#blaze's cringe ideas

[blazregaliadream]

Undead Lyn AU + FEH Unit Concept

Sometime after leaving Caelin to the care of Marques Hector, Lady Lyndis would venture to find her friend that she had found on the wayside once upon a time. She would travel across Elibe, but no matter where she looked, her friend was nowhere in sight and no one seemed to know what became of them. Regardless, Lyn continued her search, leaving behind Elibe and would search across several worlds. At an unknown point, death would claim her after succumbing to the fatal wounds she sustained from an ambush. But she wouldn't rest. No matter what, she wanted to see her friend again, no... She had to see them again... The Sacaen's mutilated and defiled corpse stirred, materializing ghostly limbs where her arms had originally been cut off, a new blade materializes to the opposite side of the Mani Katti and Sol Katti she's kept on her for so long, and so, her journey resumed once more. But eventually, she would forget why she strayed so far from her homeland, her world, and would be reduced to a phantom husk, haunting areas that reminded her of the plains, killing anyone unfortunate enough to run into her. People would call her “The Wind Scarred Wraith”, wielding a blade that harvested the souls of all she slayed, and though her eyes remained shut, some could feel a faint sense of sadness from her, as if she's still desperately trying to remember what she had forgotten, what was missing from her now hollow "afterlife"... ============================================================ Lyn Wind Scarred Wraith A Sacaen noblewoman that wandered the Outrealms searching for her long lost friend. She never gave up in her search, but eventually she forgot why she was wandering in the first place. Appears in Fire Emblem: Awakening. Sword - Infantry Weapon - Reaping Katti [Mt. 16, Rng 1] Accelerates Special Cooldown (-1). If unit's HP ≥ 25%, grants +7 Atk/Spd during combat and also, when unit deals damage to foe during combat, restores 7 HP to unit. Special - Harvesting Winds [Cooldown 3] Boosts damage by 30% of unit's Spd and heals by 40% damage dealt. Passives A - Distant Solo A/S B - Persistent Hunter Inflicts Spd/Def-4 on foe during combat. If a skill compares unit's Spd to a foe's or ally's Spd, treats unit's Spd as if granted +7. If unit's Spd > foe's Spd, reduces damage from attacks during combat and from area-of-effect Specials by percentage = difference between stats x 5 (max 50%). Neutralizes effects that prevent unit's follow-ups and guarantees foe's follow-ups. C - Fatal Blow After combat, inflicts【Deep Wounds】and deals 7 damage to foe and foes within 2 spaces of target after combat. ============================================================= This was an old concept I shared with friends a year or so back that I came back to revitalize. Amusingly even with the state of FEH’s meta, I’m still holdin’ myself back when it comes to how much shit I put in my unit concepts lol The AU itself was made from a dream I had where I was in some unknown world, didn’t seem to be Elibe, and out in the fields was Lyn who would start chasin’ after me anytime I got near her, but would never pursue beyond the plains and forest area. Like FFXV’s Gilgamesh, she was missin’ both arms, but was able to materialize ghostly ones to handle her weapons. I distinctly recalled that her eyes were actually missin’ but the eyelids were shut too, and she never seemed to utter a single word. It was pretty unnervin’ to say the least tho, I dunno what happened for her to wound up in that state, but I couldn’t help but feel as sad as I was scared... Anyway, that’s all, I hope you enjoyed this. I had wrote up dialogue for her, but maybe she’s better off silent to add to the fear factor... Also, she would count as both a FE7 and FE13 unit since she also wears her Swordmaster outfit from her DLC Einherjar self in Awakening!

[sweetmoon-cafe]

i miss my wife… nothing happened to him i am simply out of the magical plant ,,,

[sunni-stuff]

Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.

You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interaction 

Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.

Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers beware—this hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.

Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.

“There’s a man in the woods,” he said, voice unwavering. “You’d be smart to forget the idea.”

The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.

Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and you’d never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. You’re going in that forest, urban myth or not.

Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.

Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.

Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.

Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.

Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.

There was no possible way.

The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.

"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.

Then it appeared without warning.

A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.

You turn and run.

Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a second—you know it’s over.

Run.

The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.

There’s no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.

Then you see it.

A cabin.

Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet it’s the only shelter in sight. You don’t hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.

In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.

You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beast’s pursuit.

The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.

You glanced down—and there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.

A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. “You little—” The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. “How—How did you end up here, huh?”

Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over you—a stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.

“Shit,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.

Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. There’s something unnervingly sterile about the place—no photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.

No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunter’s shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.

Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybean’s ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.

Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.

“I-Is anyone there…?” Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.

Then, clear as day, you hear it.

“Help… me…”

The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperate—human. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.

“Please… someone help me…"

A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.

“U-uh, where…?” The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.

Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wall—the entrance to a cellar.

The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. “Help… please…”

You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.

It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.

The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your right—and freeze.

The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.

But then the horror deepens—recognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.

Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. He’d warned them off, told you they wouldn’t bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment you’d ever imagined.

How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?

You weren’t supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognition—a desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. “Help! Please, before he comes back!” he rasps, voice cracking.

He.

The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?

Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. “W—who… who are you talking about?”

The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.

Don’t turn around.

Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terror—Jellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?

With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.

You don’t want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you don’t move, you’ll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.

And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.

Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voice—you’ve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm “good evening” when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.

The butcher.

---

A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Heyyy so this is very specific 😅

Remember the fisher king part 2 episode when Spencer escapes the bomb? So imagine the bomb part happened in a different case (because I need Emily and Dave in) and he had to go to the hospital because of some wounds (he’s really fine but the team insisted) So they go to the hospital.

They could see Spencer was nervous looking around like he was scared, Morgan, JJ and Emily just thought it was the germaphobic thing. While Hotch and Dave (the only ones who knew) already had a bet on: how long will it take to Spencer’s partner, a doctor at the hospital they’re in, showed up screaming at Spencer for risking his life (again).

And guess what happens? They show up with steam coming out of her ears. Ready to scold Spencer. They ask him what happened and he keep it simple “I just got fell” and she turns to hotch and Dave “is that true” you choose who ditches on Spencer. While all of that happens JJ Emily and Morgan are like “wtf is going on???? “Reid has a partner???!”

I told you it was specific 😭

Love Doctor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of a bomb

Word count: 712

a/n: this was so cute i love this ask!!!

main masterlist

As the team walks into the hospital, Spencer tries to hide the unease coursing through him. The incident with the bomb was behind them, but his nerves were anything but settled. He knew what was coming, and it wasn’t just the doctors poking and prodding at him. Morgan, JJ, and Emily exchange glances, assuming Spencer’s discomfort is due to his well-known aversion to hospitals and germs.

“You’re gonna be fine, pretty boy,” Morgan says, patting Spencer on the shoulder. “Just a few scratches, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Yeah, Spence, it’s not like they’re gonna make you stay the night or anything,” JJ adds with a reassuring smile.

Emily nods, her tone light as she says, “You’ll be out of here before you know it, probably before they can even make you wear one of those hospital gowns.”

Spencer forces a tight smile, his eyes darting nervously around the busy hospital hallway. His heart races, not because of the minor injuries he sustained but because he knows who works here. Hotch and Rossi, walking a few paces ahead, exchange a knowing look. They’ve both seen this play out before, and although they’d never admit it, they’re both wondering how long it will take for the inevitable confrontation to occur.

Just as Spencer is about to sit down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, he hears a familiar voice, sharp and filled with exasperation.

“Spencer Reid!”

The sound of his full name, spoken with that particular tone, makes Spencer cringe. He turns slowly, already bracing himself for the storm about to hit. You, his partner, a doctor at the hospital, storms toward him, your face a mixture of relief and fury. The rest of the team watches in shock as you approach, eyes blazing with anger.

“What were you thinking?” you demand, not bothering to lower your voice. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could’ve—” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to calm down but failing spectacularly.

Spencer rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I, uh… I just fell.”

You narrow your eyes, turning their attention to Hotch and Rossi, who are both standing with their arms crossed, attempting (and failing) to hide their amusement. “Is that true? Did he just fall?”

Rossi, not missing a beat, smirks and says, “I’d say he more or less threw himself into harm’s way, but ‘falling’ works too.”

Hotch, with a slight nod, adds, “There might have been a bomb involved.”

Your eyes flash with irritation as you look back at Spencer. “A bomb? You said you fell!”

Spencer shrinks a little under your gaze. “Well, I did fall… after the bomb went off.”

You look like you’re about to explode, but instead, you take another deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Spencer…”

Meanwhile, Morgan, JJ, and Emily are standing off to the side, their jaws practically on the floor. JJ is the first to speak, her voice low with shock. “Wait… Reid has a partner? A partner who’s a doctor?”

Emily, eyes wide, whispers back, “And they’re yelling at him… like he’s a kid caught sneaking out of the house.”

Morgan, unable to contain his amusement, chuckles. “This just got interesting.”

You turn back to Spencer, your voice softer now but still firm. “You’re coming home with me after this, and we’re going to have a serious talk about you risking your life like this. Again.”

Spencer nods quickly, knowing better than to argue. “Yes, my love.”

As you usher Spencer towards the examination room, Morgan, JJ, and Emily exchange looks of bewilderment and amusement. Hotch and Rossi follow at a distance, satisfied with how things have unfolded.

Emily, still stunned, leans over to Morgan. “I think we just met the one person who can actually scare Reid.”

Morgan grins. “I think you’re right.”

JJ, shaking her head in disbelief, murmurs, “I didn’t even know he was dating someone…”

As they all watch Spencer disappear into the examination room with his partner, a new wave of curiosity and respect for their genius colleague washes over them. They’ve just witnessed a side of Spencer Reid they never knew existed, and none of them are sure how to process it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[rayshippouuchiha]

Random au idea

fem!naruto/itachi where she used to date sasuke before itachi saw how his brother treated her like shit (aka as a stepping stone to overcome him) and somehow gets fixated on her + snatches her up to treat her right.

Just vividly imagining a scene where itachi is like sasuke i literally killed our whole family and i still respect women? I know damn well I didn’t do that to u

And sasuke doing something godawful and icky since he only realizes how much he loves naruto once she’s gone and Naruto is internally like if my vagina could fold in on itself and cringe it would be rn

Idk vry random lol

I see this as an AU where Itachi still killed the Clan but he stayed in Konoha. Maybe Sasuke walked in on him executing their parents despite the fact that he was supposed to be tucked away safe outside of the Uchiha Compound and that's where a big portion of his trauma comes from.

So, needless to say, the relationship between Itachi and Sasuke is still very very complicated.

And without the infiltration mission with the Akatsuki to focus on, Itachi ends up a little ,,, odd.

But he still loves Sasuke, of course he does. So much of what he did, the blood he spilled, he did for Sasuke. For his life and his future.

There's not much Sasuke can do, despite his obvious and blazing fury toward Itachi, to make Itachi truly angry at him in turn.

Until, that is, Sasuke starts dating Naruto.

Bright, sweet, breathtakingly talented but heartbreakingly neglected, Naruto.

Naruto who is one of the few people in the village still willing to look Itachi in the eyes. Naruto who never flinches from him. Never watches him like she's expecting him to snap and do something monstrous.

Naruto who, in quiet moments in the dark of his room, makes Itachi's palms itch with longing.

So when he sees the slowly growing sadness in her? When he's able to trace it directly back to Sasuke?

Well now.

That just won't do.

[sleepyyywriter]

Just You Is Enough For Me

A/N: I’d like to point out that my recollection of the movie is vague because I have only watched it once, but I needed a fix it fic asap. This one is for me but if you enjoy, yay! (Also, might’ve altered or moved events around but, you know. Fiction. Also, also! I did ridiculous research on pleas and whatnot and again, because this is fiction, I used what I liked and ignored the rest.)

Word Count: 8k

Genre: Fluff, fix-it fic

Heads up, this is not the fic for you if you liked Lee's character. Sorry.

Finally, thanks to @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend for listening to me spiral about Arthur and for giving me the space to come up with this idea. Love youuuu! 💜

The pencil in her hand snapped in half as she gazed up at Arthur, her eyes wide and the terror clear as day in them. The biggest mistake he could make at this point was firing them as counsel.

“My client needs a break, your hon-“

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed at Arthur’s suit and yanked him down, her eyes boring into his and effectively halting his protests.

She wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him with her eyes, she couldn’t actually say anything aloud, even if she could get her mouth to open, but Y/N needed him to understand what she knew in her heart.

They were his only shot at not rotting at Arkham for the rest of his life. They were his only shot at getting the help he so desperately needed. That he deserved and had been denied his whole existence. She knew that, why didn’t he?

The voices around her sounded so distant as they looked into each other’s eyes, hers pleading and his avoidant.

No. Not avoidant. He was looking for her, no doubt. All he did was look for her, the one responsible for this shitshow. The one who was in it for the fame and publicity that came with being the joker’s girlfriend, or whatever the fuck she was.

Y/N knew about her, who didn’t? And she hated her. She told herself it was because of the harm she was causing Arthur’s case. And because it was so obvious she didn’t actually care for him. Not all of him anyway. But if she were to be honest with herself… Well. There was no time for that right not.

Right now, they had to figure out if there was a way to salvage any of this.

As they made their way to the room they were provided with by the court, Y/N could tell Maryanne was pissed. They had been dealing with the repercussions of everything Lee said and did in front of the media, and Arthur’s outburst could very well be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Maryanne herself asked to be dropped as counsel.  

As the bailiff shackled Arthur to the table at the center of the room, Y/N intercepted Maryanne at the door, involuntarily cringing at the glare sent her way.

“Let me talk to him first?”

“This is not the place for your stupid cru-“

Y/N yelped and shut the door, hoping Arthur hadn’t heard that from the other side.

“This has nothing to do with that!” she interrupted, lightly shouldering Maryanne away from the door and towards the bench outside of the room. “You need to calm down. If you go in there, guns blazing, he is going to shut down and we won’t be able to convince him to stay.”

“You think we can? You think you can?” she sneered, her lips pursing in anger as she massaged her temple with her fingers.

Y/N smiled tightly and made her way back into the room, “I’m gonna fucking try.”

-----------------------------

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, arms across her chest as she leaned into the closed door, her eyes on the squirming, hunched over figure in front of her.

A part of her was trying to find the words, nice ones at least, to try to talk some sense into Arthur. Another part of herself, the pettier side, was enjoying how uncomfortable Arthur seemed.

Good. She hoped he knew he had fucked up. She especially hoped he knew how he had hurt her feelings.

She was very aware the crush was one sided, judging by the dopey smile he got on his stupidly handsome face every time Lee was brought up. And that was okay. Really! Her main concern was getting Arthur the help he needed, not any silly schoolgirl fantasies her exhausted brain would concoct right before she passed out on her bed.

Y/N had accompanied Maryanne from day one as she worked Arthur’s case, and she thought they had formed a friendship. Maryanne of course cared for him and wanted to help; she was more centered, maybe even more professional? And that why she was so damn good at her job.

Y/N was the younger associate. She could afford to be swayed by emotions. She could afford the reassuring smiles and the daily jokes and teasing banter. She was the good cop to the clients. And more so with Arthur. She could still remember how skittish he was at the beginning. How accustomed he was to people hurting him or making fun of him, that he didn’t talk to them at all for the first three days.

It wasn’t until Y/N told a joke, a very bad one she profusely apologized for, that he finally acknowledged them. She remembered how her heart ached at the sight of his scabbing eyebrow and his busted lip. How a smile made its way to her lips at the sight of his smile, so child-like and innocent and a perfect match for the twinkling seas of juniper leaves in his eyes.

It was with that memory in her head and those emotions in her heart that she finally moved. She pulled the chair next to him and sat, her elbow on the table as she rested her face on her palm.

“What the fuck, Arthur?” she sighed, her eyes searching his.

Laughter burst from his lips, but she recognized this one. It wasn’t that breathy huff before a genuine smile painted his lips. This was the laughter he couldn’t contain. The one that hurt him and wouldn’t let him get enough oxygen into his lungs. This was the laughter that left him hunched over in pain, gasping for air and afraid.

Y/N pursed her lips, mentally kicking herself for triggering him like this, and placed her hand on his back as she hummed Durante’s Smile, hoping it was as comforting for him as it was for her.

He was always singing something, nothing she ever knew of course. He had once wrinkled his nose in the most adorable way when she had played some of her music for him, her AC/DC and Bon Jovi “too loud” for him. She had laughed and they had both agreed that music could be important to both of them without necessarily meaning the same type of music.

Still, this one was one of the few “oldies” she had in her repertoire, and she hoped it was offering him some comfort.

As his chest stopped heaving and his laughter had been reduced to sporadic bursts that didn’t leave him as breathless, he began to speak.

“Lee is trying to free me. She is helping me, Y/N.”

“Arthur,” she began, her eyes shutting as she tried to keep her distaste for Lee from her face.

“We’re going to build a mountain! We’re going to be happy! And you just want me locked up. She said-”

Her hands balled into fist over his suit, and she had to make a conscious effort to pull away and not pull at his clothes.

“She said what, Arthur?” she asked, her voice tight with poorly disguised anger.

“That you- you don’t want to help. That- that you’re like them. You underestimate me and you think I’m dumb, and you don’t care about me. And-”

She raised her hand to silence him, using the other to push away from the table and get herself to her feet, needing space from him.

“I’m here, jeopardizing my job to beg you to please let us help you. Every day I go home from the office, I have to make sure nobody is following to scream at me, throw rotten shit at me or hit me because I am defending you. Which has happened by the way. And every day, every fucking day Arthur, I go back into that office and stay there until the break of fucking dawn trying to find a way to help you. And you’re telling me I don’t care? Because the one who is actively sabotaging your defense told you so?”

Maryanne came back inside at that, surprise on her face at the tone Y/N had taken which usually only she used when she needed to strongarm stubborn clients.

“You know what? I actually don’t fucking care whether you fire Maryanne or not. I quit regardless.”

Y/N ignored Maryanne’s calls and she certainly didn’t look back at Arthur as she stormed out of the room, with what felt like her whole heart stuck in her throat as she blinked the tears away.

She knew it wasn’t fair to talk to Arthur like that and much less to up and abandon him. Even if that was what he was asking for. She had proved to him once more that everyone left him when he needed them the most, but his words had cut her too deep.

She had poured her heart into doing everything in her power to help. She had called witnesses, she had read over files numerous times, fighting through the tears as she read about every despicable thing Arthur had lived through.

When what she read began plaguing her dreams, she would get back up and continue her work at home, hoping to find the smoking gun that would get the world to see he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He was a product of his fucked-up upbringing and the disregard society had for the poor and ill. Arthur needed help, proper help he was not going to receive where he was currently locked up at and so every day she worked. How could he say she didn’t care? How could he believe her? Y/N was in his corner first. Which was a stupid sentiment. Childish even. She still couldn’t stop feeling it.

-------------------------------

Y/N couldn’t remember how she had gotten home. She must’ve taken the right buses because there she was, keys in her hand and her back to her door as she blinked into her dark apartment.

With a sigh, broken and drawn out, she took off her shoes and chucked her briefcase and purse somewhere into the living room. She’d look for them in the morning but now, she was a woman on a mission as she stalked toward her kitchen, two things on her mind. Vodka and ice cream.

As she carried her bowl and the entire bottle into the living room, the phone rang. She groaned and looked down at her occupied hands. There was clearly only one thing to do. Y/N poured a hefty amount of vodka into her ice cream and set the bottle aside as she grabbed the phone and carefully held it between her ear and shoulder.

“What the hell happened to ‘I’m gonna fucking try’?” the voice on the other end laughed.

“I will hang up on you if you’re calling to scream at me. Or make fun of me. I’m off the clock, you can do it tomorrow and pay me for it,” she grumbled, shoveling a spoonful of her special ice-cream into her mouth.

“You’ve been ballsy today,” Maryanne snorted and Y/N rolled her eyes at the sound.

“Can I help you or…?”

“He’s not firing us.”

“Good! Best of luck to y-”

“-on one condition. He wants you back on the case.”

Y/N scoffed, wincing as the too big spoonful of ice cream momentarily froze her brain. “And you told him to fuck off?”

“I most certainly did not. I said we would go up to see him tomorrow bright and early because you have a good head on your shoulders and a lengthy career ahead of you and you’re not going to let a stupid crush keep you from working this case, winning it, and watching your career take off.”

Y/N glared into her bowl, her eyes following the puddle forming around the lump of speckled white, both from the vodka she had added and the heat from her hands that was melting the rest.

“He’s a person. Why can’t we just help him because he deserves it? Not because of what that can do for us?”

Maryanne sighed and her tone softened, “We’re doing that too, Y/N.”

They spent a couple of minutes on the line going over ideas on how to salvage the shitshow that was today before they both agreed to meet at Arkham bright early tomorrow morning.

Y/N had an idea. She thought it would gain sympathy from the jury and get rid of Lee. That would break Arthur, but it would help their case. Even if it meant he hated her for it.

-----------------------------------

Y/N refused to look at him. It was “Mr. Fleck” this and that and even Maryanne couldn’t contain her laugh.

Still, the backstabbing bitch found a way to leave them alone for a bit, something about speaking to the warden about something. Oh, Y/N could’ve killed her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I-”

Okay, maybe shoving an unlit cigarette in his mouth was childish, but if it kept him from speaking to her, who was actually winning?

Absentmindedly, she lit the cigarette with the lighter she always seemed to carry now. Even though she didn’t smoke. This definitely did not coincide with meeting Arthur.

Arthur sighed and took out the cigarette, putting it out on the ashtray as best he could with shackled hands before trying to apologize once more. “Y/N I-”

“You hurt me. What you said was mean and hurtful. And-” Y/N faltered as she tried swallowing down the knot in her throat. “I know she is, you know. But you know me. You know I care. And you still doubted me.”

Their eyes met and her breath caught in her chest. His eyes had the tendency to change according to his surroundings. The room they were in was poorly lit, but the pale hues of his jumpsuit still found a way to reflect on his eyes. They were favoring the ocean today, the one that used to be in her backyard during her childhood. The ocean that lulled her to sleep and brought her safety and comfort. His ocean was currently twinkling with unshed tears, and she hated being responsible for that.

Maryanne barreled into the office in that moment, not paying attention to them as she slammed a file on to the table.

��She has been lying to you and using you to get back at her rich daddy. And it’s about time you knew.”

Y/N turned to Maryanne, her eyes wide in shock. This was news to her and certainly not the plan of attack they had come up with last night. The plan was to get Arthur to denounce the Joker as a figure meant to incite riots and violence. Y/N figured that the minute that Arthur separated himself from the madness and violence done in his name by people who didn’t know or care about him, Lee would leave. Since she was just in it for the exposure. For Joker, not Arthur.

Arthur was meant to bring attention to who he was. A hardworking, devoted son who woke up day after day and went to work and sought out help and wanted to get better. He just needed a little bit of help to get back on his feet and the death penalty was not the way to go. That was the fucking plan. Not this!

“Maryanne?”

“Y/N? Did you know?”

At this, Y/N found herself at his side, his shackled hand in hers as she gazed into his eyes. “No, Arthur. I did not. Please believe me this time.”

Arthur nodded and Y/N dropped his hand, sending Maryanne a glare before she picked up the file and read on.

She could feel the warmth of Arthur’s body as he leaned into her to read the file as well.

Arthur had told her that Lee had set fire to her mother’s home. She had painted quite a story for him, and Arthur believed her.

Instead, she was a rich girl who hadn’t struggled a day in her life. What’s more, she had voluntarily committed herself for some crazy reason, and had then convinced Arthur it was his fault she was being sent away. The only truth she had ever told him was her name. “That bitch!”

Arthur stiffened beside her, and Y/N gritted an apology through her teeth. That was still his girlfriend at the end of the day.

“I want to talk to her.”

Y/N and Maryanne looked at each other; they both knew that was a bad idea. She would find a way to twist the facts and he would believe her. She would be free to continue wreaking havoc and inching him closer to the death penalty.

Arthur was trusting and more than anything, he just wanted to be loved. To be seen. That was the key to manipulating him. She could do it too. While she knew he didn’t feel the same way for her, she was aware that she become a friend to him and she could use that to get him to do what she wanted him to do. What she needed him to do for his own good.

Just thinking about it made her feel wretched and she knew she couldn’t do that. Especially after she had just begged him to trust her seconds ago. No. She had to do better. He deserved that much.

“Arthur,” she began, turning to him and taking his hands into hers once more, “can you give me a few moments of your attention? No interruptions. No questions. Just listen to me for a minute. And then I promise to listen to you. Can you do that?”

His head tilted to the side as his eyes bore into hers, trying to figure her out. Everyone always brought up his upbringing, his poverty, his low IQ. As if that made him less. As if life hadn’t seen all of that and still deemed it necessary to teach him lessons in the hardest, most despicable ways possible. Arthur had the uncanny ability to see through people’s intentions. He knew when he was the butt of the joke. But he wanted to be loved and so he put up with the taunts and the abuse because a part of himself thought it was a small price to pay to be loved. What a silly, hauntingly beautiful man. God, when had this become more than a crush?

With a nod and a squeeze to her hands, Arthur broke her from her reverie. And so she talked.

She explained how it would be a good idea to hold off on talking to her. How, it was great that they loved each other (that was a lie but he didn’t need to know that) but the public didn’t care for that. How, as much as we shouldn’t care what the world has to say about us, in this instance, public opinion literally held his life in their hands. Finally, she explained how she would not be able to live with herself if they were unable to win his case, if the same society that failed him again and again won in the end and took his life. Y/N begged him to please let her help him in the best way she knew how. She reassured him how Lee and he could go back to being a happy couple as soon as this was over and nobody would be able to tell him otherwise. What she didn’t say, however, was how she didn’t think Lee would stick around when the news outlets and camera flashes stopped following her every move. He could hate her for the rest of his life so long as he was off death row and living the life he always deserved. She could live with that.

“I know it’s not what you want. You deserve to talk to her and ask her to clear this up. I’m asking for the impossible from you, Arthur. But I need you to help me help you. Yes?”

His face was contorted in agony and despair, the lines around his eyes deepening as he furrowed his brows and a part of herself broke knowing she was once again the cause for his pain.

She didn’t speak and neither did Maryanne; they both knew the ball was now on Arthur’s side of the court and whatever he decided would dictate the course of his case.

“How much longer will this go on for?”

----------------------------------

They left with a tentative agreement from Arthur. He wasn’t willing to cut off contact with Lee for too long and so now they had the difficult task of trying to end this trial quickly, and in their favor.

“I have a feeling he would hate this. But… what if we file a written motion for a change of venue?”

“That would push the trial date back, Y/N.”

“Yes, but you know the riots and general unrest in the city are not doing him any favors. Any jury picked from Gotham is going to convict him no matter how good our case is. And-” Y/N trailed off, collapsing into the sofa in Maryanne’s office.

“-and it creates more distance between Arthur and Lee if we move it?” Maryanne finished knowingly, handing her over her own glass of whiskey.

Y/N grumbled a plea for her to be quiet and took a generous gulp of her drink, scowling at Maryanne’s laughter.

“You know, Dent is not going to agree to that.”

At this, Y/N smirked and straightened in her seat, “oh! Did I forget to tell you how he got Sophie Dumond to testify in court?”

“Did you find something?”

“No. But I can.” She begun, shushing Maryanne before she could even get a word in. “Do not ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

Maryanne nodded and with that, Y/N left her office and made her way to her own, to draft up the motion and call up one of her old contacts.

Fabricated evidence would never hold its own in court, but the threat of said fabricated evidence tarnishing Harvey Dent’s stellar reputation? Well. That would work. Y/N meant it when she said she would do everything in her power to give Arthur a fair shot at the life he always deserved. And he would never know the lengths she’d go to. Because she didn’t need him in her debt. Y/N just wanted him to have his happily ever after. With whoever and wherever.

-------------------

Lee had not taken the forced separation from Arthur well. It had been a week since they had filed the motion and had gotten it approved. Once news outlets caught wind of it no longer taking place in the city and noting Lee’s absence from the hearing, and general cluelessness about everything that was going on, they had lost their interest in her. She was no longer page one worthy news and judging by the number of times she stopped by the office, shouting and shoving at the security guards, she was not handling it well.

Which is why it was no surprise to her when she received a call from Arkham’s high security wing from a contact, letting her know Lee was currently in a visit with Arthur, despite explicit instructions to the warden to not allow her in.

She was in the area and so she quickly flagged down a cab, cursing up a storm and throwing the driver a few extra bills to entice him to break any laws necessary to get her there as soon as possible.

Once there, she knew exactly who had allowed Lee in, if the terrified expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Sullivan, I swear to God I will sue you and every single one of your fucking descendants if you don’t open this goddamn door.” She seethed, satisfaction filling her as he jumped off of his stool, his fingers clumsily clicking and clacking in his rush.

With a final glare, she stalked into the visiting area as soon as the gate was unlocked. She paused momentarily and gave a final warning over her shoulder, locking eyes with the only one who needed to hear it. “And if you take this out on Arthur, I will know. Remind me, what was your lovely granddaughter’s name again? She’s a second grader now, isn’t she?”

She watched him gulp and nod before she gave him a smile dripping with every ounce of distaste she had for him and continuing her trek.

Instantly, she caught sight of Lee’s back. She also saw Arthur. His lips pursed even if his eyes shouted the love and adoration he felt for her. Her heart melted at the knowledge that he was trying to keep his word and not talk to Lee. Even if she was right in front him and there was likely nothing he wanted more.

“What are you standing there for?” She barked at the guard in the corner.  “Get her out of here. She is not an approved visitor, and you know that.”

Arthur’s eyes flew to her face the minute he heard her voice; his eyes wide and pleading, almost as if begging her to believe he had nothing to do with the woman currently in front of him.

Y/N barely had the chance to reassure him before Lee’s hand connected with her face, a sharp smack ringing into the silence of the visitation area.

Her jaw tightened as she brought her hand up to her cheek, her eyes hardening as she wiped away the blood drawn by the ring Lee was wearing.

The silence was cut by Arthur’s shout of Lee’s name and Y/N felt the proverbial butterflies in her stomach at the sight of Arthur’s angry expression directed towards Lee. His eyes, stormy and narrowed as a scowl marred his usually smiling lips; Y/N was ridiculously in love.

“Don’t you get it?!” Lee shouted, struggling against the guards who were dragging her out, “She is trying to keep us apart because the little bitch wants you all to herself!”

Y/N watched as she was finally out of the visitation area, smirking in satisfaction as she hissed after stupidly banging at the iron door keeping her out.

A part of her wanted to stay that way, her back to Arthur as she willed the universe to open up and swallow her whole. She likely would’ve stayed there long after visiting hours were over had she not heard the soft call of her name. Like a moth to a flame, like a sailor falling prey to the siren’s song, Y/N turned and closed the gap between them. As much as she could with the glass in between them, at least.

“Is it true?” Y/N didn’t know if he was asking about whether she was trying to keep them apart on purpose or even worse, about the crush, but answering neither would be of no help.

“I told you from the beginning, everything I do is for your own good. Not because you can’t make decisions on your own, but because I know how things work in these cases and I want to use that knowledge to help you. The power is in your hands, Arthur. You can choose to let me go whenever you like.”

And he could. He could choose to hire someone else. Or worse even, to represent himself. But she didn’t mean it that way and she prayed he hadn’t caught her slip up. Even if it would be good if he did.

Maybe then he could release her from the hold he had on her, a hold he likely didn’t even know about. Maybe then he could stop doing things that were confusing her. Like smiling at her like she was the only person in the world. Or murmuring her name, soft and intimate, like it was made from fragile glass. Maybe then she could get her head out of her ass and behave like the professional she was before she met him. Before she fell for him.

Oh, but sweet, shy, lovely Arthur didn’t catch it. For someone who was as in love with the idea of love as he was, he was quite blind to people who actually cared for him and loved him for him. She hated and loved that about him.

He nodded, his face softening with a smile that lit up her whole world and she cursed him and loved him a little more for it.

--------------------------------

These had been the most agonizing weeks of her life, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Arthur had been feeling. Alas, the day was finally here. Today would decide Arthur’s fate.

These last few weeks had been tedious, and Y/N had learned just how high her threshold for hate could go. More than once, she was ready to bash Dent’s head with a chair, that’s how despicable she found him. She didn’t understand how he had built a reputation of a respectable, protector of justice, when he was quite frankly a piece of shit.

Y/N had convinced Maryanne not only to change the venue, but also to move it to a more affluent area. Y/N knew there was nothing rich people loved more than pretending they cared about the little people and with the evidence they had to support Arthur’s not guilty by insanity plea, she knew the rich people who would encompass the jury would be on their side. They would be able to boast about their good deed and feel better about being filthy rich while the rest of the city died.

They wouldn’t be making the wrong call. They had more than sufficient evidence to support their claim, and anybody with half a braincell would agree that Arthur needed help in the form of rehabilitation, not incarceration.

Why then, was it that this pillar of justice was so adamant to lock Arthur up and throw away the key? Almost like he was also just after what convicting Arthur would do for his career. God, Y/N could kill him.

Arthur was a bundle of nerves beside her. She was a tad concerned that he would dislocate a knee with how he was bouncing it. She couldn’t look at him, afraid that he would see how nervous she was as well and that that would set him off, so she simply placed her hand on his knee and squeezed reassuringly.

She heard him inhale to say something, but the jury walked in, the bailiff and judge right after. Her insides origami’d themselves into a gnawing creature as she helped Arthur to his feet and stood as close to him as professionally acceptable.

As the foreman affixed his reading glasses atop his nose and cleared his throat to begin reading the verdict, Y/N sent one last prayer above. This had to go in Arthur’s favor, or she didn’t know how she would live with herself.

“We, the Jury, having carefully considered all the evidence presented in this case, find the defendant, Arthur Fleck, not guilty by reason of insanity.”

Everything else was drowned out in the rush of blood inundating her head and she found herself with an armful of Arthur, his face cradled in the crook of her neck as he cried. She was counting on Maryanne to listen to the rest of the verdict as she clung to Arthur and whispered reassurances in his ear.  

------------------------------

“So what now?” Arthur asked, looking so fragile and small as he sat in the corner of the interview room they had been sent to as they made preparations for his transfer. The minute he had been uncuffed and had been able to decide himself where to go, he had picked that corner to retreat to.

Y/N’s heart broke at the realization that this had been the first time in years he had been able to make a decision as simple as this and she had found herself sitting next to him, his hand in hers as she traced soothing patterns on the back of it.

“Maryanne is drafting a document asking the court to take into account the time you have already served. If we are lucky, you’ll only be required the three-month rule in a state institution, and then your life begins. Well, kind of. You’ll be required therapy for the rest of your life, but that is a good thing. I will ensure that whoever sees you now actually cares and helps. I promise,” she finished with a squeeze to his hand, a smile on her face as he breathed out a soft laugh.

“Will you visit?” he murmured after some time, not quite turning to look at her but she could feel his eyes gazing at her from under his eyelashes, as if afraid of her answer.

“As many times as you want me to,” Y/N reassured, slightly distraught at how vehemently she meant that. Fuck, she was stupid in love with a man who saw her as nothing more than a friend.

“Every day,” he beamed. His eyes finally meeting hers and she marveled at the weight that had clearly lifted from his shoulders. His bejeweled emerald eyes shined brightly in the dimly lit room and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe. She didn’t think breathing was as important as not missing a second of the awe-inspiring sight in front of her. The way his chestnut locks framed his face, or the way his thick lashes dusted the thin, purplish skin of his eyelids. He was beautiful and how she wished to be the one to gaze upon him every day. Sadly…

“Have you talked to Lee?”

Her smile tightened and she cleared her throat, hoping to swallow down the distaste. “I called her myself after the verdict but got her answering machine. As soon as she calls back, I will let you know.”

“I think she’s mad. I hope she doesn’t hate me,” he mused sadly, his shoulders slumping forward.

“You did what you had to do for your wellbeing. She loves you, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Y/N consoled, nudging him with her shoulder. “Besides, you can blame me if you want. That way she can’t be mad at you.”

His eyes searched her face until they settled on the new scar on her face, courtesy of Lee. From the corner of her eyes, she saw his free hand nearing her face, but right before he could make contact, she jumped up. Y/N didn’t know if she could come back from knowing what his hands felt like on her face.

“There is another thing we must discuss, Arthur,” she began, hoping she was successfully playing off how flustered being so close to him made her. “Medication. I know you don’t like the way you feel but taking it will likely be a requirement.”

He slumped over once more, an adorable pout taking over his lips and Y/N cursed the heavens for the feelings lighting up sparks within her.

They discussed the topic a bit more, and Y/N died a little when he admitted he was not aware he was allowed to ask to be switched to other medications until they found a good fit for him. He assumed the lifeless, zombie-state was the norm and Y/N’s heart broke a little more for him. He deserved the world and she wanted to be the one to give it him.

Maryanne came in then, a grin on her face as she sat on a chair, beckoning for the other two to do the same.

Y/N obliged and offered Arthur her hand to help him up, then guided him to a chair and took one next to him. He looked at her then, questioning, but all she could do was shrug as she did not know what Maryanne’s grin was about.

Their questioning looks soon turned to astonishment as Maryanne explained how the judge, who happened to regularly play golf with her husband, had agreed that the time Arthur had served should be taken into account. What’s more, he believed one of the ways society could atone for its sins against Arthur was to waive the three month rule and set Arthur free, to the care of a guardian who would assume responsibility for him. He would still be required to attend counseling for the rest of his life, and follow any guidelines his medical team recommended, but that was of course next to nothing compared to being institutionalized.

Y/N’s mouth hung open; she could almost feel her jaw unhinge as she tried to comprehend the feat Maryanne had just accomplished.

“I- I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Her heart, bruised and battered, broke a little more at the sound of his broken whisper and she turned to him, words of comfort on her lips before Maryanne cut her off.

“Sure you do. Y/N is the court-appointed guardian the judge, Dent and I agreed on.” Maryanne said this nonchalantly, but Y/N could hear the smugness on her voice. “By the way Y/N, verify your address with accounting. Due to your new circumstances, we’ll have to ship a PC to your home. I’m thinking you can do three days at home and two in the office? Or as necessary. We’ll figure that out later. For now, we have accommodations to make.”

She then sashayed out of the room, and had it not been for Arthur’s hand on her shoulder, Y/N would’ve sat there frozen for God know how long.

“Is- is that okay? You can say no, Y/N. I don’t want to trouble you.” He said this with a smile, and she knew that even if she refused to house him and this meant he would lose his freedom and go back to being incarcerated, he would truly not hold that against her. God, he was so good. How could anyone ever think about hurting him? When he deserved nothing short of the world?

“And why would I do that, roomie?”

The grin he gave her was like the sun peaking from the horizon on a freezing December morning. Nothing could’ve ever topped it, except for the tight hug he gave her.

-------------------------------------

It had been a couple of months since Arthur had moved in. The first few days were… a learning experience. She tried to accustom herself to having another person living under her roof, a person she had feelings for but could not act on. And Arthur was trying to remember how to be free again. As free as he could be considering the restrictions he had on him.

Y/N’s heart broke every time he forgot where he was and would wait around for the door to be unlocked and opened for him. As he waited for permission he no longer needed to accomplish mundane tasks, Y/N would approach him carefully and softly, as if afraid to shock him, and she’d remind him that he could move as he pleased. She’d remind him that he was home now (God, how she hoped he felt like he was home) and was in charge of his actions.

Without fail, wonder filled his eyes, and he looked around the room, as if taking it in and reminding himself where he was before settling on her face. And then, then he’d steal her breath as he smiled at her, soft and sweet. Oh, how she loved him.

Lee had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. As much as she didn’t want to, for Arthur, she had called in favors to try and find her.  To no avail.

Last she heard, her parents had shipped her overseas to distance her from everything she had said and done in front of the cameras, but that was the last they had been able to find about her.

Arthur was of course heartbroken, but he claimed he was at least happy knowing she was safe. It didn’t matter that she no longer loved him and didn’t want to see him.

For her part, Y/N swore that if she ever saw her, she’d rip her face off and keep it as a trophy.

Today was one of the rare days off they had. Arthur had no session today and she had finished her work for the week. After breakfast, she had asked him what he wanted to do for the day and, without missing a beat, he had suggested a walk around the city.

The area Y/N lived in was on the other side from where Arthur grew up. It was decidedly nicer, cleaner and nobody seemed to know or care who Arthur was. Arthur loved going on walks whenever they both had the time, and without fail, he would steal yet another piece of her heart as he marveled at the most mundane things they encountered on their walks.

She recalled the giggle that escaped his lips the first time they had come across a flock of ducks in the park and Y/N could do nothing more but slip into a bodega to purchase frozen peas so Arthur could feed the ducks. Nothing could put a price on the delight lighting up his face.

And so, the plan was the same today. As they walked out of the familiar bodega, hand in hand and frozen peas secured, Y/N marveled at how good of a life she had.

As they made their way to the park, they stopped every few houses and marveled at the Halloween decorations adorning the streets. It was mid-October, her favorite time of the year, and she loved the way the city looked.

As they approached an empty park bench, she turned to Arthur, wanting to point out the ducks to him only to find him already looking at her.

That had been a recent development and she wished she could ask him to stop. She, of course, couldn’t do that. Not without explaining that her heart threatened to leap out of her chest and into his hands whenever he looked at her like that. Not without confessing her feelings to him, which would be incredibly unfair.

He didn’t feel that way and she had no right to take away the only safe place he had ever had. Arthur deserved a good life, he deserved to experience everything that had been denied from him his whole life and she couldn’t rob him of that by telling him about her silly little feelings.

What was she supposed to do when he told her he didn’t feel the same? Even worse was the thought of him feeling pressured to reciprocate out of fear his new world would be yanked from his feet. No. She would never tell him. But God, how she prayed he would stop looking at her like that. How she wished to dig into her chest and rip out her heart, to lock it in a box and shove it somewhere it could never come back from. How she wished not to feel. Just for a bit.

They sat at the park for what was certainly hours. He talked about his sessions and how they had finally settled on a medication that did not make him feel dead. It made him a bit sleepy, he said. But he could think, feel, and eat.

That she could attest to. He often asked for seconds during meals and just last week, when she was coming out of her room for a mid-day break from work, she had encountered a shirtless Arthur coming out of the restroom after a shower. Recovering from the shock, she turned back to her room with a squeak but not before allowing her eyes to roam his shirtless frame. She had noticed how his ribs were no longer protruding, and there was a softness cushioning his belly that was not there before when she had helped him dress for his trial, which seemed like eons ago now.

In turn, she talked about work without going into many details. Confidentiality and all. And she asked about the at-home nurse that would come in whenever Y/N had to go into the office. Arthur had no complaints and he confessed she almost felt like a mother, a proper one. Y/N grabbed his gloved hand and squeezed, a surprised squeak leaving her lips when he pressed his forehead against hers. If her breath hadn’t abandoned her, and her limbs obeyed her, she likely would’ve pushed him away. Instead, she shut her eyes and allowed the tremors to wash down her back and could do nothing but nod dumbly when he suggested they head back.

--------------------------------

 The walk back had been quiet. She thought she had done well at not making it awkward despite the silence from her part.

A talk would likely need to happen. If she wanted to hold on to the last bits of her sanity, boundaries would have to be set. Maybe she’d take up Sam’s weekly invitations to go out for drinks after work. Maybe that was what she needed to get over Arthur. Or to at least not go into cardiac arrest over physical contact.

He unlocked the door for them, likely realizing her dazed state and gently guided her inside and on to the couch.

Arthur left her eyesight for a bit, and she figured he had gone into his room. Even as she heard clattering in the kitchen, she didn’t turn to look, too lost in her thoughts.

It wasn’t until he reappeared in front of her, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in hand, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows like he knew she liked, that she broke through her dazed state.

“I thought you were cold, so I made this for you,” he began as he set it on the coffee table in front of her. He then reached around and grabbed the blanket draped over the couch and fluffed it before wrapping it around her. “I shouldn’t have made you stay outside this late. I forgot how cold it gets.”

Like a petulant child, she pulled the blanket over her head with a groan, wanting to lovingly punch his stupid face for making her feel feelings. This was too much for her.

Arthur laughed out a ‘what’s wrong?’ as he attempted to free her from her self-made blanket prison, soft giggles leaving him the more she fought against him.

Knowing she wasn’t going to win this battle, she broke free, furrowing her brows as she looked at the giggling man beside her.

Arthur snorted and reached over to smooth down her hair, his eyes twinkling with amusement, his cheeks flushed and lips curled in a smile.

“Arthur,” she began, grabbing his hands and placing them on his lap before folding hers in front of her chest, as if that was going to protect her heart.

“You know I care for you. And I will always be here for you. But-”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off. He remained silent for a few seconds before giving himself a reassuring nod. His eyes met Y/N’s briefly before he turned to focus on the long-forgotten mug. “Dr. Sloane recommended I tell you how I feel but- I’m not good with words, Y/N. I hoped my actions could, I don’t know,” he trailed off with a half-hearted shrug.

Y/N, on the other hand, was fighting through the static ringing in her ears as she tried making sense of Arthur’s words.

“How you feel?”

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’re probably just being nice. I knew you didn’t feel the same. But Dr. Sloane said I should try and-”

“Arthur!” she called to him firmly, her hands finding his as she tried to keep him from going down the spiral he currently was. “You have feelings for me?”

Arthur nodded shyly, his eyes on their intertwined hands as he rubbed the tips of his index finger and thumb together, a nervous habit he had picked up now that he was trying to quit smoking.

“You like me? But, Lee?”

“I don’t know if she was real. If what I thought she felt or what I felt for her was real. But you,” at this he smiled, so blindingly bright that for a moment she wondered how he had captured the moonlight in his smile.

“And you haven’t noticed I’ve liked you since day one?” she interrupted him, fighting a smile as his hands stiffened in hers.

Arthur’s head snapped up as his eyes searched hers, trying to decipher whether she was lying or not. She let him look, making sure to let her face and eyes shout about the love for him she had been trying to bottle up for what felt like an eternity.

“How- Y/N, how long?” he whispered, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Since I set foot in that room, shitty joke in my notebook. Since you laughed, so soft and shy and then told me one of yours.”

He made a choking sound and before she could worry about hearing him choke on that laughter that rarely made an appearance now but he still feared, he had closed the distance between them by pulling her into him.

She squeaked and surprised, allowed him to wrap his arms around her. He felt so warm. So safe. So right.

“We’re going to have to talk about this Arthur!” she laughed, succumbing to the kisses being peppered on her face.

“I’m serious, Arthur. We’re going to talk.” Y/N valiantly tried once more, sighing at yet another peck to her nose. Her forehead. And the corner of her lips. God, this man was a fuckin’ tease.

He groaned before cupping her cheeks with his palms, warm and calloused. “We will, later. But can I please kiss you now?”

It was Y/N’s turn to silence him, her lips finding his and her eyes fluttering shut. She didn’t know how the fireworks going off in her stomach had travelled to just behind her eyelids, but as Arthur pressed his lips to hers, urgently yet sweetly, she found she didn’t really care.

In that moment, nothing mattered. Not the road they had travelled to get here. Not where the road would take them tomorrow. All that mattered to her now was how his lips, chapped and warm moved against hers. How his hands felt, one on her back, branding her with his fingertips through her clothes. The other on her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her skin, staking claim to what had long belonged to him.

Nothing mattered but him. Always him. Forever him.

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch17 Setting Hearts A Blaze P3

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You didn't want to do this. But they asked to see your aunt. If they found out that you didn't ask her then they'll be upset. But if I DO ask her I know she's going to do something embarrassing like take their cups to read their tea leaves or show up in her fortune teller's outfit. Gods. What if she does the same thing she did when she met Gyomei?!

Your body cringed inwards on itself just picturing your aunt feeling Kyojuro's arm and then declaring he'd make a wonderful husband for someone she knew. Your gut feeling BEGGED you to not go through with it, and you had asked your boyfriend's opinion on the matter. He knew what she was like so surely he'd be against the idea too right?

"They requested her presence didn't they? It would be unkind to everyone if you don't at least tell her about the invitation."

Crap. He was right. Sigh. You'd have to go tell her the next time you saw her, which happened to be the very next day. So with a heavy feeling in your stomach, you drove all the way to her house and forced yourself to climb up the steps and enter the house where you found your aunt trying to manhandle giant boxes of Christmas decorations out of the thin entrance to her attic. 

"They want to what?"

"They wanted to invite you to dinner." You ducked avoiding the top plastic pine needles of a Christmas tree. "To thank you for helping them out. Um..Do want a hand?"

"I'm not old as dirt yet! I can put up a stupid tree." You only watched her struggle with the big thing until she wobbly placed it hard on the floor with a thud before sighing and stepping back to admire her work. "When is this dinner?"

"Um..I think Kyojuro said it was tomorrow night?"

"NO CAN DO, KIDDO!" She pointed up spinning on her heel and walking over to a big box labeled 'ornaments'. "I'm going to a speed dating event! There's only so much of me to go around!"

You sighed. A wave of relief flooding over you for a long moment. "So.. You'll be busy?"

"Honey, broken hearts and lonely souls are an epidemic in the world. When the world's calling me I must answer!"

"Well you didn't have to say it like a line written out of a story."

She waved you off. "Life is a story. Who's writing the story is whoever you decide to give the pencil to." Her arm then made a come here gesture. "Now come help me decorate the place! The halls won't deck themselves."

Everything seemed to go well enough the next day. Of course being a Saturday you had no work, but you still had the project with Giyuu and Shinobu to do due the last day of November which wasn't too far off. You opted to do it early in the morning so you could just go grocery shopping. So you did what you've been doing every morning. Getting up and ready before leaving to meet up with your friends at their house. Just ended up doing an hour of yoga before leaving to go grocery shopping at the local supermarket. Giyuu offered to drive you back but you declined as pretty much everything was within walking distance, even if it was pretty cold out. 

No doubt the first snow wouldn't be too far behind. That's what you thought to yourself as you walked into the thankfully warm grocery store, and grabbed a shopping cart to start pushing it around to start grabbing groceries and things you'd need for dinner tomorrow night, some rice and eel cutlets for unadon. So it really was a surprise for you to just be carting around listening to the generic Christmas music already being played over the loudspeakers and the squeaky wheel of the cart as you pushed it along, stopping every so while to grab milk and eggs and other small things, only to turn the corner into the other aisle and then completely pause.

You blinked before a big smile pressed against your lips at the realization of a familiar face. A man with short ink black hair was standing sideways at the end of the aisle. Shopping basket in one hand while his other ran across canned goods looking at each label for a specific product. Murata didn't see you as you started up towards him.

"Murata!"

"GAH?!" Said man jumped and whirled around as fast as a startled cat but he paused and blinked upon seeing you. "Y/n?!"

You giggled. "Yep! It's me!"

"Don't do that! I could've had a heart attack!"

Despite his frown you giggled again. "Sorry. I haven't seen you in like a month! How have you been?"

"Hmph. I've been fine. Trying to pay for rent and go to classes hasn't been easy to multitask lately is all."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. Your boyfriend ok?"

"Sabito's fine. Like I said, it's just been super busy." Murata paused taking a moment to lean over and look behind you for something. Or really someone. "Is..your boyfriend here too?"

"Gyomei? No. He's helping a friend move some stuff. Why?"

He didn't answer at first. Continuing to look behind you and then behind him as if making sure you both were alone before looking back at you in a dead serious face. "Are you here by yourself?"

"Um.." Your brow rose at him. "Yes? You're being kinda weird, Dude."

"I just wanted to make sure none of...those people were around here." 'Those people'? Who was he talking about? Looking around once more, Murata looked back to your confused face. "Remember when I said I had something important to tell you?" You nodded. You did but he never told you what he wanted to talk about. "I wanted to warn you sooner but you were surrounded by those guys all the time."

"Warn me?" That certainly surprised you. "Warn me about what? And what are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about the polycule nuts!" You blinked as he groaned. "I'm talking about your boyfriend's boyfriends..and girlfriends!"

"You mean Giyuu and Shinobu?"

"And the rest of them!"

You were surprised. What about your friends warranted Murata wanting to warn you? It confused you to the core. "Why? What's so wrong with them?"

"Um. Everything??" He held up his hands. "When I first saw that guy I thought he looked familiar but I didn't know he was Himejima. If I'd known who it was then I would've told you to not go out with him!"

"Why? What's so wrong with him?"

"How do you not know about their reputation?!" He facepalmed with a loud groan. 

"Murata, WHAT are you talking about?"

"People call them the 'Haishira' on campus." He explained looking up from his hands. "And they're pretty notorious for their lifestyle."

"You mean the fact that they're polyamorous?" Your brow rose with a frown. "Murata, there's lots of people in the world that's polyamorous. I'm not being cheated on or anything if that's what you're worried about. I already know about Gyomei having other partners and I'm fine with that-"

"It's not just that!" He cut you off with a look. "It's already super weird, but it's WAY beyond having like an extra boyfriend or girlfriend on the side! I'm worried about you being around them. Especially dangerous people like Shinazugawa and Iguro Obanai. And that Tengen guy!"

Sanemi and Obanai? Why? What was wrong with them? And Tengen?  Your questions were answered as Murata continued talking in your silence.

"Both of them have got a bad reputation on campus and for good reason. They're always getting into fights and Sanemi sent a guy to the hospital his first year of Uni just cuz someone hit on his girlfriend! Everyone's scared of them cuz they're loose cannons! Not to mention that Tengen guy is like the biggest womanizer on campus! He's always flirting with people and winking and posing naked for the art classes-"

"Don't... people usually volunteer as nude models for art class all the time so the students can practice drawing anatomy?"

"That doesn't change the fact that they're all super weird to be around! Look! I'm like REALLY worried about you here! And as your friend, I'm begging you to stay away from those guys! They're trouble and there's a reason why people avoid them!"

Haishira? Avoiding them? Well you knew from Gyomei that many people tended to opt out of dating him due to his blindness or after learning about his orientation, but you never heard anything about them all having any kind of 'reputation'. The closest thing to that is when you had encountered Jake a second time at the pub. One of his friends had seemed to recognize Sanemi causing the group of them to flee the scene.

But Sanemi dangerous?

Not to you. He'd been nothing but respectful and passive towards most people outside of his relationships you've seen him interact with. He wasn't rude to anyone that didn't decide to poke him with a stick or decide to be rude or try to cause trouble to someone he seemed to care for. Most of the time around other people he just seemed neutral. Obanai...well you didn't know him too well. You've only spoken to him a handful of times but he didn't seem like someone who would harm someone on a whim either. As for Tengen, he was flirty whenever you spoke to him but that seemed more like his personality than him going around womanizing people.

"They never acted that way when I was around them."

"That's because you're dating their boyfriend! Which is a sentence I never thought I would ever say! *Sigh* Look. I just don't want to see you get hurt again!" His hand found your shoulder and a look of concern came over him. "I'd ask you to break up with him but I don't know if I'm in a position to do that. So instead I'm gonna warn you."

You still stared at him for a long, silent moment before sighing. "Murata, I appreciate your concern and I'm glad I have such a good friend. But I'm happy. Gyomei's not perfect, far from it actually, but for the first time I'm seeing someone who makes me happy and I'm worried about if he's going to ghost me or is secretly married. He makes me happy, and I actually like making friends with them. They're good people despite what rumors or people say. You don't have to worry about me."

Murata slowly sighed again deflating with a nod. "I had a feeling you'd probably say something like that. But...Would you at least please, PLEASE promise me you'll be careful?"

You smiled at him. "I promise but you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

**************************************

You didn't know what to feel for the rest of the day. Running into Murata had left a bad taste in your mouth in your otherwise happy mood. It's not that you believed the rumors that were repeated to you in worry by him. Of course you didn't believe Sanemi was actually dangerous or any of the other ridiculous things Murata warned you about, but there was something bugging you.

Rumors usually didn't start out of no where.

Usually they were started by someone or they were based off something that did happen or sometimes a bit of both. So now which of the three was it? You debated calling Sanemi and asking him yourself but it would've been too awkward to just ask if he'd ever beat up someone and put him in the hospital. So instead you just went home and put your groceries away in some attempt to get your mind off the fact despite it still bugging you. Your day had gone by normally then but you still didn't shake the feeling of curiosity surrounding it all. In fact you nearly forgotten about the time because you were so distracted by it all. The clock showed up five p.m and the dinner was supposed to be at six.

OH CRAP!! YOU WERE GONNA BE LATE!!

It was a rush to shower and throw on a cute sweater before grabbing what you needed and running out of the door and towards the restaurant Kyojuro had insisted on you coming too. Luckily you knew exactly what restaurant it was. It was the new one Mitsuri wanted to go to but couldn't because it had been closed. It was right across from the park and the park wasn't too far away from your house as well. 

Of course the afternoon was cold and nearly dark as the days grew shorter this time of year, but you held your purse halfway in your teeth as you yanked your coat over your shoulders and hoped the wind didn't smear your makeup. You were going to be late. You were going to be late. Oh you hoped they weren't going to be mad at you for being late. The trip as the sun set quickly took you along the sidewalks on your usual route to the university only to go straight through the park as some kind of short cut and straight to the streets and buildings on the other side. Where you went to was the first big building  that let delicious smelling food waft on the breeze. That should be the one.

With a brisk pace you made towards the older styled building and opened the front door setting off a bell above your head, and a wave of warn air washed over your cold skin. Immediately after you stepped in, someone else was standing right there in front of you with a wide smile. 

"Greetings!," he greeted you with a smile on his customer service face and a waiter's suit slapped on his body. "Do you have a reservation, Ma'am?"

"Um." You pushed the hair from your face attempting to smooth it over from the wind blowing it about. "N-No."

"Oh. I'm afraid I can't seat you without a reservation."

"I'm actually meeting someone here. Uh..Rengoku?"

"Rengoku? Hm. Let's see." From his podium thing he looked down at what you assumed was a check book. "Ah, yes. Table fourteen. Of course." With a gesture of his arm he pointed towards the inside massive room of tables. "Please follow me."

You did hoping you didn't look too out of place amongst the fancy furnishings and dressed up people. Until you spotted a familiar face and head of red hair. ...And a very familiar sounding voice.

"Umai!....Umai!....Umai!!"

You heard him before you saw him. Following him to the table in question revealed three identical figures of long red hair. One of which was a young man shoving pieces of wagyu steak pieces into his mouth and yelling out each time he took a bite. Yep. That was definitely Kyojuro alright.

The worker stopped behind Kyojuro whom had his back towards you but gained the attention of his parents. Shinjuro and Ruka if you remembered right from the party. "Excuse me, S-"

"UMAI!!"

Both the worker and yourself jumped back as Kyojuro just whirled around to surprise both of you. His wide grin only instantly widened more and his eyes brightened up when he saw you standing there. 

"Y/N!!" Kyojuro announced loudly catching the attention of more tables turning to look towards the loud voice. "You've made it!"

With a blink or two you slowly relaxed back and awkwardly nodded. "Um. Y-Yeah. Sorry I'm late. I got..distracted."

"Nonsense! You arrived just in time!" With a scoot over, he easily moved his plate over and gestured to the place next to him. "Come sit! Join us and have something to eat!"

Taking the opportunity to make this less awkward, you quickly sat down next to Kyojuro and across from his father. The older man sat there with a neutral expression on his face as he watched you sit down in front of him. With a smile you turned to Kyojuro whom smiled widely and softly at you. A little strange but you figured it was out of gratitude for what you and your aunt did for them. 

"I'm glad you could make it!," he started with a bright tone, "With your busy schedule I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

You waved him off. "Oh no. I wouldn't miss this! It was really nice of your family to invite me for dinner."

"Indeed! Speaking of which, I don't see your aunt anywhere? Is she running late as well?," he asked looking over your shoulder and around the restaurant in search of anyone else coming towards their table. 

"I'm sorry but she couldn't make it since she's working tonight."

"That's a shame." Mrs. Rengoku smiled at you softly. "I was so looking forward to meeting her, but maybe next time. However I'm happy to make your acquaintance again. You're Y/n correct?"

You nodded. "That's me. I'm happy to hear that you're situation has improved!"

"Yes! My husband and I are very grateful! Thank you!" ....Ms. Ruka turned to her husband before lightly bumping her elbow into his arm.

He jolted turning to her. "What?" Ruka motioned her eyes towards you as he stared. "Oh. Right." He sighed before turning to you with a semi frown. "Thank you I suppose but I didn't need any help. It was nothing I couldn't have solved myself.. Eventually."

"There's no need to thank me really!" You held up your hands. "I'm just glad you all are doing better!"

"Well the least we can do is buy you dinner."

"Oh, you don't have to. I can pay for my own food."

You stopped blinking up as Kyojuro placed a hand on yours which he was still holding up. You blinked again looking between him and where he held your hand before he spoke up again.

"I insist. My treat. One meal is the least I can do to pay you back for all the kindness that you shown me."

"You?"

"Uh! M-My family too!," he quickly corrected. "I truly do insist! Please get whatever you'd like and I'll take care of it!"

"Well...I usually don't like taking other people's money like this."

"Then just take it as paying you back for those delicious cookies you've made us and we can call it even!"

You hummed again thinking it over. "Mmm...Ok. But just this once."

He beamed. "OF COURSE!! You won't regret it! Order whatever you'd like!"

"Thank you!" ....You looked down. "Um. Kyojuro." He hummed in question. "You're still holding my hand."

Immediately his eyes shot down and a bright pink color slapped across his upon the realization. "AH!! APOLOGIES!!" He immediately cried out loudly dropping your hand and making his mother giggle, his brother blink, and his father sigh and roll his eyes.

The dinner was nice. Casual even. Nothing really strange about it. You all talked about where everyone worked, what Ms. Ruka did as a calligraphy teacher, how Kyojuro came to work part time at the local shelter, a little bit about Senjuro's studies, and at one point Kyojuro asked how the project with Giyuu and Shinobu was going. Just a casual, normal family conversation...Minus yourself as you weren't a part of the Rengoku Family.

Slowly things came to a close. You did try to one more time pay for the small meal you had ordered but Kyojuro had pushed your card away and slapped down enough money to easily pay for both of your meals plus a tip for the waiter....

It was odd though. 

His parents paid for their own and his brother's meals. Wasn't he paying for everyone? You brushed it off in the moment as you all made for the exit and then as you turned to bid them goodnight, Kyojuro turned to you sharply.

"Let me walk you home." You blinked at him. "It's getting dark and I'm sure Gyomei would appreciate that I didn't let his girlfriend walk home alone one dark winter night."

"What about your home? Isn't it in the opposite direction?"

"Haha! I don't live with my parents and my home is much closer to yours than theirs. I'll be fine!"

You were a bit confused with the sudden gesture, but Gyomei and even Giyuu once or twice had walked you home before so Kyojuro walking you home wasn't a bad thing. "Ok. If you're sure."

That's when he offered his arm out to you taking you aback again. Wasn't expecting him to do that. Was it ok to accept? After debating on it for a moment, you accepted his arm and (after thanking his parents for dinner and telling them all good bye-) you both walked back towards the park. It was mostly silent now in the dark with the night sky overhead. The only lights in the park being the stars and street lamps. Eerie. You were kinda glad you accepted Kyojuro's offer after all.

Midway through the park you slowly glanced up at him. He wasn't looking at you and instead continuing to walk and look around with you leading him towards your house....Maybe..HE had answers to your problem?

"Kyojuro?" He snapped to you immediately with a questioning him. It was kinda spooky how fast he reacted. Hesitating you looked away from him. "Can I..ask you something?"

"BUT OF COURSE!!," His loud voice echoed over the park. "Ask away!"

You hesitated again feeling a bit guilty. "Well...N-Not too long ago I ran into someone else who goes to the university." You decided it was best not to throw Murata under the metaphorical bus and keep his name out of it. "And...they told me some stuff about you guys-"

You stopped. Well Kyojuro immediately holted to a stop yanking you back too. The sudden jolt had you blinking, looking at him in instinct only to pause at the way he was staring at you. Still smiling but it looked more...serious.

"I see..", he slowly said after a moment, "What kind of 'stuff' did they tell you?"

"Oh..N-Nothing I actually believe of course." You quickly added holding up your free hand. "It's just some rumors."

"What kind of 'rumors'?"

You winced shrinking up a little bit and looking away again. "Well...T-They said that...Sanemi and Obanai were dangerous- Again I don't believe that! And t-t-that Te-Tengen was a...playboy I guess- Again I don't believe any of it!" You again looked at him nervously. "I-It's just something that someone else told me and I-I thought you guys should know about it is all!"

.... Kyojuro blinked. "Oh. Is that all?" You were again taken aback when he threw his head back and laughed loudly. His laughing echoing off the wind before he looked at you. "Those old rumors again. You have nothing to worry about." He assured you waving a hand. "Those are baseless rumors people had made up over misunderstandings and bad intentions!"

A sigh of relief left you despite it all. Yeah. You already figured as much, but hearing someone else confirm it put you at ease. "I figured that already... Although there is one more thing bugging me."

His head tilted. "And what might that be?"

"This person also told me Sanemi got into a really bad fight with someone who ended up in the hospital." You couldn't shake the way those men literally feared Sanemi at the pub. Something clearly happened. "Is that true?'

Kyojuro stared at you still, looked you up and down, before sighing. "It is but it's exaggerated way out of context. What really happened was someone else tried to kiss Hinatsuru without her consent at a party. When they wouldn't leave her alone, Sanemi more or less punched him in the face."

"So..he did make someone go to the hospital?"

"Well I suppose technically but the only thing he had was a broken nose. People like to make it seem like he had beaten the man into a coma but it's simply just a matter of him defending someone he cares about."

"Like he did for me."

Kyojuro smiled wider. "Yes. Exactly! You get it! Is that everything that concerns you?"

You nodded in relief. "Yes it does. Thank you, Kyojuro. It's been really comforting. I guess it goes to show there's still things to learn about you guys."

A glimmer of excitement formed in his eyes. "Then you should come celebrate with Tengen next weekend!"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"There's this cloud we're celebrating Mario's birthday at! Since you'd like to learn more about us you should come along and spend time with everyone!"

"I-...I don't know. I haven't even been invited." 

"I'll throw the idea their way! If they say yes, you should come! It'll be lots of fun!"

"Well..Maybe. I'll have to think about it first!"

"SPLENDID!! Now come! It's getting colder and as much as I enjoy the beautiful night, Gyomei wouldn't be happy if I allowed you to catch a cold."

[kinardsheart]

prompts!!! :

“The 118 responding to a helicopter crash and they find out it’s Tommy (nobody dies) and it’s just all fluffy and angsty with a happy ending”

ive seen so many variations of this but uh i want a go before i sleep so sorry if this is cringe or weird or inaccurate exdept i dont really care, ty @alittlefuckingdisaster !

perhaps heavy angst because im feeling really sad (phoebe bridgers is on).

———————————

“Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is Tommy Kinard, 217. My helicopters going down, the screens have shut down and controls aren’t working, I’m hovering over the structure!”

Everyone on the ground’s heads immediately shot up, eyeing the only helicopter in the sky as it started to shake violently mid-flight. Buck’s blood ran ice cold, nausea overtaking him as he looked to the sky, then to Bobby’s similarly alarmed face. Shit.

They were wrapping up on a big scene, a 5 alarm fire at a massive cabin (mansion, really) in the woods, right next to a scenic cliffside view. It hadn’t gone smoothly, but they had thought the worst was over.

“Firefighter Kinard, can you in any way control the plane and make a landing?” The captain from the 127 spoke, a dimwit having assisted in the fire alongside them.

No, he couldn’t. He just said he couldn’t. Buck had to help somehow, he just had to move. But his feet were glued to the ground and all he could do was watch in horror as the helicopter shook one last time with vigor before colliding directly into the ends of a forest, branches and wings blending in so thoroughly you could barely the bright blue paint. Tommy had said he wanted to paint his car blue the other day, over lemonade and giggles. A loud screech, Tommy’s loud “fuck” over the radio, and then silence. Deafening silence.

It may have lasted an hour, a day, or a minute. He couldn’t move. He was paralysed, staring at the fallen chopper as flames began to lick at the edges, spreading brazenly through the trees back into the plane as it balanced eerily, one wrong breeze capable of sending the copter careening off the cliffside.

“Firefighter Kinard, check in.”

Silence as everyone collectively held their breath.

Buck was about to press his radio, screaming for Tommy to check in, to talk, to just let them know he was alive. Please be alive. I’ll pray to whoever I need to, please.

A click, and then a battered, exhausted but oh so alive voice spoke. “I’m here.”

Sighs of relief were spread around until the atmosphere tensed again, everyone shifting into rescue mode once more. This was a delicate situation, and needed careful deliberation before action. Buck was done with thinking, being useless in action. This was Tommy. He started to run towards the fire despite the desperate calls to come back and plan behind him from the 118 & 217 alike.

Standing infront of the blaze, the helicopter a few feet above him, he went into a private channel and prayed once more that his boyfriend was still conscious as the vehicle leaned ominously backwards.

“Tommy, can you jump?”

He could hear the groan of agony even from the ground as the other presumably tried to move.

A click. “No… Evan, it’s bad. I- My leg- I can’t move it. I can’t move my arm either.”

The words weighed heavy as Tommy took a moment.

“You should go. Save yourself, I-I don’t- I don’t want you to see this, sweetheart.”

Tears sprung to his eyes, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting him as the fire crackled and hissed, making it’s way through to engulfing the plane. He had called him sweetheart, even with the acceptance of his death. The nausea came back with a vengeance, but did it ever really leave?

No. This wasn’t how it ended.

An idea formed in his head. It wasn’t a good one, but it was better than nothing. It involved him not losing Tommy, and that was all he needed. He took a few steps backwards, then ran forward with as much speed as he could generate before leaping, making an ‘oomph’ sound as he collided with a solid branch, chest screaming in pain. Scrambling up onto it, he looked up. Just a few more to go. Determination was all he felt.

He couldn’t lose Tommy. He wouldn’t. He was undeniably his soulmate; the only one he wanted to keep. It was ironic that the only person he wanted to keep had to be the one that was injured first. Maybe his bad luck was infectious. Every touch, every kiss, every look gave him butterflies, Fireworks exploded behind his eyes everytime the older man had placed his big hands anywhere on his body. The love he felt with Tommy was like nothing he’d felt ever, and he wasn’t losing it to something he fought everyday.

Panting heavily by the time he made it to the same level as the helicopter, his boyfriend’s eyes widened in panic as they met. Even now, those beautiful pupils brought him comfort. He was so gone on him, barely able to even feel the heat burning his exposed skin as the fire claimed the tree he was gripping on to.

“Evan- get down. Now. Why are you here? No- you’re going to get hurt, get down!” The other tried to sit up while growling, making the deathtrap lean backwards dangerously. The sight nearly made him hurl, knowing the fatal drop behind them.

“Tommy, don’t move, please. I have a plan. Let me come closer.”

The previous panic widened into downright despair, the arm that was cradling his injuries moving to grip the bar next to him. “Baby, please. I need you to leave and save yourself. It’s not too late.”

“The 118 is right under us, just grab my hand. I’ll save us. Tommy.” Buck was begging now, had been creeping closer inch by inch until he was barely a meter away, hand outstretched as the flames closed in on them.

In an incredible show of trust, he felt a familiar warm hand wrap around his just as the helicopter gave one last guttural noise. He pulled Tommy forward into his arms before they were met with an explosion so loud, so violent, Buck would’ve called it beautiful if it hadn’t put the man in his arms in danger. The shock had sent them both flying backwards towards the ground, and in his last moments of consciousness, all he could do was wrap his body tight around the older man’s and brace for impact.

Tommy would be okay. If they couldn’t be together in this life, Buck would find him in the next.

The last thing he felt was a kiss to his forehead and then pain. So much pain. But the ground underneath him was soft? Despite the voices begging him to stay awake as the warmth in his arms was removed, he was so sleepy..

Huh, did he have somewhere to be..?

———

“You need to ask him to move in.”

Buck grinned toothily, clinking his glass against Eddie’s in agreement as he sat down opposite him.

“I know. I’ve already picked out the place.”

“Cocky.” They laughed, letting the pleasant buzz overtake them.

———

“Yeah, I’ll come get him. Sorry Maddie.”

“Don’t be sorry, he’s my baby brother. I’d love for him to stay but he keeps talking about missing his hot pilot boyfriend.”

Tommy chuckled, saying that he would be there soon and ending the call.

When he pulled up, parking and walking inside, he was met with a sight to say the least.

Evan was sprawled out on the couch, shirt riding up ever so deliciously, but eyes red-rimmed as if he was crying. It made alarm bells go off in his head as he raised a hand to gently hold his face.

“You okay baby?”

Those beautiful glassy baby blues flicked over to meet his, tears immediately falling as he started wailing, launching himself into the chest infront of him. “Tooooommmmyyyy…~”

He was so, so drunk. The older man chuckled, bundling the lanky man up in his arms princess style, before dipping his head in acknowledgement to Maddie in the corner. She smiled at him warmly, yet the happiness didn’t meet her eyes. “You know he loves you… like, so much, right?”

He had heard. “The feelings mutual, I assure you.”

The brunette shook her head. “I know that. But I want you to know Tommy, it’s not just him. We love you too. You have a place in this family, even if you’re not married. You don’t need to constantly act like you’re an outsider because you’re not. We love you, Tommy. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Oh. Picking up his drunk lover wasn’t something he expected to be done with in tears, but the 118 (though Maddie wasn’t technically a part of them), had ways of surprising him. He nodded, a bit choked up as she leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. When had she gotten so close?

———

When he was able to place Evan gently in the frontseat, he was met with eyes that should’ve been shut staring right at him with adoration.

Alright, he couldn’t help it if he leaned forward to place a kiss on those pouting lips, and then on the enticing birthmark above.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so excited to live with you.”

The other smiled goofily, sighing in content.

“Tomorrow. We move in tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

“I love you too, Tommy. I think we were born to be together. I think that in every life, I’d find you.. every life, I’d fight to come home to you. Forever.”

He chuckled affectionately and shook his head. “In every life, Evan.”

———

“He’s not breathing, start compressions.”

———

“Evan!”

“Step back, sir, we’ve got this.”

“No, he’s my- we were meant to move in today, please let me-”

“Sir, we can handle this.”

“No pulse, restarting compressions.”

“Please…”

———

“I’ve got a pulse!”

[happylittledrabbles]

Please, Daddy

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Nanami Kento

Character Count: ~8,500K

Rating: Explicit, 18+

AO3

It was a lazy spring afternoon, one that mimicked the dead of summer with its humidity and heat. All the windows were open, but that did nothing to abate the torturous conditions inside the classroom. The curtains blowing offered a promise of some respite, but the wind was just as hot and provided no relief from the blazing temperatures.

Nobara held a small fan to her face while Megumi patted his forehead with a handkerchief, neither of which helped their fatigue.

“This sucks!” Yuji groaned, kicking his feet onto the desk and leaning his chair back.

“You’re going to fall over,” Megumi said, to which Yuji rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, if I was an idiot, maybe,” he retorted. Nobara stuck out her foot and tapped the leg of the chair, giving it that last push it needed to send Yuji toppling backwards onto the floor.

“Oops,” was all Nobara had to say as she watched her friend groan and wriggle around on the floor in pain.

“Kugisaki, you asshole!” he shouted. “As if this day couldn’t get any worse.”

Nobara sighed and got out of her seat, walking over to Yuji and kneeling. She placed a finger on her chin in thought before brightening, her grin catching Yuji off guard. “I know what’ll make you feel better. Let’s gossip about our teachers.”

The three of them huddled in a circle on the floor with Nobara going first.

“Kusakabe,” she offered, with the boys looking up to the ceiling in thought.

“I think he has boner problems,” Yuji said, making Nobara and Megumi wince in disgust. But the more they thought about it, the more it made sense.

“Do you think he takes pills for it?” Megumi asked, but Nobara shook her head.

“I think he’s too ashamed. And then he cries whenever he does it because he can’t get it up, and the woman has to comfort him,” she said, although she quickly regretted it as they all cringed at the image.

“Oh, man, let’s move on,” Megumi said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look at him the same anymore.”

“Let’s do Gojo,” Nobara replied excitedly, to which Megumi swiftly shook his head.

“That’s our main teacher! We have to look at him every day—we can’t do him,” Megumi objected, although it was only half the truth. He already saw Satoru as a father figure, as much as he hated admitting that to himself. He didn’t want to discuss his sex life.

“I think Gojo does hard drugs,” Yuji said, ignoring Megumi’s outburst. “Like, cocaine and stuff. It gets him really wired to do it.”

“Oh, gross,” Megumi whined as he buried his face in his hands.

“What’s gross?”

Speak of the devil. The trio’s heads snapped up as the very man they were gossiping about strode into the classroom, a stack of papers and folders in one hand and a mug that read ‘#1 Teacher’ in the other. He set down his things and placed his hands on his hips as he stared at his students, who were gawking at him as if a curse was eating his face off.

“Hello? Earth to idiots?” he said, snapping in the air to get their attention.

Nobara, ever the quick-witted girl, looked between Megumi and Yuji’s shocked faces and smirked to herself. She had thought of an excuse the second she heard her teacher’s voice, but she liked the idea of messing with all of them better. She cleared her throat and said, “We were gossiping about our teachers.”

“Kugisaki!” Megumi and Yuji’s voices overlapped as they exclaimed in horror, turning their irritation onto her.

However, Satoru wasn’t surprised in the slightest. In fact, he rushed over to the trio and grabbed a chair, turning it backward to sit on it and place his arms on the back of the chair, leaning forward in intrigue. “Oh? One of my favorite conversation topics. Go ahead, shoot. What’d you guys say about me?”

Megumi and Yuji’s faces then morphed into genuine interest as to what Nobara had planned. How was she going to get out of the hole she dug herself?

By answering honestly, of course.

“We said you do hard drugs to do it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Like coke. That really gets you going.”

Satoru stared for a moment, shell-shocked, before dissolving into laughter. He slapped his thigh and hung his head over the chair, the trio laughing along nervously at his strange reaction. Once he finally got ahold of himself, Satoru looked back up and inhaled sharply. “Good guess. What about Nanami?”

“Confirm nor deny. Smart,” Nobara remarked, high-giving her teacher. The boys were less than enthused. However, once she processed Nanami’s name, she barked out a laugh. “Nanami Kento? That guy’s a virgin, one hundred percent.”

“Kugisaki, don’t be mean,” Megumi chastised, but he was the sole objection on that one. Yuji and Nobara fell into bouts of laughter while nodding.

“You’re so right,” Yuji said. “How old is he, forty? No way some straight like him gets anything. Can you imagine him flirting?”

“He’s twenty-seven, and no,” Megumi said with a sigh. He knew he was giving in, but it was true: Nanami didn’t seem to have one romantic bone in his body. He couldn’t even picture him with a woman on his arm—the sight would probably send the three of them into anaphylactic shock.

He watched Nobara and Yuji laughing together before he turned his attention to Satoru, who was staring down at them with an unreadable expression. “You’re awfully quiet, Gojo-sensei. Wouldn’t you know better than all of us about him?”

Satoru choked on his spit at that, coughing into his fist as a prickly blush climbed up his neck and blotched his cheeks. “W-what? Why would you think that? I don’t know Nanami at all like that.”

“You’re both teachers,” Yuji pointed out with a shrug. “Wouldn’t you guys talk in the teacher’s lounge or something?”

Oh, Satoru thought with a sigh of relief. They meant it like that. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping as he played with the bottom of his blindfold. “He’s never mentioned a girlfriend. Or any romantic interest, for that matter. No matter how much I’ve tried seducing him!”

Satoru whined to punctuate the fact that it was a joke to his students, who laughed and pulled disgusted faces at the thought of their beloved teachers kissing. However, Satoru wasn’t telling a joke. He had genuinely tried seducing Nanami on multiple occasions, having had a crush on him since Nanami called him up about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer again and he got to see just how much the blond had grown since they were in school together. The scrawny teen with a terrible haircut he had once known had grown into a muscled, attractive, and stoic man who made people think sinful thoughts just by looking at him.

Satoru could barely believe his eyes, although his pounding heart gave away just what he suspected he was feeling: arousal. He hadn’t felt that sensation in a long time, despite what his students—or anybody, really—thought. Nanami had brought it out of him, and the more he rejected Satoru and treated him terribly, the more Satoru wanted him. Frankly, it turned him on, just how respectable and stable Nanami was. A salaryman who took care of himself, who read and exercised and enjoyed the small things in life. Additionally, the sincere concern he had for his students—for any child—made Satoru want to raise a family with him, a thought he’d never had with anybody, ever.

Nanami was perfect partner material on top of being incredibly sexy. He was perfect. Except for the fact that he hated Satoru’s guts.

“Okay, okay, so Nanami,” Nobara said, pursing her lips together pensively. “I think…he definitely has a hidden kink even though he’s a virgin.”

“I’m going to throw something out there,” Yuji said conspiratorially. “I think he has a daddy kink.”

Satoru’s previous melancholic expression morphed into intense curiosity. He needed all the help he could get, as evidenced by the fact that he was secretly soliciting his students’ help with hopefully romancing Nanami successfully. “You think so? Like, calling people daddy? Or being called that?”

“Being called,” Yuji replied. “No way that guy gives into anybody. He’s as tightly wound as a stretched rubber band. He hates his job, hates being a jujutsu sorcerer, and is a virgin on top of all of that. He’s going to snap at any time.”

The more Yuji spoke, the more Satoru could understand why Nanami was the way that he was. He’d dealt with more trauma than the general population combined, had to submit to his dick boss every day, then deal with more shit in the way of curses. Plus, blue balls would drive any man crazy.

If he needed to snap, so be it—so long as it was with Satoru in the room. And perhaps being called ‘daddy’ would be the driving factor. At that point, Satoru had tried everything. What was one more shot in the dark?

“He’s definitely DILF material,” Nobara said, biting her bottom lip.

Megumi shoved her shoulder so hard that she fell onto the floor in a laughing mess. “You can’t say that about a teacher! You guys are hopeless.”

“DILF?” Satoru asked, tilting his head. “Is this another young person slang word I’m not privy to? You guys make me feel older every day.”

“No way you haven’t heard of DILF,” Yuji said, dumbfounded. “I mean, MILF? It’s just the dad version. Dad I’d like to…you know.”

That woke Satoru up to the fact that he was having this type of conversation with his students, his children. He stood up and swiftly shoved the chair back in its place before taking his place at the front of the classroom.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said, sorting through his materials to ignore the horrid blush flaming his cheeks. “Let’s begin class.”

When the trio left the classroom after their lesson, Satoru thought back to Yuji’s explanation and chuckled. He had found a way to seduce Nanami. It was far-fetched, but he had exhausted everything else. And he was going to use it.

The only way to get Nanami to hang out with him was to show up wherever he was unexpectedly and follow him around until he relented. Nanami wasn’t exactly rude. He’d speak to Satoru, albeit sparingly. But Satoru couldn’t shake the fact that they weren’t spending time together—he was just following Nanami while he was doing chores.

Not this time. He was going to force Nanami to spend time with him. Which led him to standing on Nanami’s doorstep with a six-pack of beer in one hand and a movie CD in the other.

When Nanami opened the door, he barely got out a ‘hello?’ before his face dropped upon seeing Satoru.

“Don’t look so excited to see me, old pal,” Satoru said, but he couldn’t hide the sharp pain in his chest on his face. Luckily, he had his black blindfold on, which at least hid half his facial expressions. “Surprise! We haven’t hung out in so long, I decided I’d drop by for a movie night.”

“We’ve never hung out,” Nanami said tiredly. Had he been sleeping? He was in sweatpants and a black T-shirt, a casual look Satoru had never seen him in before. It did nothing to hide the lust building in his stomach just at the sight of Nanami. He thought he was attracted to Nanami in suits, but perhaps a simple pair of sweatpants was all he needed to fold over. It did a great job at highlighting Nanami’s crotch, anyhow.

“Well, let’s start now!” Satoru said, pushing past Nanami into his apartment since he knew Nanami would never invite him in. He set the beer on the coffee table in front of the couch before settling on the floor to pop the CD into the player. “I rented us Inception. I heard it’s really good.”

“It is,” Nanami said, shutting the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared down at Satoru, not moving from the front door. “I’ve watched it. It’s also almost three hours long.”

“Yay, three hours we get to spend together!” Satoru said with a clap. “Come on, sit down, let’s drink.”

“You don’t drink,” Nanami remarked. He glanced up at the ceiling before closing his eyes with a sigh. After running a hand down his face, he relented and walked over, sitting on the floor across the table from Satoru.

“So I don’t,” Satoru said and tried not to show the excitement on his face. Nanami remembered something about him. He knew something about Satoru, something that would only happen if he paid attention to Satoru. “But it’s no matter! I’ll just watch you drink. You can put the rest in your fridge. Call it a housewarming present.”

Nanami took a beer out of the plastic and stared at it, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was down and slightly wet at the ends from a shower, and Satoru had to look at the floor to prevent himself from blushing anymore at the sight of Nanami with his hair down. He looked so vulnerable, so in his element.

As Nanami regarded the beer can, Satoru took the opportunity to glance around the apartment. He’d never been inside Nanami’s apartment, and it was exactly as he thought it’d be. Everything was tidy and had its place. The apartment itself was humbly small, with what seemed like only one bedroom hidden beyond a slightly ajar door down a hallway. He had a modestly-sized television set on a TV stand full of books and magazines. His kitchen was spotless, and his small dining table had a vase with a blooming bouquet. It was strange and inexplicable how much the normalcy turned Satoru on. After the life he’d lived, all the trauma he’d endured, all he wanted was to settle down someday.

“Thanks,” Nanami said, the sound of the beer fizzling drawing Satoru back into reality. As he watched Nanami take a sip from the can, he realized that he wanted to settle down with Nanami.

“You’re very welcome,” he said. “That’s your favorite brand, right?”

Nanami swallowed and set the can down on the table. His brows raised high on his forehead as he pursed his lips. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Thank you, Gojo-san. I’m not sure how you remembered that.”

I remember everything about you, Satoru almost said but caught himself last minute. “I already told you to drop it with the san. Just call me Satoru.”

“Mm,” Nanami hummed indifferently. His eyes drifted to the TV screen before grabbing the remote. “Are you going to make these movie nights a habit?”

Satoru’s heart dropped at that. Did Nanami truly hate him? Had he been so caught up in seducing him that he had been imagining things, that he had ignored all of Nanami’s rebuffs?

He bit his bottom lip and shrugged defeatedly. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t like them.”

He watched as the lump in Nanami’s throat bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “I don’t mind them.” He scoffed. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere. Satoru didn’t especially like Nanami having to resort to hanging out with him, but they were at least hanging out. He could work with this.

He leaned forward on his hand over the table, smirking at Nanami as the blond desperately tried to avoid eye contact. “Really? You don’t have any dates or anything? A good-looking guy like you—you should be drowning in women, Nanamin.”

The corner of Nanami’s lip curled at the nickname, but he had learned better than to correct Satoru. “No, I’m not,” he replied, although he didn’t seem too broken up about it. “I’m not a playboy like you.”

Satoru took genuine offense to that, slapping a hand to his chest. “Playboy? Playboy! Nanamin, you’ve burned me!”

If only Nanami knew the lengths Satoru had gone to seduce him, how many people he’d rebuffed at the slightest chance of getting in his pants. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet.

“You know, the students were gossiping about you,” Satoru said, reciting the script he’d created prior to knocking on Nanami’s door.

That took Nanami’s attention away from the movie long enough to glance at Satoru. “Oh? What did they say?” He narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know if you weren’t taking part in it?”

Nanami always knew exactly what to say to catch Satoru off guard. He did not expect that in his script. Nanami spoke so little, it seemed impossible for him to go off-script. Lo and behold.

“I just walked in on them speaking about you and demanded them to tell me what they said so I could punish them, I swear!” Satoru cried, but all Nanami did was look back at the movie. “Okay, but I’ll tell you what they said, and you can decide on their punishment after I tell you. They said that…well, that you’re a virgin. Ridiculous, right?”

Nanami’s expression went blank, and his arm shot out for the remote. He paused the movie and turned to Satoru, who stared back at him with an expectant smile. He took another swig of his beer and sighed. “They’ll have to spend thirty extra minutes every day after class cleaning the school for that.”

Satoru’s smile dropped. “But…but, they’re wrong, right?”

Nanami shot Satoru a look before it melted into something different. Something Satoru couldn’t parse. Was it guilt?

“Yes, they’re wrong,” Nanami said then chuckled humorlessly. “Although, I can understand why they think that. I don’t exactly present myself as somebody capable of…that.”

Satoru didn’t like seeing Nanami sad, but seeing him this dejected hurt even worse. This was the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. He shuffled forward so that he was next to Nanami, giving him a healthy amount of space before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what’d I say? An attractive guy like you—it makes sense if you get tons of action. But, I mean, I knew I’d find you at home on a Friday night instead of out anywhere.”

Nanami chuckled again, this time more good-naturedly. He ran a hand through his hair, but his hair just flopped back onto his forehead. “You know me too well, Gojo—ah, S-Satoru. That sounds so strange.”

Hearing his first name on Nanami’s tongue was euphoric. He wanted to hear it more. Hearing it made him feel as inebriated as if he had drank the entire pack of beer. It took away all of his inhibitions—the few that he had—and lubricated his lips so that anything and everything he wanted to say spilled out.

“They also said other things,” he continued, giving Nanami’s shoulder a light squeeze. “They called you a DILF.”

“A DILF? What’s that?” Nanami cringed. “Or do I even want to know?”

Satoru tapped his chin to feign thinking. “Hm, I think you do. To, you know, decide the right punishment.” He leaned forward so that he was mere centimeters away from Nanami’s ear before whispering, “Daddy I’d like to fuck.”

He leaned back quickly as if Nanami would strike him, putting his hands up as he laughed. “Crazy, right?”

However, Nanami was silent. He was a statue, his eyes solidly on the floor in front of him. He was so still that Satoru looked to the remote to see if it was a curse that had somehow paused the sorcerer.

“I mean, you’re not even that much older than them, and they’re calling you daddy,” Satoru continued amidst the awkward and unnerving silence. “Daddy. Funny, isn’t it?”

Nanami showed no emotion. Instead, he shot to his feet and turned off the TV. “I think you should go home.”

No. NO. Satoru couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A harmless joke turned into him getting kicked out of Nanami’s apartment. He never thought Nanami would actually kick him out, especially in such a callous way. He floundered for any way to fix the situation, coming up short. Nanami didn’t stick around to wait for Satoru to leave, instead walking away to his bedroom.

There was only one thing Satoru could think of that could stop Nanami in his tracks. It had been the reason why he so callously left, but desperation grew like a mold in Satoru’s chest, leaving him unable to breathe or move until he got what he wanted from Nanami: attention. Validation. Anything that wasn’t him walking to his bedroom, alone.

“Daddy, wait!”

Nanami came to a halt halfway through a step, stuttering forward like an unoiled machine. His back was wide and on full display in that T-shirt, and even underneath it, Satoru could see how tightly he was holding his shoulders, his muscles prominent. He had succeeded in getting Nanami to stop: but why? And now what?

However, that question was quickly answered when Nanami turned slightly, and those sweatpants Satoru had been so in love with gave away exactly what had Nanami rushing away so rapidly. His hand was covering most of it, but the grayness put on full display the prominent shadow of Nanami’s erection. Satoru found himself gawking at it for much too long, and when Nanami cleared his throat, his eyes flickered up to the blond’s face emblazoned with a blush whose color rivaled a tomato.

Oh. So it was true. Nanami did have a daddy kink.

The realization, when it finally hit, felt like a semi-truck had run over him. He had already been recovering from Nanami clarifying that he wasn’t a virgin (who had he had sex with? Who?), but the reveal that a kink that was largely said as a joke was true…it was enough to leave Satoru breathless.

“I really think you should leave,” Nanami mumbled, turning his back to Satoru again as he began to walk toward his room. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough.”

Nanami embarrassing himself was unthinkable. The display had been the opposite of embarrassing: it was incredibly arousing. Then again, everything about Nanami was arousing to Satoru. It was time for Satoru to embarrass himself.

He stood up, nearly passing out from the lack of oxygen in his brain. He hadn’t been breathing properly, and all of the blood in his body had been diverted to his groin. None of his bodily functions were working properly, except for his dick. And all of his best decisions were made when controlled by his dick.

“You haven’t embarrassed yourself, Nanamin,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I…I’ve been looking for a way to get you like this for so long. To…be excited. So, it’s okay, daddy.”

He leveled his gaze at Nanami before sliding off his blindfold so that he could see just how serious he was about the situation. His eyelids were heavy with lust as he slowly approached Nanami, his footsteps the only sound in the apartment for several moments. He stopped only a meter away from the sorcerer, sweeping a hand through his hair. “You’ve done the opposite of embarrassing yourself.”

Nanami’s eyes dropped from Satoru’s face down to the sliver of skin revealed as he lifted his arm to his hair. He exhaled shakily before glancing off to the side as any sort of eye contact with Satoru proved too difficult. “You’ve been looking for a way to get me aroused?” Nanami shook his head and scoffed. “I thought you were joking this whole time.”

“What?” Satoru couldn’t believe his ears. He was so shocked that he dropped the sex kitten act, outraged at Nanami’s thick-headedness. “Nanami, how many times did I explicitly ask you on a date? Told you I wanted to spend time with you, kiss you even? What is wrong with you?”

Nanami’s eyes were owlish at Satoru’s exclamations, his mouth agape but with nothing coming out of it. He was rendered silent, watching as Satoru caught his breath from his impromptu bout of shouting. Finally, he swallowed and shook his head. “I thought you were kidding all these years…that you didn’t actually like me…that’s why I never reciprocated. Because if I did, you’d be disgusted that I took you seriously.”

“Like you? Nanami, I’m in love with you.”

The admission caught both Satoru and Nanami off guard. Satoru clapped a hand over his mouth, and Nanami dropped the hand covering his erection. He covered his mouth so that both men were mirroring each other in their surprise. The only thing that got either man to move was when Nanami saw Satoru’s eyes drop to his crotch, which was still tented in his sweatpants and fully visible.

“In love, you say?” Nanami said, his voice dropping several octaves. “What does Satoru in love look like?”

Nanami may as well have been purring in Satoru’s ear with how gravelly his voice had grown. Satoru’s eyes grew dazed with desire, unable to focus on anything except the blond man right in front of him. This was happening. Nanami had reciprocated his feelings, feelings he’d supposedly had for years. That was the downside to being a responsible, stable man: Nanami would never put a relationship on the line because he had romantic feelings, unlike Satoru. If he had, they would’ve been together much earlier. So, they simply had to make up for lost time.

“It looks like this.”

Satoru was on Nanami in a flash, Nanami barely able to blink before he felt a pair of soft, warm lips on his. His hands raised in the air in surprise, but when he sensed Satoru’s arms draping over his shoulders, his fingertips slightly scraping his back, he brought his hands down and ghosted them over Satoru’s hips.

“You can touch me, Nanamin,” Satoru mumbled against his lips before diving back into their ever-deepening kiss.

Nanami found himself clutching Satoru’s hips out of surprise when he felt Satoru’s tongue licking his bottom lip for unspoken permission to enter. Once he gained his bearings, he granted permission by invading Satoru’s mouth first, earning a delicious gasp and moan from him. He found his confidence and massaged his thumbs into Satoru’s hips bones, bringing him closer until their chests were pressed against each other.

“I can feel you,” Satoru said, grinding his crotch against Nanami’s and licking his lips at the deep groan that vibrated in the blond’s throat. He could clearly feel the outline of Nanami’s erection against his thigh, and it only made him that much more dizzyingly aroused. There was nothing that could get him off his high now, except for an earth-shatteringly good orgasm.

He lowered his hand to Nanami’s erection, brushing his knuckles over it before grasping it gently with his full palm.

“A-ah, Gojo-san…” he sighed, his fingertips sinking into the tenderness of Satoru’s hips. “That feels—”

“Good?” Satoru whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nanami’s lips. “I want you to feel good, daddy.”

“Jesus,” Nanami exhaled harshly, his hands raising to grip Satoru’s shoulders. “I never thought that would get me this way. But of course, it’s only with you. You always make me this way.”

Only when Nanami’s words echoed in Satoru’s mind did he understand the implications of what he had said. Always. Had he accidentally turned Nanami on some other time? Did Nanami think about him sexually? Did he dream about him? The mere thought of Nanami jerking off to him was enough to have him dropping to his knees, face-to-face with the giant tent in those sweatpants that doubled as lingerie with how sexual they were.

“Gojo-san, wait,” Nanami said, his voice laced with panic. His hands wavered in the air much as they did when Satoru first kissed him before settling one of them on Satoru’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair. “You…you don’t have to do this.”

Satoru almost laughed at the suggestion that he was doing this for Nanami. No, he had dreamed about having that giant cock in his mouth ever since the first time he had seen Nanami’s transformation. After bidding goodbye to him that day, he went home and masturbated furiously at the faraway dream that he be able to fuck Nanami—or rather, get Nanami to fuck him so beautifully that he’d never be able to be satisfied without him. Who could have predicted that that faraway dream would be right in front of him one day?

“I want to,” Satoru said. He’d never been more truthful than in that moment.

He traced the top of the sweatpants’ waistband, glancing up at Nanami for permission. When all Nanami could do was grip Satoru’s hair tighter and stare at him expectantly, Satoru didn’t waste any more time. He took both hands and carefully pulled down the sweatpants, but they hitched on Nanami’s erection with how pronounced it was. The visual left Satoru salivating in anticipation, and when he finally was able to pull the sweatpants over his erection, his breath hitched in his throat when he saw that Nanami didn’t have any underwear on.

“Do you always go commando?” Satoru asked, causing Nanami to cover his face with the hand that wasn’t buried in Satoru’s hair. “Or were you expecting me?”

“When I sleep, yes,” Nanami replied, his voice muffled by his hand. Satoru thought it endearing that he could see the blush trickling down his neck to his shoulders, even blotching the top of his chest peeking out from his shirt. Everything about Nanami was delicious to look at.

“Easier for me,” Satoru said before turning his attention to the very thing he’d been daydreaming about for years.

He gripped the base of it with a hand, but it was so large that it made it look no smaller. It left Satoru somewhat intimidated—if he could barely fit it in his mouth, how would it go inside him? Regardless, it’d have to work. He wasn’t going to be leaving himself or Nanami with blue balls. He would be draining them, hopefully multiple times.

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he gave the head an experimental lick. Nanami groaned at that simple touch, and Satoru peered up at him as he got used to the salty taste of precome on his tongue. His Adam’s apple was prominent in his throat as his head lolled backward, the sight pushing Satoru forward to do more. He needed Nanami lost in pleasure, getting so drunk on sex with him that he wouldn’t regret a second of it when they were done.

He stuck out his tongue and took Nanami’s cock in one fell swoop, getting about halfway down before his gag reflex kicked in. He squeezed his thumb in his fist to abate it, breathing in deeply before continuing his journey down Nanami’s cock. Just when he felt like his dinner was about to come up, his nose nuzzled into Nanami’s neatly trimmed pubic hair, and he stayed there for a moment, enjoying the fullness in his throat and the tightness of Nanami’s grip on his hair, his scalp burning, before drawing away and coughing to the side. He inhaled sharply as he jerked Nanami off with all the new saliva coating his cock, leading to lasciviously wet sounds echoing alongside Nanami’s sinful groans.

“You’re incredible,” Nanami murmured, his hand trailing to Satoru’s chin and tipping it up.

He wiped away a trail of spit before his thumb rested on Satoru’s bottom lip, swiping alongside it. His eyes twinkled with fascination when Satoru opened it obediently, those eyes of diamonds settling on him with such a heated gaze, it had his cock twitching. Experimentally, he pushed his thumb into Satoru’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue with curiosity. He sucked in a sharp breath when Satoru’s tongue enveloped his thumb and gave it a warm welcome, bringing his lips around it and sucking on it dutifully.

“Did you learn this somewhere?” Nanami asked, although he quickly found that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“No,” Satoru replied, leaving Nanami at ease. “You made me this way, daddy.”

“Oh, you little minx,” Nanami said, but he couldn’t hide the groan or weakness in his knees when Satoru returned to giving his cock the royal treatment.

Satoru polished the cock as if it were his last meal, making sure no part was left unattended. A string of saliva hung from his chin as he bobbed his head back and forth, stroking the parts he couldn’t reach—which with the size of Nanami’s cock, were significant. He groaned with each tug Nanami gave his hair, his voice vibrating around the cock, which then had Nanami groaning and tugging more in response. It was a brutal pleasure loop that had Nanami slightly bucking his hips forward into the warm hole surrounding his cock, much to Satoru’s delight.

Satoru popped off Nanami’s cock, keeping it warm with both of his hands as he stared up at Nanami. “You can fuck my mouth, you know,” he said, opening his mouth to reveal his perfectly pink tongue and inviting throat. “Don’t be scared, daddy.”

Each time Satoru used the pet name, it sent rivulets of electricity down Nanami’s spine. He didn’t know when he first developed this kink—all he knew was that he found himself clicking on a gay porn video with a man whose body looked just like Satoru, and he called out ‘daddy’ over and over to the hunk of a man fucking him into the mattress. Ever since then, he searched high and low for videos of men crying out ‘daddy,’ men who all resembled Satoru in one way or another.

The second he heard Satoru use it for the first time only twenty minutes ago, he thought he was hallucinating. He thought that somehow the beer he drank was poisoned or laced with magic mushrooms, anything that would make more sense than Satoru Gojo calling him daddy. But then he said it again, and again. And again.

And now that Satoru was on his knees, sucking his cock so prettily with those flushed cheeks on pale skin and cherry-red lips stretched around his girth, calling him daddy in that wonderfully low, hoarse voice, it took everything inside Nanami not to pull out his phone and record. This was infinitely better than any video he had watched previously. No, there was no competition. He would never watch another porno again now that he had Satoru in the palm of his hand.

Or rather, on his cock.

“You asked for it,” he said, a deep growl in his throat as he fortified his grip on Satoru’s hair and slowly drove his hips further into his mouth. “S-shit…”

Satoru moaned around Nanami’s cock again at the sound of Nanami cursing, something he hardly did. But he was making him feel so good that he couldn’t help but let a curse slip. It was invigorating.

Nanami soon picked up speed, bucking his hips forward into Satoru’s mouth and down his throat. He felt himself falling into pleasure-fueled hysteria, no longer able to control his hips as he thrust into his mouth with full force, feeling Satoru’s nose bump against his lower stomach each time. The wet squelching sounds coming from Satoru’s throat were downright salacious, and his face and Nanami’s cock were a mess of precome and spit. Satoru raised trembling hands before setting them on Nanami’s thighs, sinking his fingertips into his quads and leaving behind crescent-shaped tattoos.

“F-fuck, I’m close, Satoru,” Nanami gasped, throwing his head back as he continued using Satoru’s head like a fleshlight. “Let me just pull ou—”

Hearing his name in Nanami’s mouth made Satoru go as crazy as Nanami did over being called daddy. He wanted nothing less than for Nanami to leave his mouth empty. His throat was rubbed raw, and he’d been fighting his gag reflex with every fiber of his being, but the pain hardly compared to the orgasmic pleasure he was feeling in his groin. So, he moved his hands to Nanami’s ass and pushed him forward so he had no choice but to stay inside Satoru’s mouth.

“S-Satoru—! If you do that, I’m going to…ngh…coming!”

Satoru’s eyes rolled up into his head as the combination of his scalp burning from Nanami’s tight hold on his hair and the semen pouring down his throat hit him. He was finally tasting Nanami’s semen, and while it certainly wasn’t creme brûlée, it was everything he had dreamed about and more. Satoru was certainly a playboy before he got attached to Nanami, but Nanami had thoroughly turned him into a downright whore.

After gulping down what felt like multiple loads of semen, Satoru slowly slid off Nanami’s cock with a pop and wiped away the mess of come and spit mixing on his chin and down his neck. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelashes glued together from tears that streamed down his cheeks. The more Nanami gazed down at him, the more he felt himself grow harder again despite orgasming only a minute ago.

He reached down and wiped a stray tear away from Satoru’s cheek before bringing it up to his mouth and licking it.

“How many people have you practiced that with?” he asked, although he didn’t want to know the real answer. Satoru knew to play along, and he loved that about him.

“Nobody, daddy,” Satoru said, rising to his feet and pressing his chest against Nanami’s. “I promise.”

“You—fuck.” Nanami couldn’t help the breathless curse that left his lips. He gave Satoru a once-over, taking in his cotton sweater and black slacks, before grabbing him by the neck and tossing him onto the sofa. He loved looking at Satoru clothed, but at that moment, he needed him naked, and fast. “You showered before this, right?”

“Yes…” Satoru trailed off as he watched with poorly concealed excitement as Nanami undid his jeans and ripped them off in one fell swoop, leaving him in his special briefs. They bordered on women’s underwear with how small they were, but they were white cotton, still having that masculine edge while poorly hiding his weeping erection. He had nearly orgasmed just from having Nanami’s cock stretching his throat, and the evidence was plain as day looking at his briefs.

“I…I also prepped,” Satoru said sheepishly, his hand trailing between his legs. “You don’t have to do anything. You can just���fuck me.”

He pressed a finger to his hole, still clothed by his briefs. He stifled a gasp, remembering how thoroughly he fingered himself in the shower before walking over to Nanami’s. He knew Nanami had a big cock, just by the virtue of his being—but seeing it in person was something else. Insecurity sunk in as he realized he may not have been as prepped as needed.

Luckily, Nanami didn’t think Satoru prepping himself was enough. He needed to take it upon himself to pleasure his partner back, the partner he had yearned after for so long and who was now indulging in his most embarrassing kink.

“Come here,” Nanami commanded, grabbing Satoru’s hips and pulling him down. He then raised Satoru’s hips up into the air so that his ass was flush with his face. He licked a line from Satoru’s clothed cock down to his ass, pressing his tongue into the fabric until he could feel the throbbing hole lying past that thin barrier.

“A-ah, daddy, wait! That feels—hah…”

“Good?” Nanami asked, echoing Satoru’s previous purr. “So you knew that we’d be doing this tonight. Did you come over fully intending on seducing me?”

Satoru covered his face with a forearm, but his blush radiated past that. “Yeah, I did. Does that make you…disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” Nanami sounded appalled just at the thought of being disgusted that the man he’d been in love with for so long had wanted to have sex with him so badly he prepped himself before forcing himself into his coworker’s apartment, prepared to put his feelings on the table and their relationship on the line. Luckily for Nanami, Satoru was a bold motherfucker.

“It makes me want to eat you up,” he finished before pulling the briefs aside and diving into Satoru’s heat. He kissed a trail from Satoru’s balls down his perineum and finally, while listening to the symphony that was Satoru’s moans, licked the hole he’d be using and abusing very, very soon.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, that feels so…ngh, good…” Satoru couldn’t help embarrassing himself over and over, and Nanami’s neighbors would certainly hate him after that night. But he had dreamed about this moment for so long that he couldn’t help being overdramatic, couldn’t help wanting to let Nanami know how truly grateful and excited he was to have his coworker eating him out.

Nanami licked and sucked, trailing a hand to Satoru’s cock to stroke him there, too. He pressed a thumb into the head of his cock as he slid his tongue inside him, driving Satoru wild. He watched from his peripheral vision as one of Satoru’s hands gripped the bedsheets while the other came to rest on Nanami’s head, gripping his hair in much the same way as Nanami did with him.

“I’m close, daddy, I’m close,” Satoru breathed, his eyes fluttering closed to process his pleasure. However, he didn’t want the night to end like this. He opened an eye and peered around his hips in the air to see Nanami’s cock standing at attention as if he hadn’t just orgasmed a few minutes ago. After all the excitement that night, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep going after one orgasm—and he wasn’t about to leave Nanami unattended.

“Daddy, fuck me. Fuck me, please. Now.” He wasn’t pleading anymore. He was demanding.

Nanami lifted his head from between Satoru’s legs, savoring the heat of his now-lover’s thighs pressed against his ears. He turned his head and sunk his teeth into the soft inner flesh of Satoru’s thigh, eliciting a yelp from the other as Nanami licked around the bite to seal the deal.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against Satoru’s thigh while gazing at him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

Satoru reached down to his discarded pants on the floor and rifled through one of the pockets, bringing out a condom. Or, what looked like just one condom, before he let the entire roll of about six condoms drop down.

He smirked as he watched Nanami’s face fall. “I’m hoping you don’t.”

He winked as he tossed the stack to Nanami, who set down Satoru’s hips in favor of ripping a single condom packet away from the stack. An entire stack; Satoru couldn’t be serious. But as Nanami swung his gaze back over to the sorcerer, he realized that his playboy label was still true—his sights were set solely on Nanami at that moment. He was insatiable, as evidenced by him spreading his pretty, slender legs dusted with pink blush and a deep bite mark, knowing full well what that would unlock inside Nanami.

“You’re a drug, Satoru Gojo,” Nanami mumbled. “Not only prepping yourself, but keeping an entire roll of condoms…you are one conniving bastard.”

Saying his senior’s full name without honorifics and calling him names were still strange to him. But when he saw how Satoru’s cock twitched after what he said, he realized just how much of a turn-on either saying his name or being called names could be. Perfect.

“Then come have me,” Satoru said, holding out his arms as he watched Nanami tear a condom wrapper and slide it onto his cock. “However many times you like.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Nanami said, guiding his cock to Satoru’s entrance and pressing the head to the rim. Just that small touch had both men breathless, their chests rising and falling erratically to compensate.

“I love games,” was all that Satoru could reply with before Nanami pushed inside. The next thing that came out of Satoru’s mouth was a whiny moan, his trembling legs crossing behind Nanami’s back and pushing him even further inside him.

“Gojo-sa—nn…you’re tight,” Nanami breathed, his arms faltering in their hold on the couch. He nearly collapsed on top of Satoru but managed to keep himself up, one of his arms gripping one of the couch pillows while the other drifted to Satoru's thigh. He ran his fingers up and down that trembling thigh, raking his fingertips until they created light red trails on his pallid skin.

“F-feels…feels so good, daddy,” Satoru said, his voice hitching in his throat with how much every synapse in his body was on fire. It hurt, the stretching sensation from Nanami’s large cock making Satoru bite his lip. But the sheer pleasure he felt from finally being connected to Nanami, to know how his most intimate region felt inside him, to know the face Nanami made when he orgasmed…the pain was secondary. “More…harder, please.”

Nanami wanted to do more. God, how he wanted to fuck Satoru senseless until he could no longer speak and anything that came out of his mouth were whimpers. But he wanted to admire his lover first, wanted to take in his first time with the man he’d been in love with for years.

He slowly trailed his hands underneath Satoru’s sweater, pushing it up so that those pretty pink nipples he’d seen whenever they’d change in gym class or go to onsens together and had dreamed about. With a final push that fully buried his cock inside Satoru, he leaned over and took one of Satoru’s nipples between his teeth. His ears pricked at the sound of Satoru’s sweet gasp, and he dove in for more, sucking on the entire nipple while rolling the other between his fingers.

“There is…too much…” Satoru couldn’t object even if he tried. The stretching of his hole, the tickling sensation of his nipples sending ripples throughout his body, Nanami’s heat draped over him, everything amassed into a wave that crested and crashed over Satoru when Nanami bit his nipple again. “Too much! C-com—”

Satoru barely finished his sentence before semen spurted from his cock and painted his stomach white. His walls clamped down completely onto Nanami’s cock, causing him to groan and leaving any sort of movement impossible. Not that he wanted to move anyway—he wanted nothing more than to watch Satoru in the throes of an orgasm so powerful, his entire body went still before breaking out into shakes. His back arched off the bed and his legs squeezed Nanami’s waist so hard, he’d surely have bruises the next day.

Everything about Satoru was delectable. The more Nanami looked, the more he saw Satoru’s body as sweet: his nipples were strawberry-pink, his hole cherry-red, his skin milk-white.

“Are you alright, Gojo-san?” he asked sincerely once Satoru seemed to calm down, his chest rising and falling desperately to compensate for the lack of oxygen to his brain. He splayed a hand over Satoru’s chest, but the poor man was so oversensitive that he flinched away at the feather-like touch.

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he flung a forearm over his face. “That was…fuck.”

“You orgasmed after I barely put it in,” Nanami remarked, his eyes falling to Satoru’s nipples. “And after I played with you here for a few seconds.”

His hand came to rest over one of Satoru’s pecs, his fingers bumping against the abused nipple and making Satoru squirm underneath him. His eyes flickered back to Satoru’s face with an uncharacteristic smirk.

“You’re in for a long night, Satoru.”

Without another warning, he pulled out, leaving Satoru breathless, before slamming inside him, digging his fingers into Satoru’s waist.

“Fuck! Ah, daddy—it’s too much…” Satoru cried, his arms flailing in the air before coming to rest on Nanami’s shoulders.

Nanami leaned in slightly to make it easier for Satoru to hold onto him. “I thought you wanted more.”

Satoru pouted silently and turned his face away, but his pouting only lasted for a few seconds before Nanami thrust into him brutally again, enough for the wind to be knocked out of him. Except this time, Nanami gave him no breathing room, instead striking up a rhythm that had Satoru gasping for air with each thrust.

“Oh—ngh! Yes, yes, more…daddy…!” The new pet name settled over each man like an aphrodisiac, leaving Satoru hard again and Nanami throbbing inside his lover.

The combination of Satoru’s walls hugging him as if they never wanted to let go, Satoru’s moans, and Satoru’s beautiful expressions were enough to have Nanami fighting the crest of an orgasm from crashing over him. His rhythm gave him enough pleasure to leave his entire body buzzing, but it was punishing and left him racing to the finish. He was fucking into Satoru hard and fast, each thrust sending the couch a few centimeters to the right, the legs scraping against the floor. His fingers were already leaving bruises on Satoru’s svelte waist, and his thighs were littered with marks.

In the few seconds Nanami had left before he succumbed to orgasm, he leaned over and sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of Satoru’s neck, savoring the small cry Satoru let out. A shiver rattled each of Nanami’s vertebrae at the sensation of Satoru raking his fingernails down his back desperately as if he was hanging on for dear life. After releasing the bite and licking it as a silent apology, he turned his attention to Satoru’s ear, licking the shell of it and drawing out another weepy cry from his lover.

“I love you, too, Satoru,” he whispered and smiled to himself when those three words seemed to lead to Satoru’s second orgasm of the night.

But Satoru wasn’t orgasming alone. Nanami was right behind him, his hand shooting out to grip the couch’s arm for support as he slammed into Satoru once, twice, before filling the condom to the brim. He let out a shaky groan, his eyes squeezing shut tightly enough for white stars to break out in his vision.

“I feel it…I feel you,” Satoru whispered, his fingers releasing their hold on Nanami’s back and replacing it with a feather-like touch as he traced shapes into his skin. “Inside me. When was the last time you…”

Satoru swallowed thickly, thoroughly exhausted after his orgasms—the second of which ended up being completely dry. Nanami made him feel so good that his body couldn’t even keep up with semen production to go along with his orgasms. It made Satoru’s eyes drift to the roll of condoms and wonder how many more Nanami could fill up.

“A long, long time,” Nanami replied, slowly opening his eyes after what felt like eons.

His vision was bright at first before adjusting to the living room light. Once his eyes adjusted, he lowered them to his lover and was met with Satoru’s magnificent eyes staring up at him expectantly. He hadn’t masturbated in a few weeks at least, having been too busy with work, curses, and teaching to sit down and watch porn. Besides, he’d exhausted his specific niche of Satoru-lookalikes crying out daddy, and he couldn’t get off to any other video. Satoru had captured not only Nanami’s heart but also his attention. Nobody else was comparable to his Satoru Gojo.

“Well,” Satoru said, his hand moving to the back of Nanami’s neck to bring him down for a kiss. After a shallow kiss, he rested his forehead against Nanami’s and smiled. “Prepare to do it again. And again.”

Nanami’s eyes shifted to the condoms. “Now?”

Satoru licked his lips. “Now, daddy.”

Nanami asked no more questions after that.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Scratches in the Surface

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader 

Synopsis: Investigating Shepherd was a mistake, but the betrayal of John Price hurt more than anything Shadow Company could do to you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Talks of gore, torture, violence, swearing, blood, angst

A/N: Not really sure if I like this or not, but the idea was good so I kept it. Your codename in this is ‘Key.’ Part 2

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The buzzing lights above you were going to drive you insane faster than the damn clicking of the man’s pen, but you endured the overstimulation of your brain with an expression of boredom. 

Click, click-clack, click,

God, You clench your teeth together, either stop that, or I’m going to– 

When you go to move your hands over the metal table, the cuffs around your wrists shriek as they slide. The man in front of you pauses, looking up from his file, the manila folder sitting tantalizingly close; your fingers curl over the paper cup to your right, grabbing it and dragging it to your lips. 

As you sip the stale water, your eyes bore into the CIA Agent over the rim, unblinking and dead. Feeling the liquid travel down your throat and hit hard into your empty stomach, you watch the man tense in his seat, his eyes averting from your own quickly like you were a blazing fire. Suppressing a smirk, the man clears his throat.

You place the cup down delicately, leaving a small amount of water behind, right as the door behind the man opens loudly, creaking on its hinges and making you cringe.

Your gaze snaps to the familiar head of blonde hair that belongs to Kate Laswell, her stone-cold face more wrinkled since the last time you had seen her. The woman walks through the door, and the Agent gets to his feet quickly, leaving the file on the table.

“Ma’am,” He says, holding onto the back of the chair as he turns to face Laswell, “She hasn’t said anything since she arrived.”

“Thank you, Moore. I’ll take it from here,” Kate sighs deeply, her white dress shirt and black pants swishing as the air conditioning comes on. The lanyard around her neck makes a slight clinking noise as her name card jumps with her steps. 

You tilt your head as far as the bandages around your neck allow, feeling the stitches on your throat pull painfully; you hoped your former friend could see the blood already staining the gauze. 

The man leaves with clacking shoes, taking the godforsaken pen with him, and Laswell takes his seat. You couldn’t help but compare the scene to a transaction – you being the package thrown between unwilling participants. Not that you cared. The aches and pains in your body demanded retribution; you were more scar tissue now than skin. 

The silence between the two of you is thick, eyes clashing in a mute battle of wills you know you’ll win. You’d had four years to squelch every ounce of weakness from your body – waiting, praying, for this moment. 

Just as you imagined, Laswell breaks first.

“I never knew that Shepherd was capable of doing what he did,” Her hair collects in a bun at the base of her neck, and her bangs caress her forehead. The Agent’s style hadn’t changed, at least, “When you told me that I should–”

Kate stops mid-sentence. 

You watch her gaze fall to your arms on the table and your fingers twitch. 

Frowning, you suppose the widening of her eyes was about all the reaction you would get out of her; the one second of horror that sweeps Laswell’s eyes before the practiced calm resettles like mud in the water. But the satisfaction you garner is unparalleled. 

“You ever been thrown into a tub full of glass, Kate,” Laswell flinches at the gravel in your throat, vocal cords ripping with every word, “It’s not that bad if you don’t move so much,” You smirk, letting the dry skin on your lips break open, “Kinda hard, though, when you have a million little knives digging into your flesh.” 

“I didn’t…” Kate closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, looking away from the mangled remains of the skin of your arms, the more significant cuts starting at your elbow that jaggedly run down your forearm. Those ones weren't made by glass, but you didn’t tell the woman that. 

Let her squirm, You pick up your paper cup, grasping the rim and the hard wire hidden in the fold, It’s been a long time since I had that effect on anyone. I want to get my edge back. I need my edge back.

Kate continues her previous sentence, placing her hands on top of the folder on the table and clenching them together. You bring the cup to your lips, sipping down the last few drops before letting your bound hands fall once more. You rest them on your lap and fiddle with the cup, shifting your shoulders to relieve the tension that sits there.

“I didn’t believe you at the time about Shepherd, Key, and that was my biggest mistake. I led an investigation the second you went missing but as far as everyone was concerned you had disappeared off the face of the earth. We had no leads, no information, and no trace,” She sighs, “You have to believe me when I say we did everything that we could too–”

“We?” You scoff, “We? You’re saying you had Price working on this?” You spit out the name as venom leaks from your tone; leaning forward you see shadows move from the corner of your eye. 

You had nearly forgotten the glass window to your right, no doubt the multiple shadows barely seen behind the one-way were faces you had prayed to come and save you for all that time in the facility. You knew Price’s outline when you saw it – bulkier than the rest, large shoulders, and the bulge around his head because of that damn black beanie. The fidgeting was a new tick, though. Then again, it had been years. Maybe you had never really known him at all. 

You blink, stuffing away that fact with a pounding heart. 

Calm down, you growl to yourself, You’re in control. You…You are fucking in control. Don’t think about John Price. 

“...That’s really cute. Do you want a medal? A pat on the back?” You grunt and shut down the conversation, noticing you’ve been crushing the cup in your grip under the table, the object shaking from the force of your fingers. Leaning back, you take in a slow breath, “It never really added to much, did it?”

To anyone besides Kate Laswell and John Price, no one would have noticed your sanity fraying at the seams inside your pounding brain. Licking your tongue over your teeth your eyes stay locked with Laswell’s as you feel panic build.

It’s a long time before the woman speaks again. She utters your real name under her breath.

“We tried everything to find you. But as I got sucked more and more into Shepherd’s world, allegations started to gain validity, and the news of your death–”

“And all it took was him losing three American missiles and his little Shadow Company friends killing more than half a city in Mexico?” You force out a chuckle, your white hospital t-shirt uncomfortable over the mass amounts of bandages digging into your skin. Kate brings a hand to her temple, rubbing it with shaking hands, “Yeah,” You deadpan, “They told me about that.”

“Do…Do you know anything about where he might be?”

“Shepherd?” You sputter out a harsh laugh that leaves Laswell swallowing, “what, do you think I’m the center of the gossip ring? They kept me in a fucking dark room for days at a time. The only thing I heard was the rats eating the corpses in the corner and the sound of my blood hitting the drain basin.” 

You rose your right hand as far as the cuffs would allow and pointed your thump at the one-way glass, “Until your Toy Soldiers broke me out, that is.”

“Key,” Kate shakes her head and you know what bullshit she’s about to spill, “I can’t imagine what you went through for all those years. If we knew you were still alive I know Price and I would have–”

You tune out whatever Laswell says, fingers fidgeting under the table as you turn your head and itch the thin bandage over your chin with your shoulder, feeling stitches break open. The Ac unit was so damn loud, and that stupid buzzing of the lights. 

Fuck, everything’s just too loud, You begin to bite on the skin of your bottom lip, peeling back the flesh until you feel blood dribble down. 

Laswell calls your name, and you narrowly suppress a flinch, your eyes flickering closed before snapping back to the woman. You release your lip silently and live with the pain that breeds. 

“What?” You numbly question, foot shaking under the table.

“How about I get you something to eat?” Kate draws out and you don’t like the concerned glance she sends to the glass as she shuffles forward in her chair, “They have those mini sandwiches in the cafeteria that you love.” The woman licks her lips, her blue eyes running over the noticeable bulges of bandages and gauze that span your chest and abdomen, down your thighs and legs. The bottoms of your feet, under your socks and shoes, even have wraps. All stained red.

“Not hungry,” You clear your throat through the lie. 

“Key,” Kate whispers, “you’re skin and bones.”

“You think I don’t know that, Laswell?” The words set you off, snapping from your lips as your eyes flash and your face twists. The Agent tenses, shoulders locking tight, “I’ve looked like this ever since you and Price sold me off like a fucking dog with a rope around its neck!” Your wild eyes revel in the fear that sweeps Kate’s face. She doesn’t know you anymore, “That was you two wasn’t it? Or are my memories more fucked up than I know…? Huh?! Did the electrocution finally fry my brain?!” 

Laswell’s eyes fall to the table.

“I trusted you!” You’re screaming now, guttural and savage; every so often your voice would break, and the shadows behind the glass were all straight as a rod except one, one who slightly hunches as if in guilt, “You both left me to die! I gave you evidence, I showed you facts and you turned me over like I meant nothing to you! Like I meant nothing to Price!” The words hurt you when you spit them out, and the stitches over your throat feel like they’re on fire. 

Oh, God, John I wanted more than anything for you to find me – t-to stop it. Stop the pain, stop the torture. I need you. Where did you go, John?

“We couldn’t act on–”

“You trusted Shepherd more than you trusted me! That’s what you acted on. That’s the truth.” You turn your head to the ceiling, trying to stop the vile tears that coat your eyes as you suck in ragged breaths. Your ribs ache awfully. 

A minute passes, then two.

The next words come out muffled with numbness, whispered from your bloody lips, “Their deaths are on you. I pass off my guilt of it.” 

You could hear a pin drop. Hell, did they even know? 

“The bodies in the corner…” Laswell whispers, and you hear her throat get clogged.

“What,” You snicker, “Your forensic team not identify them yet? The ones with their faces still on, that is?” 

“Who are they, Key?” Kate whispers but you know she knows the answer already. So does Price. 

You turn your head to the glass, finding that familiar shadow and boring your eyes into it blankly. Feeling your tears dribble down your cheeks, you smirk when the black on the other end turns its head away. The others shift nervously before you look back at Kate.

“Shane, Jax, Alice, and Sam.”

Laswell’s eyes snap downward to her clenched hands.

You lean closer, “Look at me,” You growl lowly, “Kate, look at me.” 

Her eyes are red when they meet yours and you stifle a deep-chested laugh at the sight. A vicious smile blooms over your cheeks, teeth and all.

“He killed my fucking family, Laswell. My squad. My brothers and sisters that I never even involved in this because I knew how it could end if it went south. And they ripped them to fucking pieces while they were still alive,” You lift a free hand and throw your unlocked cuffs on the table, the small, thin, metal wire from your paper cup visibly stuck in the key slot. It rams onto the surface with a bang. Laswell flinches back, head snapping to the object in surprise, “That’s on you and Price. And I want it to haunt you just as it haunts me.” You tilt your head to the side, nodding towards the cuffs, “Good to see my nickname held up, at least. As you can imagine my tricks don’t work so well on rope or barbed wire.”

A ruckus sounds from the other room, loud shouting, and the rushing of feet. You lean back in your chair, slouching, and not soon after the door to the room slams open; John Price stands in the doorway with a stupid look on his face you can’t help but huff at.

“There he is,” You mutter, staring his blue eyes down as his large frame nearly hits the sides of the wall. You spread your arm out, elbows on the armrests sarcastically, “The other person I’m so eager to see.” 

Laswell stands on shaky feet and exits the room, shoving past John as he stares at you. For a moment you see what you could on describe as guilt on his face before it's wiped away the next instant. 

Not bothering to speak anymore – you’ve said your piece – you bring your hands up and caress the red skin where the cuffs had been. The area was more sensitive now that the flesh had been torn away time after time while you were held by Shadow Company in some godforsaken facility in the wilderness. You throw the remnants of the ripped-up cup onto the table. 

The door closes nearly silently, and heavy feet pad forward. You could lie to yourself and say you don’t feel your heart pounding, but what use would it be?

John sits in Laswell’s chair before palming the once more left-behind file. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, as he slowly flips through the pictures. Pictures of you, of your once perfect body full of scars and burns and bruises over every inch. You swore you saw his fingers begin to shake as he turns another page. 

John Price used to be something important to you. A friend, a mentor, and if time had permitted, perhaps he would have been something more. You don’t choose to dwell on these thoughts, but they haunt you still; how he would always prioritize your safety on missions, and give you a rare real smile when you impressed him. His laugh when you slipped out crappy jokes on missions together. The imprint of his calloused hand seemed to forever live on the back of your head, dragging you into a tight hug as you remember an OP in Romania.

On the mission, when a bullet had lodged itself between your third and fourth rib, the outcome had seemed grim – hopeless – but all John did was grab your cheeks and force your eyes on him as the Medic worked hastily, grunting and uttering calmly.

“Eyes open, Sweetheart. Keep them on me, eh…? There you go, atta girl. I’m right here,” It was safe to say you had chosen to stare at those unusually soft baby blues the entire time you were getting Evac. and John had dragged you into the ramshackle head-to-chest-hug the second you were stable, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Talking so sweetly you had wanted nothing more than him.

He had been so much more than a Captain to you. 

But that was all so long ago, and the memories were rotted like tree trunks. He was just another face, a handsome one, yes – he still hadn't shaved his beard and the circles under his eyes looked darker than you could ever remember seeing them – but still that rugged charm that was John. 

I trusted you, You want to scream at him, hit him, tear his throat out. But in the end, you did nothing, but you didn’t trust me. 

The wrinkles around his eyes tighten as he sees the extensive claw shreds over your back on one of the printed sheets, the impression of dog teeth over your left shoulder blade and right thigh.

You feel a tightening in your throat. 

“They liked their dogs,” You mutter, “That’s for sure.” 

Price’s throat bobs. 

“German Shepherd?” He asks, accented voice thick, picking up the picture and grasping it so tightly the corner creases. 

“Nah, Doberman.” 

“Hm,” He grunts, finally looking up from the picture to stare into your broken eyes. Against your better judgment, you look away first, not able to stand the unwavering blue with that specific emotion staining the iris. John was different from Laswell. He…He had meant more. 

That’s why it hurt so much to be near him because he would always mean more.

Under the table, your feet shook. John cleared his throat, placing the image down and closing the file before he, in the buzzing of the lights and the whishing of the Ac, whispers your name under his lips.

You’re ashamed of the way it makes you feel like you could cry, your body freezing. Only he could utter it in that way. You had waited to hear him say your name every single day you were stuck with the Shadows.

“Save it,” You nod your head his way once, not looking up from your lap, “I don’t want your apology, Price. It’s done.”

The Captain’s head nods firmly, ever the gentleman, chin jerking as he clenches his jaw. John’s fingers close your file and he taps it with the back of his knuckles, prompting you to raise your gaze to follow the motion. 

“I want every name you can remember, yeah?” You pause, for a moment you thought you hadn’t heard him correctly. Under the table, you can feel your knee spasm with nerves. 

Picking your gaze up, you travel the length of Price’s tight gray shirt; looking over his combat vest and all the tiny pouches holding only he knows what. You settle on the man’s eyes with a small hitch in your breath. He looked furious, downright lethal. 

John’s shoulders were tense, muscles vibrating with badly concealed anger. At his neck, he had a visible tendon from how hard he was clenching his jaw. Had he not read the file before now? Seen the pictures? Or was that not even the point? You frown, shifting in your chair with nervousness. Your head was all messed up. 

Logically you knew his anger wasn't directed at you, but you could never be too cautious when it came to someone you haven’t seen in a while. Men had been the source of your problems for four years, and even if you knew John the thought remained that if you had changed so drastically, so could he. 

At your silence, Price pauses, blinking a few times before he realizes his hand is clenched on the table, nails biting into his skin. He leans back into the chair with a heavy inhalation, bringing a hand up to rub over his face. John holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, eyes closed, and you watch him and his unsteady breaths that echo through the interrogation room. His chest sputters.

So now he cares, You ask bitterly, blinking away the anxiety in your bones with false calm, now he wants to help.

“Where was that anger when I asked you to help me investigate Shepherd?” You whisper, saliva stuck under your tongue. 

John never answers and not a second later he’s standing and stalking out the door with measured steps, but manages to close the door softly behind him before his form disappears.

Come back, You want to plead the second the lock latches, your hands shaking violently in your lap, don’t leave me alone here, John. Don’t leave me alone. I-I can’t be alone again.

But you say nothing.

Outwardly no one can analyze your body language the way that the Captain or Laswell could. All they see is a blank slate waiting to be filled sitting stone-still in an interrogation room. Left alone, all you can do is force back the tears and listen to the loud buzzing and the whining of the Ac, trying with all of your might to forget Captain John Price and the damning comfort his presence still brings you after years of hell.  

But how could you forget him? All of the good memories you have left are of him; the only ones untainted by blood or a dark room with no light. The shrieking of rats is like a symphony of death that plays on repeat in your head, digging into the small spaces in your ribs and intestines. But you welcome it because anything is better than thinking about John. Of the times you shared with him.

The betrayal itself is less painful than the memories.

[slytherizz]

A Different Kind of Wager - Sebastian Sallow x Female!MC/Reader

Summary: Sebastian makes a wager with his girlfriend that will make the outcome of their final Crossed Wands duel before their graduation far more interesting.

My main fic has been sucking the life out of me with the angst and suffering. So here is some shameless smut I've been working on!

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, duelling as a questionable form of foreplay, Lucan Brattleby runs an illegal gambling operation

You can find all the tags on Ao3 :)

She nibbled idly on the end of her quill her brows drawn together in that cute little frown as it always graced her features when she was deep in concentration. With their NEWT’s closing in fast Sebastian felt like he’d barely seen anywhere but the inside of his dormitory and the dusty shelves of this library for weeks. 

Not that he was getting much work done. 

The blazing summer sun pouring through the windows made even the normally cool library stiflingly hot. Her tie was pulled loose where it hung around her neck, the top buttons of her blouse undone exposing the heat and blossoming beads of sweat on her clavicle were more than a bit distracting.

Over the last few weeks, Sebastian barely had enough time to sleep around his revision let alone spend any quality time with her outside of the library. Which had left him more than a bit frustrated that even a glimpse of skin was enough to have his thoughts so far from his own Potion’s essay.

So, he’d settled himself into the comfortable position of twirling her hair around one of his fingers whilst staring directly down her shirt. Sebastian hoped if he kept this up for long enough she’d eventually snap at his annoying prodding. If he got her wound up enough it would more often than not end in a frustrated fumble and if he got her seething which with how badly her history of magic revision seemed to be going was likely he’d work her up enough that she’d let him fuck her in the restricted section to release the tension.

A loud bang rang out echoing through the library as the heavy oak doors slammed pulling Sebastian abruptly from his fantasies. Sebastian cringed internally for the poor sod who had surely invoked Scribner’s wrath. He heard muffled apologies answer Scribner’s shrill scolding which rang through the echoing library like a bell. He’d been on the receiving end of one of the aged librarians foul moods more times than he cared to remember and did not envy the recipient.

Flushed with embarrassment, Lucan Brattleby scouted sheepishly once Scribner was satisfied he’d had an earful and moved her attentions elsewhere. Although taller now the fifth year was no less baby faced the scarlet of his robes accentuating the flush in his cheeks. As he spotted them from the far side of the library and hurried towards the back table where they’d sequestered themselves away.

“Ah, there you both are! Been looking all over the bloody castle for you.”

“Seventh-year Lucan,” she sighed rolling up her parchment with a smile “If we’re not in the library we’re crying in the toilets.”

“Not too busy for tonight I hope,” he smiled nervously, eyes wide in a pleading stare. 

Sebastian had forgotten, between preparation for NEWT’s and spending the week desperately trying to get his girlfriend alone a final match of the Crossed Wands was far from the top on his list of priorities.

“Don’t you worry we’ll be there,” she smiled before Sebastian could disagree with more than a few ideas of what he'd rather do with her in his free time.

Lucan breathed a sigh of relief “Good that would throw the entire betting pool out of sorts. Not that I can let you two in on the fun I’m afraid. Can’t have one of you throwing a match and making off with the pot,” he grinned, brown eyes alight with mischief “I have some class as to not allow insider betting…that and the Ravenclaws would have my head.”  

“Surely you can spare a kickback for old friends?” Sebastian quirked.

“You do it for the glory Sallow and you know it,” she grinned at him.

“Touché.”

“Slight change of plans for tonight,” added Lucan blushing clearly seeing it painted across Sebastian’s face exactly what he’d rather be doing tonight. “We’re in the Astronomy Tower. Too many close calls with Professor Weasley in the Clocktower Courtyard.”   

“Don’t you worry we’ll be there. One last hurrah before exams completely destroy our social lives,” she sighed.

“I’ll see you both tonight!” Lucan clapped his hands together with glee looking between them conspiratorially before hurrying off.

If Sebastian was frustrated with their lack of time for each other now, he realised that would only get worse with exams looming over them edging closer. Sebastian leaned back in his chair and sighed dramatically, and he swore he saw her roll her eyes.

“It’s been ages since we duelled. It’ll be nice to do something apart from our usual verbal sparring,” she encouraged. But Sebastian’s thoughts were far from duelling when the idea struck him.

“Shame to let Lucan have all the fun," he said slowly leaning in close enough so his breath could disturb the loose hairs around her face "Care to make this more interesting?”

“I know that look. What are you plotting?”

“How about a little wager?”

“What kind of wager?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

Sebastian's eyes flicked around the room, as Lucan slammed the door a second time sending Scribner once again on the warpath. Directing her spitting rage towards some poor Gryffindor second-years who had tried to smuggle pumpkin pasties into the library and had gotten crumbs and oily fingerprints all over their books.

Satisfied they were secluded away from any prying eyes he hooked his finger under the hem of her long skirt where it had ridden up over her crossed legs. His hand stroked purposefully up the bare skin underneath, ghosting up the inside of her thighs teasing the soft skin with a gentle scratch of his fingernails that sent a shiver through her.

She looked at him half amused, but he could see how her pupils had been blown wide from the lightest touch that promised everything.

“I have some ideas.”

***

Even Sebastian was baffled at the sheer number of students who’d managed to sneak out of their common rooms to make the long trek to the Astronomy tower that night. Whoever had done the imperturbable charm had done an impressive job not a sound could be heard from outside of the classroom, despite the deafening din inside. There had to be at least fifty students crammed into the observation deck. They clang to the railings hitching themselves up high to get the best view.

“Last call to get your bets in. Come on don’t be shy!” Lucan shouted over the hectic crowd that had surrounded him. Students jostled each other as they attempted to push forward to get closer to the board. “I’ve got some 20:1 odds-on Prewitt - put your money on the Underdog and you could walk away with half the pot.”

Lucan was truly in his element. His left fist clutched full of betting slips, he scratched frantically with his chalk at the betting pool he’d meticulously crafted on the blackboard he must have nicked from the arithmancy classroom and lugged up to the tallest point of the castle. Students inspected the match-ups before shoving galleons into his waiting hands.

Sebastian really did admire his entrepreneurial spirit. Taking over an unsanctioned duelling club in your third year was one thing but making a profit off of it was a stroke of genius. He’d begun his enterprise last year started in with a few well-meaning bets and had now spiralled to a size where even students who’d never participated in the duelling themselves would attend every match just for a piece of the action.

Sebastian cast his eyes over the crowded room, a couple of overeager fourth years were stretching relishing that they’d made it this far in the tournament at all. A few Slytherin second-years in their pyjamas who looked very pleased with themselves for having managed to sneak out of the common room to watch the show were whispering huddled in the corner.

His eyes connected with hers across the far side of the room. She was leaning against the rickety balcony he suspected was only still standing due to magic embedded in the castle. She was smiling at him, the moon high in the sky illuminating her features bathing her in an ethereal glow. Despite the commotion in the tower, the nerves of competitors were so palpable Sebastian felt he could cut the tension with a knife she looked beautiful and serene. For a moment he considered doing away with the tournament and their wager all together and dragging her off to her secret hideaway opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.

Sebastian battled against the grain of the crowd towards her. Weasley tried to grab his attention and pull him into a conversation about some combat-enhancing potions he was brewing but Sebastian patted the redhead on the shoulder placatingly never letting his eyes leave hers.

She smiled up at him a devilish glint in her eye as he came to lean against the banister beside her.

“You know if you want to back out of the bet I’ve thought of some creative forfeits,” he nudged her arm. She rolled her eyes; at the smug look he knew was plastered over his face. But he liked the way the small smile played on her lips. Lips that if he had his way wrapped around his cock before the night was up.

“Not scared of losing are you, Sallow?”

“Oh, not at all,” he leaned in closer, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger to push it behind her ear. The smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair and clothes invaded his senses only making him more impatient to have that scent coating his skin “Just giving you the chance to save your knees while you still can.” He whispered into her ear low enough that only she could hear, relishing in the way she licked her lips instinctively at the thought. Despite the cool night breeze that came in through the open sides of the tower Sebastian could feel the heat creeping up his neck. Just as he’d decided to sack off the duels entirely and drag her away Lucan’s voice sounded over the muddle of raised voices.

“Right that it - Bets are closed. Sallow. Prewitt. Duellists take your marks for preliminaries!”

“See you in the final,” she winked and pushed him towards the middle of the tower. The red-head was already waiting looking insufferably smug as ever. Despite Sebastian’s general disdain for Prewitt, he did often find it amusing how even though he’d never once bested him in a duel he could delude himself into thinking this time could be any different.  

“This is my year, Sallow,” he called across from him taking an offensive stance.

“Sorry Prewitt, I have too much on the line to go easy on you tonight,” Sebastian replied not meeting the Gryffindor’s eyes instead turning slightly to wink at her.  

***

It wasn’t fate that landed her opposite him in the final duel that night. Sebastian had been quietly confident when he’d made his wager with her that it would always come down to the two of them. As much as Lucan insisted that his matchups were done completely at random, and he’d never sully his reputation with such cheap tricks. Lucan also knew people liked a show of seeing their two best duellers face off against each other. Having them knock each other out in the first round, well that would be bad for business.

Sebastian was certain he could live a hundred lifetimes and still remember the way she moved. As if it was seared into his brain that first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. She was like a raging storm, and he was a lost ship being pulled out to sea. That ancient magic in her veins practically glowing like an azure snake crackled amongst her fingertips like the poised lightning of a vengeful god ready to send his sails and crew to a watery grave.  

Their dance began. She still duelled as if she was some untamed wind whirling reactively and unrefined. Her wand lashing out from her fast like a whip, she cast with her whole body. The wand was not just a tool but a very extension of herself. Never one for fancy charms she sent a confringo towards him that singed the edges of his cloak and sent the crowd quickly leaping from their view around the railings as the curse hurtled towards them. She’d leave her left side fully exposed and just as fast as he’d send a curse flying in her direction, she’d pivot so quickly the vulnerability was lost in a flurry of robes and hair. He parried and struck with his wand missing his mark again and again as she moved like a knife through butter. As they twirled around the moving iron plates marked with stars, they used this new terrain to their advantage. Taking cover when the discs shifted blocking their opponent and their spells from view only to spring from the other side with curses of their own. Sweat glistened faintly on her brow, and a wide grin spread across her face that he knew was mirrored on his own.

His eyes met her across the devilish glint in her eyes practically stopping his heart for a moment. The rest of the world, the crowds slipped away and there was only her. Her fire, her perfect storm.

It took his brain a moment to right itself and realised he’d been hit, and he was now meeting her piercing gaze with his arse firmly on the floor. Her brow gleamed with sweat, hair tangled and wild, blazing with victory. A goddess of war, triumphant. And she was his.

As suddenly as they disappeared the crowds seemed to come flooding back in a riotous cheer as they surrounded her. Weasley slapped her on the back his face broken into a wide toothy grin. He peeled off from the crowd hand outstretched to assist Sebastian to his feet. He gratefully took it dusting himself off, chuckling to himself.

“Tough luck mate,” he smiled placatingly. “I would say there’s always next time but that was your last shot. I’m afraid you’re out of the history books now. I lost eight sickles betting on you as well.” He ran his fingers through his ginger hair frowning to himself stewing over his lost winnings.

Sebastian smiled at him apologetically despite the fact he couldn’t give two shits about Weasley’s shrapnel not when he had a debt of his own, one that he was eager to pay.

Sebastian leaned against the railings in wait for her. The crowd swarmed around her dragging her this way and that, chattering over each other each eager to get her ear. Some cheered some muttering reluctant congratulations looking away enviously as Lucan handed those who had bet on her their winnings. Not nearly as much as the house would take however as Lucan lined his pockets.

Sebastian was beginning to grow impatient, it felt like an eternity as he waited for the crowds to finally disperse. This earned him a few smirking looks, everyone thought he was embarrassed, and Hogwarts' self-proclaimed ‘best dueller’ had been bested yet again. He played the part of the good sport despite his growing frustration, laughing off the snide little barbs from the likes of the insatiably competitive Imelda and most shockingly even a mocking glare from old Puffskein Dunkein. The audacity of a man afraid of puffskein to look at him like that Sebastian almost laughed out loud.

When at last a pair of gushing fourth-year Hufflepuffs girls had finally left her side whispering and giggling as they left the tower to follow the rest of the crowd. Sebastian slipped up behind clearing his throat as she turned to him eyes bright with triumph.

“So…what was all that about saving my knees?”

“No need to show off, pet. It doesn’t suit you,” he grinned slowly encroaching in on her. The once deafening tower was now quiet and still. The only lights left were the soft moonlight and glowing stars. Sebastian thought if he listened hard enough, he could hear her heartbeat increase with every step he took towards her.

She released a loud undignified snort of laughter “That’s rich coming from you.”

Sebastian silenced her pressing his lips hard against hers in a desperate kiss that ignited a fire in his bones. With the pressure of NEWTs, he hadn’t realised how starving he was for her touch. He nipped at her bottom lip and she gasped parting her lips just enough so he could slip his tongue between them to tangle with her own. His hands ghosted down her sides wrapping around her so he could pull her flush against him. He knew she’d already be able to feel his already hardening length exposing exactly where his thoughts were as they pressed into her. He pulled away from her a little breathless, freckled hands coming up to clasp her cheeks.

“A debt is owed, pet. Ready to collect?”

“What now? Here?”

“Did I not mention it’s a time-sensitive offer?”

She huffed out a surprised laugh as she met his eyes. But he noticed that telltale way she bit down on the inside of her cheek, noted how even in the low light her pupils were blown wide as saucers. He kissed her again more passionately this time, edging her towards the small table in the corner covered in ripped-up betting slips from sore losers and broken astronomy equipment.

In his haste, Sebastian swept the papers and objects littering the table a telescope clattered to the floor with a loud metallic clang. He gripped her hips forcefully and lifted her to plant her on the edge of the desk. He kissed up the column of her throat savouring every rasping vibration against his lips as her breathing caught in her throat.

“You were excellent, darling. Thought you might actually finish me off,” he murmured against her skin as he loosened her tie around her neck as he had done his own. He could already see a flush creeping up her clavicle as he worked the buttons exposing more of the stained flesh beneath. Her skin was salty on his tongue but after a week of nothing but longing looks and stolen kisses it tasted like ambrosia. He pulled the offending garment from around her shoulders throwing it unceremoniously to the floor. He pulled at the ribbons letting her stays flutter open before pulling the thin silky chamise over her head. Her nipples pebbled fully exposed as the night air swept in through the tower, mussing her hair. He brought the crown between his teeth tongue flicking out to tease the flesh and she groaned. Her hand came to settle on her neglected left breast pinching the twin between her own fingers. Wickedly gorgeous a movement that he knew meant she ached as much for him this last week as he did her. He released her from his teeth and kissed her quickly. Grinning Sebastian ran his hands up her thighs fingers pressing hard into those sinfully tight trousers she wore.

He hooked his fingers into her waistband as she lifted her hips assisting him as he peels her trousers and knickers off of her legs. She wriggled her feet out of the bottom and Sebastian discarded them next to her shirt in a pile on the floor. Bare and laid out before him he cursed himself for ever letting her wear clothes at all.

Dropping to his knees Sebastian coaxed her legs apart by peppering kisses along the inside of her thighs. Pausing momentarily to nip and suck small bruises on the tender flesh as he worked up towards the apex of her thighs. He bent her knees up to rest them on either side of his shoulders, he pulled her hips sharply forward spreading her out before him like his last meal.

“Did you like seeing me on my back as much as you do between your thighs?” he goaded. Her lips parted to reply but all that came out was a low whine as Sebastian flicked his tongue across her bundle of nerves. Her hips jolted forward in search of reprieve. More pleasure only he could give to her. A pleasure he now owed her.

He dragged his tongue across her clit more purposefully this time. Her hands shot down to knot almost painfully in his hair, as he kept him close to her aching heat demanding the payment that was due. Sebastian was a lot of things; ruthless at worst, an insufferable show-off at best but he was not a sore loser. He sealed his mouth over her aching heat, burying her tongue in her folds.

The sight of her above him he doubted there was a more perfect sight in this world. She was bare and spread out like a nymph from some Greek tragedy and he was a mere disciple who had come to pray at her altar. He chased her sounds, swirling his tongue around her nub lapping up every drop she offered to him. He dragged his tongue across her weeping entrance, a broad stroke with the flat part of his tongue. From the way her legs had already begun to tremble, he knew she had been aching for this, for his touch just as much as he had. He always marvelled at how quickly she came undone when he used his tongue, but with how much he’d been driven practically mad with need all week he wanted to savour this. Every flash of skin, the sway of her hips, when she leaned in too close, and her scent seeped into his mind had him as pent up as he had been before they were together and all thought of her had been a mere albeit all-consuming fantasy. So, he wanted to take his time with her, use that control he had over her and bring her to the brink and back until she was a crumpled mess.

She writhed sinful curses and breathy moans slipping from her lips as she ground her hips forward seeking relief on the flat part of his tongue. He was teasing her he knew. Edging her closer and closer towards that summit of bliss and that wasn’t part of their deal. But after a week of nothing but stolen kisses and fumbles above their clothes in quiet classrooms and hidden alcoves, he wanted her to come crashing down when she was near breaking and begging for release.

Just as he felt her legs begin to clamp together practically suffocating him between her thighs he ceased his ministrations of his tongue, sucking small bruises on the inside of her thighs. Not that Sebastian thought suffocating between her thighs was a particularly bad way to go out. He released her clit switching between sinking his teeth into her soft skin before swiping the marks with his tongue.

“Seb- what the fuck?” she groaned in protest, she bucked her hips towards him practically at breaking point in need of her release. Her fingers smoothing his mop of chestnut hair he guessed now looked even more tangled and wild than usual as she desperately tried to pull him back towards her aching heat.

Sebastian released his grip on her thighs, skimming his fingers along the inside of her thighs leaving goosebumps in his wake before he slid his fingers into her tight heat. Her eyelashes fluttered as he teased her open with two freckled fingers. He crooked his fingers and grinned as her light panting transformed into keening mewls as he hit that sweet spot inside of her that made her crumble from the inside out. He knew it was cruel to make her wait, she had earnt her prize fair and square, but he’d been starving for her for all week, and he wanted to feel her come undone harder than he ever had. Even if it took all night. He pumped his digits slowly coaxing her towards the brink again with each purposeful thrust. She was practically vibrating, so dangerously close to the edge Sebastian thought he saw the ghosts of tears in her eyes as she writhed desperately.  

“Sebastian, please. I can’t- Fuck,” she groaned desperately. Sebastian sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked - devouring the quivering nub.

The combination of sensations must practically set fire to all her nerves. Even if no one had heard the unsanctioned duelling tournament he still wouldn’t be surprised if they heard her now. The loud unabashed cry that she released as her earth shattered even her legs clamped around his ears did little to muffle her glorious sounds. Despite his own need twitching almost painfully in his trousers at the sight of her shuddering release; all Sebastian cared about was prolonging her bliss. He lapped purposefully at her swollen flesh as she rode his fingers forcing her hips down onto them. Each thrust is more forceful than the last. He’d gladly let her wake the whole castle with her strangled cries. Let them all hear the pretty sounds the Hero of Hogwarts only made for him.

Her legs at last went boneless panting hard as she collapsed back on her elbows. Her head lolled helplessly to the side as she gazed at him through hooded eyes of admiration and desire. She looked practically drunk at the sight of him still buried between her legs.

“My congratulations to the victor,” he said smugly. Licking the residual wetness that still coated his lips as he at last removed his fingers from her tight heat. His tongue laved at the bruises he sucked on the inside of her thighs soothing their ache. He travelled up her pausing only to run his nose through the sparse hairs at the apex of her thighs which made her groan again as his heated breath tickled her still-sensitive nub. Impatient at his torturous pursuit up her body her hands clasped his freckled cheeks to pull him towards her. She claimed his lips not caring to wipe his mouth. She nipped greedily at his bottom lip her tongue flicking out to meet his won as she tasted the need her body had for him still sweet on his lips.

Her hands ghosted across his hipbones that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The scratch of her fingernails had Sebastian’s hips instinctively jerked towards her. Chasing his own need for release rutting forward his still-clothed member twitching against her exposed heat. She captured the grunt he released with her lips her deft fingers frantically working the buckle of his belt. He encircled her wrists with a large hand stopping her pursuit.

“Ah- Ah. You won fair and square. No need for that,” he grinned. He could practically feel his own body cursing the part of his mind that wasn’t completely overcome with desire for the witch spread out before him and was still capable of rational thought. He focused on the need his cock had to claim her into his lips fastening his teeth over her fluttering pulse.

“Don’t make me beg,” she groaned. With the little room she had to move her hands in his grip she pulled him forward by his belt loops more forcefully until his hips were flushed against her. Even through his trousers, he could feel the heat from between her thighs that made his cock twitch demandingly.

“But I so love it when you do.” His hands buried into her hair in a possessive grip to pepper kissed along her jaw.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” she practically growled, palming his cock through the fabric. Sebastian knew he would grant any request from her lips. Taking her hips in a bruising grip she yelped as her backside was pulled sharply over the edge of the rickety table. He didn’t let her fall instead letting her weight pass to him flipping her around so she could take a firm hold of the table and steady herself. She turned to look at him, her eyes hooded pupils blown wide biting so hard on her bottom lip he thought she might draw blood. To the world, she was a triumphant warrior, a heroine forged in fire and bloodshed but for him and only him in secret moments stolen under darkness and moonlight, she would shed that armour. And give herself to being his to claim and conquer.

Sebastian shucked his trousers down forcefully kicking them off from around his ankles. His cock sprang free of its prison, arching proudly in front of him. Sebastian swiped his fingers through her still soaking folds coating his fingers in her slick and his spit.

“Please Sebastian-” she whimpered at the contact, desperate to feel more than just his fingers inside her. He teased her kiss-swollen bottom lip down, pushing his digits roughly into her mouth. She closed her mouth greedily around his fingers languidly dragging her tongue to clean them off. Her pupils were blown wide as black as the night sky; he almost came completely undone just at the lusty look she was giving him. He could wait any longer to be inside her and feel her around him. Sebastian angled his hips and breached her walls with a strong deliberate thrust. She released a strangled cry her head lolled against her shoulder her desperation to finally be filled by him satiated.

“Fuck-” Sebastian hissed. He didn’t wait for her to adjust to him as he took her hip in a bruising grip thrusting his hips forward. Still tender and swollen from how he’d already made her quake her oversensitive walls fluttered around his cock as she took the entirety of him. As he rocked his hips into her Sebastian thought he could rename every star in the sky with the speed with which filthy moans and praise to him and everything he made her feel tumbled from her lips. Each is more wonderous than the last.

He hastily undid the remaining buttons on his shirt to admire his incessant plunges into her warmth. Only caring about how she practically swallowed him whole.  

“Taking me so well,” he grunted, rough and low. Her spine curved at his praise drawing him in deeper. The head of his cock teased that sweet spot inside her. The more of her weight shifted backwards the more she arched towards him until she was flushed against him and rutting her hips back frantically in search of more friction. He slowed his pace to draw himself almost fully out of her before filling her again with a languid thrust. “Tell me how it feels darling.”

“Incredible. Fuck- I’ve needed you all week- inside me. Please Seb more,” she whimpered.

He wondered how many students dreamt of having her and how even they in all their wildest fantasies couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to take her under the stars.

He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her to settle on the curve of her stomach. Holding her in place so he could increase his tempo slamming home hard. Each thrust into her tight heat drew keening mewls as he edged her closer towards her second climax.

Sebastian could feel that coil inside him tightening threatening to snap. He wanted to feel her crash down around him. He didn’t just crave it. He needed it. Like a man lost in the desert and she was his oasis gulping down water greedily until he was sick with it. Sebastian curled his hand around her throat, squeezing just enough that a choked whine could still escape from her lips as her head began to spin. Each finger that pressed around her delicate neck said the words his sex-addled mind couldn’t make his mouth form.

Only I can make you feel like this. You are mine. I am yours. I love you.

He pulled her backwards harder onto his cock by her throat, spearing her with brutal efficiency. Curling his fingers tighter his other hand slipped down the planes of her stomach to apply soft pressure to her hooded bundle of nerves sending a shock through her like a burst of electricity. He could feel her body begin to clench and tremble around him in a way that was maddening. Whatever words she tried to speak came out as little more than a garbled cry over the grip around her delicate neck.

“Come for me, darling. Please- I can’t hold back any longer. I need to feel you come undone all over my cock,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear as he began to tease furious circles over her still-swollen clit.

Sebastian doubted there was a more beautiful sight than the witch he loved unravelling under the full force of his fingers and his cock. Her walls clenched around him. Spasming and contracting as they sucked him in impossibly deeper into her cunt as she let out a shriek. With a final uneven snap of his hips that coil inside him snapped and his own release spilling inside her. His hips spluttered, pumping it deeper into her, her name and filthy praise erupting from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine.

Her body was flushed with a thin sheen of sweat that coated her glittering under the moonlight. His forehead came to rest between her shoulder blades he released his hold on her throat to wrap his arms around her as she struggled to stay upright on weakened trembling legs. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises that were beginning to bloom around her throat. Still buried deep inside her his thumb stroking her nub gently, she whined and bucked her hips to try and shake off the overstimulation. She chuckled against her skin, and at last, releasing the small bundle of nerves she sighed with relief.

He removed himself from her aching core and she groaned at the loss of him inside her. As if she only felt whole when he was filling her completely. On shaking legs, he guided her over to rest gently on the edge of the desk again. He kissed her more gently now and she hummed against his lips. A pleasureful little sound that even despite being completely spent had him wondering if he could muster up the energy to take her again as his tongue flicked lazily out tangling with her own.

“I love you,” he smiled and she practically glowed. To him, she was brighter and more beautiful than any star that any astronomer could find in the farther reaches of the cosmos.

“You let me win, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mused, pushing her hair behind her ears absentmindedly. 

“Either way the result was the same. You’ve been looking up at me from your back since you were fifteen,” she smiled slyly, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She bent down to scoop up her trousers before shimmying back into the tight material that he still had no idea how she got away with wearing the wildly inappropriate attire on the school grounds.

“Oh- You want a rematch? I’d be more than happy to take my winnings.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would be.”

“Care to make it more interesting?”

“I’m listening,” she grinned. His little witch had always been a thrill seeker, but their rematch was a contest he wasn’t willing to lose. He didn’t just want her mouth. He wanted her hand.

[norinenglish]

Rancher fic idea.

This is a very rough draft idea, but I'm begging for opinions on it. This is a complete au about magician and familiars.

Everyone knows that Jimmy only brings disaster. 

The teachers cringe when they have to call out his name on the first day of class. His fellow students whisper about him behind his back and they stay clear of him otherwise. There’s only a handful of people in the Academy who are willing to have a full conversation with him (and while he’s immensely grateful, he doesn’t think they are a bit crazy as well.) He blows up all his spells, his potions never do anything good, he stumbles over the words of his incantations and they always end up a little bit funny. 

It’s been two years since he started learning magic at the Academy when he was 18, and his reputation is clinging to him like a looming shadow. He hates it. He wants to change it. He’s not a disaster. He’s not a failure. He’s going to be great. 

And so, in his third year, he signs up for the invocation class. 

At the end of the first lesson, his teacher calls him to their desk. 

“Jimmy, invocation is one of the harder disciplines of magic,” they tell him, looking at him over their half-moon glasses. 

“Yes, I am very excited to learn all about it,” he says. One of his hands comes grips at the band of his bag in front of his chest. He tries not to think of the knot of anxiety twisting right below his ribs. 

His teacher sighs. “Listen, it’s nice that you have interest in the course. But I wouldn’t expect too many good results from you.” 

Jimmy smiles at them despite his true feelings. They are not the first teacher to tell him something along those lines. At least, they did not tell him to drop out immediately. 

It’s fine, it’s fine, he tells himself. You’re gonna prove them wrong. 

*

He spends more time on this course than any other. He studies and studies and studies. Sure, his results are mediocre for the first two months, but you can’t be good at something without effort, right? 

When the day arrives for the whole class to attempt a familia ceremony, Jimmy is desperate for just one success. If he can summon something, anything, he’ll be happy. Only 50 percent of students in the invocation course ever succeed in summoning a familiar, and only half of that manages to do it on their first try. He’s going to be one of them.  

When his name gets called, he climbs the stone stage and starts drawing the summoning circle in chalk. He practiced so many times in the last few days that he could do it in his sleep. (Actually, he did it instead of sleeping, but that irrelevant-)

When he’s done, he stands up and recites the incantation. He puts a lot of force into it, and enunciates it loud and clear. Finally, he cuts his thumb and lets the blood drip into the center. 

At this point, the teacher jumps on their feet and exclaims: “Wait you made a mistake! You wrote underworld instead of over-”

It’s too late. The room lights up in flames. Jim puts his arms up to cover his face, as heat flares around him. This is where I die, he thinks, a sudden feeling of shame taking over him. This is it. This is the ultimate confirmation that he is as cursed as they said. 

There’s no pain, though. He expected being burnt alive to hurt. But there’s no pain. The blinding light recedes and he lowers his arms.

When he opens his eyes, he finds a tiny ball of flames, sitting snugly in the palm of his hands. 

The other students slowly get out of their hiding spots and approach, whispering among themselves. 

“Teacher, what is this?” one of them asks. 

“A Blaze,” the teacher says. “Jimmy just summoned a Blaze as his familiar.”

[vershl]

I'm not sure if you've thought about this yet, but what are all of the Gems' weapons?

I have a feeling that Knuckles' weapon is somewhat similar to Garnet's dual-wielding gauntlets, but what about the others?

Okay so my answer is going to be kind of limited atm, I haven't doodled any of the others, but I'll do my best to answer you!

---

Knuckles

So first off, yes, Knuckles uses his gloves just like Garnet's dual gauntlets. It's perfect for him, and I couldn't picture him using any other weapon.

Shadow

don't drool over him in the first doodle pls, i already did enough of that-- ahem

also GOD y'all love jacket shad, we'll keep it, we'll keep it. sheesh- i'll even put a star on the back to mirror sonic's gem and it'll be really gay and cute ANYWAY, read my stuff

Shadow's is still in the works, but I'm REALLY liking the scythe idea. With his game motif as well of course. I'm still not entirely sold on it, part of me is contemplating a spear for a nod to 'Chaos Spear'. The handle in the first sketch will remain the same for sure, but I may fiddle with the spear thought. I contemplated giving him a gun of course, but I don't think it really fits in the SU world.

Sonic

Now Sonic... I have NO idea to be honest with you. I'm going back and forth on whether he even has a weapon or not.. he has his speed and could fight like his normal game self. Then I get the idea of maybe he uses a sword? And I just now got the idea of spikes along his body, so when he runs fast/spins into someone it just shreds them. Adding on the thought of lightning abilities, don't know where that one came from but I like it-- I don't know, what do you guys think?

Amy

Amy uses her signature hammer, I'll definitely play with the design more. But yep, she gets to keep her weapon.

Tails

Tails is going to use gadgets/inventions to help in battles, and is the designated medic. He's not a frontline fighter.

Rouge

So I have two ideas for our stupid bat bitch; One, I dress her and equip her like a rogue, which would be sick I think. And two, dress and equip her like a paladin, sword and shield style. I'll play with both ideas, but I am leaning a bit more towards the rogue.

Silver

Gonna be real? Zero idea. I mean I COULD give him a sword.. or ice powers because he's a sapphire. But in SU we've never seen a sapphire fight, so we don't really know a thing about their abilities in combat. But yeah, could be cringe and have him be the ice to blaze's fire.

Blaze

Speaking of Blaze; She uses her fire abilities to fight, encasing her fists or feet in flames, she uses martial arts in combat. Hers was simple and easy to come up with, lmao.

[jotunvali02]

Playing Ace Attorney, Rise from the Ashes part 2

Now I think of it, Lana Skye has spent her whole carreer being blackmailed.

"I hope personal feelings won't be part of the proceedings today, Mr Wright."

Oooh? And why would such things be, hmmm?? 👀 Did you & Fee-Fee do "such things" during these last two months???

"Ergo!" 💙A💙

"Mom, are prosecutors bad people?"

No! No!! Don't you make my baby cry, you other baby!!😭

Yeaaaah, Phoenix baby! Your brains came back!!

Ema drools over Edgey again. While he's basically trying really hard to throw her sister in jail for a murder she didn't commit, but hey. Details.

Lana definitely bedded Miss Starr too.

"She lied, but what that would change in her testimony?"

Her PHOTOTGRAPH!! Dumbass!!

"wHAt dO yOu mEaN??"

UGH!!! Are you all DUMB ??

WHAT?? How the fuck "the angle of what she saw" is NOT the right answer??

How the fuck could she have taken a pic from behind a fence from the floor of lot B if she was waaay back in the lot A, and on the second floor??

Oh she just ran??

Why would have Lana stayed chilling in the parking lot after murderding someone instead of immediately storming off?

Why would she have tried to erase evidence if she confessed her crime?

How the fuck could she KICK a drum full of water, sth definitely a hundred her weight??

Why would she have waited for someone to catch her red-handed to try to erase evidence?

Why did she take gloves but not a murder weapon?

Why didn't the victim defend himself or SCREAM ?

How did Lana cut herself? Must be hard to plundge a 4-inches knife into someone if you're gripping on the fucking blade!

Edgeworth: "Fuck the police!"

Oh no. Omg. 💔

Being named "King of Prosecutors" must already have heavily cringed Edgey as fuck... also seeing Von Karma name all over it… must have turned him crazy.

Like mad crazy.💔💔💔

It's a miracle his office in still in one piece.

Again, who the FUCK thought it was a good idea to give him THAT??

I didn't think of it but does Edgey take the STAIRS to go to his 12TH FLOOR office? Every day??

(that would explain the large, thick muscles. ^q^)

Gant ships it. But is also a giant patronizing fuck with my baby Edgey, he also likes to remind my baby all of his traumas all at once.

You may have murdered a man, but THIS is the worst you did. Hurting baby Edgey is the worst crime of all.

"Just come out with your guns blazing like u always do!" Edgey the wet fangirl who should also calm his dick.

My baby made serious mistakes in his job. "It's ok, I know you have a tough time, with all of these rumors."

Fuck. you.

[redpapercraness]

AS PROMISED i have a little sonic oc here you go

her name’s mint the chinchilla! shes the world’s number one sorcerer (according to her and her alone). she’s blaze’s little buddy in the sol dimension sort of in the same way tails is for sonic. I’m working on a big comic project with a bunch of original characters centered around blaze and the sol dimension and mint is the first on the board so far <3

i feel like i havent posted in a little while but the only old thing i have is cringe (not to others only me) so maybe. late at night i will post cringe . everybody promise to pretend you dont see it

[blueratgrmln]

🌟OPEN DISCUSSION about the 2020's era of shipping culture, Sonadow in the Sonic Fandom, and how well-intended activism can circle back to the language and violence of oppressors 🌟

(Link to chapter PARTS >>>HERE<<<)

INTRO

I gotta get something off my chest in regards to shipping. I wasn't super invested in the shipping part of the Sonic Fandom community when I was growing up. There were a few ships I liked and I enjoyed the fanart people made of those ships. And then I forgot about it for a number of years. Now in adulthood I am getting back into shipping Sonic characters a bit more, because it's fun to look back at the things I liked as a kid and seeing how my opinions have changed since gaining more life experience. Plus I've become much more active on the internet, in Fandom spaces, and more aware of social justice issues during adulthood. So here is a long-ish essay where I gather my thoughts about Sonadow shipping, fandoms, and activism together💙

MIDDLE CHILD EXPERIENCE IN THE SONIC FANDOM

It's odd being a Middle Child of the Sonic Fandom "family" that grew up during the age of "cringe culture" cyberbullying and shipping wars. I was aware of the stereotypes and disdain people had both on and off the internet toward the Sonic Fanbase and the notoriety it had. It influenced me to tone-down my external Sonic geekiness around my peers. While some of the stereotypes had some truth to it (when they weren't used as cyberbullying put-downs), I noticed that there was a very prominent difference how the Sonic Franchise/Fandom was viewed by the pop culture savvy public and how the fandom acted amongst/within itself as a creative and meaning-making community, despite the in-fighting that occasionally happened. On the internet, I oddly didn't experience or witness much discourse about ethics, specifically about shipping, when I was a kid cruising the internet for the fanart I liked. The spaces I visited were usually very supportive of people creating meaning, joy, and comfort with these ships. These shipping spaces loved Sonic × Amy, Shadow × Amy, Knuckles × Rouge, Sonic × Sally, Silver × Blaze and also any ship between Sonic, Shadow, and Silver. While there were specific ships that I enjoyed, I was happy to see other people enjoying other ships and hearing them geek about it. Yes, there was sometimes shipping discourse pitting pairings against each other, but I did not notice intense targeting or harassment in the name of "ethics" to the same degree as I am witnessing nowadays.

THE ETHICAL VS UNETHICAL DEBATES

Fast forward to the 2020's age of the internet and fandom culture. I had no idea what the evolved discussion about "ethical vs unethical" shipping was beyond just "this ship is the best" mentalities until about a year ago. After reading about the various viewpoints, I started out not really caring about the ethics of fictional shipping and not fully caring on which "side" I would fit, even though my views in adulthood realistically lean towards anti-censorship sentiments. However, it's important to note that if I'd discovered this specific "ethical vs unethical" debate when I was younger, I would have leaned pro-censorship, a view directly influenced by the small-town evangelical church indoctrination that kept my mind closed-off from the nuances of sociology, psychology, and humanity. I was the type of person that got emotional and reactionary about the idea of people being sex workers, about the idea of kink and BDSM being a normal thing between consenting adults, and about other socially charged topics. Then as I learned from other people's experiences and researched those topics, my mindset changed to be more supportive and more aware of all the nuances that go beyond black vs white thinking. I learned to not demonize people and instead find out the reasons WHY something happens or WHY people do something, and actually LISTEN to the person and BELIEVE them when they give their answer. Similar mindset changes have happened in adulthood since I've done research about both the generational divides and social justice intersectionality of this cultural shift in today's internet Fandom spaces. I am noticing this divide and these debates happening more and more in the Sonic Fandom.

SONADOW IN THE 2020'S

For some context, when I was a kid moderately involved with shipping content, I did not ship Sonic × Shadow. I somewhat avoided anything to do with gay ships or gay content due to my small-town church upbringing teaching me to not support anything LGBTQ+. So now as an adult having interest in shipping again, having discarded homophobia, embracing my own queerness, and having new understandings of the Sonic characters' personalities/backstories/dynamics, I am opening myself up to considering ships I hadn't been interested in before and ships that I actively avoided due to internalized homophobia. Watching Sonic Prime and the wonderful joy it sparked across the Fandom (in both shippers and non-shippers alike) was the marker when I finally started enjoying the Sonadow ship. It was after reading people's interpretations of Sonic and Shadow and understanding the ship more when I realized why Sonadow is such a beloved and timeless ship. In response to the new wave of Sonadow popularity, it's getting lots of heated criticism. People are having arguments everyday about both Shadow and Sonic's true ages, whether Shadow is 15 or 18 or 50, whether it makes any difference that SEGA quietly removed the characters' official ages. The debate creates these polarized "sides", with some people on one side claiming that it's an inherently unethical ship and claiming that you are a bad person, or at least suspicious in some way, for supporting it.

REPRESENTATION & QUEER JOY

One prominent feeling I have about the common criticisms toward Sonadow and about other shipping discourse is feeling alarmed that a lot of Queer people end up getting harassed because of these debates, sometimes by fellow Queer people. From my Middle Child perspective in the Sonic Fandom, the reasons WHY many people embraced LGBTQ+ Sonic ships was to create and celebrate representation in a franchise that doesn't outright confirm or have much on-screen representation. Even though Sega has a general "no official confirmed couples" mandate, the company has consistently supported and encouraged the fans' shipping headcanons including LGBTQ+ ships, and the company has showed real, tangible, and financial support for the LGBTQ+ community (to my knowledge). Tangle and Whisper in the IDW comics are written with specific chemistry that leads most people to view them as a lesbian couple with the writers' and company's encouragement, even if they're not verbally stated as "officially canon." Sonic × Shadow, although not canon, has been a noteworthy ship acknowledged by the writers, company, and voice actors as being one of the most beloved and celebrated gay Sonic ships. It has given Queer people a sense of joy, hope, comfort, and visibility ever since 2001 when Sonic Adventure 2 released and Shadow debuted as a character. The reasons people immediately shipped these characters together was never about being creepy or encouraging "unethical" dynamics. It was simply Queer Sonic fans, both closeted and uncloseted, creating meaning via representation as an act of queer resistance and radical acceptance. This has been a constant throughout the present day, Sonadow being one of the most recognizable and longstanding ships that inspires widespread Queer Joy that even breaks the boundaries of the internet microcosm.

LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE OF OPPRESSORS

Now is where I will delve into the connection between Sonadow shipping (and overall shipping) debates and how well-intentioned activism loops back into mimicking oppressors. Thinking about how Sonadow is historically important to the Sonic Franchise, the Sonic Fandom, LGBTQ+ Sonic Fans, and maybe even video game history as a whole, I feel major discomfort and even dread when I see so many people (particularly those that are young) throwing around very serious accusations at (fellow) Sonic Fans and (fellow) Sonic shippers. Accusations supporting pedophilia or pedophilia itself is one of the most egregious. I've seen it thrown at Sonadow shippers, Vector x Espio shippers because Vector is 20 and Espio is 16 (despite it being another extremely popular LGBTQ+ headcanon-ed ship due to lack of representation), and even Knuckles x Rouge because Rouge is 18 and Knuckles is 16. It strikes me as counterintuitive and unnecessary at least, and actively dangerous at most/worst, seeing fellow Queer people utilizing the morality-policing, fear tactics, surveillance methods, censorship mindset, and rhetoric/language of our oppressors and using those things against the people in their own communities. Realizing that long-time Sonadow fans who felt inspired to come out and be unapologetically Queer because of that specific ship have been facing harassment and slander from fellow Queer people (who are likely younger than them), getting called "pedos" or "dangerous" or "suspicious" or "unethical" over the mere act of creating representation and Queer Joy with fictional characters and seeking some sense of comfort while surviving homophobic environments...bluntly, my stomach is churned and my blood is boiled. The last thing we need in this rapidly backwards-turning world is more in-fighting within the broader LGBTQ+ community that distracts our thoughts, emotions, time, energy, organizing, education, community-building, and activism away from the oppressors who are causing us real-world tangible harm, suffering, and death.

A random teenager on the internet drawing fanart of Sonic and Shadow holding hands, or even random adults on the internet drawing suggestive art or outright porn of these characters, is NOT going to be the catalyst that rapidly or gradually normalizes pedophilia or inspires worldwide support for unethical relationships. And yes, this includes content about the "weirdo/unethical/dark" ships that are found in the shadowy fringes of the internet and Fandom spaces. I am uncomfortable with a lot of it myself. But those ships and the people that engage with them ALSO DO NOT have the same level of impact and reach (key words: Same Level) that real life oppressive systems have to cause widespread suffering. The key difference that makes widespread abuse possible is that the real life oppressive systems are disguised as wholesome safe environments that develop trust and closeness with community members. Those oppressive systems and the harmful people that support them are usually NOT on the freaky/dark/weird fringes of society, they don't outwardly appear that way, and they demonize the "degenerates", not associate with any such label. The Catholic church institution is a big example, the institution covering up uncountable cases of their clergy members abusing minors while those clergy members are positioned as a pure, trusted facet of society that people actively look to for guidance, safety, and belonging.

At NO point am I ever going to say that everyone online is perfectly pure and that we should ignore everyone's behavior online. When we do encounter legitimate creeps causing harm to real people (not watered-down definitions of what being a creep means) we absolutely need to call them out and keep each other safe. HOWEVER, by pitting fellow Sonic Fans, fellow Queer people, fellow shippers against each other with this blanket "us vs them" mentality that overshadows the real life patterns and signs of how widespread oppression and real life harm happens, we end up accomplishing a lot of what our oppressors want anyway: divisions, distractions, and outright mimicking the violent language and behaviors that they display toward us at ourselves. This is the point where well-intentioned activism goes wrong and circles back around to oppression without meaning to.

Many people are super-duper-sure that they have dismantled all of their -isms and -phobias and now identify with labels and movements that are on the right side of history. But all of us STILL need to be aware of the fact that our thought patterns, behaviors, logic, and emotional responses can be tied to previously held beliefs and mindsets, and they can sometimes carry over and linger in our minds even after significant "character development". This is true even if we don't immediately realize it and think that we are a "safe person" within our own marginalized communities and for other marginalized communities. It can be really hard to identify if/when that is happening sometimes, but it is pertinent that we are actively checking in with ourselves, listening to constructive criticism, and cross-analyzing whether we are unintentionally mimicking the language, behaviors, and violence of our oppressors, and what effects that can have on the people in our shared communities and the people we care about.

ADDITIONAL: MY PERSONAL OPINIONS AND LOGIC ABOUT SHADOW'S AGE

Most of the fandom will continue arguing about Shadow's "true age" for the rest of time and how that "should" influence people's shipping headcanons. In my opinion, it is a very unnecessary thing to argue about simply because of the uniqueness and the fantastical nature of Shadow's existence within the Sonic Universe. Very specifically, he is a test tube science project super soldier who is immortal with an unclarified "birth date."

It's most likely that Professor Gerald Robotnik started the process of creating Shadow AFTER Maria was born and they discovered her incurable disease; Project Shadow could have taken a significant amount of time to complete considering all of the scientific processes, research, and intergalactic communication needed. It is also important to remember that Maria died when she was only 12 years old. If we are just talking about the amount of time that Shadow was physically and mentally conscious, communicating, and learning (excluding the 50 years he spent in cryo-stasis), this would mean that Shadow's age could be anything up to Maria's exact age at her time of death. Realistically his youngest possible age would be much greater than 1 day, since it probably took a noteworthy amount of time for Shadow and Maria to develop their trusting best friend and/or sibling bond.

Otherwise, in the less likely scenario, Professor Gerald could've had foresight and somehow gotten confirmation about Maria's condition before she was born with the scientifically and medically advanced technology aboard the Space Colony ARK, and then completed Project Shadow before she was born. But in EITHER possible chronology, Shadow could be around the same age or a handful of years younger than 15 (one of the possible ages in this debate), if we are to consider his game manual or Wiki-page biographies for his true age. This could put the Sonadow ship in the same boat of age-gap and maturity-difference criticism that the Sonic x Amy ship gets because Sonic is 15 and Amy is 12.

Even though Shadow is one of the most complex characters within the broad Sonic Lore, at the same time he's one of the most mysterious characters, especially since we don't have any official content that shows the complete scientific/medical/technological details of his creation process from start to finish. Everyone has a different opinion whether the game manual and Wiki-page age(s) indicates Shadow's number of conscious years lived, his current physical age, or both. People also debate whether his current physical age matters in terms of shipping ethics. Considering that Shadow is an immortal science experiment with the DNA/blood of an alien species and he could have grown up in a test tube, I like to think that any of the "teen" ages used in this debate could simply describe what his physical vessel looks like (compared to 100% Mobian hedgehogs) at the point Project Shadow was deemed successfully completed. It's possible that his early development deviated from that of a human baby, a Mobian hedgehog baby, and a normal hedgehog baby. Maybe he grew generally faster or went through the same developmental stages of his Black Arms alien siblings. Deciphering what it would mean for Shadow to become "fully mature", or even what "age" in general means for him, would require solving the complex puzzle of his circumstances: the science of genetic engineering that splices Black Arms DNA with Mobian hedgehog DNA to design a being that is artificial and specifically exceptional in every way. We DO know that Shadow's Black Arms DNA gives his mind and body a connection to the species' Hive Mind (which is explored in the Archie comic books) and that Black Doom's DNA was one of the necessary ingredients to give Shadow immortality and disease immunity. But that's the extent of what we know about Shadow's Black Arms biology, its overall effects, its benefits, and its downsides. In addition to this, the "immortal artificial super soldier with alien DNA" context brings up questions regarding Shadow's mental processes, intelligence, and learning capabilities. He could have gone through rapid psychological development, or can learn and gain skills at an enhanced rate, have increased intelligence, or have alien mental capacities beyond his connection to the Black Arms' Hive Mind.

The limitless SCOPE of possibilities for Shadow's physical and mental reality is why I completely avoid any attempts at shoving this complex character into the same quantifiable boxes of human OR Mobian OR normal hedgehog maturity, development, intelligence, socialization, emotions, learning, and age. Which is why I do not judge people for their shipping preferences and don't assume the worst of the people that ship him with other characters. An integral part of the tragedy and isolation of Shadow the Hedgehog as a character surrounds him being the Ultimate Lifeform, a being that is so unique, advanced, artificial, medicalized, scientific, revolutionary, mystical and powerful that he cannot relate to most of the other Sonic characters and vice versa. TRYING to force Shadow to be 100% understandable, relatable, and quantifiable both by our real-life human standards and by the standards of the other Sonic characters can diminish his uniqueness and essence, and it hinders the broad Sonic Fandom from creatively exploring the magnitude of possibilities (both shipping and non-shipping) that his mysteriousness inspires.

(Thank you for reading and sticking with my train of thought! :) I expect constructive conversation in the comments if any are made at all, whether it's criticism or agreement.)