

“Wait!” you interrupt them, “I— let me think about it, actually. Could you let me think about it, please? And I promise I won’t do anything near the battlefield, I swear. I mean— I just thought, um, that since they’re going to do some, like—- actual stuff, I guess?— that I wanted to see how it works. I still don’t want to fight. I just want to see if I could help, you know, and it would be good if I could see how Daddy and Dr Ieiri do it so that I can learn from it and stuff and in the future I can make myself useful to other people and all so please don’t fight—” 

“You’re rambling,” your mother states, her hands on her lap. Ultimate defeat. Absolute resignation from it all. 

You almost want to cry at the sight of it. 

“Of course,” your father replies, “Give it some good thought, okay, darling?” 

8-2-2018

Time moves like tennis balls against rackets. Yuuji will always be a great friend, you’ve decided, even if he doesn’t like you back. Besides, now, things are back to being fun: you’re going to crush on more people and have fun and see if one day someone confesses to you, and maybe by next Wednesday— the fourteenth— your sweet sixteenth Valentine’s Day will be the first one not spent alone.  

Sighing, you close your book again after a long day. There’s pencil lead stuck to the side of your pinky finger as you stack everything together and straighten it against the table so that everything in your bag gets inside all neat and even. 

“Man, [Name], you always keep everything so neat,” Yuuji comments, “I just stuff everything in my bag. Surprised I haven’t lost all my stuff yet.” 

“That’s why all your stuff comes out crumpled,” you say, “Your notebooks come out like they came out a rat’s nest— no offence.” 

“None taken,” he replies, bending down dramatically, “Seriously, [Name], you’re a really good student! Smart, too.” 

“You sure?” you ask, standing up with the straps of your bag slung against your shoulders, the two of you exiting the classroom, “I fell asleep during class and only woke up when she gave us those questions. I’m gonna have to check the textbook to finish it up tonight…” 

“Still smart to me, honestly,” he states, “I’m a pretty dumb guy.” 

You hit him playfully on the shoulder, and he jerks forward for a second before coming back up again. “Nah, be confident! You’re, like, good at sports and English and stuff. I can’t do any sports to save my life.” 

“Well it’s not like I can do maths for shit, honestly.” He slumps down. 

Then— “Ah, wait, Yuji, sorry— I’ve to go to the bathroom for a second to check something—!” 

“Huh? Check what? Wait, uh— want me to hold your bag for you?” 

“Sure—” your pads are in there— “Wait, nonononono— I’ll be fine, don’t worry, just something quick, hold on. You go without me first, ‘kay? I’ll meet you at the famima we always go to.” 

It turns out to not be a false alarm, and the thing comes early by a few days. You’re lucky you at least have some of your emergency supplies with you so that you can still have a fun day with Yuuji as long as you don’t drink too much green tea or coffee. A little should be fine, though, right? 

Still, you could always cell-manipulate your way out of unexpected situations like these. You just choose not to— it’s not worth the trouble of headaches or nosebleeds. Who’d want to willingly bleed from the top and the bottom at once, really? 

You check your appearance in the mirror afterward, and everything looks okay— your hair is normal despite school air’s penchant for ruining it, your uniform looks alright even though your skirt pocket may look a little weird later once you put your phone in it, and your face is the same as earlier today, so… well. You don’t know what that says about whether your face looks good or not right now, but you guess this is alright. 

[Yuuji]

yo

you okay?what happened

who spends ten hole minutes pissing

[Name]

*whole***

Sighs incredibly loudly

Itadori Yuuji. 

What the fuck did you think I was doing

It was my period

Came early :(

[Yuuji]

OHHH SHIT

SORRY…

thought u had a stomach ache or smth

everything okay? 

i can like buy more pads or smth for you

[Name]

Mhm yeah I’m okay

It’s okay I’ve got enough at home anyway

If ur buying drinks could you not get me any kind of tea

Or coffee

Like nothing with caffeine in it

[Yuuji]

yes queen o7

i can go back and bring it up to u yknow

[Name]

Nah

I’m fine

[Yuuji]

ok i bought u a sandwich nd a seasonal drink thing

no coffee or tea 

[Name]

aw thx man

coming soon, otw rn

Though it’s a bit far away, the sight that greets you as you finally arrive shocks you immediately. He’s got a little blood on his face— that’s already way too much then you can handle being on his face. It couldn’t be from anything like acne or a popped pimple; the guy’s got clear skin for days and though there’s nothing but a tiny scratch by the side of his cheek you’re running over to him. 

But this is what’s worse: high school students, about three of them, lying on the floor, passed out like animal carcasses. There’s another one standing, with straight light-coloured hair and enough fear on his face to seem as if he’d just witnessed a war. 

And Yuuji’s expression, which is clear as day even with the distance between you: eyes uncharacteristically cold, face distorted away from his usual boyish grin, aura radiating off of him, lacerating through his usual self like a wolf’s claws through raw, cold meat in the tundra. 

“…what about you?” Yuuji says to the guy with light hair. 

You run. 

“Yuuji!”

“Huh?” He notices you. “[Name]?” 

“Yuuji— what happened to you?” 

“No, just—” He’s back to normal. “Saw some of them picking on someone, so I started beating them up.” 

“What— seriously? You could’ve, like, called the police or something, you idiot!” 

“But it wasn’t in school, so I didn’t know what to do… plus, we’re in different schools and all…” 

“W-well if you call the police, their punishment would have been worse, right?” you sigh, “Alright, what happened to the one getting picked on? Are they okay?” 

“He ran away,” he shakes his head. 

Poor guy.

“…and this one, the one standing up here?’ you ask, “Is he okay? He looks pretty traumatised.” 

“I’m right here, you know!” the standing guy answers. So besides standing in silence, he can talk after all. 

“Oh, this one?” Yuuji points, again not acknowledging him. He was just standing there, stunned like a deer in headlights, instead of lying on the ground. “Just seemed like peer pressure or something. He didn’t hurt the guy.”

“Ah… what’s your name, guy?” 

“…Rin Amai,” 

“You okay?” 

“…yeah, just, I guess, surprised? I mean, by the pink-haired guy’s strength and all. You guys are middle schoolers, right? That means he’s crazy strong.” 

“His name is Itadori,” you sigh, “Yeah. He’s a strong guy like that. He stands up for good things.” 

Yuuji chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Aw, thanks, man!” 

“Well, now that they’re knocked out, I can kind of say I didn’t like them that much to begin with…” Rin remarks. 

“Ah, I get that. Nobody likes people like them. When you can, stand up for others next time, okay?” you advise him, “Got any injuries?” 

“No, just a scratch here and there. I’ll be fine. Thanks, you two.” 

“No worries.” 

“Still wanna go to the arcade?” Yuuji asks. 

The two of you say your goodbyes to Rin, who offers to wait with the knocked-out students after that— you’ll probably only ever see him once or twice after this. Yuuji offers to take your bag but you deny him, and the two of you stroll to the arcade. 

This has happened before, really, and there’s some kind of anticipatory grief sticking to you as you ruminate over what he’d done. It’s like you’re waiting for things to worsen: either you tell him that he shouldn’t have beat students up even if it was for the sake of others, or you don’t and make decisions conflicting with your own moral code. The last time you’d seen someone get back from a fight, your relationship with them ended up severed, whether due to your commitment to your own ideals or not. 

You debate on asking him not to do the same next time, not to get hurt and not to hurt people who pick on others, and—  

—the arcade is closed. 

“Aaaahhh! Seriously? Sorry, [Name]. Forgot they said they’d be closed today. Last week one of the employees told me they’d have to settle some issues or something.” 

Of course he’d befriend the employees. It still surprises you that every now and then he’s so kind it hurts. 

“No, it’s fine,” you reassure him, “You know, I don’t really feel up to it today either. Still kinda shaken.” 

“Don’t worry about that, honestly! I’m fine, and they’re fine too.”  

“Will they be, though? Have you gotten any injuries?” 

“Don’t think so. I’ll be okay anyway, though, ‘cause I’ve got a high pain tolerance— ow!” 

“‘High pain tolerance,’ huh?” you sigh, “Is it a strain? Are you okay?” 

He winces, “I don’t know if it’s a strain or a sprain,” he answers, “But it’s on my ankle, and it hurts a lot.” 

“Can you walk?” 

“Yeah, but— it hurts…” 

You rest his arm on top of your back, taking hold of his shoulder, guiding him on the way back to his home. 

His grandfather— a man with grey hair yet enough energy to wake up at 6am before exercising and going on walks every morning— nods after you explain the situation to him, and lets you stay with Yuuji for now due to your worrying. 

The first thing to do with a sprain or a strain is to rest the injured area. 

“It’s strange that you got it on your ankle of all places,” you say, outstretching his leg for him, “Were you walking funny or anything?” 

“Nope.” 

“Maybe you’ve been overusing it, then,” you theorise, “Okay. No running and all for a few days, okay? Or just, until it feels better.” 

“Huh? But I’m in the track and field club…” 

“Spend some time with the occult club or something,” you tell him, “You can just tell the student council president or the track and field club president that it hurts, so you’ve got to go to the occult club to still be able to support your other interests and stuff as you recuperate.” 

“Nah, they’d call bullshit.” 

“Pft. You don’t know if you don’t try,” you joke. “Wait a second, let me go get some ice.” 

He lies down, his arms resting by his stomach. “You know, [Name]…” he starts, his voice louder for you to hear. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m happy you’re my friend.” 

If you were a dog, you’d be wagging your tail and kicking your feet up into the air, so happy that your smile is uncontrollable— and the last time it had been that way was more than a few years ago. 

His voice stays as loud but you hear it better, clearer, as you move up the stairs with the ice pack. “I mean, I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think.” 

You sit down beside him, probably a little too plaintive in your actions than you intended. “…yeah. Guess people could tell…” 

“But, hey. I met you and we get to do all sorts of cool and dumbass shit together. So I’m happy I met you and that we became friends, you know? I’m happy you’re even here. So now we’re both a little less lonely, and the world has two new people who are a little less than lonely.” 

It’s warm despite it being winter— you hope his hoodie and his student jacket are enough to keep him from freezing. Every time you enter his house, you wonder how he must have lived as a child. You imagine a smaller-sized Yuuji,  with wild pink hair and a tired grandfather, living in this house with its wooden tiles and untorn paper calendars from the year 2000, in his endearingly tardy room and boyish clothing choices. The thought of it melts your heart, almost. 

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re in my life, too, Yuuji,” you beam, “I’m happy you said hi to me that day, because I probably wouldn’t have made any friends. Like, I thought every time we moved somewhere we’d move again to somewhere else, so I kind of gave up. I didn’t want to get attached. Because there would always be something happening after, like us moving and eventually I thought every day was a chore, because I had this kind of… how do I say it— this kind of ‘I’ll escape one day’ mentality, like I didn’t move forward to each day anymore. But being friends with you brought that back to me, kinda.” 

“Really?” he says as you wrap the ice pack in a towel and press it to his ankle, turning his head to meet yours, “Makes me pretty glad. Thanks, man.” 

“I’m glad too.” 

“You’re a great nurse,” he grins at you, before leaning his head back against his bed. 

It feels good. The praise feels good. 

Now you really don’t know what to do with him. Or what to do with how you feel about him. 

For a moment you consider this: pressing your hand to his ankle, healing it immediately, placing your hands on his ankle and healing it with your cursed technique. But even so you’d have to explain the whole of jujutsu society to him, and that was meant to be a well-kept secret anyway. Yuuji wouldn’t be the type to do well as a jujutsu sorcerer— he’d save everyone, care for everyone, not because judging who would be right or wrong to save was often convoluted or unsolvable, but because he was a good person. If he failed to help people in dire need, whether it was his fault or not, he would be so guilty he wouldn’t live. You supposed a part of you was like that, too: driven by fear of potential guilt, yet you were driven even more by a need to be useful. If at the end of the day you could help, even if you couldn’t offer someone salvation, you’d accept it— that certain things were out of your control. There would be no point in lingering over not being able to change things you couldn’t change, and your experience in Tokyo last month was part of that. It was what changed almost everything. And you swore you’d never let Yuuji go through anything that would change him, that would take that pure love for the world from him. His name is fitting: his humanity is unwavering, a soldier fighting a losing battle, Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the hill and living through his suffering, the indomitable human spirit against the cruel indifference of the world and the universe. 

You’ll tell him one day, you decide. 

For now, though, you’ll have to make yourself useful another way: by using the knowledge you have to be at his aid. That’s how you’ll like it anyway. 

“Thanks, Yuuji,” you whisper. 

Yuuji dozes off. You sit next to him as if he’s a patient at a hospital, watching his breath rise and fall. A part of you wants the moment to stretch out into perpetuity, his steady snoring lulling even you to sleep. It’s creepy as hell. And knowing that you could have all of this: seeing him like this, going to the arcade every Thursday, minding each others’ health; all of it without it leading to him liking you the same way you do him— 

—it still hurts. But it’s getting easier to handle it. You’ll deny that it still hurts for as long as you can, staving it off until it really does go away. So you’ll keep silent, no one beside you knowing of your feelings, trying your best to be utilised and useful. You’ll take it to the grave, you’re sure. You’ll continue to be by the sidelines, a helper for convenience and someone to serve, someone to be used.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

[okavara]

Does cryptid Kel do this wiggle thing

When preparing to pounce on something, he is full of wiggles and energy. He has to adjust his back feet for a good leap, which, yes means he does the butt wiggle LOL! He messes up his first couple pounces because he lets his tail move too much, and it gives away his location long before he can even catch his prey.

He's still learning...

I loveee this mental image hehehe :3

Now I have an idea...

________________________________

I've been thinking about this long and hard and this ask just reminded me. I am thinking of writing a scene later in which Kel becomes tempted to use his claws and teeth to rend and kill. But... Does he?

And if I write it, should I go the route of "art should disturb the comfortable, and comfort the disturbed" with the scene, and write it in full detail? It would help explain a lot of what's going on with him, and how he experiences his monstrous transformation, and I'd like to get into it. However, I am still worried about making people uncomfortable with it. He would be killing or harming something innocent in that scene. I understand it won't be for everyone.

[fluffypotatey]

To be honest I am a huge Nalu shipper. But the thing is I want to know the difference between the way Natsu cares about his guildmates and Lucy. Like what is the obvious difference since that boy sees every as Nakama so how can we say that the wag he cares about Lucy is different?

Like even when Erza passed away? (All the way back in first season there was a segment where the guild was gathered at her grave and all) Natsu was still very reactive. Plus he was also said to be depressed even when Lisanna passed.

What's the difference between all of them and Lucy?

the fact that he stayed. the fact that before he met Lucy, Natsu wasn't one to stay in a group or even want to work with anyone besides Happy at the start of the story. hell, he was ready to just file Lucy down as "New Guildmate" once they reached Fairy Tail

but then, Lucy doesn't leave. she follows him on his mission to save Macao despite her not needing to or even really understanding everything about it. she stays and then fights with him and saves him. it's no secret that Natsu is strong and can take care of himself really well. he's been going on solo missions for years now, and no one has really stopped him, but that means he's been in a lot of sticky situations where he and Happy are on their own and have no backup. and yet, without asking, Lucy offers it

and i think this is the moment when Natsu considers that maybe it's okay to have someone there to have his back (sans Happy)

"but Natsu only needed Lucy for the next quest because of the requirements," well, Natsu also wouldn't have taken or even considered that quest if it weren't for Lucy, yeah? he was not a team player (in the picking job's sense) or really wanted other people to help him on his quests sans Happy. and then he goes and picks a job that caters to their team whilst ensuring that Lucy can't say no

or maybe i'm reading too much into it 🤷🏻‍♀️

or maybe Natsu's got horrible abandonment issues that he will latch onto people so fast (Igneel & Lisanna) but also cause him to distance himself so far when left behind (his 1st time at the guild, Lisanna's death). Erza and Gray are Natsu's closet friends after Lisanna and yet they cannot reach him when he closes himself off. and then we have Lucy, who stuck by and had his back, so who is to say Natsu didn't make some contingencies to ensure whether or not she'd join him?

but maybe it's the rose, colored ship glasses i have on

because yeah, Natsu cares for all of his guildmates. the power of friendship is his biggest motivator. when we meet Natsu, our first introductions of him is defending his guild's reputation from Bora (who was using it as a guise for human trafficking) and saving Macao. and our 1st big arc (Galuna Island), where Natsu adamantly refuses to allow Gray to use Ice Shell and sacrifice himself despite how antagonistic they've been to each other. we get Natsu 100% at Erza's defense throughout the Tower of Heaven and he is even ready to defend Wendy though they only met hours ago

Natsu is a character with a bleeding heart and cannot help but wear it on his sleeve, but we don't really see him allow others to fight his battles or have his back until Lucy comes in. to be honest, i don't even think he had his heart on his sleeve until Lucy. he still has a bleeding heart (i don't think anything could stop that), but he was not ready to be open in receiving company because he was so used to it being ripped away from him

that being said: of all the characters he interacts with, he finds Lucy to be someone compatible enough for him to start going on team missions and inviting her on them (for example, his 1st S-class mission, which he stole, he went to her house to show it to her. the fact that part of the reward was a celestial key might be a coincidence, but i wouldn't doubt it as Natsu and Happy's trump card in case she refused)

but yeah, the difference is that he stayed and didn't push her away at the beginning, but instead continued to invite her along with him to the point that doing a mission without Lucy wasn't his regular anymore. compared to the rest of the guild, of whom he spent most of his childhood with, even if he spoke to no one, they would still be around and talk to him anyway. he might not invite them on job and only challenge them to fights, but the guild is his home and a constant in his life, a constant he needs (bc heavy abandonment issues).

"okay, but he still pushed her away after he watched Igneel die right in front of him. and he left the guild for a whole year, too. so what's the difference there?" you may ask.

so 1) Natsu never thought the guild would disband. he returns to Fiore after a year and is the last to know that they disbanded. he assumed, like all the other times before and while he and others were sealed for 7 years, that Fairy Tail would still be there when he returned. he assumed that his disappearance would not impact so hard because the guild would still be around and Lucy would have the others with her

which, did not happen :)

and like, so many guild members go off on jobs, quests, or even just leave for an indiscriminate amount of time (which i, personally, believe was his rationality for leaving), so him being gone for a year was nothing! right? no harm, eh? his plan was never to be gone forever :))))

2) he just watched his father die and lose any chance of having some semblance of a long term reunion with Igneel. he literally lost one of his main driving motivations for getting stronger and taking jobs. before Fairy Tail, before anyone, it was Igneel. and to learn that a) Igneel was always with him to begin with and b) he only got to see him for less than a day after 14 years of nothing......i would feel lost too ngl

man's needed space from everybody. and he also needed comfort, but Natsu has been shown not to really be the character who asks to receive comfort (and when he does receive it, it's usually when he's already emotionally compromised). he is in the habit of shutting people out after being abandoned or losing someone close to him, with his next rationale being to "get stronger" in order to prevent what happened in the past to ever happen in the future.

anyway

what makes this different? well for one, he sent the letter only to Lucy (or it's implied since no one else is shown getting one) because of how the two spend most of their time together. even the line that goes with the panel makes it sound like Natsu is unsure on how the note will be received (maybe even hesitant? but that could be my own hopes)

and one of the 1st people he reunites with after a year is Lucy and we get such a similar parallel to the first chapter of Fairy Tail between the two as if the narrative itself is slotting them together to say "ah yes, now everything is back to normal and new journeys can begin"

but yeah, this is just a long way of saying, that Natsu does love his friends and guildmates but even when he is close to them, he kept to himself (and Happy) and sort of stayed in their orbit but always with some emotional distance because of his fear of abandonment. and then you have Lucy where he will stay for and allow her to orbit around him and he will invite to new adventures no questions asked

that's the difference

[dipplinduo]

I hope I don't sound impatient but I'm very eager to find out what happens next in BYFILWM. Any. estimate on times? Sorry if that's a dumb question

Hey anon you have sent this to me literal months ago. THANK YOU FOR WAITING, it makes me so excited when people pay attention to this story!! I got some good news, and thought you might want to be one of the first to knowwww ~

Anyways, good luck. This one's uh...UHHH, easilythemostemotionallyintensechapterIhaveeverwrittentodateamongstallofmyworksimo, WOOP!

ENJOYYYYYYYY~

[sulphuricgrin]

Maybe instead of staring at my doc, I should actually attempt to write something

[elizabethzoopzoop986]

I miss Mei so much you don’t understand :( bring her back AidaIro. Also Yako and Hakubo

I hate how the school mysteries (other than Hanako, Mitsuba and Akane) get there one arc where you really get to know them and care about them and then they just go away forever. GIVE THEM BACK PLS AIDAIRO LET THEM OUT OF THE CLOSET THEYVE DONE NOTHING WRONG

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 6 of The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

“Am I— Did I interrupt something?” Stan asks a little awkwardly.

“Nah,” Bill, who recovers much faster from gaping at Stan like a fish, leans back into the bench before punching Pine Tree’s shoulder. “Kid was just heading out to go break windows or something.”

“Better hope it’s not these windows or [you’re] cleaning it up,” Stan tells Bill before reaching out, shoving the bill of Pine Tree’s hat down over his eyes. Pine Tree grumbles and fixes it before turning a far brighter smile on Stan.

“Your sister’s looking for you. Something about trying to make a suit out of glitter.”

“Oh. Great.” Pine Tree rubs his face and gets to his feet. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”

He goes to the door and pauses to look at Bill for a second.

“Just… you know, I think you’re right. I think things will be okay again soon.”

Bill’s brow furrows as Pine Tree heads back inside before he starts chuckling as he shakes his head.

“Weird kid.”

“They’re receptive,” Stan says as he takes up Pine Tree’s seat and Bill tries not to groan. “Not that you’ve made it exactly hard to miss that things are weird between you and my brother. I think the temperature in the room drops by ten degrees every time one of you walks into it. And I thought things were bad with my ex-wife! Ha!”

Bill winces at that, pulling a face as he leans forward to bury his face in his hands.

“Yeah, well, we weren’t even dating—“

“No, you two were just sucking face anytime you were left unsupervised.”

“Please, Pine Tree already got onto me for this. I fucked up and—“

“Summoned a demon, yeah, I heard.”

Bill’s blood runs cold and he looks between his fingers at Stan. …he’s not swinging, he’s not snarling, and Bill can say he’s almost positive that this isn’t Stan then.

“…and you’re cool with that?”

“What? Oh, no, absolutely not. I almost strangled you in your sleep when my brother told me.”

Billy, admittedly, feels a little better with that admission.

“He also said that you came to him to get rid of said demon.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t know. Taking over the universe is so last year.”

Stan snorts at that.

“You’re, like, really cool with that?” Bill tries again. “Don’t want to, I don’t know, punch me in the eye?”

Now Stan shrugs.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I think watching you walk around on eggshells, convinced one of us is going to take a swing at you or tell the Axolotl—“

“Axo— Oh, wait, no, you said it right.”

“I listen. I’m just saying, you know, you with your tail between your legs ain’t a bad look. Certainly makes me feel better.”

“…but, like, the whole breaking your brother’s heart? Trying to take over the universe? You’re sure you’ve got no murder held in your very large, very family-oriented heart?”

“Don’t go tempting me, Cipher, but… Ford’s an adult, you’re… maybe an adult, I don’t know, how do demons age?”

“Depends,” Bill admits, pulling a face. “Interdimensional demons live to about a hundred millennia or so, sometimes longer if they take care of themselves.”

“You said you were a dream demon though,” Stan remembers.

“Yeah, well, that’s a little more… complicated.”

Stan cracks open his pitt cola and gestures to Bill. He debates for a second before taking in a deep breath and sighing.

“I was born an interdimensional demon, a very precocious, adorable thing. Even though they’re relatively harmless, mostly brokers for deals made between species, they’ve got their own power. It doesn’t help that I was born… different.”

Bill’s voice gets soft, thoughtful.

“They tried to understand me, probably. They couldn’t though. A world full of two-dimensional idiots, they never understood what I saw, understood how I felt. So it was, you know, a little…”

“Othering?” Stan offers and Bill nods.

“Othering. Everyone adored me. ‘Special Billy’, ‘unique Billy’, ‘Billy who sees things no one else can see’.” […crazy Billy.]

Bill grips the bench a little too tight, knuckles turning white as he looks down at the ground.

“I won’t bore you with the sob story of a universe lost to a monster,” and maybe because it’s bad enough to admit it to Ford, admitting it to Stan who he still doesn’t trust not to come swinging at him is another thing, “but I ended up alone. I was drifting through time and space for, easily, a couple millennia. I spent a lot of time floating amongst the stars I’d stared at so long. I saw galaxies born, galaxies die; I saw nebulae explode and reform; stars would go through entire lifecycles in front of my eyes. It was me and the cosmos, so I guess I didn’t feel alone.

[miyamoratsumuu]

post may or may not be cringe, but we're rolling with it 🤙🏼

I dreaded having to do this (again) all year long, but guess who's going on a semi-hiatus!!!! hint: me ☝🏻 (I'll call it semi bc I'll prob be lurking around here and there still, lmao)

most of you may know, but I've been super busy with school lately given that I'm graduating this year, sooo I'm predicting it rn I won't be able to write anything for a while 😞

it's not that I don't have free time at all, it's just that everything that's been on my mind lately is shoolschoolschool, and I almost never think of anything else 😭 + I can't find it in myself to have the mental capacity to balance everything I have going on here and aiming to be at the podium once graduation comes around

though I will be posting chapter 6 of push & pull this week, AND maybe a teaser for score his heart?? but idk, we'll see! if I do end up posting both of those, I think that'll be it for a while

I'm so sorry to be letting anyone down, especially those who have been enjoying my ongoing series so far</3 I promise that once I make the time to write in between school and my social life outside of tumblr, I'll be back to writing/posting better than ever!!

I'll just take this opportunity to thank everyone for supporting me and my works this past summer vacation!! I truly believe I wouldn't have been able to survive the summer heat without you all 🤕

thank you all so so much, I hope you understand!! as I mentioned, I'll still be lurking around the app and answering asks/messages if necessary!! I LOVE YOU ALL SOOO MUCH, I'LL BE BACK BETTER THAN EVER, I PROMISE!!<33

[chaoticbooklesbian]

Chapter 1 came out at around 4.3k words.

Chapter 2 clocked in at nearly 5.3k words.

Chapter 3 is shaping up to be over 6k words.

I fear I've lost control of my life.

[dabilove27]

Chapter 6

Chapter 5 | Next Chapter

Paring: Shuji Hanma x Fem!Reader, Draken (Ken Ryuguji) x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9 K

Warnings: Pet name “babe" spicy moments with Hanma, smutish language, and manipulative Hanma. Let me know if I missed anything!

The dim light of the late afternoon filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. A soft hum from the refrigerator was the only sound, but it seemed deafening in the silence that had settled between you and Hanma. The past few days had been a blur—nights spent tossing and turning, eyes wide open, haunted by the memory of that man’s face. The incident at school still felt fresh, like a bruise on your soul, aching with every thought.

You hadn’t gone back to campus since that day. Hanma, ever the comforting presence, had insisted you stay home, but the feeling of being trapped—both in your own fear and in his protective embrace—gnawed at you. You didn’t want to be helpless. You didn’t want to be scared. Yet every time you even thought about stepping foot on campus, your heart raced, your breath became shallow, and your thoughts became a whirlwind of what-ifs.

Hanma had been trying to help, but the more he insisted you leave college, the more uncertain you became. His concerns were genuine—his love for you was clear in every word—but you weren’t sure if running away from your fears was the answer. You didn’t know what was right.

You stared at the cup of tea in front of you, your fingers tracing its edge absently as you waited for him to speak. He was on the couch, his posture tense as he observed you, his eyes filled with concern, but also with something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

After what felt like hours of silence, he sighed, the sound of heavy in the still room. “You know, baby, I can take care of you,” he whispered, his voice unusually gentle. “You don’t have to go back to that place if you’re not ready. I can make sure you’re safe. I can make sure nothing happens to you.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. Hanma’s eyes were intense—dark and serious, but there was an undercurrent of something more. He wasn’t just offering you his protection; he was offering his life.

“I’m not ready to quit school, Hanma,” you said quietly, though doubt lingered in your words. “I can’t just give up everything because of one incident. What happens if… what if I can’t shake this feeling? What if it’s always like this?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the frustration flickering in his expression. Hanma had never been one to force his views on you, but he was a man who always wanted to fix things. And right now, it seemed like the thing he wanted most was for you to be free of whatever fear had a hold of you.

“You don’t have to go back to school if you’re scared,” he said again, his voice steadier now. “But you don’t have to do it alone, either. I’m here, and I’ll always be here. Whatever you choose, you don’t have to face it by yourself.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You knew what he was offering—a life with him, a life where you wouldn’t have to face your fear alone. It was a tempting thought, but it didn’t quite sit right. Your independence mattered to you. You couldn’t let this one experience take away everything you’d worked for.

Fighting back tears, you whispered, “I don’t know, Hanma. I’m so scared. I don’t know if I can do this… but I don’t want to quit. Not yet.”

Hanma stood up from the couch then, slowly, with purpose. He crossed the room to where you were sitting and knelt in front of you, his movements calm but deliberate. You looked up at him, your heart in your throat, unable to look away from his intense gaze.

“I know you’re scared,” he breathed, reaching for your hands, gently pulling them from your lap. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you, even as the tremble in your fingers betrayed your nerves. “But I don’t want you to feel you’re doing this alone. So, let me be your strength. Let me take care of you. Whatever happens—whether you go back to school or you decide to stay here with me—I’ll be right here, holding you up.”

You felt the sincerity in his words, the rawness of his commitment to you, and for the first time in days, you felt your breath steady. But there was something else in the way he was looking at you, something deeper, something that made your chest tighten in both fear and something else—something you couldn’t name.

Hanma paused for a moment, his eyes flicking from your hands to your face, and then, without warning, he spoke again. His voice was soft, but the weight of it was undeniable.

“I’m not just offering you my protection, baby,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “I’m offering you a future. A future with me. No matter what happens. No matter how scared you are. I want you by my side, always.”

You blinked, confused, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, but it was a different smile. The smile wasn’t playful or teasing; it held something far more serious, far more intimate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. You gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as he opened it, revealing a ring that caught the light in a way that made it seem like it held all the answers.

The engagement ring was a stunning display of contrasts. At the center, a brilliant clear diamond sat in a classic prong setting, its facets catching the light in every direction, throwing off flashes of sparkling white brilliance. Surrounding it, like a halo, were small black diamonds, their deep, inky color creating a striking contrast with the clarity of the center stone. The jeweler arranged the black diamonds in a perfect circle, carefully placing each one to enhance the clear diamond’s brightness and add a touch of bold elegance. The band itself was sleek, a perfect complement to the dark and light interplay of the diamonds. It was a ring that spoke of sophistication, strength, and a love that was both timeless and unique.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Will you make me the man who gets to care for you, protect you, and love you for the rest of our lives? I don’t care about anything else, baby. I just want you. No matter what decision you make. You don’t have to go back to school if you don’t want to. We can figure this out together. But I want you to be mine. Always.”

The room seemed to spin as your heart pounded in your chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was saying. Your eyes flicked from the ring to his face, and then to the soft, vulnerable expression in his eyes. He wasn’t joking. This wasn’t just a moment of reassurance. He was serious. He was asking you to trust him, to trust in the future you could build together, no matter how uncertain the present was.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of everything. Fear, love, uncertainty. They all mixed into something that almost overwhelmed you.

But as you looked at him, at the man who had stood by your side through so much, the one who had cared for you even when you didn’t think you deserved it, you realized that this was the only answer you needed.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “Yes, Shuji. I’ll marry you. I’ll be yours.”

Hanma’s eyes lit up with a mix of relief and joy, and without a second thought, he slipped the ring onto your finger. He pulled you into his arms, gripping you, as if he could keep you safe from everything, from the fear, from the world.

“I promise,” he whispered into your hair. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here. I’ll always protect you.”

And for the first time in days, you felt a sense of peace. Maybe the future was uncertain, but with Hanma by your side, you could face anything.

The following days blurred together in a haze of emotions. The relief from Hanma’s proposal was undeniable, but so was the lingering sense of unease that clung to you like a shadow. You couldn’t deny how safe you felt when he was near, when his touch grounded you, when his presence became the anchor that kept you from floating too far into fear and doubt. But the decision to leave school still weighed heavily on your mind. You had always been independent, always relied on your own strength. And yet, every time you thought about returning to campus, that feeling—the same icy dread—crawled up your spine.

Hanma had been more than patient, never pushing you beyond what you could handle. He had a way of making you feel understood, demanding nothing in return. But there was one thing he’d been suggesting lately, something you hadn’t fully considered until now.

“Why don’t you come stay with me?” he had said one evening, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to be alone right now. We’ll figure everything out together. No pressure.”

At first, you’d brushed it off. Moving in with Hanma was a tremendous step—too big for you to take in the middle of all the chaos. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The penthouse he lived in was massive, secure, and luxurious. You’d never felt unsafe there—hell, it was more like a fortress, with state-of-the-art security systems and more rooms than you could ever fill. You wanted to be with him, wanted to feel you belonged to him in that space. He’d always made you feel like home, and maybe it was time to make that home permanent.

You hadn’t decided yet, but the question hung in the air between the two of you, unspoken but ever-present.

And then, one night, Hanma did something you didn’t expect. He didn’t ask you again, didn’t press the issue, but when you were sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, he walked into the living room, holding something in his hand.

A set of keys.

You looked up, confusion flashing across your face. “What’s this?”

He grinned, his usual smirk softened by something a little more tender. “It’s your new key,” he said, walking over to where you sat, kneeling down beside you. “To my place. I’ve already packed your things.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a wink. “I’ve got it covered. I just want you here with me. No more of this back-and-forth. No more feeling like you don’t have a safe space. I want you to sleep without worrying, without feeling like there’s something lurking behind you.”

You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. He was serious, wasn’t he?

You swallowed the knot in your throat. “But… my stuff… what about my apartment? What about school?”

“Forget about all that for now. You’re not running away,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re just taking a break. And maybe you’ll see that you don’t need to be so far away to figure things out. I want you here, with me. We’ll take things one step at a time.”

You took the keys from him slowly, feeling the weight of them in your hand. They were more than just keys to a penthouse they were keys to a life you hadn’t fully embraced until now. A life with him.

“Hanma…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Are you sure? This is a tremendous step. I don’t want to impose on you…”

“You’re not imposing,” he said, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in that familiar, soothing way. “You never have been. This is what I want. I want you. Fear will no longer control you. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

Your chest tightened as his words sank in. Hanma wasn’t asking you to leave everything behind—he was offering you a chance to rebuild yourself in a place where you didn’t have to carry the weight of your fears alone.

“I’m scared, Hanma,” you admitted, your voice small. “But I don’t want to stay in this bubble anymore. I don’t want to keep running from it. Maybe being with you will help me figure it out.”

“Then come with me,” he said, his voice tender yet firm, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll figure it out together. I’ll make sure nothing scares you. I’ll be right there, every step of the way.”

And just like that, he decided. You stood up, taking his hand, feeling the comfort of his touch ground you once more. The thought of moving into Hanma’s penthouse, of living with him, wasn’t as terrifying as it had seemed before. In fact, it felt like the first step toward reclaiming some semblance of control over your life. A new chapter, maybe. A better one.

The next morning, you were standing in the doorway of his penthouse, bags packed, heart full of conflicting emotions. Hanma had insisted on carrying everything—he always did, his strength and confidence undeniable—but this time, you’d asked to carry a few things on your own, wanting to feel the shift in your own independence.

The penthouse was as grand as ever. Expansive windows stretched from floor to ceiling, providing a stunning view of the city below. The living room was a perfect balance of sleek, modern style and cozy comfort. A soft leather sofa sat beside a massive flat-screen TV, a coffee table stacked with magazines and books, all organized but inviting. Everything about the place screamed luxury, but it wasn’t cold. The place didn’t feel isolated; instead, it seemed to blend in seamlessly with its environment. It was Hanma’s space, yes—but it was also somewhere that you now belonged.

Hanma watched you as you stood there, taking in the view, absorbing the silence. He didn’t say a word, just waited. He always gave you space to process things, never rushing you.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your back as he led you further into the apartment. The warmth of his touch was all-encompassing, his presence a quiet promise that everything would be okay.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as you stepped inside the living room. “And you won’t ever be.”

At that moment, with the view of the city spread out in front of you and Hanma beside you, you realized maybe you didn’t need to have all the answers right away. Maybe you didn’t need to know exactly how things would turn out. Because with him, you had everything you needed—love, support, and the courage to face whatever came next.

You were finally home.

Hanma’s piercing gaze fixes on you as you stand there, taking in the breathtaking view of the city skyline. His eyes seem to hold a deep understanding, quiet patience that puts you at ease. He doesn’t say a word, simply waits for you to process the magnitude of this moment. It’s a familiar feeling, this sense of being enveloped in his calm and collected presence.

You’ve grown accustomed to his gentle guidance, the way he gives you space to navigate your thoughts and emotions. It’s a trait that sets him apart, a quality that makes you feel seen and heard. As you stand there, the silence between you is comfortable, like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

Hanma takes a step closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, a spark of electricity that ignites a fire within. He leads you further into the apartment, the soft rustle of his feet against the hardwood floor the only sound breaking the silence.

Hanma’s hand remains on your back, a gentle reminder of his presence. He stops in front of you, his chest inches from yours, and speaks in a low, husky tone. “You’re not alone anymore,” he murmurs, his warm breath dancing across your skin. “And you won’t ever be.”

The words are like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your heart. You feel a lump form in your throat as you look up at him, his eyes burning with a deep affection. It’s a look that makes you feel cherished, loved, and protected.

As Hanma’s eyes lock onto yours, you can feel the tension between you building. It’s a palpable force, a spark that threatens to ignite at any moment. His hand on your back slips lower, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine.

You lean into him, your body responding to the unspoken promise in his touch. His lips graze against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice a gentle caress. “I’ll always have you.”

The surrounding room blurs, the only sound the heavy beating of your heart. Hanma’s hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies mold together, the fit seamless, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

His lips brush against yours, a gentle exploration that quickly deepens into a hungry kiss. You moan, the sound lost in the moment's intensity. His hands slide lower, cupping your ass, pulling you closer.

You feel the air leave your lungs as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. The world spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. You’re lost in the moment, lost in him.

As Hanma carries you to the bedroom, the only sound the heavy breathing and soft moans, you know that you’re exactly where you’re. In his arms, surrounded by his love and support, you’re finally home.

And as you surrender to the passion that’s been building between you, the cityscape outside fades into the background, leaving only the two of you lost in the flames of desire.

Hanma’s lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, your body begging for more. He lays you down on the bed, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

You reach for him, your hands grasping at his shirt. He helps you, pulling it off, revealing the chiseled chest beneath. Your fingers explore his skin, tracing the contours of his muscles.

He pulls your shirt off, his hands cupping your breasts. You moan, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. His lips close around a nipple, sucking gently. You cry out; the pleasure bordering on pain.

He moves lower, his tongue tracing the curve of your waist. You lift your hips, urging him on. He pulls your pants off, his fingers tracing the curve of your thighs.

You’re naked and vulnerable. But with Hanma, you feel safe. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with a fierce passion.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

“I love you,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He enters you, slowly, gently. You cry out; the sensation was overwhelming. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you lost in the flames of desire.

As you move together, the passion building, the only sound the heavy breathing and soft moans, you know that you’re exactly where you’re. In Hanma’s arms, surrounded by his love and support.

The decision had been building up inside you for days now, slowly wearing you down like a river cutting through rock. It had started as a seed of doubt, a whisper in the back of your mind that refused to go away, until it grew louder and louder with every passing moment.

You spent hours seriously considering it. Considering Hanma’s proposal, his promise to always care for and protect you, and the warmth of the penthouse you now call home, occupied your thoughts. You thought about the fear that had taken root in your chest, that nightmarish feeling that clung to you every time you thought about returning to school. You had tried to convince yourself that you were being irrational, that fear shouldn’t dictate your life, but the truth was—every time you closed your eyes, you saw that man’s face. Every time you walked to class, your heart raced, your mind screamed that something was wrong.

You had been strong once. You had been confident, independent, someone who took on challenges headfirst. But now, faced with this overwhelming dread, you felt like you were breaking.

And then there was Hanma. He’d been there for you in ways you couldn’t have imagined, not just as a boyfriend but as a rock, steady and unwavering. He’d never pushed you too hard, never made you feel you had to decide before you were ready. But his offer to move in with him, to leave all the stress and fear behind and just be with him, made everything seem a little clearer. Instead, it wasn’t running away. It wasn’t giving up. It was about giving yourself the space to heal.

After a week of wrestling with your own thoughts, you finally decided.

You sat at the kitchen table in the penthouse, the quiet hum of the city outside the windows your only companion. Hanma was in the other room, busy with something on his laptop, as he often was. The moment felt right. You took a deep breath, looking down at the cup of coffee in front of you, the steam rising in delicate tendrils. There was a certain calmness in this moment, a stillness that made you feel more sure of yourself than you had in days.

You picked up your phone and opened your emails. With a few swift keystrokes, you found your adviser’s contact information. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few moments. Was this the right thing to do?

A quiet voice in your head answered, This is the only thing to do for you right now.

Your finger pressed “send.”

Hanma was in the middle of reading something when you walked into the living room, the weight of your decision hanging in the air like a heavy curtain. He looked up at you, eyes flicking from your serious expression to your hands, which were clasped together tightly in front of you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low and soft, but there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes.

You nodded, walking over to him and sitting beside him on the couch. The moment was both intense and intimate, the silence between you saying everything that words couldn’t express. You took a deep breath, your heart pounding.

“I emailed my adviser,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m quitting school.”

Hanma’s brow furrowed slightly, but it wasn’t concern or surprise that flashed across his face. It was a relief. He reached out for your hand, pulling you gently closer, and for a moment, you both just sat there, the weight of your decision sinking in.

His voice, firm yet affectionate, conveyed his simple pride in me. “I know how hard this was for you. I know how much school meant to you.”

You felt your eyes well up, but you held it together, focusing on the warmth of his touch. “It did,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But I’ve been living in fear for too long. And I can’t keep doing that. I need to take care of myself first. I need to focus on... on what makes me feel safe, and right now, that’s being here with you.”

Hanma nodded, his expression softening as he squeezed your hand. “You’re doing what’s best for you. You don’t have to explain it to anyone else. If this is what you need, then it’s the right choice.”

There was a weight in your chest, but it wasn’t the weight that made you feel trapped or burdened. It was the weight that came with relief, with knowing that you had made a decision that felt right for you, despite all the doubts that had clouded your mind in the past.

Hanma leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his lips met your forehead. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out. I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

The words were simple, but they felt like everything you needed to hear.

You let out a shaky breath, your chest expanding as you released a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for not pushing me, for being here when I needed you the most.”

Hanma smiled, a gentle, knowing smile that made your heart swell. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m just doing what anyone would do for the person they love.” He gave you a small, teasing grin. “And I’ve got a penthouse and a lot of love waiting for you. I’d say you’re doing pretty well for yourself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your hand still in his. “I guess I am.”

It wasn’t the life you’d imagined when you first started college. It wasn’t what you had planned or dreamed of. But right now, sitting beside Hanma, in the warmth of his home, you realized that this was your new beginning.

The future might have been uncertain, but with him, with your decision to put yourself first, you felt like you could face whatever came next. No fear, no doubt—just the quiet certainty that you were where you were.

And then, without another word, he kissed you.

It was a kiss that melted your bones, a kiss that made your heart soar. You felt yourself getting lost in the depths of his eyes, in the warmth of his lips, in the gentle pressure of his hand on your skin.

As the kiss deepened, Hanma’s hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. You felt yourself melting into his touch, your inhibitions fading away like mist in the morning sun.

Suddenly, the room was spinning, the world outside receding into the background as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips, his hands, his body.

Hanma pulled back, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with desire. “I want you,” he growled, his voice low and primal. “I want to feel you, taste you, be inside you.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, your body screaming yes.

Without another word, Hanma swept you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. The city lights twinkled outside, a distant hum of noise, as you lost yourself in the passion, the desire, the love.

The couch creaked as Hanma laid you down, his body covering yours, his lips devouring yours. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, the pleasure, the love.

And then, in a flash of skin and sweat and heat, you were one, your bodies entwined, your hearts beating as one.

The world outside receded, the only sound the heavy breathing, the pounding heartbeats, the soft whispers of love.

At that moment, you knew you were exactly where you were. With Hanma in his arms, in his love.

Hanma’s fingers traced the curves of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arched back, your hips rising to meet his, as he entered you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

You gasped, your body trembling with pleasure, as Hanma moved, his strokes slow and deep. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, the pleasure, the love.

Your hands grasped for him, your fingers digging into his skin, as you begged for more, for harder, for faster. Hanma laughed, a low, husky sound, as he obliged, his body pounding into yours with increasing intensity.

You cried out, your body shattering into a million pieces, as Hanma reached his climax, his body jerking, his muscles tensing, his love pouring into you.

In that moment, you were one, your bodies entwined, your hearts beating as one. The world outside receded, the only sound the heavy breathing, the pounding heartbeats, the soft whispers of love.

And as you lay there, wrapped in Hanma’s arms, you knew that this was your new beginning, your new life, your new love.

tag list: @mor-pheus @lady-lunaaa @gixxie @kenryug @galactict3a (if you would like to be added or taken off send me an ask!)

[minijenn]

We really are only two chapters away from Bill making his official full New UF debut huh

[odysseys-blood]

literally how i feel any time i read this line. absolutely NOT

i think he's a great mirror type character for the mc depending on how much you draw on the default ra-on and their characterization, but more specifically their feeling of inferiority to solomon (which i take for my mc loyal). both the mc and bael are stuck filling in for a role for a king that neither feels they're well equipped for or were even born to hold and the fact that bael's so used to taking the fall that he's automatically ready to do it for you too is just. man. orz

[okavara]

The kelryptid following grows..

It sure does >:D I'm so very very happy... I went from 0-2 notes a post to this. Literally it made me explode and I still explode every day I wake up and see kelryptid fanart. I feel like I live in the good timeline despite everything

I wish I could express how happy I am through text but alas :D I will keep drawing him for the people though

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Caught in the Clutches of Lust

No im not sorry for any of this. cope and seethe

Btw I used a line from @painsandconfusion and @wormwriting's degradation starter list that I saved THREE YEARS AGO for this very moment. I am always playing the long game (⊙ˍ⊙)

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: VERY creepy/intimate whumper, implied threat of noncon, a lot of noncon touching (unsexy but right on the edge), implied noncon kiss, unsexy nudity

Shiori?

No, it couldn’t be, she was a world away, she was human, he’d left her waiting by the fountain after the party and she’d moved on and forgotten about him, no reason to follow him here, into the depths of hell, looking exactly like she had the night of the party, jarringly out of place in her pretty dress, smiling at him like he wasn’t a blood-covered, unrecognizable version of himself.

And then he blinked, and all of a sudden it wasn’t Shiori at all, but Lythia, wearing the same yellow bandana that she always did while she was working in the palace gardens, the little black braids of her hair just as beautiful as he remembered. There was no pity in her dark eyes, like there had been the last time he saw her, looking up at him from the crowd while he was chained to that pillar, promising he’d be rescued after it was already too late. Actually seeing her hurt, and Erebus looked away for a moment, just a moment…

When he saw the woman in front of him now, his jaw dropped, eyes widening, his tense, burning hands finally relaxing.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Her voice was just as he remembered, and she was smiling at him so kindly, her eyes soft, her gloved hand outstretched, she was here to save him, she’d found a way to bring him back, he was too tired and scared and stressed to do anything else besides surrender control to her once again, to take her small hand and follow her blindly towards the fate she’d chosen for him. She was squeezing his still-healing hand tightly in hers, but she could do whatever she wanted with him just as long as she got him out of this place.

“Well, that was easy.”

The voice wasn’t Shiori’s, or Lythia’s, and it certainly wasn’t Neteri’s.

Erebus jumped back, finally seeing the person next to him clearly for the first time. She-they?-smirked at him, bright purple eyes sparkling. Their white hair was long and wavy, partially braided back with impeccable precision. Gold jewelry and a low-cut black dress accentuated their natural beauty, seeming very out of place in this hellish world. Most striking of all, though, was their bright red skin, a shade that was very familiar to Erebus.

This was a lust demon, and she’d lead him right into her lair.

“You-how did-I-”

They laughed, deep and bright, obviously amused by his shock and confusion. “You only saw what your heart wanted you to see, darling. It’s not my fault you turned into a meek little lamb and followed me here.”

Erebus’s face grew hot. “Well I-I…” his wings sank behind him. He’d thought he was about to be saved. Like an idiot. She’d led him away from the bubbling pools and acrid air into a sort of cave, a furnished one at that. But now he was cornered in here, at a disadvantage in the cramped space. He swallowed and changed the topic, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“Apologies.” She bowed slightly, the sort of bow people gave when they were pretending to show respect during negotiations, but then declared war a few weeks later. “My name is Asmodeum, and really,” they gave him a disapproving look, “I’d rather not fight with you. I heard you’ve defeated Somiaken and Vorath already, but I believe you and I could work something out without coming to blows.” They held their hands up briefly, but the way they watched him made it clear that their guard was still up. “So, tell me your name, now. Unless you’d prefer I just call you darling?”

Erebus very much did not want that, so he complied. “Erebus. But you didn’t really answer my question. What do you want, if not to fight me?”

Asmodeum sighed wistfully. “Well, I can tell that you’re the sort of person who’ll never agree to what I really want, but I believe something can be arranged. You see, I’ve been stuck here for Akumo knows how long with no toys to play with. So, I was thinking-”

“I-I’m not gonna be your toy,” Erebus choked, his throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Asmodeum wagged a finger. “Let me finish, dear. I could have my way with you quite easily, you know. It would be oh so effortless to drag you back into my domain proper and throw you into a pool of boiling water or lava and watch the show. However, I think your forced cooperation would make this a little more fun, and it would be nice if you behaved for me. So, if you let me do what I want with you, barring the most intimate acts, I’ll let you kill me once I’ve had my fill.”

“What happens if I don’t say yes?”

Asmodeum casually examined their nails. “I will take you by force and I will defile you.”

“D-defile?! You don’t mean…” Erebus quickly glanced down, and Asmodeum smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I do mean. If you let me play with you, I swear I won’t do anything of the sort. Call it an incentive. So come on, Erebus, get rid of your sword.” Erebus just tightened his grip on it, weighing his options. As much as he didn’t want to let this demon…play with him...did he really have any other options? He was exhausted, and there wasn’t much room in here for him to try and put up a proper fight. And more than anything, he really, really didn’t want to risk being...Despite the anxiety building in his chest, Erebus unbuckled the sword belt around his waist, setting it carefully on the ground.

“Fine. But if you so much as touch me there I’ll-I’ll make you regret it.” How would he do that? He wasn’t sure. But he just-he had to make it clear that he wasn’t surrendering. He was just…agreeing to play along. Just to get a break from fighting. He was okay with this. He’d be fine. He'd been through so much worse.

He'd be fine.

“I promise I won’t cross that boundary, don’t you fret.” Asmodeum walked over to him, kicking his sword out of reach as they took his hand. “First things first, you’re absolutely filthy. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Erebus pulled his hand out of her grasp. “I mean, I-I can do that myself,” he muttered. Asmodeum raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can, but I want to wash you, dear. And right now,” she grabbed his hand once more, “I get what I want.” They pulled him along into a bathroom, and he followed reluctantly, feeling an odd sense of familiarity in just going along with this sort of thing. Their threat was certainly a motivator, but that didn’t mean he was going to roll over completely on every little thing, right? He had to make it clear that he wasn’t happy with this, despite agreeing to it. She started filling up the bathtub with water, turning to him with a smile. “Let me strip you now.” 

“I-I’d rather-”

“Shhhh.” She placed a finger on his lips, her other hand starting to undo the ties on his shirt. “None of that, dear. I can’t get you all clean if you’re wearing these dirty clothes, now can I?” He looked away as they tugged his shirt off, hoping that they’d-nope, now they were going to try and take off his pants, too.

“You said you weren’t going to-to do that to me.”

“I won’t. But that doesn’t mean you get to keep your clothes on the whole time, you shy little thing. I just won’t touch.” Erebus stifled a whine as she pulled down his pants, and his underwear along with them. “There we go. You can get in now.” He did so, almost jumping into the warm water and crouching down, hugging his knees close and spreading his wings around himself protectively. They gently pushed his wings back, stroking his face as he glared at them with wide eyes. “There’s no use hiding when I’ve already seen everything, silly. I think I’m going to need to get these arms out of the way, hmmm?” They pulled out a pair of manacles, and Erebus’s stomach sank.

“Wait, I won’t resist just-just don’t-”

“Too late for that, Erebus.” She clamped them around his wrists, twisting the chain securely around the faucet. “Besides, you look absolutely darling like that, all helpless. Now, keep those wings out of the way or I’ll pierce them together.” Erebus’s wings sank in defeat, slowly moving back until they were behind him. There wasn’t any winning here, was there? “Good boy.” She grabbed a cup from the countertop and started using it to pour water on him, rinsing away some of the pieces of flesh stuck to his bloodied skin. After she lathered a washcloth with soap, she began to gently clean the dried blood off his face. He screwed his eyes shut, fists clenched as he tried to think about anything else. 

Even back when he was a prince, he’d hated being fussed over, preferring to take care of himself when he could. Asmodeum, however, seemed to have no concept of personal space, or just didn’t care. She had to work hard to get through the blood caked over most of his skin, leaning in close, starting with his face before switching to his hair. Their hands slid in, tenderly working through tangled bloody mats and massaging his scalp. He hated how nice it felt, how much it reminded him of the way Lythia always used to play with his hair, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at Asmodeum, to remind himself who was…

Lythia smiled at him sweetly, and Erebus felt his blood run cold. That wasn’t her, no matter what he saw, no matter how he felt. She wasn’t here. She was back home, probably still tending the palace gardens despite the change in management. Did she still think of him as she looked at all the places they used to laugh? Or could she not get the image of him screaming and sobbing up on that podium out of her mind, unable to remember any other version of him than the one he’d left her with? Maybe that’s what he deserved to be remembered as, since he’d hardly thought of her since that day, the memories too painful. 

Erebus shuddered when Asmodeum moved to his horns, which were always far more sensitive than they had any right to be. She seemed to be able to tell, continuing to stroke them long after they were clean, and as much as he wanted to ask them to stop, he was afraid it would only encourage them. At the very least, the disconnect between Lythia and his horns was enough to push the thoughts of her out of his mind, and Asmodeum changed back to their normal form.

Her hands finally slid lower, caressing his neck, fingers slipping under his collar, making sure the skin underneath was clean, pressing down against his throat every so often as they did so. It wasn't enough to really choke him, but the message was clear.

They moved onto his shoulders, his wings, his arms, his back. He caught their smile as they saw what his right arm really looked like, and her fingers traced his whip scars as they were uncovered. Dread started to pool in his stomach as she moved to his chest, scrubbing away, revealing-

“Oh, well isn’t this pretty.” They marveled at his brand, stroking the lines of the scar, pausing over his rapidly-beathing heart. “Too bad you’re already owned by someone else, huh? But I suppose they’re not here now, are they?” Erebus just bit his lip, refusing to make eye contact. The thought of his…of Neteri not being here hurt, and, try as he might, he couldn’t help but think of her, of the way she’d always protected him. He wondered how angry she’d get if she saw what was happening to him, or if she could feel now that someone besides her was touching him. He could imagine her bursting in, yelling at Asmodeum to get their hands off of him, unchaining him and letting him cover up before pulling him into a hug-wait wait what was he thinking she’d been his captor she’d hurt him and ripped him into pieces and kept him locked up but she'd promised to save him and he missed her.

“What’s wrong, darling? Is even this too much for you?” Asmodeum brushed away a tear he didn’t realize had been falling with her finger, her skin no longer red, but brown. He couldn't look her in the eye. Not while she wore that face. “Such a sensitive little thing.” Hearing those words in that voice was already bad enough. Erebus tugged at his chains, wishing he could rub away those stupid traitorous tears, because he wasn’t crying about Neteri or Asmodeum or any of this. 

Their hands plunged beneath the surface of the blood-clouded water now, and Erebus couldn't stop himself from tensing up as they scrubbed his stomach, glad the parts of him that were previously under clothes weren't as caked in blood as those that weren't. Still, there was enough to clean that she had an excuse for her hands to wander lower still, caressing his hips, his thighs, and now he was trembling, fists clenched, tears dripping even more steadily into the tepid, cloudy water, no one had ever touched him there, at least she was wearing her own face now, but please, please stay away from there, you said you wouldn't touch me there and if you do then why am I here why am I letting you do this why do I keep letting people hurt me if I just stood up for myself more if I wasn't such a coward maybe I'd still be-

"You're rather pathetic, aren't you?" Asmodeum mused as they cradled his face, turning him towards them. Erebus blinked away tears, just now realizing that they'd finished cleaning him, the tub already drained. He couldn't exactly argue, crying and shivering like he was, so he just swallowed and gave the tiniest nod as he pulled himself together, hoping it'd be enough to get them to move on.

With a satisfied smile, she unhooked his wrists from the faucet, but left the manacles on as she pulled him up and out of the tub. He tried to cover himself as best he could as they toweled him off, hoping they’d stop touching him or at least give him clothes soon. Thankfully, they did, handing him a small bundle, and upon unrolling it he found...a pair of shorts that barely reached his knees, and that was all. Once he’d put them on, she dragged him into another room and let go, crossing her arms. “Kneel.” 

“I don’t-” Asmodeum raised an eyebrow, and Erebus stopped himself. They were expecting him to obey their every little whim if he didn’t want to be...he knelt, staring at the floor. She circled him a few times, and he clenched his fists in his lap, hating how much of his body was on display. Not that she hadn’t already seen everything.

“You were just made to kneel, weren't you? Absolutely gorgeous." Erebus's face burned even hotter than before. All he could hope was that they'd be done with him soon, but he'd never specified how long this would go on for when he agreed to it, so this might last…He was such an idiot, why did he just go along with this without any negotiation?

Asmodeum stopped in front of him. "Well, what are you in the mood for, dear? Pain,” her hand slid under his chin, tilting it up, “or pleasure?”

“Please just-anything but-” he choked, and she just laughed.

“Anything, you say? Then, I think...I'm in the mood for this.” They grabbed his collar, yanking him up onto the nearby bed. Before he could even try to sit up they were on him, wrapping themselves around him, worming in between his shackled arms, forcing him to embrace her back. A shudder ran down his spine as her skin came into contact with his, her arms pinning him flush against her body, her legs tangling around his. “Have you ever been this close to someone, darling?” she whispered in his ear, their fingers stroking his hair.

“I-I, um, a few times but-” 

“Aw, and you’re still nervous.” Her hand ran down the back of his head, stopping at his collar. “It’s so cute how you still wear this. I’m sure you could get it off if you tried, so you must like having it on, huh? Do you miss your owner?”

“She’s not-I don’t-I just-it’s…” he screwed his eyes shut, “I can’t take it off, alright?!”

“Such a dutiful little pet-”

“I wasn’t h-her pet!” 

“You’re so adorable when you’re in denial.” They stroked his back, rubbing around the base of his wings. Erebus just opted for staring at the wall, hoping they wouldn't touch his horns. “Do you know how lust demons feed, my dear?”

“By eating…?”

“Well, of course, but not the same way you do. We feed off of humans, more specifically, their bodily fluids.” She smiled widely, showing off her fangs. “And I haven’t had a meal ever since being locked up in here. I normally get my fix a different way, but, to be considerate of you, innocent little boy,” they shifted until their lips were right next to the base of his neck, fingers pushing his collar out of the way, “I’ll settle for feasting on your blood.”

Her fangs sank into his neck, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden pain. He tried to breathe in calmly through gritted teeth as she sucked on the holes in his flesh, drinking his blood. Soon enough, his ears started ringing, and lightheadedness crept in. He gripped the chain between his wrists just too feel something solid, glad that he was lying down, at least. By the time Asmodeum pulled away, licking droplets of blood from their lips, a dizzy haze had settled over Erebus. He closed his eyes, tears leaking out as she snuggled back into him, just hoping that this would all be over soon. In fact, maybe he would just...let the blackness take him...just for a little bit...so he didn’t have to be...awake…

Erebus’s mouth tasted like dried blood when he woke up, and Asmodeum was still wrapped around him tightly. She smiled when their eyes met. “Did you have a good little nap, my darling? I hope you don’t mind, but,” she gripped his chin, her thumb stroking his lips, “I had a little bit of fun with you while you were out of it.” A bit of...wait is that why his mouth tasted like-

“W-you-you can’t d-do that to me I-I don’t-” his voice broke, and he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, no matter how many fast little breaths he sucked in, just get away, get away from me stop touching me don’t do that to me please please I don’t want that you can’t do that to me you can’t you can’t I never wanted that not from you not from anyone and now now now I-I’m-I’ve been-

He felt something solid press into his hands, and he realized that Asmodeum was standing in front of him, and that was his sword in his hands, he was sitting up now and that was his sword and Asmodeum was smiling they were holding out their arms to him they were ready they were ready they were laughing they were coughing up blood they were on the ground there was so much blood how much of it was his he wasn’t sure he didn’t know they reached up and he backed away he had to get away he couldn’t stay here a second longer she was dead she was dead she was already crumbling away and he had to go he wanted to rip off his own skin he could still feel her touching him where where where were his clothes where was the key to these manacles he had to go he-

Erebus dropped his sword. He fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands. 

And he screamed.

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*taps microphone* New chapter for These Hollow Halls coming soon--