#because he certainly won't do it himself

[artimeanatheart]

Aaron Character Analysis-Quests Book Three Part One

Aaron actually gets to do stuff in this book! There's a whole plotline with him in Artime going on, which we haven't gotten yet in this series. Which is exciting for me and traumatizing for him.

Head Mage Aaron Stowe

Alex is dead.

"'I felt it,' said Aaron quietly. 'Alex's life fading away. The moment it happened, I imagine. It was a searing cut to the heart,' he said, tapping the spot. 'I though I might be dying myself, and then just as quickly the pain eased and left a. . .a dull aching emptiness, I suppose.'"

And Aaron feels it. He's about as far away from his twin as he can possible be, literally worlds apart, but he still knows that Alex is dead the moment it happens. He's probably the first to know, because it takes the rescue team a while to realize what has happened. He feels the exact same thing that Alex did at the end of Island of Shipwrecks when Aaron himself was dead/dying. Unlike Alex, he doesn't collapse on the ground sobbing, even though he probably wants to. He's able to keep functioning through the pain. Because at least he and Alex ended in a good place with each other. He knows that Alex knew that Aaron loves and supports him. And he knows that Alex loved him for who he is. There's a sense of closure, even amidst all the pain, that Alex didn't have way back then. So Aaron starts trying to figure out what to do. He needs a way to get to Artime quickly, now that the tube is gone. He calls for Pan and she answers and he rushes off to Artime. Much like Alex almost rushed off to find him.

"Speeding across the waves toward them, on the back of a shimmering black water dragon named Pan, sat Aaron Stowe. Alex's identical twin. Aaron held a package in his hand. As they drew up to the shore, everyone could see his face was stoic, his eyes etched with grief."

Aaron arrives in Artime, or, more accurately, the Death Farm, on the back of a dragon carrying a magical robe that once belonged to the man he killed. Aaron didn't go to Artime intending to take on the role of head mage. He went there to offer his help and support to it, much like he has ever since halfway through Island of Graves. Aaron knows now that he doesn't enjoy leading. He's happy to be part of a team and be one of the advisors to the leader of the team, but he doesn't want to be in charge of it himself.

"'Do you have the spell memorized?' 'I. . .yes.' 'Thank goodness.' 'Shall I tell it to you so you can proceed?' Claire rested her hand on Aaron's arm and gave a sad half smile. Sweat shone on her face and neck, and her hair was tangled and filled with bits of splinters and dirt. 'You know I don't want this job,' she said quietly. 'My life is helping to govern in Quill now. I'm only doing this because we didn't expect you to come so quickly.'"

But that's exactly what happens. Aaron arrives in Artime and Claire practically shoves the responsibility at him. She's the only other person there who knows/can do the spell. She's never wanted to be head mage and has been perfectly clear about that since Island of Silence. Once there was an option to recreate Artime without Claire being head mage, she was perfectly happy to take it. Even though that option is the person who killed her father and imprisoned her. But she's moved past all of that, and expects everyone else to have, too.

"But Aaron hesitated again, feeling waves of guilt over what was about to happen. And he knew not everyone in Artime would be pleased about it. He'd been acutely aware of dissenters over the years. And he'd noticed the angry woman and the small group forming around her who were beginning to mutter at the proceedings. Aaron glanced at them uneasily, then looked back at Claire. 'Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?' he asked. 'Even. . .after everything I've done? Have you thought this through?' This wasn't going to be a seamless transition. Claire nodded, tight lipped. She knew what he was asking. 'Ignore them. The past is forgotten. You and I will work well together, I think. Perhaps. . .perhaps like Gunnar and my father did.' 'I'd like that.' Aaron gave her a grim smile. She'd come far in forgiving him."

They have not, least of all Aaron. He asks Claire twice if she's sure that she wants him of all people to be head mage. She is, so he takes the robe. Claire is pretty much the only person in the series who expresses that they don't want to be head mage and their wishes are respected. To be fair, Artime was literally created for her, so she does have some right to the privilege (?) of getting to choose not to lead it. But no one even stopped to ask if Aaron wanted the job. He very clearly doesn't. All he wants to do is go back to the Island of Shipwrecks and grieve his twin in peace with the support of Ishibashi, Ito, and Sato.   He doesn't feel like he's the one who should be leading Artime, especially since the last time it vanished was because he killed Mr. Today. He takes the robe anyways, thoughts of his shame and guilt weighing heavily on his mind.

"Aaron cringed but tried to focus. His mind was on the one who should be wearing the robe-his brother. How was this possible? How was Aaron standing here, doing this? A wave of grief broke his concentration, but he pushed it back and gripped the robe's packet tightly until the moment passed. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths to clear his mind."

Aaron takes the robe out of a sense of obligation to Artime and his brother's memory.  He feels like he can't say no to helping Artime because of how he hurt it.  He always has to help save it not just because it's the right thing to do, but because he feels like he owes it to the people he hurt. He will never say no to an Artime in need. Aaron does love Artime, but that's mostly because his family loves Artime and he loves his family. He owes it to Alex to recreate the thing his brother gave his life for.

"The dissenters lingered for a moment, but Aaron was surrounded by supporters. From the corner of his eye, he saw the angry group reluctantly disperse and hoped he'd heard the last of their complaints, but he doubted it. There would always be some who couldn't forgive him, no matter what he did or said now."

But, like I've talked about before, Artime isn't Aaron's home. Artime as a whole has never accepted him, even though he does have friends and family there. Part of that's in his head, with him distancing himself from the Artimeans because he was never officially declared an Unwanted at any point. He feels like he doesn't belong there. Part of it's not in his head. There are people in Artime who don't accept him, won't forgive him, and can't understand that he's changed. Aaron knows this; they don't make their dislike of him subtle, even before he shows up on Artime's shore. He knows that making him head mage is a bad idea. He thinks that he's doomed to an eternity of struggle from the start. It's kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy, and kind of not, because I think the dissenters would have disliked him no matter what he did or how much effort he put in.

"She [Thisbe] knew immediately the spell had come from Aaron, for she'd given him the pebble when she was five years old for this exact purpose. It was the first seek spell she'd received since the Revinir had taken her captive. She wasn't quite sure why, but it made her cry. Maybe because she wasn't able to send one in return. More likely it was because it finally seemed like someone was looking for her after all this time."

Anyways, Aaron restores Artime and becomes head mage both practically and functionally for the first time. One of the first things he does is send seek spells to his family. We know he sends one to Thisbe, and probably Fifer and Kaylee, too. But was he one of the people who sent one to Alex, adding to the glowing memorial above his grave? Or did he not, knowing from the pain inside him that it would be pointless? Either way, he is the only person from Artime who sends a seek spell to Thisbe. He knows there's a chance it could put her in danger and he knows she doesn't have anything to respond with, but he has to do it. He was to let her know that he's thinking of her, that he cares about her, that he misses her. Thisbe gets that message and clings to it tightly.

"How long would he be wondering if Kaylee had died along with Alex? Would their son, Daniel, grow up not remembering his mother? It was unthinkable. Yet all too familiar. Even his sisters didn't remember their parents. Why had he let himself grow so complacent? Around him, Sean, and Henry's fears were assuaged. Cheers erupted at proof that Carina, Seth, Lani, Samheed, and Thatcher were indeed alive. Aaron, grateful but growing more distressed, withdrew inside himself, remembering the muttering dissenters."

The only person Aaron likely sent a seek spell to expecting a response was Fifer. He thought that Kaylee wouldn't have anything with her, echoing the same thoughts about her lack of sentimentality that Kaylee herself had expressed. He resigns himself to an unknown period of time unaware if she, or Thisbe for that matter, are even still alive. Because if something could kill Alex, what are the odds that none of the others died? He's quiet about his pain, though, not wanting to bring down the mood as the others rejoice from hearing from their loved ones. They deserve that happiness.

"The ball came to a stop in front of Aaron, and Florence gave him a hopeful glance. Others nearby watched to see who it could be from. When it exploded into an image of a wedding ring-the ring Aaron had designed and given to Kaylee five years ago-Aaron clutched Florence's arm, then sank to his knees. He covered his face with his hands. A sob let loose from his chest. At least he hadn't lost her, too."

Except. There's a final dot on the horizon. One last seek spell, carrying the confirmation Aaron barely dared to hope for. Kaylee is alive. And he breaks down sobbing, for the first time we've seen since his appearance in this book. He's been holding in so much and trying to function through it, but this is what makes the grief and relief too much for him to keep inside. This is a huge public display of emotion for Aaron, and speaks to just how much he's hurting.

As if Aaron doesn't have enough going on, cue Frieda Stubbs.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

won't you stay a little longer?

you have to go somewhere but they won't let you leave easily.

part two of this post which is xavier only. wanted to write something similar with the rest of the guys :)

mdni. 18+ only. dry humping. thigh job. fingering. cunnilingus. handjob. creampie. overstimulation. brief somnophilia and male masturbation.

sylus

You were on a tight schedule. You have to make it back to Linkon by three in the afternoon because your apartment building decided to have a surprise maintenance. If you're not there on time, you'll certainly get an earful from the landlord and you'd rather not deal with that.

But with the way Sylus was running his hands all over you, it looks like you might be in trouble.

As you're getting dressed in his bedroom, his hands found their way under your shirt, sliding up to your chest. And there was something rubbing against your back - something hard.

"Are you sure you want to leave now?"

Oh, he was on a mission.

Through the reflection of the mirror, as Sylus stands behind you with a mischievous smirk on his face, his lips tickles the shell of your ear and his hands squeezed your breasts through your bra.

He's thrusting his hips against your ass, and the layers of your clothings did not do much to contain his stiffened cock.

"Sylus...."

He starts leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck and down to your collar bones. One hand jumped from your chest and down to your hips, then straight inside your skirt to feel your core with his fingers.

You let out a soundless gasp at the sudden contact, leaning back into his chest.

"You...."

"I'm what, sweetie?" he asked, teasing you through the fabric of your underwear.

"You...should be going to bed."

It's noon, which is around Sylus' bedtime. You were with him for two days, including last night, though you fell asleep around midnight.

Meanwhile, Sylus had Onychinus-related business to finish and didn't return until around four in the morning. He should be getting sleepy right about now.

"You're right. I should." He then nips your right earlobe. "How about you join me?"

"I told you..." You let out a soft moan as Sylus moved your panty aside and inserted two fingers inside you. "I... have to....go...."

"Hmm? Does it have to be now?" Sylus' fingers pushed in deeper. "You can't stay for just a few more minutes? After all, who knows what Onychinus' leader might do when left unsupervised?"

Pushing up your skirt, Sylus thrusted his hips against your ass at the same pace he pleasures you with his fingers.

"You are so...!"

He'd won his game.

You turned around and lightly pushed back his shoulders, only for you to chase after his lips that withdrew from your ear.

He returned the kiss with twice the force, using one hand to caress your face and the other to brush his fingers against the skin exposed by the hem of your shirt after you stood on the tip of your toes.

The kisses were quickly filled with desperation, and soon he was removing the clothes that you've only just put on a couple of minutes ago. Your shirt and skirt dropped down to the floor, and your bra had been flung across the room.

In return, you avidly got rid of his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. From the moment you freed him from his boxers, Sylus spun you around to face the mirror once again.

"Before you leave me, let me just enjoy you one last time, okay, sweetie?" After a soft peck on your cheek, Sylus gave you a soft nudge forward, making you bend down just a small angle.

Then, he slid his cock between your thighs.

From the mirror's reflection, you watched him thrust into the small and tight space, spreading his pre-cum against your throbbing cunt.

You pressed your thighs together to increase the pressure that was enveloping Sylus' cock as it moves back and forth frantically. Sylus muffled his groans by burying his face against your neck, though he became louder as his pace drastically increased.

Just as he feels himself cumming closely, Sylus' movements came to a halt and stepped away from you. You let out a shaky breath of relief mixed with disappointment, thinking he'd already gotten his fill. But you were so, so wrong.

In the blink of an eye, Sylus gripped your hips and slammed his cock right into you.

Every inch of him.

He knows you have no problem taking him whole so he went into you as deeply as he could.

You let out a squeal as Sylus gave you no time to recover. He followed up one hard thrust with another, and your eyes couldn't leave the mirror's reflection of his ravishing face as he pounds into you.

His mouth his open as he becomes unable to hold back his grunts, and his eyes are on the mirror to admire your own expressions as you fall apart from his cock.

Hearing your mewls, Sylus bent you down further to reach an even deeper part of you before rocking his hips faster while you started to thrust back to him.

Sylus felt you clench around him and lost control of his movements. One hand remained clinging to your hips and the other reached for your face, guiding you to look at him so his tongue can meet yours while your lips become coated with each other's saliva.

Suddenly, Sylus growls into your mouth and his hips stuttered for a moment. His speed increased by a tenfold and both of your ecstatic cries were mixed with the sound of your flesh crashing at every second.

At last, he pulls out and comes on your back. Your legs shook as your own orgasm followed not a minute after, and Sylus caught you and picked you up bridal-style before you could lose balance. He brought you over to his bed and gave you a soft, lingering kiss as he hovers on top of you.

"So, kitten, have you reconsidered about joining me in sleeping in? If your landlord kicks you out, you're more than welcome to stay here."

caleb

You're standing by the kitchen's counter table, happily eating the breakfast that Caleb prepared for you while the cook himself pouts on the chair that you're supposed to be sitting on.

"You're really leaving me early, pip-squeak?"

"Mhmm. Have to go to work early tomorrow so I have to get home by tonight."

Caleb sighs in defeat before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek against your stomach.

"Fine, fine."

You were too busy enjoying the iced-coffee he made for you so you failed to see the glint that flashed in his eyes.

It began with his left hand drawing circular patterns your thighs. You didn't pay much attention to it as he likes to do that sometimes to appreciate the softness of your skin.

But once his fingers started to move higher and higher, going up your skirt to fiddle with the band of your underwear, your heart started racing.

His right hand slightly pushed the hem of your shirt just high enough to expose some skin between your hips and stomach, then he started to leave soft kisses all over the area.

You paused from drinking your coffee to give Caleb a questioning look, but his eyes were closed as he's too lost in showering you with affection.

Assuming that was all he wanted, you decided to let him do as he please and combed his soft hair with your fingers.

Then, you felt the zipper of your skirt being pulled down. Before you could say a word, it drops down around your feet and to the floor.

He gently grabbed your thighs and nudged them open to make space for himself as he puts his mouth to your crotch.

"Caleb - "

You lost your voice as soon as his tongue flicked against your clothed core. He hums with satisfaction, tigtening his hold on your thighs before exerting more force so you could feel him better.

Caleb looked up at you intensely, and you were met with a gleam full of desire that had your palms sweating and your cunt pulsating.

"I...." Your face felt hot, and you feel like it just became harder to breathe. "I have to leave soon, Caleb... We can't - "

"You said you have to get home by tonight, but not in the afternoon. You can spare me a little more of your time, can't you? After all, it'll be days again until we see each other...."

All of your responses turned into suppressed moans as he pressed his mouth against your panty even harder.

Your nails sank on his shoulders as he suddenly grabbed the back of your thighs and carefully sat your figure on the chair that he was previously sitting on.

Caleb got on his knees and pulled down your underwear before putting himself between your legs. His lips greeted your throbbing pussy, then his tongue darts to your clit as he eats you out like a starved man.

He was devouring you as if he's never had you before.

He was getting you in all the right spots. He knows exactly how to please you, and what will make you fall apart the fastest.

That's why it didn't take long for you to reach your climax. Before you could stop yourself, you squirted all over Caleb's mouth, cheeks, and jaw. The view made your entire body flush with embarrassment, though at the same time it made you want him even more.

Caleb wiped his cheeks and chin with the sleeves of his shirt, then he licked off what had gotten on his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of you, before quickly standing up to eagerly strip off his clothes.

His cock sprung up, glistening with pre-cum that had his boxers soaked especially when he was fucking you with his mouth. It wants so badly to bury itself in your pussy that it had impatiently gotten swollen, twitching and leaking as you set your gaze on it.

You could see how badly he needed you, and yet when your hand reached out to touch his dick, Caleb caught your wrist and held it along with your other one. Just with one hand, he pulled your wrists above your head and pinned it down on the back of the chair.

Caleb shoved his cock inside you and your shoulder lightly hit the back of the chair at the impact. He hissed at the way you took him so well and so tight, and the way you were wriggling underneath him only turned him on even more.

He started off slowly, letting you adjust to him. He pecked your forehead, nose, cheeks, jaw, and lastly, a long-lasting one on your lips before he gradually picked up the pace.

Your hands twitched, wanting to feel Caleb in return as he's making you feel so good, but he kept a secured hold on your wrists so that you could hold on to nothing as he drills into you. His half-lidded eyes went to your lips and he relished the sweet sounds you were making just for him.

The chair was screeching as its legs scraped against the floor. Had it not been for Caleb holding your wrists down on the back of the chair, you would've already been in another room at every thrust he made.

"F-fuck...." Caleb exhales, chest heaving and muscles clenching as he feels himself coming close.

He'd finally let go of your wrists just so his hands can roam all over your body, then he intertwined his fingers with yours as he finishes inside you, just a few seconds after your second climax.

He didn't stop moving his hips until he filled you with every drop of his cum. Anything that threatened to ooze back out of you, he shoved back in with his cock, even if it made both of you want to curl up at the overwhelming sensations.

Both of you felt every inch of each other, eyes rolled back with overstimulation, until Caleb lost his energy. Drops of sweat clung onto your bodies as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You threw your head back and groaned, feeling like the world is spinning. Caleb took the chance to bite into your neck and leave one last mark on your body.

He used his left hand to wipe sweat off your face. With a soft smile, Caleb brushed some stands of hair away from your face and gave you a soft kiss on your chin.

Your heart swells at the sight of him beaming at you. He is so pretty, you can just stare at him forever.

Even when he loves teasing you endlessly.

"Look at the time, pip-squeak. You still have a few minutes left to spare. You still have to shower, right?"

rafayel

"I can't believe you're leaving me for a fictional character."

Rafayel sulks in his bathtub, pouting with his arms crossed as you stand by his feet, facing him with a blank expression.

"Go on, then. Leave. Leave me for your vampire fake boyfriend. I could die, but go on."

"He's not a vampire."

"Oh, so you admit that he's your fake boyfriend?"

You moved to the side and rested your arms on the rim of the bathtub, then you poked Rafayel's cheek. "It's just a movie, you big baby."

Tara invited you to watch a movie with her since she knows you like that series as well. Rafayel was invited to go too, but he's not a big fan of it and would prefer to stay home.

He has better things to do, he said.

And by that, he means taking a bath for as long as he could, until Thomas checks up on him and the painting he's supposed to be finishing up soon.

"It's just for a few hours. I'll be back by tonight, okay?"

Rafayel grabbed your hand just as you started to walk away to leave the bathroom.

"Wait, but Miss Bodyguard.... I'm not feeling so good all of a sudden...."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Something feels....weird...."

"Where?"

You put your hand on his forehead to check if he has a fever.

"Not there."

Rafayel took your hand and guided it elsewhere.

"Here."

Lower, and lower, and lower.

Down his chest.

Below the warm, bubbly water.

Between his thighs.

And by weird, he means that he's hard. Little did you know, Rafayel was thinking of dirty things as soon as you walked in the bathroom and he saw your outfit.

It was just a casual, pretty dress that you'd worn once on a date with him. Still, he can't help but imagine himself fucking you in it.

"Miss bodyguard...." Rafayel whispers just as your hands wrapped around his cock. "Before you leave, can you help me feel better?"

"But I'm...."

He thrusted into your hand, slowly.

Rafayel's moans cut you off, and the glorious sound went straight to your pussy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as droplets of water trickled down his skin.

Maybe.... maybe it should be fine.

It's not like you have to leave right away, right? The traffic shouldn't be too bad today. You can still make it on time. This won't take long.

That's what you told yourself before tightening your fist on his cock and stroking him faster. You pressed your lips against Rafayel, who was surprised at the sudden contact but didn't hestitate to kiss you back hard.

He held your jaw with one hand to keep you in place while his tongue grazes yours. The sound of your lips smacking against each other joined the spashing of water from the bathtub as your hands moved under it.

Rafayel's lower body started to squirm, unable to contain himself from the overwhelming pleasure you were delivering. With his face flushed, he lets out slow, ragged breaths to calm himself down.

He wanted to cum, but he didn't want you to go just yet. You can't leave so soon. Not until he's been inside you.

"Darling.... I need you." he whines against your ear. "Please...."

Your breath hitched at his expression. So needy, just for you. You were wet and clenching behind your panties, feeling just as desperate as him. "Get up."

He paused for a moment before realizing the intention of your words. He hurriedly stood up from the bathtub and dried his body with a towel, then wasted no time reattaching himself onto you.

His lips returned to yours while his hands busied themselves by removing your clothes and letting them fall to the floor.

With your back against the wall, Rafayel wrapped your legs around his hips. Then, he pushed his cock into you. He buried his face between your breasts, groaning at the feeling of you squeezing him so tightly.

You felt so, so, good, he almost didn't want to move. For a moment, he just wanted to stay like that, with him inside you, warming him up. But his cock was throbbing. He needed to feel all of you, and he can't afford to waste any second.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing him even more into you as you gasped for air. Your heart is racing at every thrust, and your eyes were clouded with the steam that took over the bathroom, caused by the temperature of the bath's water as well as your own heavy breaths.

"So...good...." Rafayel murmurs against your skin as your hand brushed against the bond mark on his chest.

He started to move even faster and harder that your back was no longer against the wall; your body was bouncing up and down his cock, letting you feel him even more.

You grunted his name, pressing your nails down his skin and making him moan louder in return while he strengthens his hold on your hips. Just then, he felt his body tightening up and his core convulsing. Without a warning, Rafayel pulls out of you and bursts all over your thighs.

Your body tumbles onto his arms as your legs weakened from your own release. Rafayel picked you up bridal style and sat you on the vanity top in front of the mirror.

He wiped your face and body with a clean towel and gently fixed your hair with a comb.

"Hey, Miss Bodyguard...." Rafayel grinned. "I bet your fictional vampire fake boyfriend can't make you make those pretty noises like I just did."

You frowned and squished his cheeks with one hand. "I have to let Tara know I'm not gonna make it before the trailers for the movie because...my fish was being a brat."

"Heh."

Rafayel looked way too proud of himself.

zayne

It was Zayne that woke you up way before your alarm could even ring. You have a dentist appointment early in the morning, and your lover who doesn't like them very much says it's always important that you show up to your appointments on time.

That's why he had taken the liberty of waking you up early.

You were having a dreamless but peaceful sleep when you were pulled into consciousness by light feather kisses tickling your neck and shoulders.

An arm rested on your stomach and gently rubbed you for comfort before it pulled you back so that you're right against a strong chest.

"Darling, are you awake?"

You're still half-asleep and lacked the energy to come up with a response, so you kept your eyes and mouth shut, ready to fall back into your slumber.

Your alarm hasn't given you a heart attack yet, so you still have time to sleep. Even if you only had one minute left, you'll take it.

Zayne disagrees.

He thinks you should wake up now.

So, he gives you kisses that are more intense than before. He tangled his legs with yours and pressed his hips against your ass while his mouth sucks the skin between your neck and right shoulder.

Quiet moans fought their way out from your lips, but your eyes refused to open despite your twitching eyelids.

Zayne's hand on your stomach traveled higher to feel your chest at the same time he rutted his hips onto your ass.

He's only wearing his boxers, and you're only wearing a thin underwear underneath the shirt you robbed from his closet. You should be feeling the friction quite well, so he has no doubt that he'd get your attention no matter how light or deep you're sleeping right now.

But as it turns out...

His own actions affected him much faster than you did. His cock hardened immediately just by pressing against you and feeling you up.

He only meant to tease you a little, and that backfired on him so bad.

He can't stop now.

Zayne continued to hump your ass until his boxers were stained from his own excitement. He faced the ceiling for a moment to catch his ragged breath, then he stuck one hand in his boxers and wrapped his fist around his cock.

He stroke himself slowly, feeling all blood rushing to his crotch. He was throbbing and leaking, and his hand feels like it's not going to be enough no matter what he does on his own.

Zayne shifted sideways once again and closed the distance between your bodies. He kissed your shoulder before brushing his cock against your clothed pussy, staining it with his pre-cum.

Your legs twitched at the sudden feeling that struck your core. You gasped and opened your eyes just for Zayne's thumb to enter your mouth and feel your tongue.

You heard him groan softly from behind you.

"Zayne..."

He paused for a moment, too flustered to come up with an immediate response.

"G-good morning..."

But he couldn't stop himself from moving, from chasing after the ecstatic feeling you were giving him.

"Can I...." His words comes out shaky as he struggles to hold himself back. "I need you. Please, can I-"

You held his right hand that had been hovering over your chest. "Go ahead, Zayne."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please."

He already had you fully aroused. There was no way you could just walk away without being fucked by him.

You grinded your ass back to him, encouraging him to do as he please, and so Zayne pulled down your panty and fully sheathed himself into you.

He knew you could take him. You've always taken him so well, and so he started to move fast right away. You struggled to keep your volume low as he dove into you hard with every thrust, causing the entire bed to shake.

The drops of sweat that stuck to your skin had been turned into specks of snow as Zayne loses control of his movements as well as his own breathing.

He had to bury his face against your neck as he feels his senses starting to feel overwhelmed with desire and pleasure.

He needed to feel you more.

Faster.

Deeper.

The moment you clenched tightly around his cock, Zayne fell apart. He came inside you hard, some had started to spill out of you, mixing in with your own release.

Both of you rested your back against the mattress to catch your breaths and regain your senses.

And even then, Zayne's cock remained stiff.

The moment your eyes fell to it, ready to offer him your service, your alarm clock finally blared and made you jump.

"Fuck... I have to start getting ready."

You sat up, only for Zayne to follow your action. He took your arms and legs and guided you to sit on him. On his lap.

"It's okay if you're a few minutes late." He lowered your ass into his cock, earning a soundless gasp from you. "They'll understand how hard it is.... to get up in the morning..."

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Eastern Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[Next Part]

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - v

selkie!soap x reader. depression. strangers to "lovers." shower sex. cunnilingus. smut. manipulative soap. oysters as an aphrodisiac. unstable narrator. . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

You watch him over an open book.

It’s an old romance, something from the eighties. Classic bodice ripper, billowing sleeves, tight corsets, mullets and heaving bosoms and all. Naturally, it’s set on a pirate ship, the heroine as the unlucky spoils of a merchant ship raid and the hero a lusty captain able to pierce her virgin’s desire for sexual depravity.

It could only have been more pointed at you if it had been set in the North Atlantic—it isn’t—but you glare at Soap’s back anyway.

He must be able to feel it, because he stands straight at the wheel, shoulders thrown back, occasionally flexing.

The freak.

You’d realized the joke he’d been making, once your heartbeat had slowed. Hiding the pelt somewhere obvious enough for you to see it. You live in the age of the internet—you know what it’s supposed to mean.

And you kind of hate him for it. Now, post-coitus, you can’t shove it away into a box—he is the most attractive man you’ve ever encountered. Rugged and handsome, competent at everything you’ve seen him do, seemingly at home wherever he finds himself. Everything makes him smile. Nothing seems to disconcert him.

And a nice big cock he actually knows how to use. Certainly the best lay you’ve ever had.

What every woman traveling solo, you think, longs to encounter on a solo trip across the world, but will never acknowledge looking for. An answer to an unaddressed desire; proof that satisfaction is out there to find, if it’s searched for.

A lover with no conditions. Someone willing to strip your inhibitions away, knowing your protests are only token.

You had not been searching. You’d given up searching.

And now he mocks you—with every satisfied glance he throws over his shoulder.

“Good book?” he asks, all casual and pleased. “S’ one a’my favorites. Tell me when you get to the naval battle.”

You frown. “You haven’t read this.”

He gives a little huff of amusement. “Read all of ‘em, bonnie.”

No, this is where you draw the line. A good cook, a good fuck, and a romance reader? No. No, you absolutely will not take this.

“Sure you have, Johnny,” you grouse, “you read every single stupid book on that shelf. Sure. Hell, you’ve read books that aren’t on that shelf. You’ve read every new release from the last six months, even. Why not.”

He looks at you again over his shoulder, mouth curled. “Aye. Needed ideas, once a’knew you were comin.’”

He says it matter-of-factly, with only a little bit of pride. As if it was a natural step in the process of getting ready for your arrival—renovate the croft. Stock the fridge and pantry. Plan some island excursions.

Study the erotic mind of the average woman to divine how best to seduce her.

Your frown deepens, and you lift the book higher, making it a barrier between you and him. Loser. Couldn’t he just go to the mainland for a few days if he wanted pussy? Not like it would be hard to find, for him.

You resolve to ignore him for the rest of the trip. A petty endeavor, maybe, but it’s the only one you can make.

But six hours is six hours, and you can’t read the whole time. Periodically you have to get up to stretch your legs, and the windows wrapping around the bridge draw your attention to the sea outside.

Johnny drives the trawler at a remove along the coastline, keeping close enough to the islands for easy viewing. The denizens of the Hebrides are out en masse, enjoying the clear weather, joyfully populating the land- and seascape in the absence of human interlopers.

Porpoises, so much smaller than you might have expected, periodically catch the wake of the boat, swimming alongside, playful and curious. Gulls loop in the air above the dunes, fronds of grass fluttering in the breeze. Gannets, stark white, arrow down into the waves, wings folded back pin-straight as they spear their quarry—silvery fish that boil the surface of the water in their frenzy.

Some removed part of you enjoys their pleasure secondhand. The normally-grey ocean is vibrant in the sunlight, crystalline and sparkling and as blue as Johnny’s eyes.

He seems to be in a good mood, too, although that could just be because you let him fuck you. You feel his eyes on you even as you refuse to look at him, dancing along the curves of your body the same way his fingertips might.

At one point—“Bonnie, I know you’re sulking an’ all, but c’mere.”

He gestures you over to the cockpit, and—embarrassed at being called out—you join him. He brings a hand to the small of your back, stepping behind you and pointing over your shoulder.

A gray wall of passing cliffs, and crags of rock jutting up from the churn at their base. You see ten or twelve grey-and-white seals lounging across every available flat surface, some cuddled in groups of three or four, apparently unbothered by the periodic spray of breaking waves.

“No’ where I’d choose to have a kip, personally,” Johnny says, sounding amused.

You turn your head to look at him, hard. His eyes soften when they meet yours, and he tilts his head to kiss you, undeterred even when you flinch away from it.

His hand tightens across your back, fingers digging in. He sucks your bottom lip between his and caresses it with his tongue, as he edges beneath the hem of your shirt to spread his hand across the warming skin of your back.

“I’m mad for ya,” he murmurs when he pulls away, blush high on his cheeks.

“It’s been two days,” you deadpan.

He presses up behind you, open hand sliding around to press into the low part of your belly, right at the sensitive crest of your mons; you can’t help your gasp when, at the same time, his erection nestles into the cleft of your ass.

“No’ to this,” he purrs in your ear. “Feels like it’s been forever, for this.”

When his fingers start making their way beneath the waistband of your pants, you grab his hand and wrench it away, scoffing.

“You’re just a fucking horndog,” you sneer, betrayed by the heat spilling through your core.

“Aw, you break my heart, bonnie,” Johnny simpers, but there’s a mocking edge to it. As if he knows exactly what you’re hiding.

You step away from him, folding your arms across your chest and staring out at the basking seals instead. Then—

“There’s one in the water,” you say.

A few meters away from the rocks, a round head pokes up from the surface, bobbing with the rise and fall of the waves. Its eyes are slitted closed, nostrils dilating.

“Aw, he’s bottling,” Johnny says affectionately, when he comes over to look. “Look at his wee face.”

You remember suddenly your encounter of the previous day—another lone seal, resting apart from its fellows.

“I saw one on the beach,” you say, “yesterday, after you dropped me off. A big one. You didn’t say they might show up.”

“Male?” he asks, and you nod. “Peripheral male, then. I’m no’ surprised.”

You sigh. “And that is…”

As if magnetized, his hands find you again, this time settling on your waist. It seems that Johnny’s touch is something impossible to escape, in his vicinity. He drags them down over your hips and back up almost idly, as if he’s not even thinking about doing it.

“There’s dominant males, and then there’s the rest of ‘em. Only the dominant ones get to breed at the rookeries, see? And the rest of ‘em have to wait around for the females to leave to have their chance.”

He leans into you from behind, nose in your hair, and you hear him inhale as his hands tighten.

“Once a peripheral male finds a female alone, separated from the colony, ready to go back out to sea—well, that’s his chance to pounce.”

You frown, mostly to yourself. “No matter how the female feels about it.”

“We’ve been over this,” he chides.

He brings his lips to the curve of one ear, then the soft spot behind it. His nose finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where the capillaries that he broke with his teeth still throb whenever you press your fingers to them. He inhales again, deeply.

“Why do you do that?” you grouse, unwilling to give him the win.

“Like how you smell,” he says, doing it again.

His tongue caresses the bruise before he closes his mouth over it—but he goes no further than to kiss your neck twice more before returning to the wheel. It leaves you reeling, half-dizzy with arousal, and when you stomp back to your seat with a frustrated growl, he only glances over at you, smirking, and laughs.

He finds a berth in the early evening to park the trawler, and at that point you’re thankful for any kind of solid ground to set your feet on, as well as enough open air to disperse whatever pheromones have saturated the enclosed space of the bridge.

You’ve been half-tempted the whole time to make him drop anchor and drag him belowdeck toward the nearest flat surface big enough for the two of you to share; as it is, you’ve simply stewed in your own juices instead, hot with angry arousal and ignoring the slick pooling in the gusset of your underwear.

Johnny steps out into the cooling air in his usual kilt and sweater, and you once again huddle in his jacket, aromatic with his musk, as he leads you onward. This time, unlike the last excursion, he insists upon holding your hand the whole way, callused fingers worming their way between yours, the captured air hot and humid between your palms.

Callanish turns out to be a henge of standing stones.

Meters-tall megaliths, squarish and narrow like broken teeth, surrounding a burial site and extending in two directions as if lining a road. Inevitably evocative of its cousin Stonehenge, with the notable exception that you are allowed to go up and touch the stones with your bare hands.

���They used ‘em for that TV show,” Johnny informs you as the two of you circuit the main ring. “Well, no’ these, they probably had styrofoam for that, but they got the idea from these.”

You lay your free hand on the nearest stone; it’s cold, and rough to the touch, a day’s worth of sunlight evidently not sufficient to warm it. Tiny spots of moss and lichen cling to the old stone, green and eggshell white.

“Why are we allowed to touch them?” you say. You think of bronze statues, rubbed to a golden gleam by millions of tourist hands.

“That’s Lewisian gneiss, bonnie,” says Johnny, laying his hand, much larger, next to yours. His thumb teases the side of your pinky. “Doubt you could make much of a mark on it. This rock here? Three billion years old.”

You look at him, seeing his profile. The expression on his face is soft—not unlike the way he looked at you earlier, on the way here. He spreads his fingers over the stone, tendons furrowing down the back of his sun-weathered hand.

“No’ just older than us,” he continues. “Older than what we used to be, a’fore we were us. Was there when we first made fire. Was there when we came down th’ trees. Was there all the way back when we left the ocean for the first time—”

He looks at you, then. The setting sun catches in the dips of his irises, setting jewel blue aflame.

“An’ it’ll be there, bonnie, when we go back.”

The wind curls around the stones with the chill of the oncoming night. Even despite the jacket, despite the walk up to the site—you feel it penetrate beneath your skin, deep into your bones.

You choose derision, to reject the shiver.

“And you have this all memorized,” you say.

Johnny doesn’t respond. He continues to stare at you, mouth in a relaxed, but inscrutable line.

You suddenly remember that you do not know this man; though he’s told you enough about himself to fill out his background—you don’t know him. You don’t know how he feels about most things, what’s important to him, why he may find one thing or another meaningful. Not the way you’d have to, in order to understand why the gaze he fixes on you feels so significant.

Whatever you’re supposed to understand in the way he looks at you now, you don’t have the ability to discern. The only thing that occurs to you is that, perhaps, you’ve finally managed to offend him.

It does not satisfy you as much as you might have imagined—

In fact, the thought drops through your belly like a rock.

Again. You did it again.

In the one place you thought you’d never have to face this—you did it again. Here is someone who seems to like even the worst of you, and you somehow found an even uglier side of yourself to show him, a squirming thing that cannot help but sling itself around with no heed for the damage it can cause.

But when you open your mouth to say something reparatory, something that certainly won’t fix what you’ve broken no matter what he might say, his expression softens into something thoughtful.

“Visited when I first came here,” he says. Completely unbothered. “After the discharge an’ all.”

You blink. Sharp heat and the numbness of cold, warring across your face.

“Why?” you ask.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and lifts his hand from the stone, smiling ruefully. “I was a bastard back then. Didnae wan’ anything’ to do with anyone anymore. Mad at the world, a’was.”

Shucked like an oyster; scaled like a fish. Heat wins out, even in the growing chill. Tender skin scalding itself.

“And what,” you say, reflexively nasty, panic whirring up behind your breastbone, “you thought—you’d get some sort of, magical insight here?”

Johnny laughs. “Naw, a’was just pissing my money away, bonnie. Thought I’d come up here an’ try t’ knock one over.”

Tight chest. Can’t breathe. You step away from him, far away, hide it like you’re looking at another of the standing stones, but a stabbing pain spears upward through your diaphragm.

In—count—hold—out—

“Could you?” you ask, wringing something like a normal tone out of your voice.

“Nope. Paid for it later, though.”

He says it casually. He hasn’t noticed. You reach out to the new stone, drag your fingers overtop of the rough surface, imagine every little bump flipping the friction ridges of each print like pages of a book. Cold—the rock is cold. The wind is cold, and sharp with the smell of rain. The jacket is heavy on your shoulders.

The jacket smells like Johnny.

“I’m sure the park wardens weren’t happy,” you say, feeling your heart slow in your chest.

“No,” he says, and—with the silence of a lightning strike—“I drowned, afterwords, first time I went to sea.”

You look back at him. The wind picks up, ruffling the ends of his mohawk; on the horizon, a rind of darkness splits the clouds from the earth.

“You drowned?” you repeat.

The hem of his kilt flutters and dances. His gaze is intense—the angle of his brow unreadable.

“Aye, bonnie. I did.”

Your ears begin ringing—as you stare at him, you get the sense of dreaming. There’s a distinction to Johnny that contrasts the landscape framing him, a sharpness so focused that everything else lenses around him.

“Why—why are you here?” you find yourself asking, though you’re not entirely sure why. The question leaves you as if surfacing on its own power.

The corners of his mouth quirk—although for once, he doesn’t smirk at you, the way he always does.

“You tell me,” he murmurs.

He holds you in the tilt of his head; in the depths of his eyes, currents pulling you downward. You inhale, and expect, for some reason, water to pour into your lungs.

Then a gust of wind buffets the two of you. Johnny turns, surveying the sky. Breaking the spell, he says, “Come on, let’s get back. I don’ like the look a’that storm.”

Halfway back down the path, the front overtakes you; rain begins sheeting down, ice cold, needle-precise into your hair and down your collar. Johnny grabs your hand again even as you start worrying about slipping, and though the torrent veils the way, the both of you make it back to the trawler in one piece.

Back on the bridge, a red light blinks on the panel by the wheel. While Johnny attends to it, flipping a switch and bringing a microphone on a curly wire to his mouth, you squeeze your hair out over the sink nearby.

“This is Soap on the vessel Sea Ghost,” he says, and waits for a response.

“Soap. Drop anchor somewhere. Looks like a storm’s coming in,” a gruff voice comes in.

“Yeah, Cap, we noticed,” Johnny says with a laugh, turning and smiling at you. “We’re moored, dinna fash.”

“Good. Looks like it’s just for the night. Clear enough in the morning.”

“Barry. You got everything? Shops’ closed tomorrow.”

“Never will understand why. But yes.”

“It’s a holy day, Captain,” Johnny says pleasantly.

Price grumbles something about damn Catholics and their damn rules, which just makes Johnny laugh.

Then, “Gaz is here. Made it in after you left.”

Johnny’s posture shifts. Similar to a dog hearing the turning of a doorknob; amorphous attention coalescing, finding a target to point at. Anticipatory. Tail twitching, winding up to wag.

It’s a new reaction, to you—you’ve never seen it before.

Johnny lifts the transmitter to his mouth. He holds it there for a silent moment, before saying, “And Simon?”

No response from the other end of the line, pulled taut, as if snagged. Then Price responds “Haven’t heard yet.”

Something passes over Johnny’s face. Some flex of the muscle in his jaw. An expression held in check.

That’s—

That’s familiar.

“Alright. Back tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

He replaces the mic on its hook.

Thunder claps somewhere over the distant, open ocean. The trawler creaks and groans as the wind swirls around it. Yellow lamps illuminate the warm, wooden space, but are unable to penetrate the lowering blackness outside.

Tension—you can feel it drawing tight, see his shoulder blades shifting closer together. It aches in the muscles of your own back. He faces away from you, like you’re not there—

He turns to look at you. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t look quite real. As if he’s forcing the expression on his face.

“Poor bonnie,” he croons, looking you up and down. The tenor of his voice is saccharin-sweet and thick. “How’s a hot shower sound to warm up, hmm?”

Your belly pinches. “Sure.”

He leads you down a steep flight of stairs into the stomach of the boat, showing you into a single bedroom. The space is cramped, wedge-shaped—barely enough room for the double bed shoved into the middle of it, sheets and blankets gathered in rumples across the top. The unique musk of its occupant wars with the smell of lacquer; the walls are lined with orangey planks, evoking the sailing ships of old.

Directly to the left of the entrance, an open door leads into a small bathroom, into which Johnny guides you, hands on your hips.

“Go’ plenty a’ drinking water stored upstairs so take all the time you like,” he says. “Here, lemme show you how the taps work.”

You half-expect him, after the instruction, to stand there and watch, waiting until you undress. And he does hesitate for a moment, hovering in the threshold, before giving you a practiced grin, telling you to enjoy yourself, a closing the door behind him.

You stand in the middle of the tiny room for an uncertain heartbeat. Assumptions lurching. Almost—hoping.

His heavy footsteps climb back up the stairs.

So, you peel off your damp clothes and drop them into a pile on the floor, stepping naked into the shower. It’s far less mildewed than you might have worried of a single man living alone. Hot water chases cold out of your hair, streaming with pressure far superior to the cottage’s installment.

You realize your toiletries are still above deck, in your bag, beneath the two paperbacks Johnny packed that you haven’t gotten to just yet. You could step out after him—

You don’t do that anymore. You promised yourself.

The floor sways as the shifting sea rocks the trawler in its berth. You reach for the bar on the wall to steady yourself.

One version of yourself is sometimes able to fool the other. The truth is, you could have told him to stop at any time. Put your foot down, hard. Just because he owns the house you’re staying in doesn’t mean he gets to decide what your entire vacation is going to look like.

You scoff at yourself, without any humor. Vacation. Like you’d ever believed this was anything more than self-imposed exile.

The truth is, water takes the shape of the container it fills.

There’s a chill still present in your hair follicles. Impossible for you to identify until now; live with an ache long enough and it stops registering, until it’s balmed with a moment of relief. This is where the addicts begin; experiencing, for the first time, a complete absence of pain, as if it had never been there in the first place, and, once that pain is restored, the ruthless pursuit of its elimination.

Cold rain outside, warm rain within. You stand in the flow, listless. Steam rapidly clouds the empty spaces around you, gathering in droplets on the wall, drizzling down again.

That’s where the mistake is. Pain is never defeated—only deferred. Its panacea provides only diminishing returns, until it’s useless. Until you might as well be swallowing sugar pills or drinking seawater to assuage your thirst.

But you keep doing it. You remember too well how it felt. You chase it down because now you know how it feels.

At some point you have to understand that it always ends poorly.

The bathroom door opens again, and then the shower door, spilling yellow light into the shadowed recess—

Johnny.

The expression on his face is inscrutable; mysterious, as his gaze moves down your body, following the streaming water. Your arms curl around your chest in a perfunctory attempt to conceal yourself, even despite the futility of the effort.

He’s naked, and half-hard, a refrain on the previous night. One hand holds the travel-size soaps and gels that he must have dug out from your bag. He steps in behind you—enclosing the two of you in together.

“Sorry, bonnie,” he murmurs soothingly in your ear. “Had t’make sure we were tied up for the storm.”

The space is not even suggestive of being big enough for two people. You hear the squeak of the shower wall against his shifting back, hot skin slipping against yours as his hands draw you back against him by the hips.

“Dinnae want you t’slip an’ hit your head,” he murmurs, massaging the fat of your pelvis, as if there’s any reason to make excuses for what he’s doing.

Half-raised hackles petted down too easily. You relax into his touch, even as you disdain it. Your heart tremors in your chest.

“What’s going on tomorrow?” you finally ask. “Who’s Simon?”

Pathetic. A jealous lover, after less than forty-eight hours.

“Old task force,” he answers, kissing the back of your head. “Little reunion, food an’ beer, mostly.”

You half-expect him to go immediately for your breasts, or maybe your pussy. His cock is stiffening against the small of your back. But instead, he opens one of your bottles, squirts some pearly body wash into the palm of his hand. Rubbing a little to lather it, he puts his hands back on your hips, and begins massaging it into your skin.

Inward, up your stomach. Pressing into the soft parts of it, with the water slicking his way. His mouth touches the back of your neck—softly. Tenderly. With all of the languor you rejected the previous night, and not enough space for you to slap it away again.

His lips press inward, looking for the bite he left, which he lays his tongue on as if in contrition, licking it like a dog with a wound. The comfortable warmth of the shower swelters with his added body heat; the steam pulses in time with the heavy beats of your heart.

One hand slides up your body, fording your thoracic arch, the wedge of his hand ascending the length of your breastbone. He cups your jaw, bubbles between his fingers, one of your breasts nestling between his bicep and forearm.

He tilts your head to the side as he cranes his head further into your neck, lipping at the space behind your ear, kissing delicate, sensitive skin, as his other hand drags soap around your ribs, beneath and over both breasts, up into your pits and back down again.

A doll in his hands, bent along the shape of his will. He shifts his hips, frotting his erection against you.

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny, this isn’t anything. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Aye, bonnie,” he hums. “Whatever you say.”

He licks a hollow in your throat.

His other hand dips lower, sweeping down into the crease of one thigh to round the lower swell of your hip; then back up again, fingers spreading.

The stall compresses your arms close against you; the only space you have available to lay your useless hands is on his arms. The dark hair you find with your fingertips is coarse, wiry, plastered to hot skin with water. The spray seeps between the both of you, streams in the runnels of flesh pressed together.

Between your legs, your clitoris heats, awakening even though untouched. You give a small whine, and Johnny huffs a little chuckle in your ear, suckling your neck as his fingers make the descent back, rinsed in the falling water, teasing your pubic hair before nudging your folds apart.

He finds you slick and aching. He only dips lower briefly to wet his fingers, and then, as he settles a light touch over where you’re most desperate for it, relief razes through your nerves in a sudden wash.

You search for the back of his head, slotting your fingers into the ends of his mohawk at the nape of his neck. He hums against you, hand dropping down from your jaw to cup one breast in his palm, weighing it, thumb flicking around the pert nipple in the same tight circle he draws around your clitoris.

Orgasm, usually so obvious on approach, sneaks up on you, quick and quiet, but when it takes you it floods you, rather than knocking you down. You tremble all over, the follicles on your scalp standing on end, the nerves down your back and sides bending like dune grass to a wind.

Your long, breathy cry reverberates against the shower walls, and you lean heavily back against Johnny’s body, grip tightening where you have your hands on him.

He twitches against your back, but he makes no move to chase his own climax. He only turns you carefully, when you recover, and lays his hot, open mouth on yours, tugging your hips close enough to trap his cock against your belly. This time, the wall is cool at your back, the crown of your head moving against it as Johnny angles himself deeper, sliding his tongue between your lips.

“C’mon,” he says, when he finally pulls away. His pupils are huge, black dilation swallowing the blue. The spray fills the empty spaces between the strands of his mohawk, fluffing the hair a little as it courses down the shaved sides of his scalp. “Need to get my mouth on you again, bonnie.”

This time, when he eats you out, he does it at his leisure. Licking honey off a spoon. So lightly that you whine at him, find the energy to bitch at him to do it like he means it, but tonight he does not indulge you.

No—he mouths at you, eyes closed, curly lashes against his cheek as you lay belly-up on the rumpled sheets of his bed. The heat of his tongue in your cleft is the only source of warmth you have as the rain lashes at the outside of the trawler, but the hot shower still lingers in your skin—

Humid. Sticky. Sweat gathering beneath Johnny’s palms where he holds your thighs to his ears, as if mimicking the way your sex will clutch around him when he enters you. Slick and tight and viscous.

When he crawls up your body—nosing at your belly, your breasts, inhaling as if your musk is something he’s trying to get drunk on—he fucks you slow and deep. You stop being able to tell if it’s the storm rocking the boat, or the weight of his hips rolling against yours, one of his hands on the headboard for leverage and the other on your mons, pressing down with the heel of his hand to feel the head of his cock moving in you.

Tacky skin catching on the grind; heart speeding up as he grins at you from above, thumb tapping your clitoris. Enough to wind you up. You reach for his hips with your clawed hands, digging your nails into the meat of his ass—firm, muscle tensed, twitching every time he bottoms out.

“Johnny,” you finally beg, on the edge of a sob, “please, Johnny, please—”

Breath leaves him like a steam valve turned, pressure carrying an uninhibited moan. He ignores your plea, hips rolling slow, forcing you to feel every inch of him in and out of you, every ridge—every vein pulsing on the surface of his cock.

His eyes are closed still; when the widest part of him catches the rim of you around him again, his mouth drops open, lips pink and bitten.

Lost—he’s lost in pleasure, in the feeling of you around him, pulling him in. You watch his chest as it heaves, the flex of his stomach as it tightens—the twitch in the muscles of his arms as the impact of each thrust ripples up his body.

Look at me, you want to say. Look at me. I’m right here. Look at me.

“Again,” he groans, choked, restrained, hands gripping your hips. “Say it again, bonnie—”

“Please—” you whine, on the edge of a sob, “please, please, please—”

Thumb metronoming at a quick tempo where you need it—you seize, back arching, tightening around him so narrowly you could force him out—

He snarls, sharp and hard, thrusting into the resistance, hands falling to fist in the mattress. Breath coming rough and fast, sweat dripping from his forehead into the cups of your collarbones and down between your breasts. Hard and fast now, pushing in as far as your body will let him, and a final, long moan tears from his parted lips, liquid heat flooding you as Johnny goes rigid with a climax following only moments after your own.

Pelvis flush with your thighs. He doesn’t let a drop escape, pushing against you, lifting your hips from the bed.

“Tha’s right,” he slurs, eyes hazy when they open. “Tha’s right, that’s where it belongs.”

He collapses on top of you, almost crushing you with his weight, as he seeks your mouth out with his. He moves his hips against yours with shallow thrusts, whining in his throat.

“Didn’t you—” you pull your lips away, too hot, too cold, buzzing and exhausted, “didn’t you just finish?”

He tongues at your cheek instead, and then down your neck. “Doesnae matter, is no’ enough. C’mon, bonnie, wrap your legs aroun’ me, please…”

After he is finally spent—long after you’ve had enough energy to do more than lay beneath him and let him use you as he pleases—Johnny diverts briefly to the galley, bringing back with him a plate of oysters and a pry knife. It’s his bed, so you don’t complain about shell fragments, but you resolve to make him change the sheets anyway, shifting uncomfortably to find a spot that isn’t soaked.

“Was on this boat,” Johnny says, as if picking up the thread of a conversation only recently dropped. He picks up one of the oysters and shucks it open. “When I drowned.”

The way he says it, you’d think it was a casual thing, something he barely thought about anymore, but the line of his brow is low and serious.

He hands you one half; you bring the shell to your lips and tip it upward. Brine slides across your tongue, flesh smooth and buttery. Johnny watches you with soft eyes before having his own.

“Price was with me. I told him to fuck off, but he said he wasnae gonna let me take it out alone the first time ever. I was a bastard back then, I told ya. We went out in a storm, like this one, even though any eedjit could take a look outside and know it’d kill him.”

You flick at the edge of the shell with your fingernail, looking down at your hands. “Why’d you do it?”

“Dunno. Had somethin’ to prove, I guess.”

“That you could still do stuff like that?”

He doesn’t respond, so you look back up at him. He angles his gaze toward the mess of your hair—the new hickies he’s left on your neck—the bead of your nipples in the cold. The hard angles of his face soften.

“All my life,” he says, measuredly, “all I wanted to be was a soldier. An’ I couldnae anymore. Even though I was better. Hell, I was better than better. But I couldnae go back. That was it. It all wen’ on withou’ me.”

He breaks open more oysters as he talks, hands steady and deft around shells and knife. When he finishes, he slides the plate into your lap, and reclines to face you on his side, propping his head up with his hand.

“We wen’ out when the waves were as tall as a man, an’ us hangin’ onto the railing for dear fuckin’ life,” he continues. There’s a faraway quality to the tone of his voice. “Only life wasnae so fuckin’ dear, was it? I could’ve held on tighter, I think. I fell off.”

“And Price pulled you out?”

That feeling again, meeting his gaze; caught in the arms of a whirlpool, being dragged down. A vial in a centrifuge, constituent parts separating.

“No,” he says, “he didnae.”

“Then…”

“Eat, bonnie.”

There’s a stillness to him that feels unnatural. Johnny is a man who should be constantly in motion, gesturing with his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tapping any available surface with rolling fingertips. Instead, here in front of you, he’s still as a statue. Chest softly rising and falling, but otherwise completely placid.

He gazes steadily at you, down at the plate, and then back up. You sigh, and pick up another shell.

“I don’t remember exactly what happened. I remember getting pushed down deep, real deep, then getting forced up again, on a current or something. Not far enough to get any air, mind. I thought, I’m gonna die out here, an’ I didnae want to.”

He shifts then, a little forward toward you.

“That seemed important, you know? I didnae want to die. Dinna think the sea would’ve given me up f’ I did. It knows. Sometimes it doesnae care. But I guess that time, it did, ‘cause after I blacked out, next thing I know I’m wakin’ up on the shore.”

Something hard shifts in your belly.

“Cap found me a bit later, bringin’ the boat in. Gave him a real scare. Think it turned some of his hair gray overnight. After that…a’was no’ the same. How could y’be, after that?”

You—you don’t want to know any of this. You don’t care. You didn’t ask. His story drops expectation on your shoulders, heavy, custom-tailored, laden with understanding that sands your abraded nerves.

All of this is too much. The damp sheets beneath you, the food, the sex. The fact that you picked the last place in the world thought you could ever meet anyone, let alone someone who—

“And now you have a seal fetish,” you sneer.

Who understands.

Indulgent. This is indulgent, reckless, idiotic in the extreme.

Soap reaches out, and wraps a large, sun-brown hand around your wrist, the one still holding the oyster. Pulling it towards him, he opens his mouth and then tips the flesh from the shell. He slurps it down, noisily, mimicking the sound of his mouth and tongue on your pussy.

“Something like that,” he says, with a sharp, cocky grin.

He changes the sheets. Dims the lights. Plasters himself around you as the storm blows itself out, arm heavy over your waist, thigh and knee nested inside yours.

He’s warm at your back, musky with the mingling aroma of dried sex and sweat.

Sturdy. More real than anything that’s ever put its hands on you.

Johnny, who the sea loved so much it spat him back out. So treasured by the world that a bullet to the brain couldn’t even take him away from it.

Who, by the sound of it, means so much to the people in his life that they would follow him to the middle of nowhere just to keep an eye on him.

Bile churns in your stomach.

next chapter early access

a/n: two chapters left!

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ozzgin]

OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG

*jitters with excitement*

I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME

Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems

To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"

*drops dead*

*instantly revives*

Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:

- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol

- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy

- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...

content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!

Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.

Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.

Safe to say you're now quite drunk.

That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.

"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.

You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.

The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.

"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.

The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.

Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.

"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"

"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.

He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.

The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.

"Please, I really need to-"

You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...

Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.

"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.

The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.

"Nonsense. You're drunk."

"I mean it", you repeat yourself.

He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.

Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.

"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."

For now, his tongue will have to do.

[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]

[krems-chair]

Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

[umbrellajam]

ok sorry I just have to yell about this real quick -

Nightwing (Vol. 2) #139 - The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul, part 6 Dick: "I let you make the choice for yourself...because I knew you'd make the right one."

Dick didn't know shit, lmao!! "Because I knew you'd make the right one" my ass lol.

Let's rewind two minutes shall we:

Dick: "Tim... Listen... There are no easy answers... But you have the right to make the choice for yourself." || Dick (internal narration): "No-win. If I stop him, I don't trust him. If he goes through with it, I shouldn't have trusted him. C'mon, Tim..."

He doesn't know what choice Tim is going to make, whether his grief will overcome him and he'll take the Lazarus water or not, and has in fact been physically fighting Tim this entire issue to stop him by force. But ultimately he knows it's Tim's right to choose for himself, and decides to hope, and have faith in his brother.

And he has that faith rewarded, and reaffirms it afterward, despite the fact that he wasn't sure.

And paralleling that moment of "yes of course I knew you had it":

Red Robin (2009) #12 Dick: "How'd you know? How did you know I'd be there to save you?" || Tim: "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me."

TIM DIDN'T KNOW SHIIIIIIIIT HGKLJDKFLSD

At least not consciously! Being caught by Dick is certainly not something he planned for, as he seems to be trying to imply.

Again, rewind:

Tim (internal narration): "I did it. I saved the people he loved. I saved everything he worked so hard to build. No compromises. He won't say anything, he never does. But I know. I know that Bruce will be proud of me. Not a bad day." || Tim: (in the midst of pASSING TF OUT) || Dick: (swoops in and catches him)

Tim may not have actually known that Dick would be there. But that catch... A falling Tim being caught by Dick is a motif that occurs over and over and over across the years of their relationship. Why do I feel like there's a part of Tim, faint as he faded out, and much stronger when he woke up, that went, "Oh, it's Dick - of course if it was anyone, I knew it would be Dick"?

After their conflicts and miscommunications in this arc, after Tim sweeping back into town and explaining not a single thing as he races to thwart Ra's, despite Dick's frustrated pleas, after cutting Dick off with a simple, "Batman...trust me," and Dick's responding, "Of course"....

Tim feeling like he knew, even if he didn't know, or plan, or expect. Because that's his brother. And choosing to express that trust, after Dick chose to trust him...

Just. Dick and Tim. Verbally reaffirming their faith in each other, even after in-the-moment doubts. BROTHERS. My emotions.

[iceunhie]

[ 3 + 1 ].

premise. in which entails your daily life being in a relationship with the one and only eccentric wanderer. (alternatively: wanderer's love for you comes in many forms. you welcome them all the same.)

warnings: established relationship, hurt-comfort, slice of life, wanderer is called kuni. jealousy (wanderer), angst. FLUFF fluff fluff. wanhida family goals

a/n: ITS SCARAMOUCHE WANDERER SEASON his event broke me btw [in tears]

BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX !

# observation one: unconventionally clingy

early on in your relationship, this side of the wanderer remains quite privy to himself alone. this is because he has a very, very uncanny similarity to an aggressive and guarded cat that hisses when given an ounce of affection.

this does not mean he doesn't like your outlandish and grand displays of affection, though; its actually the opposite. (LOL)

the true crux of the matter lies in his inability to let down his guarded pride to admit that he thinks your affection is his lifeblood. (basically, “ew, affection... do it again”)

he's a menace (affectionate), and if you were one for critiquing that aspect of his character, you wouldn't have been in a relationship with him by now, anyway.

however—there is always a however when it comes to him—this does not mean that wanderer doesn't come across points of anxiousness over the fact that his less than affable personality may be something you will grow sick of one day.

he knows he isn't the best choice of a romantic partner; seriously, what were you even thinking... but when he establishes that you are indeed now an irreplaceable part of his life (which will take a long time, good luck), he clings to you with a fierce desperation underneath all that thorn and bristle.

this is part of his visceral fear of abandonment—you are the one thing that he adores, cares for with his entire being (nahida as a close second), and to watch you slip away from him due to his own misgivings will spell out a death sentence for him.

(so please, treat him gently; cradle his cracked palms and broken psyche, and slowly, emphasis on slowly, but surely, he will learn to return in kind.)

this ‘clinginess’ comes forth in his proximity to you. once he has felt comfortable with your relationship, wanderer is quite unafraid to show how touchy he is in his own way.

whether that is to get groceries in your shared home, following after you like a second shadow when you go to the grand bazaar, or even shooing away people that harass you (tba), the wanderer's gaze and all his efforts are always directed to your will.

(you dubbed this as ‘scary cat boyfriend privilege’—and are rewarded with a painful flick to the forehead. ouch.)

—☆★☆—

“where are you going?” the slender hand that stops you from leaving your comfy bed does little to help your need to fall back into the blissful arms of sleep.

“just going to go get some water, kuni.”

waking up to the sight of the wanderer in all his divine glory certainly isn't one of the things you expected in your life, but you welcome it all the same. leaving a simple kiss to his forehead, you pry your hand away with a gentleness you reserve only for him.

he flushes, a lovely red adorning cheeks, to the span of his neck. oh, how you love seeing him melt.

“you won't take too long?”

he doesn't need to breathe, but he sucks in a breath anyway, face twisting to a deep set frown—your telltale sign that your kunikuzushi had a nightmare.

an unanswered question. you won't leave?

your hand caresses the silky soft strands of his purple hair, that in which wanderer nuzzles into. he doesn't seem keen on telling you, and you respect that. you'd wait for him as long as he'd like.

“of course i will. not going anywhere, silly.”

why would i? you convey in that same gesture. i love you.

the tightness of his face relaxes, his grip on your hand loosening. right—you weren't. (you were not going to abandon him.)

“hurry up and come back, then. it's far too early.” his voice is still thick with sleep, though that doesn't temper his signature sass at all.

i love you too. goes unsaid.

your grin sharpens, teasing. “aww, don't miss me too much, okay?”

anddd there's the signature scowl. “...never mind, don't come back.”

“hey!”

shuffling to hide his face from you, wanderer sports a genuine smile, hidden from your sight.

because in your presence, the wanderer stills, and all thoughts of a doomed eternity fall short of how he commits himself to you—wanderer loves and loves, loves you, for you nestle in the space his heart was meant to be, holding onto the mere wisps of your identity and weaving it into the mosaic of his soul.

it's silent save for when you plop yourself back to the bed, bearhugging wanderer and complaining about waking up early again because you stayed up all night playing tcg with him. (he's at 10 wins and 5 losses and he was not going to be caught lacking).

“you do realize that's entirely your fault, right?” he gloats. “it's not my fault my card bested that lawachurl of yours.”

“what?! no way, mister! my all geo team is still superior, mind you-”

once, wanderer wondered about the concept of infinity.

everlasting devotion. of unabashed care and trust. as he listens to your ramblings as the night falls to day, he figures that what you currently share fits that concept just fine.

# observation two: (very) jealous tendencies

it isn't in wanderer's intention to be jealous. well, so he says.

really, he isn't! after all, what was there to be jealous of? absurd! looks, intellect, an extensive range of vocabulary not limited to insults and creative verbal attacks; wanderer boasts quite the sizable number of pros that get most people falling at his feet. (his outward personality leaves much to be desired, however, but his snark does have a certain charm. probably).

and of all the bashful akademiya seniors and well-intentioned young women (and men), you managed to get into a relationship with this black cat of a derisive puppet. this is an achievement worthy of celebration, for not just anyone can take the wanderer and burrow into his many, many guarded walls and claim the title of being his lover.

yet, wanderer is the more jealous one in the relationship.

he knows that you won't cheat on him, and trusts that you won't look at others in such a way. but still, your boyfriend can't help but doubt. be patient when working out his jealousy, for it is a double edged sword—on one hand, wanderer was so adorable when he was jealous; sulky, clingy, hot you name it! and it was very flattering, knowing that he loved you enough to want to keep you all to himself.

but, the other side was quite... a piece of work. should you attempt to tease him about such a thing, it ends in three ways. one, him flying off to god knows where and leaving you alone (😐), two, restricting you from hugging and giving him affection (😭), and worse, giving you the silent treatment (😨). choose your ammunition wisely.

and from this, be prepared for the wanderer to monopolize your attention all to himself— with said admirers mysteriously off the grid or too afraid to approach you for fear of his wrath. i'll say it once: a jealous wanderer is a force to be reckoned with. (and we love him for it)

(he was chided endlessly by nahida for this; “you're scaring all the researchers that want to do a thesis review with [name]!” she says.

a sly smirk was his only reply).

—☆★☆—

“what, and here i thought he had more bark left in him.” wanderer huffs haughtily, with the researcher dashing away as if his life depended on it.

“you'll get scolded by nahida again, you know. i don't think the dendro archon's trusted aide should boast a terrifying reputation.”

he snorts. “lesser lord kusanali has better things to do than chide me for harassment.”

“but you don't have better things to do than scaring away poor kimiya?”

that gets you an eye roll that could reach massive highs of ‘what about it?’ from your boyfriend. “you're overthinking.” (translation: you're right).

“uh huh, sure i am.”

“whatever. who you talk to and interact with is none of my concern. it's not like i care about such things anyway.” he retorts. “i'm not possessive.”

so he says. “by the way, his pickup line was pathetic—‘are you anemo because your beauty blows me away’? atrocious.”

your eyebrow raises in return. really, who was speaking about “not caring” and then judging right after? well, it's fine because he was kinda right.... cyno would definitely get along with that guy.

“it was sincere! i think he has to be commended for his efforts, no?”

“you call that effort?” his face scrunches to a dissatisfied frown.

kinoya, kimiya—he doesn't even remember his name anymore. wanderer doesn't care for those that waste his time, and more especially to those that attempt to get close to you in particular. honestly, what a cheap trick.

and you! you were seriously humoring that moony researcher earlier. you even smiled at him! wanderer seethes, crossing his arms. “its quite irritating, knowing that they flock to you under the guise of—what was it he said? right, ‘shared academic pursuits.’ it was too obvious.”

“first of all: that's rude, second, he really needed help! anyone would feel sorry for him.” you tut, pinching the smooth of wanderer's palm. you wisely decide not to comment on how he immediately interlocks hands with you.

you snicker. “and he was only asking for advice on his research topic, silly.”

“hah! how nice — you're defending him now.” it's incredible how wanderer has the uncanny ability to be just like an annoyed cat that dunked itself into a bucket of cold water; and the way he frowns at you only makes you let out an even worse fit of laughter.

wanderer drinks in the sound, resonating it with the beat of his soul, your laugh the heartbeat echoing deep within his veins. he is reduced to nothing with you—with you, his face relaxes; wanderer may be indifferent to humans, but with you, your mere existence is enough for him to falter like a human, weaken like a human.

and weakly, perhaps in an attempt to save face, he speaks, “you didn't deny it.”

“deny what?”

“...defending him.” (if he were a cat, his ears would definitely fall flat right now).

you let out another light laugh, but sparing your lover the torment, you cling to the side of his arm instead.

“i never had such intentions.” stating it quite firmly, “i'm only saying that there's no competition to be made, darling.”

he gives you a skeptical look in return. “was there even any?”

“none at all.” you lean closer to him, and the wanderer leans into the touch of your hand on his cheek. “since you're winning.”

the flustered blush you receive and the subconscious squeeze of his hand in yours conveys all you need to say.

that did the trick. wanderer's smile is satisfied—smug. “clearly, you managed to make the right call for once.”

“well, i could hardly resist you.”

afterwards, you note that the wanderer's pace doesn't seem as fast as usual anymore. no matter the jaw dropped stares of others at the two of you cozying up together, he never let go of your hand once.

(the next day, kimiya comes to you with a sheepish smile saying that he'd like to focus on his own without your help.

“was it your doing?” you look at the wanderer by your bedside table fastening his vision in pace, voice deadpanning.

“hah? why would i waste my time over some insignificant mortal?” he replies, but as he's putting on his hat, you see him smile to himself.

that little...)

# observation three: secretly? protective/considerate (green flag!!)

if you ask anyone who knows the wanderer on a personal note, you'd find out that he is, indeed, quite considerate—hidden underneath alllll that snark and aloofness and haughtiness, the wanderer cares for those who have helped him in some way, and with you as his partner (romantic), that care is multiplied tenfold hundredfold.

this quality of his, despite being endearing on paper and practice, is reminiscent of that of an aggressive mother hen; if you count wanderer as a hen that pecks someone incessently to show his care.

he chides you like an exasperated young maiden, but the soft way he handles your bruised arm littered with injuries from your recent run in with some strange fontainian seahorse contradicts his harsh scoldings.

(“bested by a fish? are you serious?”

“excuse you, i needed to get it's horns for materials, okay?!”

“...remind me why i'm stuck with an idiot for a companion.”

“uh, because i have a great personality, and you love me?”

“a decision i've made that's quite hard to defend, honestly.”

you stick your tongue out at him. yes, his habits also become yours.)

or how he tells you you're hopeless at cooking, but always manages to excuse himself to cook for you the moment he notices even the slightest decline in your health. one concern though; he throws the bento towards your head—so minus points for domesticity. (...he has cut heart shapes into the vegetables before and has never been the same since.)

if there's anything you can count wanderer for, he will do it. you could ask him to attempt to pluck the very fabric of reality for you, string together the stars and leave them at your feet, and he will do so, huffing all the while (he never means it). he's just smitten like that; not that he would ever verbalize it—yet. his hushed and vulnerable whispers of asking you to let him stay by your side are your closest road to his admittance.

he will not serenade you with ‘shallow declarations of love,’ as he tells you, but you know that he will always be there for you, for better or for worse.

—☆★☆—

fury is an emotion wanderer was once very accustomed to—it reminds him of electric violet, of three betrayals and of yearning for a constitution he was never fated to reach.

and fury tugs at the strings of his being the moment he sees the droplets of tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision.

“who did it?” something bitter and violent manifests in his countenance, his vision pulsing angrily with gales threatening to harm. (it does not harm you, though. it never does.) “who did this to you?”

his grip on your shoulders tightens the more you refuse to answer, both from anger and fear. you're never this silent; and his panic increases when you opt to bury yourself in his neck. wanderer sighs.

“hey. i'm asking who made you cry like this, idiot.”

“...”

“fine, i won't call you an idiot, then.” but impatient way he speaks the syllables that make your name betrays his worry. “just talk to me.”

“...can we just stay here like this?”

“....”

“sorry, that was a little-” you say, voice strained, pulling away; but the wanderer tugs you close, allowing you to hide from the world that seems so out to get you. (he knows that feeling well, after all.)

it's he who entangles himself with you, listening to the steady rise of your heartbeat, wiping away your tears.

“i didn't say you couldn't hug me, stupid. it's fine. do as you like.”

if it were a person that did this to you, that would've been better murder was never really out of the table with him, but when faced with something he is unable to solve for you; whether it be a bad day, bad luck, or even something he cannot control, wanderer finds himself at a loss.

because the concept of love, with you, is foreign—terrifying, even. betrayal and scorn were his guiding compass, and to be rid of it and to be seen by you, held by you, and to know that you were not going to follow in the footsteps of those he once clung to was far too good to believe. (yet he tries. for you.)

returning your embrace only passively, he tries to scramble for words of comfort—and when he fails to find the nerve to do so, he does the only thing he can allow himself to do.

with the kindness and gentleness he fostered (still fosters, thanks to you) from his memories as the kabukimono, the wanderer holds you, if only to remind himself of his place by your side, unchanging and adamant—as you remind him of his place beside yours.

he leads you to calm yourself down, albeit roughly as he tells you to stop fussing over trying to help him get you something wipe your tears with—and for all his flushed visage, he lets you cling to him, seeking his comfort.

i'm here, it goes unsaid. wanderer knows you'd pick up on it anyway. please talk to me.

(“if i die from this, i'll come haunt you as a ghost.” you shake like a leaf in his arms, clutched tight and staring at anywhere but the ground. who comforts someone by putting them almost 80 feet up in the air? heights are so not your thing.

“like i'd let you.” wanderer says, rolling his eyes. “and you're shaking too much. just keep your eyes on me, will you?”

“...was that flirting?”

“i will drop you.”

“wait, i'm kidding!” a particular breeze leaves you in goosebumps, with wanderer tightening his grip on you. “don't let me fall, please?”

“are you stupid?” he snaps, but urges you to look at the sight of the sunset on the horizon. his hold is more gentle this time, too. “why would i let you fall? now stop shaking and hold on to me.”

you think you fell just a little harder for him that day.)

—and if you decide to press a kiss to the back of his nape as a way of thanks, you're rewarded with a playful gale and a little zap to deter you in response.

“watch it, [name].” he says, but the shifty eyed way he doesn't meet your eyes isn't fooling anyone here; neither is the red on his cheeks. “you're too close.”

“hehe, sorry, sorry, couldn't resist.”

nonetheless. he supposes the growing smile on your face in place of your tears are sufficient payment for wanderer's efforts. hmph.

he'll let it slide for today.

(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)

# deciding conclusion: totally in love with you (real not clickbait)

saying it outright: being with the wanderer is not a smooth road. it is full of hardships, hurt, and learning. there will be many times when his built in self destruction (read: abandonment issues) will kick in, hurting you in the process.

getting him to say ‘i love you’ will seem impossible at first, and there will be times when his doubt pierces your heart and renders it tattered to pieces. he's doing his best chat, pls help him

he will not be able to utter sweet words of adoration like you do, or return your embrace as easily as you would with him—and there will be many moments when he will feel as if he's not enough.

but nourish your affections, stay consistently by his side, show him that he is worth loving, worth staying for, and like the foundations of a steadily built tower, his trust and love for you too will grow.

(it will sometimes feel tiring, it will feel hopeless, and it's more than what you've bargained for, but it will all be worth it in the end.)

because you know he cares; it's in the way his expression morphs into helplessness when he sees your face fall in an argument, how he doesn't push you away when you kiss him and shower him with hugs, and when his hands lock tightly in yours in a sea of people, with you only in his sights. how his eyes betray him to look at you with fondness and warmth.

(it's wordless whenever wanderer decides to hold you tight at night, hugging you like his last lifeline. especially after a disagreement, with only the quietude of the night to observe.

he said some hurtful words today. that much he knows.

“are you asleep?” his voice is muffled against your shirt, and he may not need to breathe, but he inhales your scent anyway, memorizing the sight of you in his arms like a promise. “...you probably are.”

silence. “i'm sorry.”

“.....”

his lip trembles, his grasp on your arms bruising if not for your non-awareness. there's a wetness growing against your shirt, and small sniffles.

“i'm sorry.” and gently, so gently, wanderer presses his forehead against your shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of your body. “i shouldn't have snapped at you and told you those sorts of things.”

i'm sorry i hurt you.

please stay.

please don't let go of me.

i need you.

i love you.

when morning comes, you wake up to the sight of the wanderer in your bed, face nuzzled in your chest.

there are tearstains on his face.)

getting him to be open and vulnerable is akin to keeping a rusty, torn boat afloat; it will not be easy, no, but you know that he tries, (so very hard) to make it work. that he fights desperately against his own clumsily strung tethers and rebuilds himself anew, if only to understand and perceive you—to love you as you deserve.

and when that time comes, wanderer will cling to you, desperately, completely, and make sure your efforts will never ever make you regret giving him the chance to open up and be with you.

—☆★☆—

“what would happen if we ever broke up?”

dropping such a bombshell in the middle of having the wanderer on your lap was not how he thought things would go to, granted how pleasant the atmosphere was—he'd agreed to going on a much needed date (your words) with you after lesser lord kusanali had just graded him on one of his essay papers. (he got an a, obviously)

you don't think you've ever seen such a distraught look cross wanderer's face—aside from the time you finally beat him at tcg (5 out of 4); and you've never seen him look so angry either.

rather, he looked scared.

“what brought this idea on?” he tries to lodge out the words, trying to act coherent. but underneath, a storm brews—his hands are shaking. wanderer feels like he's swallowed a bag full of needles.

am i not doing enough? was i too harsh on them when i scolded them for fighting that damn mechanical desert robot? he's scared. or... do they really....

the mere idea of you being tired of him—sick of him, and ready to leave him behind leaves an ugly, disgusting feeling. like acid on his skin.

perhaps, you don't love him anymore? wanderer panics, senses going overdrive. was it that argument months ago when he hurt your feelings? he knows you know he apologized, and he's doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn't repeating that mistake anymore—but why would you say this out of nowhere?

or maybe it's because he didn't notice you feeling uncomfortable in your relationship? no, you would have definitely told him if so. then what is it? you don't just say things like this out of nowhere so seriously-

“i mean... at this point, i think i wouldn't ever want to break up with you.”

“...what?” wanderer blinks.

“you heard me.” cupping the sides of his face with your hands, you restate your words with more vigor. eyes determined. “i don't think i've ever loved someone so much as i love you. heck, not even close! kuni, if we break up, i might actually never recover.”

and the wanderer falls. how could you even say such a thing?

“that's... you're shameless.” he states it like an insult, but his hands go up to hide his eyes, hiding his embarrassment from your romantic words. “why would you even say something so out of pocket like that? you utter fool. you almost made me think i-”

- would lose you. even thinking it made him feel nauseous.

“why are we still dating then? but really, i mean it. i love you too much.” you coo, and that, in return, leads the wanderer to release an exasperated, weary sigh. if he were human, he's sure his blood pressure would never be normal because of you.

but contrary to his attitude, he relaxes his face and allows you to hold him. lightens up, even. you continue, rambling on, “be honest, you know you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

and that brings out such a bright and dazzling smile on your face that the puppets sarcastic smile is replaced by a real one when you huff and smack at his head. (all is well.)

“you're so unromantic.”

indeed, being with this strange, eccentric puppet was certainly a challenge in more ways than one. nonetheless, you know he cherishes you—because with you, the wanderer is different. he's bristly, infuriating, and honestly a pain (lovingly), but he cares for you.

he tells you to stop ogling at his pretty face and do the dishes, yet he never minds the attention at all. he tells you that you were a fool for accidentally getting yourself injured by eremites because you wanted to save some fungi, but follows you anyway and makes sure no one messes with you.

he says he probably wouldn't miss you while you're gone, but is always the first person you see when you return to sumeru city. it's these little things that make you love him, and you know the feeling is mutual—even if he'll act indifferent about it in the meantime.

“hey, kuni?”

wanderer's eyes are closed, serene. once he knew that you were not, in fact, going to break up with him, he relishes the feeling of his head resting on your lap. it was safe, warm, and everything to him; but he'd rather let the world burn before he tells you. “what?”

“thank you for letting me love you.”

....

“...idiot.” is all he says. you can feel him shift to the side so you won't see his face. “you don't have to thank me for that. that's so sappy...”

(and if you ever saw the slight sheen of glossiness in his eyes, you keep it to yourself.)

i should be thanking you. he thinks instead. i'm glad you love me.

so many things pop up in his head for this, so many unspoken words—and he may not be able to convey such things to you; he might never be able to, but you know that he loves, loves, and adores you.

because you accepted his past, his sins and his imperfections and treated him with tenderness and care. and you know that no matter how many sides of the wanderer you have yet to explore, you will love each one.

and that is enough for him to never let go.

a/n: IM CRYING I FINISHED THIS RIGHT ON TIME AFTER HIS EVENT and his growth has come so far,,, so proud of him 🥹

[arandomao3user]

"Jason was just a replacement for Dick." I have heard people say, "Bruce never loved him."

And, to an extent, I agree Jason was just a replacement for ROBIN, but not as a son, no, because Dick was Bruce's son and pride alright, he became his pride, the pride of Batman. But Jason did something Dick often failed to do, not from lack of TRYING but, because, it only lasted a week, maybe two before Bruce went back to that deep, dark hole he carved out for himself.

(Tim Drake: Pride Special)

Something I feel people can't possibly grasp, because maybe they can't relate or don't fully understand the significance or impact? The fact that it was the anniversary of the Wayne's deaths, Bruce's parents deaths that have haunted him for the majority of his life. He was in the cowl, he was BATMAN in the moment and it was his parents deaths, and in the same place he stayed, kneeling between the cooling corpses of his parents, knees drenched in their blood, he stayed there for possibly an hour or more. And yet, as Batman, in the cowl in the same place on the same night-- he laughed.

He laughed. Some punk, little bony street brat with a tire iron stole his tires, hit him with said tire iron, and called Batman a "big boob." and I believe Bruce was fond of Jason the moment he saw him.

Bruce and Dick were the dynamic dup, but there was also some small sense of obligation for Bruce to take Dick in. Bruce feared what Dick would've become, didn't want him to turn out like Bruce did. But with Jason? Oh, with Jason.

"Jason was the first thing Bruce allowed himself to want since his parents deaths." Is what my friend said when I was rambling to them about this, and it hit me how true it actually was.

Dick was Bruce's son, and he loved him, yet, but with Jason? BRUCE chose Jason, and he was the first Robin that Batman chose. Dick made himself Robin, Dick gave Robin to Tim and Damian, and I believe even with Stephanie it wasn't entire because Bruce WANTED her to be Robin.

Bruce, after seeing how Ma Gun's school wasn't what he thought it was, he made Jason Robin, took him home the same night (kidnapping is valid if you're Batman and he's up for grabs anyways--) and made him his SON.

He replaced Robin, but Jason was never a replacement as a son.

(Tim was the replacement as a son but we won't get into that today since that is more of my fanon over analysis of the characters--

so, yeah--)

Bruce adopted Jason about... Two weeks, I wanna say(?) after meeting him, taking him home, and I don't wanna say it was some sort of automatic attachment, but I believe Bruce saw the chance to make a proper family, and that's what he WANTED for Jason.

That's what he GAVE Jason.

I'm not digging for anymore panels, this isn't easy work for a post--

But my point stands, and even after Jason dies, Bruce wouldn't hesitate to come save him. Not out of guilt anymore, but because Jason has and always will be his son, not his favourite, because that'd make people mad if I say that (I read comics now, and even after, I still say that Jason is the favorite, but I won't make it a whole thing in this post--)

(Batman: Urban Legends #4)

Bruce, evidently, even with the violence and abuse he's shown Jason after Jason came back from the dead, has proven he'd come for him, that he won't ever give up on him.

Jason is rarely ever called his son in the comics anymore, he's rarely acknowledged to be Batman's son, and some may say "Well, that's because Jason doesn't see him as a Father." And I BEG you look at these comic panels and think that still. The words aren't said, maybe because it's to painful for Bruce to acknowledge he lost another family member, and for Jason? Hell, Bruce keeps punching him, we've all seen the panels, we've seen Dick's crash out.

Their relationship isn't perfect, Bruce has made so many mistakes, called Jason a failure, and Jason has certainly reciprocated those feelings a few times. Jason openly admits they were no dynamic duo, and says there wasn't trust between them-- something I disagree with. Entirely.

(Aaaand there's my image limit. Guess I won't show y'all the panel of Bruce holding Jason's corpse, thinking, "Did he hate me?" Because that was Bruce's thoughts after losing Jason. Guilt. And fear that Jason's final feelings for him were HATE.)

Can we also just... THIS PANEL!? HOW can anyone say "Well, Jason was just Dick's replacement--" then why was the worst fear the BATMAN can imagine, can conjure in his mind, losing Jason? Losing Jason was Bruce's greatest fear, something so terrifying to Bruce, to Batman.

Dick, Tim, Damian... They're all good Robin's (no Tim hate here, that's my boy) but Jason was a good son. In the movie, and comic, (Under The Red Hood) everyone agrees that Jason knew he was loved, he knew he was loved even as he grew older and began getting more reckless and violent-- things he wasn't as Robin, not for the majority of his run-- because he was a teenager who was beginning to go through stupid staged in his life where he could make mistakes. Unfortunately, he had all the supplies to make those mistakes fatal, and they proved to be...

But nobody replaced Dick as a son, something he was to Bruce, but things were to rocky, that first child syndrome hits hard and Bruce was young and so, so stupid with Dick... A good Father, but he wanted to be better with Jason, and maybe this is all to fanon territory, but I don't wanna hear a lick of "Bruce never loved Jason." Because Dick was Bruce's pride, but Jason was every last lick of joy in Bruce's body.

Jason was worth breaking his rules in Batman's eyes, briefly, but at a point he was worth it.

Jason, to Bruce, was worth dying for if he couldn't live in a world with him, Jason had Bruce crying for an hour once, after he was taken away from him during his Robin years.

Bruce loved Jason, because that was his son. Unfortunately, things got messed up, their relationship is messy now, yes, but that is still Bruce's son, and deep down, I think he knows that. It's something easier to admit than other times, and I forever hate the title of "Batman's Greatest Failure" because the only failure was not reaching Jason on time, Jason himself was no failure.

ANYWAYS, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK :D

---

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

[walpu]

pre-relationship stage with them

characters - Gepard, Aventurine notes- gn!reader, pining, light angst but mostly fluffy, a bit of hurt/comfort. I love blonde preservation men okay. no beta we die like the economy also this was written before 2.1 but I still think I kinda nailed it

Gepard

Poor poor Geppie.

He pines so much. Treats his love for you like a tender flower. Even his feelings for you is something so precious to him, he's happy to simply be in love with a person like yourself.

I feel like this poor man willd try so much to do everything for you without giving away how deeply he cares and how intense his feelings are.

"Aw, lil' Geppie, you care about y/n so much!"

"I- I do not. I mean, of course I do! But- There's nothing surprising about it. After all, it's my duty as a Captain to care about every citizen. And, of course, it's my duty as a friend to care about y/n.

Sure, Gepard. Sure.

He would never say something like this to your face though. After all, he simply can't lie to you.

Oh but how he adores you. His face literally lights up when he sees you, the most gentle smile blooms on his face when he watches you doing even the most trivial task.

Tries to act like his usual self around you but it's pretty evident to everyone that you're his weak spot.

Would gently scold you if you would ever put yourself in danger or break any rules.

If you get seriously hurt, would actually lose his mind. Would blame himself even if the situation has nothing to do with him. Beats himself up, asks for your forgiveness and does his best to help you.

Despite the popular belief that he would prioritize his work over his beloved, I don't think it's true. Sure, he takes his duties seriously, but he would always find time for you. Would make sure to see you at least two times a weak, would answer your texts and calls. If you need him, would certainly be right by your side. Even if it means he would have to work overtime later.

Tease him a bit and he's all red. Doesn't try to stop you though, secretly adores your attention.

Would be oblivious to the fact that you like him back. Like. Really dense about it.

He's just so used to giving, to protecting, he simply doesn't expect anything in return. He has silently accepted the fact that you may never love him back, but he will be there for you regardless of it, no matter what.

Plus, he feels like he may not be the one for you. Like you need someone who doesn't have to constantly put their life in danger, who can always be by your side, who won't break your heart. Because he's painfully aware that each fight may actually be his last. That he may not come back to you.

Speaking of that. He would make sure to say a proper goodbye to you before every battle or expedition. Nothing too sappy or depressing, he doesn't want to make you worry, after all. Would probably tell you to take care of yourself, to sleep well and to eat healthy food lol. He really just wants to make sure that he got to see you before heading straight into the battle.

If you're a Silvermane guard as well, would restrict himself even more, not wanting to use his position or to be pushy. However, would still be worried sick, even more so. Would still talk to you before every battle, asking almost begging you to be careful.

Loves giving you head pats.

Generally the goodest boy. Just make sure to make the first move because otherwise he would be satisfied with just being your loyal puppy.

Aventurine

Good lord.

This man is such a mess.

Be ready for a mindfuck but not because he's manipulative towards you or something like that but because there's so many layers of trauma in him.

You have to be patient with him okay.

I feel like pre-relationship stage would be so confusing to him. He had flings in the past, okay? Short ones, meaningless. Something to distress, to feel another person's touch, to feel some sort of connection, no matter how shallow it is. He knew he uses those people and that those people use him in return. Not once he asked them to be gentle or caring.

But with you it's so different. Doesn't matter if your relationship started sexually and developed into something more or if it was mostly platonic/slow since the beginning. He still feels something. And he's not sure if he likes it.

Sometimes it feels so good to be seen, to be addressed as a person, not just as a tool. But sometimes it scares him. After all, this man hasn't been vulnerable with anyone for a long, long time.

I'm sorry but I feel like he would try to pull away from you a bit after realizing how much you actually mean to him.

Oh but he will crumble if you reach out to him, okay? He simply can't ditch you like that, not when you see him for him and want him for him.

Even if it's scary.

Would slowly relax around you. Don't expect him to open up easily but still, the more time you spend together, the more his cocky mask will slip away.

Will randomly and out of the blue tell you small details about his past. You two may walk down the street together and he will see something that reminds him of Sigonia so he will share this memory with you.

It may be the smallest thing but it means a lot to him that you listen. Even this tiny moments of vulnerability are hard for him.

On the more positive note, he's so fun to be around. Would tease you and cling to you all of the time. If you tease him back, he would pretend to be offended but would actually enjoy the playful banter a lot.

Just don't tease him too much about him becoming more and more clingy with each passing day.

Spoils you rotten. New clothes, jewelry, watches, shoes, anything you may want or need. He still can't quite get rid of this idea that you have to be convenient for someone to be valuable. It's not like he's trying to buy your love but... Maybe subconsciously he does. Once again, be patient. This man is so used to the fact that all of his alliances are build on mutual benefit that it's still hard to accept that you're really here for him.

Spoiler even when he will feel more stable in your relationship and his mindset will turn more healthy, gift giving will still remain one of his love languages.

Just like Gepard, would care greatly about your safety. He may be careless about his own life but never with yours.

Loves, loves, loves physical contact. As I said before, gets very clingy, putting his arm over your shoulder or tugging on your sleeve. If he's feeling down, would crawl to you side and subtly brush his shoulder against yours or lean to your side. He may still have his confident smile but those small gestures show that he wants you to be the one holding him this time.

Invades your personal space a lot actually. Texts you constantly too lmao.

LOVES SILLY NICKNAMES. Would call you his dearest darling in the sweetest voice during the most inappropriate time and then laugh at your reaction. Would settle for something more casual like "baby" when he's not trying to be a pain in the ass. Still tries to play it off as something teasing. Deep down yearns to call you this without having to pretend that this is just a playful banter between two friends.

Oh and he would dance around the topic of dating, throwing hints but never having the courage to ask openly. So good luck with him.

[uncannydevotion]

“ we haven't found one lipstick that's kiss proof! ”

a/n: based on tht one art meme going around iykyk anyways happy holidays, and merry christmas if u celebrate! nd happy day to everyone else! enjoy this lil gift <3 i wanted to get it out today so it might b a little rushed, and definitely shorter than i would like but i still like it so. i'm posting it.

includes: homicidal liu, eyeless jack, jason the toymaker, nina the killer, and jeff the killer.

warnings: gn!reader but it's assumed u wear lipstick, italics my beloved, so much fluff it'll make u sick, lots of kissing. is kiss even a word anymore. it's short, with varying different lengths, and it's sweet this time for real i promise.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Perhaps a bit confused when you ask him to help find some kiss proof lipsticks, but nonetheless willing to help. He just assumes you wanted to go out to a cosmetic store or something to find some.

He's very confused when you drag him over to the couch and tell him to stay put while you gather every tube of lipstick you have.

He's oblivious guys okay you're his first relationship ever how is he supposed to know you're about to smother him to death with kisses?

Liu will be a bit caught off guard when you place the first kiss on his cheek, your lips gentle, mindful of the sensitive skin surrounding his scars.

"What was that for?" He'll ask. And maybe you'll give a cheeky smile and respond with something like, "I'm just testing out my lipstick, babe."

And oh. Oh. That's what you meant when you said you wanted his help.

Liu is nothing if not the greatest boyfriend haver, so even though he gets increasingly more flustered with each kiss you press against his skin, he stays painfully still so as to not interrupt you.

Every time you pressed a kiss against his skin, he'd let out a little sigh. It was rare for him to ever really feel at ease, but it came easy with you.

Sometimes, he wonders if you truly understood the gravity of the love he felt for you.

Each kiss makes his heart race faster and faster, so much so that when you place one last kiss against his lips, he's so overwhelmed by the amount of love he holds for you that Sully thinks he's fucking dying and takes over.

Sully is very confused when he finds that Liu was, in fact, not dying. And you're certainly no help, just smiling and telling him to wash his face off as you clean up.

What.

One look in the mirror gives him the answer he was looking for. His entire face was covered in lipstick stains. This is what had Liu's heart racing so much? Sully really thought he was dying, man.

Turns out the guy is just an idiot in love.

EYELESS JACK

One of the only ones here to really understand what you meant when you asked him for help in finding a kiss proof lipstick, already taking his mask off.

He didn't have anything better to do, and he liked how your eyes lit up when he agreed, so.

He'll sit patiently, watching as you set out all of your lipsticks, setting them out in a color-coded pattern.

Jack will take this very seriously, I think. You won't really be able to get him flustered, because he's determined to figure out if you have any kiss proof lipstick. He's a man on a mission.

Every time you kiss him, he'll pull away from you and look at himself in a mirror to study how visible the stain is. The less he can see it, the better he thinks the lipstick is.

If anything, he'll end up flustering you from the way he'll grab your cheeks and press his thumb against your lip, rubbing the lipstick gently to see how much pressure it takes for it to transfer.

He's not doing this on purpose, he just... doesn't realize the effect he has on you. But between you and me, he's 100% teasing you.

He's the one covered in kisses, and yet you're the one shying away from him and getting all embarrassed. Seems your plan to fluster him backfired.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You would ask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who asked for help." Would be his response.

Somehow you end up with more marks on your skin than he does?? Since you get to kiss him a bunch, he doesn't see why he can't kiss you back. And maybe he bites a lil, idk.

This will either end with you scurrying away, or with him pouncing you and abandoning the lipstick. Make your choice.

JASON THE TOYMAKER

He's busy tinkering with a new creation when you enter his workshop carrying every single lipstick you own.

He's too focused on his own work to really pay attention to you, so he just mutters a vague 'yeah' when he hears you ask a question, not really catching anything you said.

Jason's only vaguely aware that you're in the same room as him as he leans forward, brows pinched together as he focuses on stitching up a small stuffed animal.

It's not until he feels you resting your hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly and pressing a kiss against his cheek that he's brought to reality.

Just sits there, confused for the longest second, his hand coming up to his cheek where he had felt your lips. He's not against the sudden affection by any means, he's just a bit curious as to why you were suddenly giving him so many kisses.

When you explain how you're trying to find kiss proof lipstick, he lets out a small 'oh' and he goes back to his work.

Or, at least, he tries to get back to his work.

But you continue placing little kisses against his skin every few minutes, and it's making it really hard to focus, and he can feel his face getting hotter and hotter the longer this goes on.

Jason fucking loves you, okay? He tells you it multiple times a day. You are the one for him. So you smothering him with a bunch of kisses has him feeling all soft and gooey inside.

Whatever the hell he was working on before was no longer important to him, his gaze now seemingly glued to you and every little move you make as he leans back in his chair, basking in your attention.

Like hell he'll let you leave when you run out of lipstick.

You doomed yourself the moment you walked into his workshop to even start this little game.

He'll be dragging you down onto his lap and will refuse to let you go until he's had his fill of you. Which could be like... all day. Jason could never get tired of you.

NINA THE KILLER

Hell yeah!! She's been meaning to go through her lipsticks too, so she takes this as an opportunity to do that.

She definitely makes it into a game as well, I think.

You two will trade lipsticks without looking at the labels, and you'd both have to guess who was wearing what lipstick based on the shade and the feel.

The two of you trade kisses, lipstick stains covering her cheeks and your jaw and neck.

She really did just want to find a kiss proof lipstick, but each kiss had her letting out a small giggle.

And she knew you were teasing her, always leaning in for her lips before dodging and pressing another kiss against her cheek.

All that teasing had her feeling flustered, and she just wanted you to stop messing around and kiss her lips already. So when you put on a new thing of lipstick, she doesn't even give you a chance to do anything before she's pulling you closer and slamming her lips against yours.

You probably planned for this to happen, she thinks, but she didn't really care much.

You don't need an excuse to kiss her silly, you just gotta do it.

And when the two of you finally break the kiss, you're both breathless. Lipstick stains your skin, and both of your lips were smeared.

Nina didn't even care about the little game you two had been playing anymore, her hands resting on your cheeks.

She thought you looked stunning like this.

And it's not like you two had any pressing matters to attend to, so she didn't hesitate before leaning in for another kiss.

JEFF THE KILLER

When you had asked him for help with finding a 'kiss proof' lipstick, he honestly didn't understand why. Like... did you want him to put the lipstick on and kiss napkins with you? And why would you need his help doing that anyways?

He would've said no, if you hadn't asked really nicely.

Definitely grumbling about how dumb he thought this was as you get everything together.

Someone would probably assume you had a gun to his head or something from the way he looked as if he didn't want to be there, arms crossed and somehow frowning even though his scars made it look strange.

It really isn't until you place the first kiss against his cheek that he finally shuts up.

Oh. So this is what you had planned?

Truth be told, Jeff wasn't that big a fan of affection unless he was initiating it, but... he supposes he could let it slide, just this once. Especially after you press another kiss to his cheek.

You could never get this man to admit that he's enjoying this, but it's not like he was doing a good job at hiding it, either.

The frown he had was gone, replaced by a smile he was barely able to conceal. Do not point out the smile, he will leave the room if you do.

Each kiss you give him makes his heart race faster and faster, and when you're wiping off the last lipstick you have, talking about how you've yet to find a kiss proof one, Jeff is an utter mess.

He's got his face buried in his hands, cursing to himself for being so weak when it came to you.

Fuck, he really loves you.

[aardelea]

How He Handles Jealousy

Thank you so much for the request for this headcanon! It turned out to be longer than I initially anticipated, but I hope you find it enjoyable to read. Happy reading!

Being fresh in a relationship often means confronting one's own insecurities. One of these is the question of whether one can fully trust their partner and how to deal with it when the partner themselves is plagued by the question of whether they are truly enough. So what about the ghouls: How do they handle this in both directions? In this scenario, we assume that you are in a relationship and that you, of course, never pursue any ill intentions when creating a situation that makes your loved one jealous, and vice versa. We are always talking about a healthy level of jealousy.

Jin

Jin does not strike you as a man who becomes jealous easily. He has rank, status, outrageously good looks, and charisma. Who would dare to even consider getting too close to his beloved? And what could lead him to think that you might have an interest in someone other than him? Exactly: nothing.

Nevertheless, even the king of Frostheim occasionally experiences a strange feeling in his chest when he sees you showing a little too much interest in another person. There's nothing wrong with playing it safe, right? He will be quite open about his jealousy, though he wouldn't label it as such. Instead, he will explicitly ask you what you have going on with the other person. Depending on your answer, he will either allow you to continue interacting with them undisturbed or he will ask you to keep your distance. If you disagree, he will accept it but will become noticeably clingy and unusually touchy in the presence of that person in the future.

Conversely, Jin cannot imagine that you could ever be jealous of anyone. Aside from the fact that you are his everything, which he always shows you in his own way, he considers you superior to all other people. How could you possibly think that anyone could measure up to you? Since he can't stand most other people anyway, he would never deliberately get too close to someone else.

He won't notice your jealousy unless you communicate it clearly. Initially, he will stare at you in disbelief and will need to process what you just said. Once he has absorbed the information, he will suddenly start laughing heartily. He'll begin to grin devilishly, cup your chin, and gently pull you a bit closer to his face. "Come to my room after the event tonight. I'll show you enough good reasons why you don't need to worry."

Tohma

Tohma is a true gentleman with far too good manners for you to ever suspect that he feels jealousy. However, in the early stages of your relationship, this feeling is anything but foreign to him, as your time together is limited, and he is careful to keep your relationship a secret for as long as possible. Who wouldn't feel negative emotions when they see the person they desire getting close to other people, even if it's just a fleeting touch of their hand?

Without the chains he has bound himself with by moving to Frostheim, he would certainly be the type to charmingly but firmly put any rivals in their place. Depending on how far the rival has gone with you, it could even be imaginable that he would elegantly beat him to a pulp in an alley. Otherwise, a public display of your connection through physical contact would suffice to remind the audacious guy who he’s messing with. However, in Frostheim, Tohma is forced to use different means. If your new clingy acquaintance suddenly starts keeping their distance from you, it will likely be because they received an anonymous and highly convincing threatening letter. Everyone has skeletons in their closets, and Tohma knows exactly how to find and leverage them.

Although he is rather distant, Tohma has a seductive way of conversing with others, so it's highly likely that one or two women may have cast an eye on him. Since you are suffering as much as he is from the secrecy of your relationship, you will, sooner or later, inevitably find yourself ensnared in the burning arms of jealousy.

Even if Tohma can empathize with your feelings because he knows them as well as you do, he will want to maintain the façade at all costs and will earnestly ask you to be patient and hold back just a little longer. Sooner or later, everything will fall into place, and you can be together whenever you want. But whatever happens, don't act too rashly, as Tohma's goals for his service to the Frost King will always take precedence. By letting you into his life, he is undoubtedly risking a lot, so cut him some slack if he can't change his public behavior for now. The silver lining is that you'll receive more messages asking you to bring him "special documents" to the vault room. Reviewing those together will always take a bit more time.

Luca

Luca sees you as an honorable person and won't easily entertain the thought that anyone could take you from him, unless it’s death itself. Some situations may seem strange to him in the early days of your relationship when he sees you getting close to other men, with whom you're building a tighter (albeit genuinely platonic) relationship. Even Luca is not immune to feeling a bit uneasy.

Assuming that everything must be as it should, he will swallow that uncomfortable feeling for a long time and won’t let on. Unfortunately, he will do this until it boils over, and his feelings overwhelm him. In the next situation he observes – even if it’s just lunch at Sho's food truck – he will come directly to you and confront you both. Since by that point you likely won't have known anything about Luca's emotional state (how could you?), you'll be utterly incredulous and shocked as you watch Luca throw all his pride overboard, take your hands in his, look deep into your eyes, and seriously ask whether you still love him and want to stay with him, or if you've decided to be happier with another man. The shame reflected on his face when you tell him he couldn't be more wrong will remain a topic of conversation on campus for a long time. He won't stop apologizing to both you and your friend, promising that such behavior won't happen again. It might be best to take the poor man along to your meetings so he feels better.

Luca is an old-fashioned gentleman, inherently friendly and courteous to everyone. Unfortunately, he can quickly lose sight of his surroundings when he believes he is doing the right thing, leading to situations that may push others too far and evoke jealousy without him ever intending to.

If you react to your jealousy with a corresponding mood, Luca will quickly notice and address it. However, he won't pick up on any subtle hints you might drop that aren't blatantly obvious, as he won’t be aware of any inappropriate behavior. Once he knows how you feel, he won't stop apologizing and will be overwhelmed with guilt, culminating in showering you with attention and gifts. He promises you that he won't make such a mistake again, and he means it.

Kaito

Unfortunately, Kaito suffers from extremely low self-esteem, which also reflects the intensity of his feelings. Any tiny bit of attention you give to another man will immediately be interpreted as a sign of disinterest in him. At first, he will try to calm himself down. "Come on, Kaito, that's perfectly normal! Everyone has friends of the opposite sex! It doesn't mean anything." Despite all his efforts, his insecurity will eventually overwhelm him, and he will try to speak to you privately during a quiet moment, trying to subtly inquire about the person he is feeling envious of. "What exactly do you two discuss all the time?" "Where do you know him from?" "Does he have a girlfriend?"

Depending on the nature of your response, it will either calm him down for a while or bring him to tears. However, he would never bring it up in public. His crying will, at worst, only be noticed by his neighbors (who probably aren't surprised). Have some compassion for the poor man. He is so happy with you and still can't fathom that an angel like you chose him as her boyfriend of all people. Him, who feels like he has nothing to offer. Thus, the fear of losing you becomes even more pronounced because you might realize that he is really worthless. This, of course, is not true, and you've likely told him enough times. However, words alone won’t help him in this case. Involve him in your outings with friends and communicate or show publicly that Kaito is your boyfriend. Besides making him the happiest person on the planet, it will help calm him down.

If you, on the other hand, become jealous of someone Kaito is interacting with, you can assume that he won't pick up on it at first. After all, he wouldn’t know what there is to be jealous about. Sure, Kaito didn’t pass up any chance to flirt with other women on campus before your relationship, but that was, as stated, before you got together. Meanwhile, he would never risk making you feel unloved. If you initially don’t communicate your jealousy directly and react with a worse mood instead, the last thing he will suspect is jealousy.

So if you can’t shake off those feelings, communicate them. He may respond with confusion and even shock, but secretly he will be flattered. This will be an opportunity for you to boost his self-esteem, which can only benefit Kaito. He will cease any activities that lead to your jealousy and will make it clear in public (as long as you both agree on how to appear in public) that it is only you by his side.

Alan

It’s relatively hard to imagine Alan becoming quickly jealous in the classic sense. Since he’s already unsure in the early stages of the relationship whether it was the right decision to enter it on his part, he wouldn’t really hold it against you if you got closer to other people. Not that you yourself would ever have such thoughts, but Alan might interpret even the slightest closeness to someone else as you reconsidering your relationship with him.

Just because he won’t actively bring it up doesn’t mean he won’t feel uncomfortable when he sees you (in his view) getting too familiar with another person. When his chest tightens, and he feels the urge to step in, hold you in his arms, and never let go to ensure that you belong to him alone, he would never act on that feeling.

On the other hand, he would never assume that you might be jealous of another woman he interacts with. Let alone that he would ever give another woman enough attention for you to even consider it. So, if you want to clear things up, you’ll need to bring it up directly with him.

Knowing that you're jealous would simply break his heart, and he would wonder where he went wrong. Did he give you the impression that you’ve become unimportant to him? Did he not give you enough attention? Did he actually get too close to someone else? He would apologize a thousand times and reassure you that you are his everything and that there’s really nothing to worry about. He would avoid the other person as much as possible from then on, or at least behave much more distantly. He would never want to give the wrong impression or hurt you in any way.

Sho

Sho is a very easy-going and uncomplicated guy when it comes to relationships. He gives you all the freedom in the world and fully trusts that you’d never let anyone cross the line. The only thing that could trigger jealousy in Sho is his highly developed protective instinct. Thanks to his friendship with Leo and their excessive clubbing, he knows the dark sides of human nature all too well, and he wants to shield you from them at all costs.

So, if he notices another guy leaving his hand on your shoulder for just a millisecond too long, the good man’s protective instinct kicks in, and he feels the need to set that guy straight by joining in and adding some physical contact with you. He will throw the rival a few unmistakable looks. Once the boundaries are established and Sho has made it clear with his body language what happens if the guy gets too close to his beloved girlfriend, Sho will disappear just as quickly as he came. Have fun with the rest of your evening!

In the case that you are jealous when Sho interacts with certain people, he’ll notice it from your body language right away, unless you outright tell him. Sho is, after all, an extremely attentive and surprisingly empathetic man who doesn’t miss a single one of your glances. Even though he would expect the same trust from you that he gives you, he doesn’t react with disappointment or rejection, but with loving teasing. “What, seriously, you’re jealous of her?” He simply finds your jealousy too cute to be genuinely angry.

Sho also belongs to the type of guy who would take you along to meetings with the respective person to make things more obvious and help ease your insecurities. From now on, he’ll also be a little more careful to ensure that his actions toward others don’t provoke any negative feelings in you.

Leo

Leo would never admit that he’s jealous of someone who (in his eyes) is getting too close to you. Absolutely not. If he feels anything, it’s anger because you’re risking being seen together, and his followers might think there’s trouble between you and the influencer. Yeah, that’s definitely the only thing that comes to his mind when he sees you with a supposed rival. It’s the same when he sees overly nice comments from men about you under his videos and promptly deletes them. Don’t let it go to your head or get any silly ideas.

So, don’t think too much of it when he grumbles at you to be careful how you interact with other guys because it could give off the wrong impression. Don’t read too much into it either if he starts marking his territory when you don’t listen and still let that boring guy (allegedly) get too close. For Leo, the smallest form of physical contact is enough to trigger his jealous attentive radar. He’ll then quickly start pushing himself between you two, showering you with physical (and surely inappropriate for the situation) attention. Additionally, in his usual cruel style, he’ll subtly insult and try to humiliate his supposed rival. If you’re in a relationship with Leo, you’ll have to love him very much to deal with his behavior.

In Leo’s eyes, it’s obviously nooooo problem at all if other girls get too close to him. After all, he’s a popular influencer and can’t neglect his fans. Why would you even think he’d start anything with one of those airheads? If you do somehow let your jealousy show, you can expect to be met with plenty of scorn and mockery on his part.

Leo won’t be able to stop laughing and will call you “stupid” in the most creative ways more than once. Of course, he’ll never show outwardly how cute he actually finds your jealousy. And he certainly won’t change his behavior toward his fans. Bad for business.

However, he’ll now start including you in his videos much more frequently to make you feel better. It’s definitely not because he enjoys showing off his cute girlfriend to everyone and bragging about you. Now, he just has a really good excuse to hide his true intentions behind.

Haru

Haru is usually too busy to worry about something like jealousy. Just like you, he also has his tasks and his daily life, which you can arrange however you like, with whomever you like. Things only get critical if you start spending time with someone else (for whatever reason) that’s meant for the both of you. The first couple of times, he would take it as normal, but by the third rejection, his attention would be caught. Do you have someone else?

Haru isn’t really the type to want to take away anyone’s freedom. And certainly not yours. But sooner or later, he won’t be able to bear that uncomfortable, gnawing feeling in his chest anymore and will ask you, more or less casually, what’s going on. Are you lacking something? Did he do something wrong? If you ask him more specifically why he’s asking, he’ll calmly explain that he finds it strange that you have less time for him and that he’s worried you’re dissatisfied with him. Since you certainly aren’t (and if you are, please bring it up directly – communication is everything in a relationship!), you’ll reassure him that there’s a very good reason for your absence and he doesn’t need to worry. He’ll accept any explanation you give with relief because he fully trusts you.

In the reverse situation, Haru will quickly sense your discomfort if you somehow develop jealousy. He may not invest as much time in a relationship as others, but the time he does take for the both of you is used to its fullest. As a result, he gets to know you very well, very quickly, and senses right away when something is wrong. He’ll immediately ask you about it and want to know exactly what’s bothering you.

If it’s his light flirting with female guests at the Safari Park, he’ll do his best to cut it out, even though it’s completely meaningless to him. However, he won’t always succeed entirely because it’s just part of his nature, so please don’t hold it against him too much. Whatever else has triggered your jealousy, he’ll try to stop doing it from now on, as long as it’s within his control (some circumstances just don’t allow certain behaviors to change). At the same time, he’ll encourage you to have a bit more self-confidence and stop doubting his feelings for you because they’re more than genuine. To be sure, though, he’ll conspicuously and practically tell everyone just how fantastic his girlfriend is. Absolutely everyone. In every situation. Ren will get tired of hearing it. Towa, on the other hand, will love it. Eventually, everyone on campus will know that you are the great love of the ranger. You’ll also soon read this fact on the new brochures for the Safari Park. Still have doubts?

Towa

Once you enter a relationship with Towa, you are completely devoted to him. You are his dandelion, and he is your Prince Charming. Your love is pure and true, making it unthinkable for anyone to come between you. While Towa wouldn’t dream of restricting your time with friends, he won’t tolerate anyone who seems to have more than friendship on their mind.

Towa feels his emotions intensely and is quickly overwhelmed by jealousy once it arises. You'll notice his mood shift instantly—where sunshine was, storm clouds now linger when you and a friend are too close. He’ll wait for you to approach him, but if you bring it up, his anger will flare. Why would you let anyone come so close? Explanations won’t suffice here, and actions must follow to calm him. A little more physical distance between you and your friend will be necessary from now on. Towa dreams of a fairytale romance with his soulmate, and that includes avoiding any outward appearances that could be misunderstood.

On the flip side, it’s rare for Towa to get close to someone else, as he tends to keep people at a distance. Besides, it’s almost unthinkable for him to give much attention to anyone other than his beloved dandelion. His love for you is deep and genuine.

Should the impossible happen, and you feel jealous of someone else, Towa would drop that person in a heartbeat. Everyone besides you (and maybe Haru) is practically irrelevant to him. He’ll have no problem acting in a way that reassures you. “You’re being silly, dandelion. You’re the most beautiful flower of them all!”

Ren

Poor guy. Wasn’t it painful enough for him to realize his feelings for you and act on them? Now he must also admit that you mean so much to him that even the thought of you leaving him for some brainless dullard drives him insane? Even though you likely wouldn’t give him such reason to worry, the thought is hard to avoid. Ren has healthy self-confidence, but at the beginning of your relationship, he can’t shake the fear that you might be one of those girls who’d ditch him for a macho guy at the first chance.

Ren’s jealousy is noticeable by how harshly he insults his supposed rival. “Why are you hanging out with a guy who looks like he sleeps at the gorilla enclosure?” or “Are you sure you’re actually texting with him and not an AI? No way that guy learned how to write.” These are just some of the quips you’ll hear. It won’t take much to figure out how Ren is feeling. He wouldn’t ask to join you at these meetups or accompany you if you asked. Nor would he ever demand you stop seeing this person; it’s still your life, after all. However, showering him with extra affection won’t hurt, and though it won’t make his mood improve immediately, he’ll deeply enjoy your attention. He knows he has to handle his feelings himself, and with time, he will.

You’re unlikely to feel jealous of anyone in Ren’s life, as he tends to avoid most people. If anything, you might get jealous of an online acquaintance he chats with often. Should you bring it up, he’ll likely be annoyed since he can’t comprehend how someone can feel threatened by a person who isn’t physically present.

He’s not the type to change his behavior just because you’re uncomfortable. He expects the same freedom he gives you. However, he’ll (grudgingly and indirectly) assure you that you never need to worry about him being interested in anyone else. After all, you’re his fellow inmate in the prison called Darkwick, and no one could replace you.

Romeo

Romeo is a territorial type who hates when someone tries to intrude on his kingdom. It’s not pure jealousy driving him to chase off his so-called rival but more so his outrage at someone daring to approach what belongs to him (yes, you belong to him).

However, how he reacts depends heavily on who you’re spending time with. If you’re hanging out with Kaito, Romeo won’t care much since he doesn’t see him as a threat. But if your “rival” is more elegant and even remotely comparable to Romeo’s beauty, things get dangerous. First, he’ll start appearing around you more often, publicly wrapping his arms around you and giving you tender kisses on the cheek. While you’re still trying to figure out what’s happening, he’ll brush your flushed cheek and whisper in your ear about how stunning you look today, all while shooting a triumphant glance at his rival. Not only does he publicly claim you, but he also secures a romantic interlude in his office—unless, of course, you can resist a jealous Romeo. This scenario could repeat endlessly, but it wouldn’t be wise to test Romeo’s patience. One day, your rival might mysteriously disappear. Strange how things happen…

Conversely, Romeo expects you to have enough self-confidence to not let such a petty feeling as jealousy control you (easy for him to say). There will likely be plenty of occasions to make even the most confident person sweat with anxiety. After all, Romeo is incredibly attractive and knows how to use his charm to get what he wants. Who wouldn’t be tempted?

If you can’t hold back and express your discomfort over his behavior with someone else, you’ll initially be met with disbelief and disappointment. Did he really choose a partner so insecure that she thinks the infallible Romeo would ever be in a relationship with someone replaceable? Nonsense. His words might make you feel like he’s dismissing your feelings, telling you to pull yourself together, but his actions will tell a different story. From then on, he’ll bring you along to meetings with that person, showing you subtle yet unmistakable affection for everyone to see.

Taiga

It won’t be easy to provoke jealousy in Taiga. Not because he’s incapable of such feelings or because he doesn’t care about you, but simply because he hardly takes his eyes off you. He’s quite the clingy type and takes you practically everywhere he goes. Where would be the time to connect with someone else well enough for Taiga to have any wrong ideas?

However, if you do have enough time to become close friends with another guy, such that you have some (purely platonic) physical contact (a hand on the shoulder is enough), Taiga will quickly become dangerously jealous. Who dares to touch his beloved lucky charm?! This friendship won’t last long, as Taiga will swiftly come up to you, casually drape an arm around you, and with the other, draw his weapon and shamelessly aim it at his rival. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” Even though he says this calmly with a smile on his lips, hardly anyone will miss the seriousness of the situation. He’ll tolerate your complaints about his behavior and wave them off with boredom. But he will do it again if anyone approaches you in that way. His jealousy only flares up with charismatic types; the only exception might be Romeo. With people he perceives as losers, you can remain friends as you like. Don’t look at him like that. You chose this relationship for yourself.

In the very unlikely event that you become jealous of someone in Taiga’s vicinity, an (extremely uncomfortable) solution will also quickly present itself. Taiga will notice your jealousy if you react to him in a particular mood. When you tell him the reason, he will laugh loudly and pat your head, visibly amused as he asks if he means so much to you that you become jealous so quickly.

“No reason to worry, kitty cat, look.” Without hesitation, he pulls out a weapon and aims it at the person who triggered your jealousy. You should really react quickly at this point to prevent something worse. He truly doesn’t care about anything except you, and unfortunately, he has no qualms about showing that.

Ritsu

To provoke someone like Ritsu into such a base feeling as jealousy would take quite a lot. He is an extremely pragmatic man who has his own way of handling feelings, which he keeps quite well under control. Moreover, as his chosen one, you must possess certain qualities to even be considered at his side, including loyalty.

So why should Mr. Shinjo even worry that you might fall for another man? After all, you entered into a relationship, and that comes with rules—like an invisible contract that you both signed with a kiss. If he has doubts about you, they are likely to be well-founded—like obviously more than purely platonic physical contact with another man or blatantly ignoring Ritsu in the presence of certain people. In this case, he will immediately address it and ask for clarification of the matter.

Conversely, it will also be difficult for him to develop jealousy towards someone Ritsu associates with. You know his professional nature too well. So unless you yourself tend toward strong jealousy over trivial matters, you will only be overwhelmed by your feelings in absolutely justified situations.

Ritsu is a good observer and will quickly notice if something is wrong with you. He will directly address it to inquire about the reason for your mood swing. However, he would be a bit disappointed if you didn’t bring it up yourself. He will address the problem directly and won’t waste time on the fact that he cannot comprehend your feelings, because the fact is, you have them, and he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Whatever behavior led to your jealousy: he will cease it immediately.

Haku

Haku is not someone who becomes jealous easily, which is why he grants you a lot of freedom. You would have to give someone an unusually large amount of attention to evoke that feeling in Haku. However, he isn’t the type of person to directly express his discomfort. Instead, he will endure the feeling and the sight of the two of you for quite some time until he can no longer help but take action.

Nevertheless, he won’t directly address it; instead, he will take care of the problem himself, activating his hunting instinct and increasingly joining you whenever you’re with that particular someone. In doing so, he will try to more or less subtly solidify his status as your boyfriend. A spontaneous kiss on the cheek, his arm around your waist throughout the meeting, the casual question of when he can expect you tonight… Yep, he’ll manage his emotional chaos on his own. So you can sit back and enjoy this extra attention.

If you are the one who becomes jealous (which is more than understandable considering Haku’s naturally flirtatious nature), he will quickly notice regardless of how you communicate. Not that he would want to hurt you intentionally, but he will likely find your jealousy quite adorable and will playfully tease you about it. He certainly won’t pass up the chance to annoy you. “Watch out, I’m meeting a certain lady today who is quite pretty, but she can’t even begin to compare to the princess in front of me,” or “I don’t know if you’re ready for this, but I’m seeing that one person today to whom I recently told her hairstyle looks good. But don’t worry: I won’t take her home.” He’ll ride that horse for a long time.

But rest assured, Haku only wants what’s best for you. So to take away any uncertainty, he will present you even more obviously as his beloved girlfriend in public. He won’t suggest it himself, but if you express a desire to meet those individuals who triggered your jealousy, he won’t refuse. After all, he has nothing to hide. However, you’d need to be pretty thick-skinned to endure that meeting, during which Haku will naturally be all over you the whole time to show you that you needn’t worry about anyone taking his flirting seriously, as everyone should already know he’s taken.

Subaru

The former Kabuki actor suffers from many insecurities regarding himself. This is likely connected to his somewhat impractical ability that can activate without his active involvement, showing him things that were never meant for his eyes. Despite all circumstances, he has entered into a relationship with you and, given the physical contact you’ve likely had, knows pretty much everything about you there is to know. This includes knowing your sincere feelings for him.

Because of this, there’s hardly any reason for Subaru to develop jealousy. You have your friends and handle them your way. That’s absolutely okay for him. The only exception might be strangers who have just appeared and are still difficult for Subaru to assess. In this case, especially charismatic individuals who are also very friendly toward you could provoke some jealousy in him, but he would never show it openly or address it, because, as mentioned: he knows you and trusts you completely. However, you might notice a change in his suddenly much more self-confident and assertive demeanor towards the strangers, indicating what has triggered this character change.

Conversely, Subaru will notice even the slightest change in your mood or behavior and interpret it correctly, so your jealousy won’t remain hidden for long. Being who he is, he won’t stop apologizing, sincerely assuring you that he never intended to evoke those feelings in you. The situation is visibly uncomfortable for him.

Since he takes your feelings very seriously and feels them himself through your physical contact, he will take all necessary measures to nip them in the bud. This includes, of course, assuring you thousands of times that you never have to worry. He’s far too polite to simply dismiss other people, but he will still behave a bit more distantly towards those individuals.

Zenji

Given his circumstances, Zenji was likely quite difficult to convince to enter into a relationship, so he probably gives you a lot of freedom in how you interact with others—even though he, too, can reach his limits. However, he would never expect you to completely devote yourself to him when you still have your whole life ahead of you.

When it comes to the feeling of jealousy in general, he knows it all too well, as he practically feels that biting sensation towards anyone who has the privilege of being physically close to you and feeling your warmth. However, assume that he would never communicate this feeling under any circumstances. He loves you too much and is too at peace with himself and his situation.

We can probably skip the reverse scenario, as besides a few chosen ones, no one can see him anyway. But if Zenji was already that kind of person in life, it stands to reason that someone with the right disposition could quickly become envious of his admirers, with whom he interacts very openly and invitingly, even if he never has any ulterior motives.

Zenji is the definition of a pure soul. If for any reason you were ever in a situation where you became jealous of someone who interacted with him, he would notice—whether you show it or not. Without ever bringing it up himself, he would simply cease the behavior that led to your jealousy. For you should never even entertain the idea that anyone could be more interesting to him than his dearly beloved muse.

Rui

Since Rui is someone who could easily steal a girlfriend from one or two guys, he is even more wary of guys of his caliber. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you per se, but he just knows how quickly someone can be tempted when the right buttons are pressed. To make matters worse, Rui isn’t really able to defend himself. He can’t just take you in his arms to present you as his or stand up to a guy to show dominance. Your relationship is, at best, only known through hearsay. Of course, he will feel unbearably burning jealousy when he sees someone who can touch you so easily while Rui stays in the background. And this type of jealousy is a thousand times worse than the one he literally feels toward anyone who has the privilege of touching you.

In a relationship with Rui, you should be quite careful about how you interact with other men, as Rui finds himself in an extremely vulnerable position that has been exacerbated by your relationship since he suddenly has even more to lose than before. Since he already feels guilty about being in a relationship with you when you should ideally be with someone who can offer you more than he can, he will never openly reveal his feelings to spare you what he considers an inappropriate guilty conscience. Nevertheless, his jealousy will inevitably reflect in his mood and won’t escape your trained eye. When confronted about it, Rui will admit his jealousy but assure you that you don’t need to worry about him because you haven’t done anything wrong, and it’s solely his problem. At this point, it doesn’t really matter how you react, whether you change your behavior towards the person involved or not. Unfortunately, the damage is already done for Rui.

On the other hand, Rui makes a tremendous effort not to give the impression that he’s still acting the same way as before your relationship or even before his curse. However, flirting is just too natural for him, so he can’t always suppress it, even if he doesn’t really think anything of it. He will quickly realize if he has crossed a line in your eyes and immediately backtrack. He would never hold your jealousy against you, as he’s self-aware enough to admit that it is absolutely justified, even if he would never go too far.

As far as it’s in his power, he will unobtrusively try to communicate to every woman that he is more than happily taken. So, never be too angry with him. He really is doing his best.

Ed

The elegant vampire is not so easily made jealous, especially since you certainly know what kind of dangerous man you’ve gotten yourself into. He’s also a bit too old and experienced to be overwhelmed by such feelings. However, he absolutely will not tolerate attention-seeking and obvious rivals who come a little too close to you.

Let’s be honest: Ed is a drama queen and has no sense of shame. So brace yourself for a performance worthy of an Oscar. “So you want to abandon your poor, sick lover? You would just leave me to certain death?” While speaking in a dramatic tone, he physically pushes his rival away with his back and throws himself around your neck after letting out some truly serious coughs. “Haven’t I given you all my attention and love? Haven’t I satisfied you to your utmost delight every single time? What have I done wrong?” Before you can even sink into the ground out of embarrassment, he begins passionately kissing along your neck until he eventually reaches your mouth. If you don’t push him away, he will continue this act until you both find yourselves in a rather compromising position in front of everyone present, while he gains access to your mouth with his tongue. If that’s not one of your kinks, you should definitely reject him and dramatically declare that he is your great love and has absolutely nothing to fear. He will only be satisfied once you’ve embarrassed yourselves so thoroughly in front of everyone that no one would ever think of getting too close to his prey girlfriend again. But if we’re being more honest, that’s definitely better than the scenario where your supposed rival suddenly disappears from campus and is never seen again.

Conversely, Ed loves to flirt for his life. It’s in his nature to wrap his prey around his finger so they willingly give him whatever he desires. Fortunately, his interest in other people is quite limited, so you will rarely see him interacting with anyone else besides Lyca and Rui. However, if situations do arise that provoke jealousy in you, Ed will definitely notice it immediately. And he will exploit it.

He loves you fiercely. You can be assured of this when he enters into a relationship with you. However, he remains a man who loves exaggeration. So, if he observes changes in your behavior that indicate jealousy, he will ride that feeling until he pushes your patience to the limit, leaving you with no choice but to explode and confront him. Just as in the case where you “made him jealous,” he will fairly pull the reverse show and swear his sincere love to you in the most emotional way you can imagine, immediately sending the lady (?) he was just with to hell. He will then hope that you will throw yourself around him, just the way he loves it.

Lyca

For Lyca, the concept of a relationship is quite new, and he must first learn to cope with the new emotions that have opened up to him since then and learn to assign individual feelings. This also includes jealousy. However, it is unlikely that it will quickly become a part of his portfolio, as physical contact is something natural for him and merely a sign of affection. He must first understand that this affection can indeed go deeper before he begins to worry about other guys.

Once he learns what distinguishes a relationship from a good friendship, he will indeed feel that uncomfortable tightness in his chest when he sees you with someone (like Ed) who develops in his new definition of appropriateness. Instead of observing or addressing you about it, he will impulsively take action and confront your perceived rival. “Hey, why are you so close to her? She already has a boyfriend, got it?!” Despite Lyca’s heated mood, the situation can quickly and calmly be resolved, as he will listen to your explanations and apologize if he has indeed overreacted (which is quite likely at the beginning). After all, he is still learning, and everything takes time.

In the unlikely event that Lyca interacts with girls that provoke jealousy in you, he will only acknowledge your feelings if you openly communicate them. A changed mood will otherwise simply be dismissed as “women are just unnecessarily complicated.”

“Huh, why are you thinking such silly thoughts? Look.” He will immediately wrap his arms around you and give you an unexpected kiss on the mouth. “Do you think I would want to do that with someone else?” However, Lyca takes your feelings seriously enough that he will adjust his behavior toward the individuals involved in the future. Whatever has caused your jealousy will now be stamped as “inappropriate in a relationship.”

Yuri

The great and exalted Yuri Isami would never feel such a base emotion as jealousy. Where do you think you’re going?! It’s not as if he has no experience with relationships and therefore cannot assess what behavior toward others is normal and what isn’t. No, no. He has much more important things to do than pay attention to your leisure activities. As if he would care how close that one guy gets to you, how casually he places his hand on your shoulder, or the way he looks at you. As if Yuri would even give a thought to whether he’s coming so close that the guy can smell your delicately fragrant perfume, which Yuri loves, or whether you give that guy the same charming smile you give Yuri every time you finally see each other again after a long, work-filled day. Really. Completely beneath his dignity.

So if he asks you who that dishonorable worm is that you’ve been spending so much time with lately or about whom you’ve mentioned one too many times in Yuri’s eyes, he only wants to comply with your alleged request that you should get to know each other better and participate more in each other’s lives. Even the biggest idiot on the planet wouldn’t miss the intentions behind his questions, and it’s certainly incredibly tempting to mention that he is definitely the epitome of the jealous boyfriend. But do you really want to do that to this proud man? He would deny it anyway, and dwelling on his obvious questions would probably only lead to a bad atmosphere. Just assure him that the worm is just a worm you like and that no one can compare to your knight in shining armor. But go ahead and enjoy the feeling of having completely captured this man’s heart.

If you ever feel jealous of someone Yuri is involved with, you will need to communicate it directly, as Yuri won’t quickly come to the idea that you are jealous, even if you react to him with obviously poor mood and irritation.

Even though he will feel very flattered when you confess that you are jealous, he unfortunately belongs to the type of person whose self-confidence should not be stroked too much. He will give you a lecture on how silly it is to give in to such a lowly feeling as jealousy and remind you that there is no reason for it. However, if you insist on it, he will pay more attention in the future to how he interacts with other people so that it doesn’t provoke negative feelings in you. The positive side of the story is that Yuri will then give you even more attention and become even more romantic. Because in truth, despite all his strictness, he would never want you to feel bad.

Jiro

Many of the feelings that develop in Jiro during your relationship are completely new to him. The fluttering in his chest when you’re together, the goosebumps your touch gives him, the need to feel your whole body against his skin, and also this new discomfort he feels when he sees you with another man. Generally, he doesn't mind if you spend a lot of time with other men, so it takes quite a bit of physical closeness to evoke feelings of jealousy in him.

Jiro is a pragmatic and very straightforward man. When he observes a situation where you get close enough to another person to provoke jealousy in him, he will first carefully watch both you and himself until he is sure that he can't dispel his insecurity on his own. So be prepared for questions later like, “Is there a special reason why you’re so close?”, “Am I no longer evoking romantic feelings in you, so you've reconsidered our relationship?”, “Is it normal to have multiple lovers?”

Since Jiro is quite an attractive man who works with numerous patients, it won’t be uncommon for him to interact closely with them, and some examinations may take a while. He will never think anything of it and will never come to the idea that you might think something of it either. It’s his job to take care of his patients. Nothing more, nothing less.

The only exception might be if he has experienced jealousy himself beforehand. In that case, he will have taken note of the trigger and will make sure to avoid giving you the same feeling. Therefore, he will closely observe you in this scenario, and at the slightest hint that you might be jealous, he will come to you and directly remind you that you don’t need to worry. Even if you’re not actually jealous. If he hasn't experienced jealousy yet, you will need to directly address your feelings with him and probably explain them in detail so that he can understand, which will likely result in a very awkward conversation for you. And no, he won’t really be able to understand it, as he will never see a reason for jealousy from his perspective. Nevertheless, he will then try to avoid the behavior that triggers those uncomfortable feelings in you.