#but I just thought what if he repented at the last moment

[sayoneee]

☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.

kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song <;/3

1. 

MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime. 

or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin. 

maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.  

“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?” 

your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.

your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.

“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”

clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.

“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”

“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.

“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.

“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”

the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.

you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”

you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.

how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”

clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”

“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.

2.

like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death. 

this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.

you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention. 

before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa. 

“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?” 

luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.

“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”

“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over. 

“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”

“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”

you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin. 

3.

“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.

“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)

“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.

“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.

“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.

“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.

“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.

“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.

the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.

you sighed, it could’ve been worse.

+4.

you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.

you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.

when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on. 

when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.

luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck. 

“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.

“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek. 

he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.

“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do. 

a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”

you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”

luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.” 

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[beansprean]

WHAT WE CLUE IN THE SHADOWS: A FINALE CONSPIRACY BOARD

So. WWDITS may have the actual balls to do this to us. and I for one am INCREDIBLY excited for the possibility. If you're a WWDITS fan and haven't seen Clue (1985), I highly recommend taking 95 minutes to do so before the finale. Just in case.

Clue is my favorite movie, I have probably seen it upwards of 100 times for real, and I can recite it from memory with 90% accuracy. I also have the pleasure of owning and playing the WWDITS-themed Clue game, which is centered around finding out who stole the witch's skin hat and where in the house they hid it. I don't know if that will play into the finale at all, but it's something to think about.

The thing about Clue (the film), if you aren't aware, is that there are three different endings. On the vhs/dvd, you see all three in a row between 'that's how it could have happened, but what about this?' title cards. In theaters, there were three versions of the movie (labeled A, B, and C) that were dispersed to different theaters, so depending on where and when you went to see it you would see one of 3 endings. (It's kinda unclear which letter corresponded to which originally, so my labels will be assuming a 1:1 comparison between the order of the home version of Clue and the airing order of the WWDITS episodes.) The Clue endings are not all made equal, and on the home version, the final ending is announced as 'what really happened.'

So allow me to take a moment to talk about how the different endings work in context to each other and the film, and how that could translate to three different endings for WWDITS.

CLUE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT (for real, go watch it)

(last chance to watch Clue go)

Ending#1: "Communism is just a red herring"

In this ending, the first one that plays in the home version, Miss Scarlet is revealed to be the murderer. She is a snarky, sarcastic madam who runs a "hotel and telephone service to provide men with the company of a young lady for a short while" and has policemen on her payroll. This is what I would consider the expected ending, the one that makes sense for most viewers. It's not shocking, but it's funny and well acted and it makes the most sense. Miss Scarlet has the right personality for murder, was in the most convenient area of the house to commit them, and had Yvette (the maid, formerly one of Miss Scarlet's call girls) committing some of the murders at her direction, so she had enough alibis to not make her too obvious. Many people watching this movie for the first time will have her high on their suspect list.

This ending also dismisses the idea of 'dangerous communism' that had been a thread throughout the film (as it is set in 1953 during the second Red Scare) as a misdirection. Miss Scarlet isn't stealing government secrets to betray the US; she's doing it to make money. The real danger all along was capitalism, something that s6 of WWDITS has said repeatedly.

So, to recap, this is the Standard Ending. The Second Best ending. Version B.

Ending #2: "Mrs. Peacock did it all."

This one, played second in the home version, is in my opinion the weakest ending. It reveals Mrs. Peacock, the neurotic, hysterical, and allegedly politically corrupt wife of a senator, as the murderer. She's hilarious and fantastic to watch throughout the whole film and I love her, but this charm drops after the reveal and she becomes cold and drab as she threatens her way to safety. She committed all the murders herself, which would be very difficult to achieve with the tight timing and her position in the basement during the search.

She ends up being caught outside the house by a police inspector, who had earlier shown up disguised as an evangelist telling her to "repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Interestingly, they originally filmed him immediately shooting her dead without provocation, but they thought that was too dark and edited it into an arrest instead (which is why there is such a quick cut after he pulls his gun, and we only hear her rather than see her after that). This is the 'repent for your sins' ending. You do bad things, bad things happen to you.

The obligatory "it's always who you least expect" ending. The Still-Good-But-Not-The-Best Ending. Version C.

Ending #3: "You're Mr. Boddy!"

This is "how it really happened" - the twist ending! The hero was the villain, the villain was just a pawn, and everyone committed a murder in the house to cover their own asses. Prof Plum killed the fake Mr. Boddy, Miss Scarlet killed the cop, Mrs. Peacock killed Mrs. Ho (the cook), Mrs. White killed Yvette, Colonel Mustard killed the motorist, and Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy killed the singing telegram girl.

Mr. Green, who reveals he works for the FBI, kills Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy and arrests the rest of the cast. Understandably the best and most exciting ending (though not without some plot holes) that everyone loves. We get a surprising reveal from two of our main characters that not only changes the context with how you view them, but informs aspects of their character that have been there throughout the film! Now we understand why Wadsworth retained control of the house and the timeline of events, why he was so familiar with the house, and why this entire thing was orchestrated in the first place. We also understand why the cowardly and clumsy Mr. Green was consistently the first to jump to help and defend the other characters, even when it meant putting himself if physical danger. Unfortunately this ending also suggests that he was only pretending to be gay (wouldn't that be a twist for Guillermo lol), but he could also just be in a lavender marriage which is what I choose to believe.

This ending also has the iconic 'flames on the side of my face' scene and repeats 'communism is a red herring', this time in the context of Mr. Boddy's intention to continue blackmailing them all now that they have taken care of anyone who could have pointed the finger at him.

This is the True Ending. The twist you didn't expect but are delighted to find. The 'nothing was as it seemed' endng. The ending that is the most intentional and complete, where everyone gets to shine. Version A.

So what will we be doing in those shadows?

We can assume that e11 will not revolve around finding a murderer, but it does, from what we've seen in the trailer, revolve around making a wife for the monster. Do we get three different wives? Three different actors to play her? Three different superhero identities for Nandor and Guillermo? Three different levels of nandermo: one with a handshake, one with a hug, one with a kiss? Three different explanations for the origin and/or purpose of the documentary? (this is my personal favorite) Or is each ending entirely divorced from the other? Only time will tell.

What I'm leaning toward is that each episode will come up to the same turning point - a decision, a reveal, etc. The first two versions will have reasonable possibilities, the first less surprising but more enjoyable than the second, and the third... The third will be what really happened, and pull a twist no one saw coming. Perhaps even a character will reveal a hidden identity. Maybe, just maybe...we get Simon the Devious.

I only hope the order of the episodes doesn't change between channels or time zones because that will make things very confusing when liveblogging it in the group chat lmao.

[neovillains]

GENESIS | SUKUNA RYOUMEN

syn. isolation can lead to insanity and the desperate will do anything to live.

── sukuna ryoumen & fem-bodied!reader, apocalypse!au, blood, religious themes, suicidal ideations, death & violence, minor character deaths, reader is described as skinny, cannibalism, biting kink, bruising, forest sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, etc | 4.4k words ( minors, ageless, & blank blogs: do not interact. )

note. here's a small playlist to accompany you on your reading journey. i hope you all enjoy this. please let me know your thoughts afterwards in the comments or in your reblog. thank you so much!

credit. thanks to my babe, leilani, for helping me out and screaming about this idea with me. im so happy with it :3

Dilapidated buildings with rust growing on the side, resembling the colors of a forest fire. A deep auburn that grows into orange and yellow as it rises. Overgrown grass, the vibrant and various hues of green growing in the dirt and critters dig and groove around in sanctum. They’re free to roam through the deep crevices of soil, still living in harmonious nature as blood shed rids the rest of the Earth. 

The number of humans dwindle as they become rotting flesh running amuck in search for something to satiate that hunger inside of them. No longer a society built on order, but one fighting to survive in hopes of seeing a better future. They tell themselves that soon a god will come to free them from their trepidation and ease their aching hearts. However, the longer they look through their windows— what’s left of them— that optimism slowly dwindles into nothing. Just bullshit that they tell themselves as their guns become more enticing and the sweet taste of one bullet to the head will take them out of their sweet misery. 

It’s come to a point where everyone knows that there’s no point in having faith in their government. All televisions and radio responding in static, and no one hearing anything from them. It’s always been a world structured towards survival of the fittest, the rich leeching off the poor. Now, it’s whoever can leech off of who. 

Once upon a time, you called yourself a true child of God. Church every Wednesday and Sunday, a prayer every morning and night. When the announcement of a deadly virus sparked the news, you prayed to God for sanctity, knowing that it was your time to join him and for the angels to sweep down and take you away. However, you must have missed your stop.

Deadly missiles launched into cities, killing multiple of thousands. They looked like blinding light, what you believed to be heaven reigning down upon the Earth. Oh, how you cried to join the dead and sought refuge with your people. However, the moment they landed was just as quick as they left, and after that, God never answered your prayers ever again. You asked time and time again, did you do something wrong? How could you repent and join Him? 

You had done everything right. You had been an obedient child through and through, through every calling moment. What was He seeing that you didn’t? Did you really need to be damned with the rest of them for it?

The small religious group you sought refuge with started growing weak in numbers, their naivety leading them open to numerous attacks from the selfish and the careless leading zombies inside the church. Slowly, did a group of fifty turn into twenty-five, and twenty-five turned to ten. Ten to five, and five to two— you and Sukuna. 

Sukuna Ryoumen, a brute of a man he was. Someone who came seeking refuge with a group of five, though he always did voice how much disdain he had for the church. Oftentimes, he snorted during sermons and rebuttal the word of God with self-proclaimed pastor, Geto Suguru. He belittled everyone and everything, even when it came down to you being the last to survive alongside him. He scoffed, crimson eyes that matched the bloodstain on his white t-shirt. “Of all people, you’re the last to survive.”

Later that day, he bashed the window in. The rest of the church was flooded with the undead, the outside much clearer than the hoard still in search of them. It was a distance down, but nothing to kill you both. You looked at him as if he were crazy when he asked you, “Are you coming or what?”

What else was there left to lose? All of your immediate family, gone. Having joined God up at those golden gates, watching you with a heavy amount of disgust. What did it hurt to keep on surviving?

In a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved sweater, you dusted away the rest of the broken stained glass with your sleeves before asking for a hand. Neither of you said anything, Sukuna helping you up before you were holding onto the window panel. You stared out, eyes widening as your heart raced. Were you really ready to take this leap?

The memory is foggy, but you can’t remember if Sukuna pushed you out the window or your mind had made the decision for you. But all you remember is eating dirt before someone yanked onto your sleeve, forcing you up and dragging you alongside him. Sukuna dragged you through it all, managing to pull you both to safety. 

Before that, all you saw was a selfish and sinful man that only sought for his protection and safety, but now you see him in a different light. He could have thrown you to the wolves and watch you get mauled by a stampede of the forever hungry. However, his steps were always careful and he never looked back, a set determination to make sure that the both of you survived. 

And God said, Let there be light. You always took that as a saying of hope. That with darkness comes light and whenever the sun shines, it’s your reminder that God is a true man. Only, Sukuna has become your god. 

Sometimes, you still read the bible. Just something you use to give yourself hope before you’re pulled back into reality and only to realize that it’s all bullshit and lies. And that Sukuna was right, God is just a bunch of bullshit. However, it’s a constant reminder of what you used to be, and who you used to be. The bible now a set of affirmations though you know that in your sweet death all there will be is an eternal inferno waiting for you. 

Out in the woods, everything is silent. Only the occasional grumble of a walker lurking through these parts. It’s a surprise that the two of you have lived for so long by yourselves, but Sukuna’s managed to toughen you up. Teaching you how to shoot a gun and aim right for the head, though the two of you never use guns often. It attracts them. 

Opening up to him, you reveal that you used to be a nurse. In turn, you teach him how to disinfect stitches with the supplies the two of you find and how to create holistic remedies so neither of you die from a cold. Neither of you give without taking, always having something in return for each other. 

Right now, the both of you equally have as much to give as it is to take. In a tattered dress, dirties and white, you peek from behind the trees as a group of survivors follow the dirt path back to you. The growl of a walker sounding from behind you as it’s shackled on a chain, the key dangling in your hold. Every step you take is careful, stepping over twigs and making sure every part of you is soundless. You move slowly to loosen the manacles off the zombie, but making sure he’s not entirely free. You feel bad for the poor man that you’re taking advantage of. Underneath all that decay, he couldn’t have been older than thirty-five— a healthy and active man to be blinded by whatever factors that led to his demise. 

One day, a voice rings inside your head. That will be you. However, just like all those constant reminders, you push them to the back of your mind as everything’s set in place. You just have to do your part while Sukuna does his. 

The five stay huddled together, never losing their guard for a second before they hear the rushed snaps of twigs and the crunch of leaves underneath a pair of feet. Mechanic weapons already in bat— a crossbow, a bat with nails embedded, a bow and arrow, a katana and a sharpened staff, aiming it towards the direction before finding a small figure running out of a band of trees. You run barefooted, no longer hissing at the sharp pricks and pebbles that poke at your bare skin as you’ve done this routine a dozen times now. 

Your breath comes out in heavy pants as you cry and moan. “Please… Please… Help me!”

They lower their weapons, but not enough to where they’ve lowered their guard. Staying wary as they huddle together in one group, so cautious over such an “innocent” thing like you. “Please,” you croak, your footsteps staggering as they take in your tattered appearance. “I need help. My– my–”

The waterworks start, able to spill the salt so easily now as tears prickle from the corner of your eyes. “My boyfriend, he got hurt and I don’t know if he’ll make it! I promise, I’ll be out of your hair. Just… Help me, please.”

The desperation that reeks from you, wide eyes that look so helpless. You look like you’re barely surviving, dirt covering every inch of you as you pant heavily. They’ve run across people looking to take advantage of people, making them on the constant lookout for those who’re the bait. There’s usually an underlying piece of evidence that singles them out, it's a hidden identifier. However, before they can come up with a conclusion, snarls behind them call for their attention. Three zombies— two handled by Sukuna with yours in tow— trudging in their direction. 

“Walkers!” One says in a hushed voice, raising his bat and ready to swing. With their backs turned to you now, a smirk graces your features as you trail behind them in their preparation to fight. Dark hair with a bowl cut, you attack from behind just as you were taught, lodging the pocket knife that you had hidden away into his neck. He gurgles blood, unable to say anything, managing to grab ahold of the blonde next to him. 

“Haibara!” the blonde cries out, but before he could lunge at you, you kick him in the path towards the zombies with all your strength. Two down, three to go. Unfortunately, just as your victories came, your losses came in twice as fast as the three zombies were quickly handled by the three that were left. One with white hair that seemed unreal, a girl with auburn hair stopping at the nape of her neck, and another girl with jet-black hair and a gnarly gash running across her face. 

With gazes filled with determination, they’re ready to attack within a split second. The unsheathed katana comes out to play, swiping through the air. You manage to duck right in time, dodging the sharp blaze to your body. The next to swing at you, the bat with rusted nails that would possibly lead to a disgusting infection if it got into your skin. You back up and back up until you’re at the right spot. When the girl goes for her final lunge at you, you manage to jump in time, clipping the string and unloading the trap. The heavy cleaver swung in the air and landed straight to the head. 

The play of events leaving the two that are left in shock and giving you ample time to hide away. All you can hear is, “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know, but keep your eye out,” the male says. In this neck of the woods, you have the reign. The vastness of a playing field that you’ve managed to memorize. You’re as silent as a ghost, having them second guess every direction they look in. 

Sukuna was right in a way. You shouldn’t have lived as long as you have, but you’ve also come to learn that the strong can’t win all on their own. Where Sukuna will excel in a battle of strength, you’ve defied your very teachings, surviving off of deceit and mischief. Every trap set in place a work of your own while Sukuna cleaned up your mess, leaving the two victims clueless to the fact that their three friends have already been properly disposed of. 

However, he leaves you the crossbow behind. Bending down to pick it up, you think you’ve won another round until your hear the click of the gun. “Smart, I have to say.”

The man with white hair smirks at you, cocking the gun right in your direction, aimed straight at your head. “You had me fooled. You had… us fooled.”

You stand tall, posture straightening as you stare straight in the man’s eyes. Your hand is still on the crossbow, you know if you move your hand, you’re dead. He glances at the weapon. “Drop it.”

You don’t listen. “Drop. it.”

Again, you stay stubborn as a mule. His finger is so close to pulling the trigger, he tilts his head to the side. “Drop it.” 

It’s a risky move. You know it, but you make a run for it. The gun fires throughout the forest and immediately alerts your partner. He’s immediately on your trail, making sure not to lose you from his sight again. You drop the crossbow, leaving yourself completely defenseless now in your dash to safety. You can hear him gaining in on you, his gun finding refuge tucked back in his pants. The palm of his hands open and ready to grab you when you halt abruptly, too quickly for him to gain proper footing. You use it to your advantage, turning around and knocking him on his back. 

You jump on top of him, the pocket knife revealed as you take his disadvantaged state and stab him repeatedly. Blood splattering from his arteries, it splashes against your skin as you find yourself lost in bloodthirst and all that you can see is red. Before that voice of the god you follow rings through, bringing you back to reality. “Woah there, princess. I think he’s dead now.”

“Wait,” you pant. Both hands around the handle of the blade, you use your strength to plunge the knife inside his skull. Finally, you look up at Sukuna, eyes bright when you say, “He’s gone for good now.”

—

“You were reckless,” Sukuna breathes, the two of you walking back to the cabin. You dragged back the white-haired man and the boy named ‘Haibara,’ while Sukuna managed the rest— chaining one to a tree so that they could have a zombie at leverage. Both covered in blood, the metallic stench of it has become a habitual thing now. You grunt, used to his chastising now. He always has something to knit pick at every time the two of you go on a hunt. 

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you shrug. 

“And next time, you’ll die,” he sneers. “I’ve taught you all that you need to survive. Stop with the theatrics and get straight to the point.”

“If it’s my time,” you shrug again. “It’s my time. Fate will tell.”

“Oh, don’t start with your religious bullshit again. I thought you were over that by now.”

“I am, but—” He drops the bodies, hands immediately on you. The blood’s starting to oxidize, the red hue darkening as he grabs you by the face. You no longer flinch in his touch, letting him grab you by your cheeks and pull you in. You can feel his breath on you when he snarls, “Then, stop with the suicidal crap. It’s getting old.”

At one point, you swore that Sukuna hated you. However, whenever he looks at you like this— feigned anger as his vermillion pupils stare you down— you know you were all wrong. There’s a longing inside of him, he needs you. He needs you just as much as you need him. You don’t know if it’s because of the familiarity and losing the sense of that that makes the two of you feel this way, or if it's genuine. Nonetheless, whenever this moment is sparked between each other, neither of you are afraid to ignite those deadly flames. 

“Okay.” You give in. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t turn into an obedient puppy on me now,” he breathes, grip on your cheeks tightening. “Give me something more.”

Letting go of the lifeless legs, your hands reach for his biceps. The palm of your hands, providing him the warmth of you. When you look at him, there’s always awe tinged inside of your pupils. “I’ll do whatever you want of me.”

There’s something carnal about sex. It reminds you of when you’re baring out your teeth, gnawing at human flesh. The hunger and need that you have for each other closely resembles the battles the two of you share while hunting, watching the life leave your poor victims’ eyes. Sukuna’s brute strength on your body, pulling you and manhandling you in any way he deems fit, reminds of you the way he steals a person’s last breath. Veins protruding from his hands, squeezing the air out of someone’s lungs. 

It reminds you of the moments with his hands around your neck, his length pounding into you deeply as you can barely utter a word. Thumb and index pressing just where they need to restrict air flow as he presses down. Scratchy moans and mewls that manage to escape as tears escape from you. He batters your pussy how he pounds on the defenseless, punching them until their face is unrecognizable and lifeless, and taking away that privilege of revival with a knife through their skull. 

When he manhandles you and pulls you just where he wants, it reminds of moments like these heading back to the cabin, dragging your next meal to your shared abode before starting a fire. The sky darkens and the two of you are still in your soiled clothes, a deep red painting the two of you. It only becomes worse when Sukuna hands you a cleaver, the two of you chopping away and more blood spilling on the palm of your hands. A heavy tension that cascades the two of you before the human meat is properly distributed into smaller chunks. Sukuna did the heavyload of harboring it away with the rest of them.

And when he comes back, his hands are still bloody and you do the favor of cleaning him off. Holding his much larger hand in yours, the taste of blood becomes a regular occurrence, no longer shying away from it. Pink tongue that tickles the palm of his hands as red melts on your tongue. You’re careful and thorough, making sure that you’ve reached every crack and crevice. A purr reverberating off his chest as those vermillion pearls look right into your eyes, how your lips hollow around his digits. He’s a blood-born predator the way his chest vibrates; you, the only one able to tame the beast he is. 

Every inch of him makes you feel frail, how he’s able to tear you apart with his bare hands. He rips through the fabric of your clothes, turning them into scraps in his impatience. He’s left you bare in a matter of seconds, fingernails digging into your flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer to him in a deep need for your proximity. 

Warm-blooded, his body heat beats off of him as your nimble fingers cling onto his shirt, tugging for him to remove. And one-by-one, you help him out of every piece before you’re being lifted into his arms, legs draped around his refined torso as the two of you share such fervor and passion in a kiss. Saliva dribbling from the corners of your lips before you’re pulling away, hooded eyes that darken before your tongue lulls out again. The splotchy patches of blood getting cleaned off and making his skin shine. The twinkle and sizzle of the fire guides a path to the busted patio furniture. 

Your back pressed into the cushion, like this, the two of you resemble two cats grooming each other. Both taking turns to sweep the dried blood from each other’s bodies, the taste of each other’s flesh being something heavily embedded in each other’s memories. Each other’s potent stench of sweat and musk so familiarized in each other’s senses. Rough and calloused hands come to explore your body, further ingraining the softness of your skin deep into his core. Groping and grabbing at the fatty flesh of your breasts as he takes in deep breaths. His breath tickles your neck, providing you warmth as the cooling night comes to cascade down on the both of you. He kneads at your breasts, thumbs flicking at your pert and erect nipples. 

You hum a sultry melody before yips of pain end the song abruptly, the pinch of Sukuna’s canines marking at your skin as his mouth clamps down on you. Your hips buck when he pulls away, a string of saliva following in his path before the band breaks. When he sinks his teeth in you, it reminds you of how dangerous a man he is. Every part of your body is a weapon, he told you once upon a time, and thus proving it when he killed a man with his bare teeth. Arousal that had pooled inside you watching the moment and arousal that pools inside of you now as he covers your body in bites, a call of ownership as his hands bruise your waist and his length pressed to your stomach. 

One hand around his cock, aligning himself to your entrance while the next pushes the strands of hair that dare to get in front of your face, it’s a short period of gentleness before he’s pressing his mushroom tip inside of your walls. The way you gasp out from the pain, a stretch that you always have to brace yourself for before his teeth pulls at your bottom lip. This brave face you always try to pull in front of him falters as a single stray tear falls and you’re holding back your cries. He sees right through you, his pretty little thing. Someone once so fragile has stepped into the light, mustering up strength out of you to become a cold-blooded killer, but yet you’re still so weak in so many ways.

Like, how your knees always come to buckle at the sight of him, always falling into submission like a dog loyal to its owner. Your eyes twinkle as if to forever promise your evermore devotion towards him, casting a light upon him and naming him your god. You lay so much trust in one man. One man, that if he truly wanted to, could play God and end your life. Sometimes he comes to question whether you continue to survive for him or for yourself. But now, he’s come to ask himself the same thing. Who is he surviving for? Because in his mind, all that comes up is you. 

The taste of mankind is a flavor he’s well accustomed to, but no matter how many times he made you bleed and have bitten down on your soft flesh, it’s one that he’ll never find himself acquainted with. It’s something so intoxicating and something that always makes him feel weak in the bones, his hunger for you so overpowered that it drives him to insanity. 

His cock sheathed inside of you, the way your walls clamp down on him has his body shuddering. A breath he forces himself to hold until he withdraws himself completely before battering your poor pussy. As the stars shine and the two of you are more at risk of being attacked, the two of you willing to take such a risk just to indulge into each other’s pleasure. The buck of Sukuna’s hips drives you wild as the sting subsides and is replaced with euphoria. One hand clamping around your mouth as he forces you silent. You poor thing, never able to hold yourself back with your pathetic claims that he just makes you feel too good. 

The way he drills his cock inside of your pussy, pistoning inside of you with such vigor that it has your nails digging into his back. Creating more scratches to accompany the old ones that are slowly fading away, your mewls and moans go muffled as he grunts and groans from above you. Glossy eyes that stare up at him with such heavy admiration as you hold on for dear life. Your juices intermingle with the translucent precum that seeps from his tip, his hips holding no rhythm as he selfishly uses your body. For a moment does he uncover your mouth, replacing his hands with his lips to swallow down your moans as his pelvis beats into yours. And though the undead prowls through the night, the squeaks of the battered and overused patio sofa goes unheard, the crickets and cicadas creating a song to deafen the lustrous intimacy the two of you share. 

When you cum, it reminds him of the desperate who plead for their life, so weak and torn that they whimper out so pathetically that it sends blood rushing straight down, the depiction reminding him of you. A look of craze that always washes over his face before he lands the finishing blow and they’re no more. Your face contorting in pleasure as you beg and plead to him. You pull away from him, calling his name. “Su…Sukuna, please.”

Please, that one word he associated with weakness. A word that he’s always associated with asking instead of simply taking what you wanted. You weak little thing, begging for something you know he’ll always grant you just to see the way your body responds.

He grabs your face, squishing down on your cheeks before his index and middle finger shove their way inside your mouth. No gentler than before, he only continues his abuse on your cunt, the head of his cock kissing roughly at your cervix before your body stiffens. Your legs tensing up and trapping him inside you as your mouth falls open. You resemble a wounded animal, whimpering and croaking out in pure lust and ecstasy. 

Your pussy flutters, beckoning for his orgasm to follow in suit as you cream around his cock. One more bite— letting go of your lips and his mouth now on your neck, a high-pitched squeak leaves you as he spills his seed inside of you. He paints your walls white as your heat holds him tightly inside, canines digging inside your flesh as he groans in pleasure. A white ring forming around the base of his cock, a beautiful picture painted as both bodies lay pliant in attempts to catch your breaths. At the end of it all, your eyes close shut. Just like all of his victims, accepting a pitiful defeat. 

Only, yours has come to be something he loves.

( 🫀 ) : @r0ckst4rjk @kasukuna @pixelcafe-network @satsattoru

[demonic0angel]

HI GAGSGSGSHS can you do a spirit Halloween ship angst please 🙏 (no pressure tho ahhsgshshegshs)

(Lowkey already did this but ig I'll make the sequel lmao. It’s not as angsty bc I can’t get into the mindset.)

Part 1

Tim blinked. He raised the image higher, bringing it closer so he could observe it even further.

It was a photo of a small family of four. All of them were male, with black hair and blue eyes. There was Bruce, and Dick, and even Jason, all of them smiling. There was a last person, cuddled against Bruce and more slender compared to him, who had bright blue eyes like ice and very familiar pearls around his neck.

Tim's eyes widened.

"This is..."

"My adopted step-dad, yeah."

Tim jumped and turned around, where Dick was leaning against the door to the attic, hands in his pockets, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious and I wanted to know more about—”

Dick shrugged. “It’s fine. That man right there was Bruce’s boyfriend. He adopted me and Jason together with Bruce. Before… before Jason died.”

Tim stared at the sorrow on his face, the cold sort of acceptance with the barest hint of resentment. “… what happened?”

Dick sighed and weaved a hand through his hair. “He left. After Jason died.”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked back at the photo, where everyone was smiling so happily, where Bruce and that man leaned against each other so trustingly and he asked, “But why? How come he left you guys behind? Why didn’t he…”

“Stay? Because of Bruce,” Dick hissed. “Bruce got Jason killed, but that was only the catalyst. Dad— I mean, Danny always hated how Bruce got too stuck in the mindset of Batman, and he kept asking him to slow down and take breaks, but Bruce refused. They had a fight, just before Jason had a fight of his own with Bruce, and when he got killed—” Dick’s voice choked off.

Tim looked at the photo again, recognizing the love on that unknown, yet familiar face. “So… he didn’t abandon you?”

Dick gave him a small smile. “No, baby bird. Danny wouldn’t abandon me or Jason. He’s away, as a punishment for Bruce.”

Tim stared at Dick. “As punishment?”

Dick nodded carefully. He hesitated for a moment, and Tim just watched his face change as he struggled to articulate his thoughts, before he eventually sighed again and clarified.

“Yes. As punishment for failing to protect their child, Bruce is not allowed to see Jason or Danny until Danny feels that Bruce has repented.”

Tim’s eyes widened as he understood the unspoken information. “Jason is alive?!”

Dick nodded, his expression solemn. “Yes. And because Danny feels that Bruce hasn’t changed, Jason isn’t allowed to go back to him.”

Tim stared. Then he said, “Bruce must be devastated.”

“Mhm. That’s why he’s still in mourning.” Dick gave him a small smile. “Maybe one day, you can meet Jason and Dad— Danny. Until then, practice hard, alright?”

Tim nodded, and as he watched Dick’s back before disappearing behind the door, he couldn’t help but think of the man that he didn’t know, who was beloved enough by Dick to be called “Dad,” who had some unknown power to revive people, and was so deeply mourned by Bruce. He looked back at the photo, where the pearls shone brightly around the man’s neck.

Tim nodded to himself, a plan forming in his mind. After all, he was Robin now, and it was his job to help Batman and fix Gotham, wasn’t it?

[winwin17]

Are you afraid of Scary Bilbo?

Maybe, but ...

Does it change your view of Bilbo's entire character? Does it make you decide Bilbo is evil and corrupt at heart? Does it cause you to deride Bilbo for greed and selfishness in spite of all his heroic deeds?

No?

Then why do you do that to Boromir?

When Boromir tried to take the Ring from Frodo, it was his equivalent to the "HRRAAGHH!!" Bilbo moment.

Think back to the moment when Bilbo at Rivendell asked Frodo just to see the Ring, and in one fleeting instant Frodo saw, not the Bilbo he knew, but "a little wrinkled creature with a hungry face and bony groping hands." The flash of vision scared Frodo so bad he felt a desire to strike Bilbo. Frodo was terrified.

And then the next moment, Bilbo was himself again. The book itself describes the moment thus: "Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo 's face and passed his hand across his eyes. 'I understand now,' he said. 'Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have come in for this burden; sorry about everything.'"

My friends, this is not that different from what happened with Boromir. He pressed Frodo to show him the Ring, and then became so intense about it that Frodo was terrified Boromir would take the Ring by force. Just like he'd been terrified of Scary Bilbo. Because, just as that was frighteningly not like the true Bilbo, this action was also not like the true Boromir.

Sadly, Frodo did not get the chance to hear Boromir's repentant apology and weeping once the moment of madness had passed. He got to hear Bilbo say, "I am sorry; sorry about everything!" But he did not get to hear Boromir say, "What have I said? What have I done?" nor his confession to Aragorn, "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I am sorry."

And what did Bilbo want the Ring for at that point in his life anyway? What would he do with its power? Get revenge on his petty relatives? Acquire riches and pipe-weed to last a lifetime? On the other hand, Boromir wanted the Ring as a final desperate hope to save his city, his home, his family, and his people. Being of a noble heart, he viewed the Ring as the only possible way to protect and defend others. It could be said that he was somewhat selfish and desired glory of his own through his efforts, but then again, wouldn't it be called selfishness for Bilbo to get revenge on the Sackville-Baggins, or store up wealth and riches for himself, or hoard all the pipe-weed he could want? Perhaps he would have had loftier thoughts and intentions to use it against Sauron - but then that would simply be a twin vision to Boromir's.

The point is, no one loses confidence in the character of Bilbo or his true-heartedness because of that one scary moment when he is almost overcome by lust for the Ring. And yet Boromir gets villainized for the same thing.

Say it with me, folks: "Boromir was no more of a villain in his temporary madness for the Ring than Scary Bilbo was!"

[sansaaaaaagirl]

BE MY BABY

Warnings: I actually did this for fun. I'm not a professional.

When I play the song, it's so that you open your fucking Spotify and vibrate like I did when I wrote it.

The bar buzzed with energy as another Saturday night stretched into early morning. It was 3:30 a.m., and the crowd hadn’t thinned much. You maneuvered effortlessly through the rush, pouring drinks and exchanging small talk with customers. Three years as a bartender in Monaco had taught you how to handle everything from impatient patrons to complicated cocktails. You loved the rhythm of it, the mix of chaos and artistry.

Yet tonight, as with every other night for the past seven months, your eyes drifted to a particular corner of the bar.

Charles Leclerc.

The name was one everyone in Monaco knew. A Formula 1 driver with Ferrari, he epitomized the glamour of the city’s elite. But his presence in this tucked-away, unassuming bar always puzzled you. Most of Monaco’s glitterati chose the flashy lounges along the waterfront. This place, hidden within a gallery and catering to locals, seemed out of character for someone like him.

Still, he came regularly, always polite, always composed. He usually sat with a small group of friends or occasionally alone, nursing a drink while observing the room. And though the two of you had exchanged only a handful of words, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze often lingered on you.

"One Moscow Mule," his voice broke through your thoughts.

Snapping back to the present, you nodded, your hands moving with practiced ease as you prepared his drink. When you placed it in front of him, he looked at the glass for a moment, then up at you. His green eyes held yours just long enough to send a small shiver down your spine.

"Thanks," he said simply, his voice warm.

You offered a polite smile and turned to your next customer, determined not to overthink the exchange.

---

By the time your shift ended at 5 a.m., exhaustion had settled into your bones. The last patrons had trickled out, leaving behind an empty bar and the soft hum of the dishwasher. Following protocol, you exited through the back alley, welcoming the quiet streets after the night’s noise.

As you walked, the sound of footsteps behind you made your heart race. You turned quickly, ready to defend yourself, only to find Charles standing a few feet away.

"Jesus! You scared me!" you exclaimed, clutching your chest.

"Sorry," he said, though the amused curve of his lips suggested he wasn’t entirely repentant. "I couldn’t let you walk home alone."

"Are you drunk?" you asked, skepticism lacing your voice.

He chuckled softly. "Do I seem drunk?"

You narrowed your eyes, still unsure what to make of this unexpected encounter. "Why are you here?"

"Because I care," he said, his tone earnest. "It’s late, and it’s not safe for you to walk home alone."

"Monaco’s one of the safest places in the world," you replied. "And my apartment isn’t far."

"Still," he insisted, "let me walk you. Please."

There was something disarming about his sincerity, and though every instinct told you to say no, you found yourself nodding.

---

The walk was slow and quiet at first, the streets of Monaco bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Charles walked beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

"So," he began, breaking the silence, "how did you end up working at that bar?"

You hesitated, unsure why you felt the need to share. "I moved here three years ago," you said eventually. "It was supposed to be temporary—a chance to start fresh after some… setbacks. But I ended up staying. The bar became a kind of home."

"Setbacks?" he prompted gently.

You glanced at him, debating how much to reveal. "Let’s just say life didn’t go as planned. I needed a change, and Monaco seemed like a good place to start over."

Charles nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I can understand that. People think my life is perfect, but… it’s not always easy."

"Really?" you asked, genuinely curious. "From the outside, it looks like you have it all."

He smiled faintly. "Appearances can be deceiving. The pressure, the expectations… sometimes it feels like I’m living for everyone else."

The vulnerability in his words surprised you. For the first time, he seemed less like the untouchable star and more like someone who understood struggle.

By the time you reached your building, the sky was beginning to lighten, streaks of pink and orange painting the horizon. You hesitated at the entrance, reluctant to end the conversation.

"Do you want to see the sunrise?" you asked on impulse.

Charles’s face lit up with a smile. "I’d like that."

---

The rooftop offered a stunning view of Monaco’s coastline, the first rays of sunlight glinting off the water. You sat side by side, knees drawn to your chest as the city woke around you.

"It’s beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Not as beautiful as this moment," Charles said softly.

You turned to find him watching you, his expression open and unguarded. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hand brushing against yours.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, and he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender and unhurried. The world seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the soft glow of the rising sun.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe I’ll have to come to your bar more often," he teased.

"Maybe you will," you replied, your cheeks flushing as the sun climbed higher, bathing Monaco—and your heart—in light.

---

Over the next few weeks, Charles became a more frequent visitor, not just to the bar but to your life. He’d sit at the counter, asking about your day, sharing stories from his races, and slowly weaving himself into your world.

What started as quiet companionship grew into something deeper—a connection built on late-night conversations, stolen moments, and a mutual understanding of what it meant to start over.

And as the days turned into months, you found that Monaco, once a place of escape, had become home in a way you never expected—because now, it wasn’t just a city. It was the place where you had found him.

[princessbrunette]

you’d sent dbf!pope some… pictures.

not just any old pictures, and even when he saw the notifications stating you’d texted him ‘10 attachments’, he was more curious than he was nervous or apprehensive. he thought he’d developed that trust in you not to act a fool when he was in your house. with your father home.

you see, you’d gone shopping that day. feeling especially daring, you’d snapped some pictures. at first seemingly innocent— ones in the mirror wearing your little sundress, smiling through the screen. but quickly, clothes come off and soon you’re pushing your barely covered tits together like a pornstar or spreading your legs, showing off that very obvious wet spot in your panties. that spot pope knew all too well.

considering you could hear him downstairs with your father all evening, you’d expected him to leave you on read the way he did. he was your fathers best yet youngest researcher at his company, and as men do — your father not really having any real ‘friends’ before that, they’d gotten to be pretty close, your man of interest showing face at your house nearly every day now.

hours later, you finally heard the familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. at first they were quiet and careful, but became pretty thunderous the closer they got. as expected, you’re innocently waiting on the edge of the bed with your hands on your lap with a smile.

“no, okay. don’t look at me like that. are you crazy?” pope looks pissed, folding his arms after closing the door gently behind him. you tilt your head faux-innocently, and it’s pretty out of character. you were usually a very sweet girl, a tease — yes, he can admit. but not this mischievous. it unfortunately didnt take this kind of behaviour to get him naked the first time.

“you didn’t like the pictures?” you mewl and he purses his lips.

“you know i liked them. what i don’t like — okay, is you sending me this shit whilst i’m downstairs with your dad.” he whisper-yells the last part, storming right up to you with his phone in his hand.

“but im gonna guess he’s passed out with a beer in his hand right now… right?” there’s a twinkle in your eye. one that told him you really didn’t care about the scolding. he breathes heavily, staring down at where you sit. the eye contact is hot and heavy, and after a moment he gives in— grabbing your head to meet him halfway for a pissed off kiss.

he exhales out his nose like it’s relief to relieve that tension, pushing you to lie back on the bed with a little more force than he was used to— but today he felt you deserved it. you wanted to be a brat? he’d treat you like one.

“just so you know, i am so against this. this is so wrong.” he pants as he rips your skirt down, worried words contradicting his actions.

“mhm.” you dismiss, not really taking him in.

“no really. this is like, life ruining. do you understand?” he’s suddenly gripping your cheeks with one hand, getting you to stare into his eyes. he’s so pretty you go into a bit of a daze, but nod dumbly regardless. “good.” he lets go, before pushing up and beginning to hastily undo his belt. “i’d say it’s only fair you… pay for what you did, right? show me you’re sorry?” he raises his brows, lines in his forehead from the impending age.

“anything you want mr popey.” you’re totally game, giggling as you reposition yourself to be on your knees, ready to repent with your mouth. popes eyes flit over to the lingerie store bag on the ground in the corner, and being the kind of guy he is — his heart aches a little at the effort you put into impressing him. he couldn’t help it. he was a softie.

“hey, if we have time afterwards. you can show me the stuff you picked up today. deal?”

“deal!”

[thisonehere]

Caught

Summary: Bi-Han catches you spying on him bathing

A/n: alright, here you have it, the winner of my poll and might I say...you all are some pervs lol

This is a little late so I'm sorry for that.

Tags: NSFW, smut, poll winner

C/w: Reader being a perv, rough sex, overstimulation, Bi-Han gets sadistic

I-It wasn't supposed to be like this, you promise, you're not a pervert. You're not! Honest! Well, until today, that is.

You had gone into the Grandmaster's personal chambers to deliver a secretive intel sent by Sektor and entrusted to you to deliver it to Bi-Han. After the guards had let you, you found the room completely empty. You find it odd, you were told that he would be in here at this hour. "Grandmaster!" You call, looking this way and that for him. The room was empty, the grandmaster's large figure was nowhere in the room. So you did the best decision, you decided to snoop around.

For a grumpy and gruff man, the grandmaster sure had quite good taste in decoration. Porcelain vases, intricate wood carvings, rich fabrics everywhere, and so many other nice things. No doubt so many of these things were passed down from Bi-Han's father and his father and so on. So much of these things are old and filled with history. Cool. Anyway, you climb into his bed and start smelling his sheets. They smell nice...really nice. Just like how you often fantasized he might smell like if you ever got close enough.

As you embrace the scent, your ear picks something up, the sound of water running in the distance, behind a door. You climb off his bed and follow the sound and open the door. You slowly and carefully push the door back, it makes a slight creaking sound as you do. You pear inside and a gust of warm steam greeted your face. At that moment you realize that this is a bathhouse. Unlike the regular bathhouse that you shared with your fellow Lin Kuei, this was a private one for just the Grandmaster. Without much thought, you wonder inside.

You try to admire the place butt steam flows through the air making it almost impossible to see. But you manage to see one thing in the near distance, a shadowy figure just beyond a curtain. You take a few steps and part the curtains to get a better look, and you have to physically cover your mouth as you make out what it is. Bi-Han, lounging in a giant tub. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of the naked grandmaster. His eyes closed, a subtle smile on his face, his hair undone and cascading down his back in a wet mass, his bare and muscular body glistening from all the steam. It was a sight to behold. You stare at your grandmaster through the curtain, your mouth agape and your eyes enraptured.

Bi-Han looks so...so peaceful, happy even. Something you have never been used to, until now, the grumpy asshole who always wore a stern frown in his face is what you knew the grandmaster for. But you couldn't lie, something about always enchanted you, here, those features were on full display for you. You felt yourself melt as you admired your grandmaster, so handsome, so magnificent was he to behold that you felt like you could watch him for hours.

Without warning, Bi-Han stood up in his bath causing you to cover your mouth and stifle a squeak of surprise. Bi-Han took water from the bath rub himself with it. Your eyes stretched ten inches wide as Bi-Han's girthy rod flopped and his ass jiggled as he moved. You felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You felt like you were going to faint, so you closed the curtain for just a second to catch your breath. This was all too much, it was wrong too. Spying on your grandmaster as he bathes, spying on anyone as they bath, is a horrible thing.

But think about his smile, his body, everything about it, and you are surprised to find your body shiver. It is in your best interest to just leave and repent to any god that would listen. But it wouldn't hurt to just have one more peak, you think as you turn back to the curtain to get one last look before you left.

But as you part the curtain, Bi-Han is gone.

All you can do is stare in confusion at his sudden disappearance. Where could he have gone? Maybe he left, but where? How could he leave that quickly with you even hearing it? You sigh as you let the curtain close, perhaps this is for the best. You should be thankful that Bi-Han didn't walk out and find you being a pervert. You shiver this time in fear at what he would to you as punishment. Knowing him, it would have something brutal, and ensures that you suffer unimaginable ways. You're lucky indeed that he didn't catch you, even luckier that you had a chance to see him like this.

You smile warmly to yourself as you turn to leave. And there is Bi-Han standing behind you. You almost gasp, but that's interrupted as Bi-Han grabs you by the throat and suspends you off the ground with terrifying ease. Wet hair covered his furious face as water dropped down his body. "Grandmaster," you try to force out. "P-please, I can explain-ack!" Bi-Han's grip is so tight that you already feel yourself begin to lose consciousness. "You spied on me as I bath like a repulsive perversion! What could you possibly have to say for yourself!?" He barked, his once peaceful face now contorted into a disgusted sneer.

Bi-Han held you there for quite a few seconds, you just dangled there as you slowly began to lose consciousness. With a sigh, Bi-Han clears his grip on you, letting you plop to the ground with a harsh thud. You coughed and gagged as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was racing so fast and your vision was blurred slightly. You stared up at Bi-Han who looked down at you like you were so nothing but something disgusting at the bottom of his shoe. You looked away from him in shame as you continued to catch your breath, trying to think of a way to get out of this. Something, anything, to get you out of here and avoiding your grandmaster's wrath.

But Bi-Han acts before you. After staring at you for some time, Bi-Han's expression changed, as if he just had an idea of what he would do to you. This terrified you. "Take off your clothes...and join me." Bi-Han ordered as he marched back into the tub, much to your shock. "What?" You asked so confused. "I don't understand, I-"

"Shut your disgusting mouth and obey your grandmaster!" He snapped at you, scaring you and causing you quickly throwing off your clothes to the point that you accidentally tore it slightly. In no time, you were sitting in the steaming bath tub with Bi-Han. His eyes were once again closed as he lounged back in the tub, the peaceful and almost happy look was back into his face. You just stared at him in fear, why was he so calm again? What was he about to do to you? You felt your heart beat against your chest as you stared at him in fear.

As the minutes passed it all felt like torture for you. What was he about to do to you? Why did he have you undress and bathe with him? Oh god, was he about to do something horrid to you? You agonize as you begin to fantasize about all the ways he might punish you. Maybe he was going to drown you here, what if he was going to the water board you? Though the water was warm, you shivered in fear. "You know, Y/n. I'm not surprised by this... I've noticed the way you looked at me." Bi-Han finally said, at this point you were so at the edge of your seat that even the sound of his voice scared you. "I won't deny it, I find something about you... cute, so perhaps I'll let you live." At this, you let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps things won't be so bad after all. "But not unpunished."

...

Maybe you spoke too soon.

You open your mouth to ask what he meant by that, Bi-Han stands up and wades through the water until he's standing over you, his cock in your face. You stare at it with an agape mouth. It's much bigger up close, as well as erect, ready and willing. Bi-Han stares down with a stern look, but there was sadistic glint in his eyes. "What are you staring at? Suck it."

---

Hours pass and Bi-Han spends them richly by making you do every last depraved thought that pops into his head. He fucks in every hole that you can offer him. He bites you, he slaps you, he even strangles you at some point...many points actually. He is merciless, your penance for spying on him. He has faced fucked you so many times that your sure that it'll take a long time to get the taste of his dick and his cum out of your mouth. Your body is dripping with his fluids as well as decorated with bruises, you could still feel his teeth marks on your neck and the imprint of his hand on your face and ass. He is so violent that you begin to cry, both from the pain and the pleasure that this pain caused, he laughs as your tears fall.

Right now? Bi-Han has you bent over the tub, his hand firmly grip at your hair, violently tugging at it as he slams into your poor abused hole. "Grandmaster!" You scream at the top of your lungs, your screams just encourage you to go faster, harder, making things worse and good for you. Both sweat and cum drips down your legs, hell, you could barely even feel your legs as he grinded into you. You feel your climax coming, no doubt his his close to, please let it be close. You don't know how much longer you can do this, you can feel your body slowly get number and number the more he fucks you. "Grandmaster, I-I going to." But Bi-Han interrupts you by quickly pulling out and shoving you to the floor. It all happens so fast that you don't have a second to react. Who knew the Grandmaster was so violent during sex?

He kneels beside, rubbing his cock, his other reaching down and start fondling your swollen hole. "Have you learned your lesson, Y/n?" You fearfully nod as you moan at his touch. You feel your entire body shiver as you climax. "Good " Bi-Han says with a growl, he begins rubbing hiscock faster. He grits his teeth as he finally cums, his hot seed explodes all over your face almost blinding you. "Clean me up, won't you dear?" At his urging, you begin to lick the cum off his dick, the bittersweet taste is something you think you'll never forget after today. "Good." He purred.

Satisfied, Bi-Han rose to his feet, grabbed a towel, and walked away as if nothing happened. Leaving you to catch your breath and regain your bearings. You're so worn out, so tired, you wondered if you could just crawl into Bi-Han's. He fucked you sore, the least he could do was let you sleep in his bed.

"Y/n," Bi-Han calls to you just before he leaves the room. "Yes, grandmaster?" You anxiously answered. "Next time, wear something nicer....easier to take off." He instructs calmly, but you felt you heart skip a beat again. "N-next time?" He turns to you and nods, a scary grin on his face. "Yes, your penance for this little incident. But don't you worry, I'll be gentle next time...perhaps." and with that he leaves you alone to collect your thoughts.

[codenamesazanka]

Need Spinner to rip Deku a new one

[Warning for some suicidal ideation]

•

At first, Izuku thought Iguchi Shuuichi didn’t hear him. Iguchi did not move. He was still looking away from Izuku. He said nothing, staying quiet for so long that Izuku thought maybe he should leave, and give Iguchi time to process and accept the news. Whatever was going through Iguchi’s head right now.

"...I killed a total of eight people..."

It was so soft and low it took Izuku a second to realize it was speech, that it was even a sound.

“Pardon?” Izuku asked.

“I killed eight people.”

Izuku stared at Iguchi in front of him. It sent a jolt through him, to remember that this man was a criminal, a murderer. He was dull all over and looked like he could barely sit up by his own strength, but Iguchi Shuuichi was a Villain, and he was speaking about the deaths of eight people with zero emotion. "W-What? Are you—this is a confession—"

If Iguchi was confessing, Izuku should go get Detective Tsukauchi, or—

"I plotted with the Front to destroy cities.” Iguchi said. Still toneless. Still looking away. “I watched Gigantomachia crush everything in his path. I led a riot against a hospital. I trampled over a dozen doctors and nurses—"

Izuku blinked. "You didn't actually do that. No one actually got hurt, luckily—"

"I did.” Iguchi said. “I'm a Villain, and I killed countless people.” It was then that he finally turned to Izuku. A blank, unseeing stare that shot right through Izuku. Iguchi’s eyes were pink, but the look in them was so empty that it was like the color had leached out, replaced with a glassy hollow-pink gray.

Izuku flinched, but took a deep breath. “...You did. So it’s good you’re confessing. And now… you can… repent—”

“So kill me."

"What?"

"Kill me,” Iguchi repeated.

Izuku grimaced. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Kill me.”

“No,” Izuku said firmly, and stood up. “I’m going to go get Detective—”

He saw the moment when Iguchi’s eyes bursted with a manic light, as if everything came back, and with it, finally, all the emotions that Izuku had expected when he first came to tell Iguchi his leader’s last words. Iguchi exploded.

“Just kill me!” Iguchi roared, struggling against his restraints, so hard it shook the hospital bed. “I'll–I’ll kill you, if you don't stop me right now! Kill me!"

Izuku’s fist clenched automatically at the threat, the muscle memory of when he had One For All. But One For All was gone, and Iguchi was bound up tight. "I'm not going to do that! I don't kill—"

"You killed him!”

The scream made Izuku reel back.

“You killed Shigaraki!” Iguchi suddenly jerked away again, eyes squeezing shut. He curled in on himself, though he was still yelling. “You killed him, so kill me too!”

“I didn’t—!” Shiga–Shimura Tenko’s body crumbled to dust due to the damage it had taken. Everyone agreed that regeneration had failed at some point, and Shimura was already falling apart. The collapse was inevitable.

“You killed him!” Iguchi sounded hoarse now, as if the yell just before had damaged his throat. “He died. He died in front of you and you let him die. So—” The voice broke completely. “So why can’t you let me die too? Let me die with him."

Ragged breathing filled the room. Izuku let it go on for a count of ten, allowing Iguchi to calm down, allowing himself to find the words. “...That’s not how it works. Shimura Tenko died, but you’re still—”

“Shut. Up.” Iguchi curled in on himself further. “Just kill me and let me die. I don’t care. Just let me… Just let me go see him.”

“You can’t follow him,” Izuku said. In the back of his mind, he faintly thought that Shigaraki would’ve been pleased to see that his League was still loyal to him. “Iguchi Shuuichi, your leader is dead, but you can’t follow him. You have to—”

Iguchi made a sharp, jagged sound, the imitation of a laugh. “I have to. Are you really just some kid, that you don’t get it? I love him.”

Izuku froze.

“...I loved him,” Iguchi said. He breathed out the words. “Shigaraki Tomura. My heart was empty until I met him. He was— I wanted—” Iguchi trailed off. “...I loved him."

The horizon that Spinner was looking forward to, Shigaraki Tomura had said, grinning. It had felt so random, him mentioning one of the League in the middle of battle, as he was destroying Mt. Fuji. If Spinner is alive, tell him—

Were you… acknowledging his feelings? Izuku wondered, tentatively, to those memories of Shigaraki. Did you know? Your last words… did you do that, just for him?

Iguchi was weeping now, tears leaking out of his still shut eyes, trailing down his face and falling onto the hospital sheets. One wet dot, two dots, three, merging into a misshapen, growing stain.

Iguchi was unforgivable. Shigaraki was unforgivable. They had done unforgivable things. But still Izuku had said to Shigaraki, I saw you crying, and he knew he needed to help. How could he not? Someone was in pain, and saving them was obvious.

But now your friend is crying. The immediate, most obvious way to help Iguchi right now, Izuku couldn’t help but think was… if you were here…

And there was a déjà vu too—Gentle and La Brava…

Izuku’s stomach twisted when he realized there was nothing he did for La Brava, when she was crying, knocking her small fists into him. It was Gentle who shoved him off and held her. Gentle was the one to dry her tears.

No one else could’ve done it.

"There's no point in me living,” Iguchi whispered. “My family has disowned me by now. The League is gone. Shi... Shigaraki is gone. There's nothing left. So just let me die."

“I… don’t think he… would’ve wanted you to die,” Izuku carefully offered. “If you were fri— more than friends, he would’ve wanted you to live. Right?”

Iguchi made that sharp barking laugh again. “I'm going to jail for the rest of my life. And there is no life I want, not without—” Iguchi broke off.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Izuku tried to say. “You have to live, and things will change—”

“The future has no place for me in it,” Iguchi said. Tears dripped off the tip of his mouth. “I never had one, anyway. After all this, I’m…”

A sob. “If we didn't let him go into surgery… I wanted him to stay, but he was so excited… And I knew he wasn’t himself anymore, I knew All For One was lying to me, I knew all that! But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to do. I did nothing, and now he’s gone. I should’ve… I don’t know, I don’t know, but I should’ve done something.”

Izuku bit his lips. This was, at least, something they had in common. “...It was the same for me too. I saw All For One and him being… stuck together. I couldn’t ignore that, so I wanted to help him too. I wanted to save that cry—save him, but…” He sat back down. “Maybe… if we had worked together… If you came to us earlier…”

“...save him?” Iguchi rasped.

Izuku nodded. “I really did. I wanted to save him.”

Iguchi slowly raised his head. “You killed him. You fought him to death. Heroes wanted him dead. Hawks killed Twice and everyone just accepted it. You… You never said anything. What do you mean, ‘if you came to us earlier…’

That hollow look in Iguchi’s eyes was back.

“You never said a single word about saving him.”

[demodraws0606]

I'm kinda peeved off that I'm seeing a few people that have the critique that Siffrin didn't deserve their "happy ending" in the end, that he was forgiven too quickly. I'm bad about this for actually a number of reasons.

(Warning this will be long because I am irrationally passionate about this, totally not because I relate to Siffrin or anything ahahahahaha)

First, logically, Siffrin's actions definitely are not as awful as people make it out to be especially not in the context of a time loop story. The worst Siffrin has done was his actions in the Bad Touch achievement and the last loop, one being purely optional. Outside of that, any tampering Siffrin had done was purely harmless, sure it's existentially horrifying but it's not like he did any actual manipulation.

You could also argue since Siffrin was in control of the loop, they are responsible for everything that was happening but we know full well he wasn't in control literally, his emotions were in control of the loop. Considering, a whole thing in this story is how acting as though you're fine and trying to control your emotions don't work, I don't think we can make the argument Siffrin was really in control.

He only wanted to trap everyone in the timeloop when it already had destroyed his mind. I thought it was obvious it was a monkey's paws situation.

The last time loop was the breaking point of Siffrin and it's one of the things he does suffer consequences from, they do get mad at him and he does apologize. What else do you want him to do ?

The Bad Touch achievement is the only thing that could be said to be "unforgivable" but it's optional and as far as I know it's hinted that Siffrin would talk about it with Isabeau. In fact it's said that even though right now they're fine and okay, they literally say they are okay to be mad at Siffrin later.

And also, it's not taking into acount the Actual feelings of his family either. They can't remember the loops and they have their own reason to not still be mad with him, so why should they hold Siffrin accountable for feelings they don't have.

In fact, the storyline strikes the perfect balance to not have Siffrin do such horrible action that he'd actually be unforgivable but still have him do enough that it shows what the loops are doing to him but....

..it's not just logically, judging Siffrin's actions as bad/good things like that is not just what's wrong with the narrative that Siffrin should've suffered more consequences. It also goes against the narrative itself.

For me at least, ISAT is a game about mental illness but also recovery. It's not coincidental a lot of people project their own mental issues onto Siffrin, it's not just a "ahahaha they're so relatable !!", it's a genuine part of the story.

I could make an entire essay about it but that's not the point, what would a story about these themes be if the ending was just "you need to repent for the things you did during your own mental breakdown"

It may seem ridiculous after all this that they'd just forgive Siffrin after all of this, but really hasn't most of the points against Siffrin's morality been coming from Siffrin themselves.

Siffrin believed he deserved to be rejected, that he deserved the suffer, that he was disgusting. It was these belief that kept him from talking about the loop because for him, everything was his fault. Not just because he created the loop but because the desire of staying with them was the very sin he hated himself for since the beginning.

So for all that self hatred to be met with, strange acceptance. It almost seems ridiculous, and Siffrin's talk with Odile in the epilogue reinforces how almost comedic it is.

It's close to reality, isn't it ? How many times have you thought you did something completely unforgivable to someone you cared about and you were waiting for them to be furious at you, but that moment never came.

Because they just simply weren't hurt enough by what happened. And sure it was definitely a bad thing you did and they were maybe mad in the moment, but you apologized. Sure there could be more consequences for what you did but what's the point in asking for them to be more mad at you ?

Shouldn't you strive to be better than beg to be hurt for your actions ?

Do you think being hurt, being yelled at would make anything better other than just feed the voice in your head what it wants to hear ?

Weird flowery talk aside, it just doesn't fit the themes and the narrative of the story is what I'm saying. Asking for more punishement for Siffrin goes against what the story is about.

It's just like complaining that the looping mechanics are too frustrating, that's part of the package deal bb !!

Fuck the idea of "repenting by suffering through the consequences" !!! Having to deal with "blinding unrelenting forgiveness and kindness" is in !!!!

[lovehotelreservation]

He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

Summary: During a mission, Simon accidentally uttered the wrong three little words to you.

Now he must repent by any means necessary.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: F!Reader/Ghost

while the next chapter to "bodyguard" is being worked on, i found myself rewatching some scenes from gundam wing

can u guess which one i saw :^)

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

Rain was usually a blessing for blossoming gardens below, but the usual London downpour was literally dampening Simon’s spirits.

Especially as he was torn between shoving the bouquet of flowers he was holding into the pouch of his worn black hoodie–risking the crumple of a petal or a bend of a stem–or allow it to droop beneath the weeping fall of rain from above.

Rather than dawdle further and waste another moment out in the streets of Nine Elms, he simply brought his hand up to adjust his face mask to better cover his nose and mouth before holding it right above the top of the bouquet and pushed onward, caring little for how quickly raindrops began to seep into the black wool of his fingerless gloves.

He was on a mission today.

Not one assigned to all of Task Force 141 by Laswell.

Not something forwarded to him by some higher-up in SAS.

This was a duty he imposed onto himself:

To apologize to you.

As his steps carried him forward across wet concrete, his dark brown eyes flickered up to a wall of silver-hued sails that served as the striking outer facade to the embassy building of the United States.

While his thoughts recounted over the details of his self-assembled mission briefing, the back of his mind drifted towards how and why he was even here in the first place.

By this point, you and Simon were well acquainted and familiar with one another. While you mainly worked at the embassy as a diplomat, you also assisted Laswell with any red tape that needed a few cuts, especially for the needs of 141.

Kind, capable, genuine, and pretty–it didn’t take much for you to catch his eye upon his first in-person meeting with you. 

Up to that point, you both mainly communicated with each via Laswell dispensing updates on what either of you were up to pertaining to whatever mission was at hand.

But a briefing from however long ago at Laswell’s office in D.C. changed that.

He would always remember the way your eyes lit up the moment he and the rest of Task Force 141 entered the room, the precious way your voice trailed off as you wondered whether to refer to him by Ghost or–formally–Mr. Riley, and your laughter while hearing Johnny’s yelp as he received a daggered glare upon his teasing quip of “He’d really like it if ye emphasized the “Mr”, lass–”

Like hell he would ever tell anyone else, but he likened that day to you deciding to bend down and tend to the scorched and salted grounds that was his heart, flower seeds in hand and sunshine in your soul.

But whenever Cupid raised his bow to take a shot, he–with all of his years of experience out in the battlefield–was quick to dodge.

Though, with every interaction with you from then on, the aim of that blasted brat was becoming far more deadly in accuracy.

Why else would he be trudging into the lobby of the U.S. embassy like a wet dog with flowers in hand?

A pass by the reception front desk and a glance and a nod at the secretary granted him access with little issue and a few words.

After all, the secretary–familiar with that looming shadowy silhouette of his from past visits to your office–only beamed upon seeing the flowers in his hand, quickly whipping out an access keycard to slip over as she whispered,

“She’s still at her meeting!’

The bit of tension in his shoulders eased.

Jackpot.

Still, caution and secrecy was necessary so he wasn’t going to relax just yet as he strode on forward.

Even while it was covered by a mask as usual, he couldn’t allow you to see his face.

Not after what happened the last time he saw you.

A high-profile conference featuring politicians from across the world was held at Collège de France in Paris some weeks ago, one that got twisted into a horrifying hostage situation by a group of violent extremists.

Thankfully, Laswell and Price were a step ahead having been tracking this cell, with Task Force 141 and other allies already stationed within and across the campus.

While Simon was adamant in making sure that the extremists were properly handled, he was especially ruthless in his protectiveness knowing that you were among the conference participants.

Though, with communication shaky amidst the chaos, he was charging through the hallways like a feral beast, his eyes steely and focused as he sought to ensure your safety.

Relief was an understatement when he finally found you, having hidden away along with a group of other diplomats and staff members in one of the university’s research labs. Though you looked composed–especially to quell the fears of everyone else in your party–he could tell that  beneath it all you were absolutely shaken by the ordeal.

Understandably so. He wanted to take you into his arms that very moment.

But the safety of you and everyone else took absolute priority, so he helped guide you all over to Kyle, who was overseeing the safe evacuation of everyone with the local police.

That look of fear that you were doing your best to suppress was etched into Simon’s mind as he prepared to meet up with Johnny and Price to make quick work of the rest of the men who dared to attempt putting you in harm’s way.

And while by this point it usually was difficult to take someone as experienced and seasoned as Simon unawares, in the end, he was still human. 

The explosive burst of heat from a barely dodged grenade was what he felt first with the cold hard concrete he found himself colliding upon second.

When he next felt warmth, it was gentler, softer.

When he next felt cool, it was daintier, lighter.

“Simon, are you okay?! Simon, say something, please–!”

No codename, no formality.

His actual name–uttered so frantically with panic and worry.

The gardener had come to tend to her flowers.

While his head was rattling, at least there was still rhythm to his heart.

But he was alive regardless.

However, it soon dawned on him that the reason why he felt such significant warmth, such significant chill, it was because of one action:

The lifting of his facemask by your hands.

With how many years dedicated to anonymity, there was a primal instinct that possessed him at that very moment.

Three words shot out of his mouth before he could even think.

“I’ll kill you.”

He could sense you jumping in place as you squeaked, your hands immediately letting go of his mask.

As shocked as you were, he could hear the joy in your voice as you exclaimed, “Oh Ghost! You’re alive!”

It should have been a mission accomplished right then and there.

Yet here Simon was, on this new operation he set for himself, staring at the bouquet currently laid across your desk in your office. He had spent the past 10 minutes or so shifting and repositioning the flowers for better presentation, even doing his best to wipe away any raindrops that had managed to splash onto its colored plastic wrapping.

In his mind, all he could see was a shoddy offering from a man who didn’t have the right to be here in the first place.

However, knowing he had to leave this building empty-handed, he sighed in resigned acceptance as he reached into the front pocket of his hoodie, drawing out a small envelope before tucking it amidst the colorful blossoms.

The true apology was scribbled away in the letter within, the result of hours to days spent agonizing over every letter jotted down.

It was carbon to diamonds.

Knowing that there was not much else he could do, he proceeded to turn and make his exit.

You could be returning from your meeting at any given moment, after all.

And whether you accepted his apology or not, at least now, he could have some peace.

Especially since the three men who were his closest mates have been very adamant on making sure that he knew no peace.

“Ghost, I’m gonna say this in the nicest way possible so if ye break my neck, yer the bad guy here: are ye fucking DAFT, mate?!”

By the way that Johnny was pulling at his mohawk in sheer exasperated revulsion, Simon was sure that the Scot was going to be bald within minutes.

Unfazed, he merely took another swig of his beer, even as his friends continued to look at him aghast from their respective booth seats at the Mayfair pub they all went to after debriefing the recent Paris mission with Laswell.

“Why would you EVER say that to her?!” Kyle’s voice was muffled due to his face being planted right in his hands as he groaned, “To the woman you fancy no less?!”

Outwardly, Simon snorted, “A woman who’s better off marrying a bloody tabloid with Prince fuckin’ William’s useless noggin on the cover.”

Inwardly, he wanted to fling himself off the cliffs of Dover. Those were absolutely not the three little words he wanted to say to you.

Ever.

An air of cigar smoke floating around him like a phantom, Price cleared his throat before he spoke, “Gaz, what’s that term that’s used with those Japanese cartoons you watch? Where the bird’s all hot and cold towards the man she likes?”

Kyle lifted his face from his hands.

“Tsundere, sir.”

Price pointed the smoking tip of his cigar towards Simon admonishingly, his voice stern.

“Simon, you’re putting the capital ‘S’ in soondehreh.”

In return, Simon rolled his eyes. “Nice pronunciation, old man. Very fluent.”

Price didn’t say anything.

Kyle didn’t say anything.

Johnny didn’t say anything.

Instead, all three just glared at him with one singular demand.

“Apologize.”

Not like Simon actually needed an order from anyone to be moved to action, especially in this context.

Though, he had to admit, he got to work on the foundations to what would serve as his apology operation much faster after that night at the pub. 

Already a good block or two away from the embassy, the rain had stopped by this point, the London air dewy and chill.

While it would be nice to lift down his mask and bask in the scent, privacy was much more important than such a simple indulgence and so he strode on forward, thinking about it perhaps being better for him to repent for his sin against his goddess through self-flagellation–

“Mr. Riley!”

Once again, it really was hard to get the jump on Simon, yet even he was astonished to hear the familiar chime of your voice.

His steps came to a stop.

His body turned around.

Sure enough, you were there, looking as pristine as ever in your work attire, even with the streak of hot red across your features as you caught your breath.

He froze.

Did you just run after him ?

Yet he was mystified further as he realized that in your hands was none other than the envelope he left on your desk.

With your eyes locked with his, Simon watched as you held up his letter, pinching at the top with both hands before tearing his heartfelt note cleanly in half.

Before he could react and wonder whether this was an act orchestrated by the devil or Cupid, your cheeks immediately puffed out, your lips turning pouty as you exclaimed, “Next time, hand it to me in person!”

That blasted brat.

Beneath his mask, Simon smiled.

Laughed even.

Relief was an understatement.

Upon hearing your words, he proceeded to close the gap between the both of you–only a few steps needed with his towering physique.

His eyes never straying from yours, softening as he stood right before you, he affirmed,

“It’ll be face to face–I promise.”

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

not me revisiting THIS scene with heero + relena and immediately going "ye this feels ghost x reader coded"

& while i can't find any clips for it, if you watch the final episode of the gundam wing anime, the ending scene directly inspired the ending to this piece, down to what relena says to heero !!! (pls watch it i beseech)

another point of inspo i'd like to note is that i was listening to "flowers" by sweet female attitude and just found out that they're from manchester !!! and given our leading male lead role's origins, i thought to incorporate that with this piece as well !!!

anyhow tysm for reading as always !!! i hope to see you on the next piece !!!

[diremoone]

from mountains to dust

— geto x reader; gojo x reader; geto x gojo

it’s been nothing but bad lapses in judgement over the last few months, over and over again. the beginning restarts over and over again; there’s no end to the storyline in sight. trying to change it seems futile, but you hope there’s purpose in every choice you make… no matter how terrible they may be.

w — canon divergence, partial canon-compliance, takes place post-Star Plasma Arc, angst, poly relationship, character death, cussing, minimal dialogue heehee

Before you stands the man you fell in love with. He looks better, if only slightly, since you last saw him. He’s regained some of his weight, the color in his cheeks, and lost the bags of exhaustion under his beautiful eyes. 

Behind him stands two girls, one with light brown hair and the other with black, both staring at you wide-eyed with wonder and curiosity. 

“So that means this was a set-up?” 

Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet that he has to strain to hear. But he does, and he nods to confirm your thoughts. “It was. I’m not sorry.” 

“Of course you’re not.”

The text message you’d gotten two days ago had led up to this moment: to you seeing him again, with two tiny girls by his side. Why on Earth he thought this was a good idea was beyond your reasoning. 

But maybe it was because of those girls behind him. Maybe he was ready to repent for what he’d done. Maybe he was ready to come back, come home to you and Satoru and just live and breathe again. Maybe this was fate rewriting itself, fixing the once-thought irreparable damage that had been done not even a year ago. 

You gulp down spit in uncertainty. “Why… Geto?”

He visibly winces at the use of his last name. But he understands. The hesitation in addressing him by his last name tells him of how unsure you are of your relationship. He gets it. After what he’s done, after everything he’s put you through, he knows he’s on shaky ground. He shouldn’t expect you to call him by his first name anymore. He’s lost that privilege, lost the luxury of his name rolling off the lips he loved to kiss so much. 

“Because…”

Because he still loves you. He wants you with him, by his side. If there’s one thing he wants to be selfish about, it’s wanting you with him. It’s him wanting to wrap you in his arms every night and hold you; him wanting to watch you get to know Nanako and Mimiko and do girly things with them. To be a mother to them. He knows you’d be a good mom. He can see it now in the way you look at the twins clutching the back of his robe.

He wants Satoru, too, but he knows that he’s too far from his reach. 

”Because I know you’d understand.”

Because between you and Satoru, only you would know. Only you would know what it would be like for everything to be too much. To do something more direct about saving jujutsu sorcerers from pain, from death. From dealing with Curses that plagued the planet thanks to those inferior monkeys. Only you would understand the line, understand that he wasn’t trying to be a selfish bastard by killing off all the monkeys of the planet to save his own kind. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

You know what he’s asking. He wants you to understand. And you do. But at the same time, you understand Satoru, too. Both of them were trying to change the world for the better, to fix the bullshit of the world of jujutsu for the sake of not just the world, but for sorcerers as well. Their ways were just so… different. Drastically so. You wanted them both to win, to succeed to change the world of sorcerers for the better, because it was nothing but hell. You just never expected to be forced to choose, to take sides with the two men your heart had fallen head over heels for.

”I do.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.” The burn of tears sting at your eyes. “What’s their names?”

Suguru places his left hand behind the black-haired girl’s head. “This is Mimiko.” And then he does the same with the girl with light brown hair. “And this is Nanako.”

You smile at them, eyes gazing over their little bodies that pump cursed energy enough to be sorcerers.

You hate it. 

“Lovely names…” you whisper. 

You dip your head and close your eyes. You’re shaking, you note. Tears line your eyes, but you force them back. And you forever hate yourself for the decision you make. 

Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t alone, despite feeling like it with every time he draws breath in and out of his lungs. He knows that you’re still there, waiting for him to come around and meet you halfway.

But he takes too long. He’ll always be the strongest, but he’ll always be too fucking late.

The words coming from his teacher’s lips almost fall on deaf ears. What he hears is just as bad, if not worse, than when he was told Suguru has massacred a village and was now set for execution.

“[Name] has gone missing. There’s a likelihood she’s sided with Suguru,” the older man says. “She left a note I found, saying she was going to go bring him in, come morning she’d be back with him.”

“But she hasn’t.” Gojo doesn’t like the quiver in his voice.

“She’s either sided with Suguru,” Yaga says, “or he’s killed her. She’s vanished. Not even her residuals are left.”

And when Gojo goes to investigate to try and prove him wrong, he finds out his teacher is right. You’ve masked yourself perfectly, so much so that not even his mostly-trained Six Eyes can pick up on any wisp of your cursed energy.

You were always good at stealth. You weren’t strong like him or Suguru, but you were adept at stealth techniques. Reconnaissance, stealth — you were essentially a ninja. Something he and Suguru used to joke about all the time.

Gojo Satoru sits alone in his dorm room once he’s deemed what his teacher has said to be truth. He can’t find any of your residuals, not a trace of it left. Everything you own and have is left behind, like you had truly gone out with the intent of coming back. With Suguru, like you said. You were supposed to come back with Suguru.

He leans forward to think, elbows resting on his knees. His blackout glasses slip down his nose, bit by bit. He grabs them off his nose and slings them toward the wall and doesn’t care when he hears an audible crack! a split second later. He doesn’t care. He has enough money to buy as many glasses as he wants.

Too bad that money can’t buy back the two people he cares for the most in this shitty world.

“Mama!”

“Get up!”

Nanako and Mimiko jump on the bed, too eager for whatever time it was. You grumble and bury your head deeper into the pillow, hoping they’d understand that you were far too tired and sleepy to do whatever they had in store for you.

“Papa, Mama won’t get up!”

“She won’t, will she?”

You hate Suguru. You really don’t want to get up. Not after the restless night you’ve had. But once he makes his appearance, it was either get up or suffer the consequences.

Groaning, you lift yourself from the bed a few inches, using your elbows to lift your head and prop up on. And slowly but surely, you manage to blink your tired eyes open. The desire of sleep fades faster than you anticipate and make you wonder if you need coffee today. Strange.

“Breakfast is ready,” Suguru says. He bends down as you sit up properly, pressing a kiss to your temple sweetly. “If you decide to get up, that is,” he teases further. It makes you grumble, but as you watch Nanako and Mimiko trail after him at his request, you can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth, and the need to oblige Suguru’s desire to see you down in the kitchen with your found family.

You tie your robe around you, keeping some semblance of morning comfort as you walk to the kitchen.

Suguru, only for you and your girls, would ever be in the kitchen making you three pancakes and sausages. He would for Satoru too, if he were here. No doubt the white-haired male would be the one making the biggest fuss of the four of you about the pancake delivery being too slow. To which Suguru would most definitely chuckle at and tell Satoru he’d make more if he hushed. And Satoru would happily oblige.

It’s been almost five years since your departure from the school — yours and Suguru’s — with a broken heart. But at the same time, you know you would’ve never been happy, no matter what decision you made. It would’ve ripped you to shreds regardless. Because you had to choose between them, between Satoru and Suguru, the two men on you loved most on this godforsaken planet.

When you chose Suguru, you hoped that there would be enough resolve in you to bring him back home, even if it took you years to do it. Even to this day, you still hope that there’s something you can do, or take advantage of something happening to get him to go back and be put on probation, rather than the execution he’s scheduled for if any sorcerer gets their filthy hands on him.

You’re sure Satoru wouldn’t let anything happen to Suguru anyway. You’ve heard of the immense power he wields now, both with his refined jujutsu as well as politically, since on his twentieth birthday, he officially became the head of the Gojo Clan.

“Can we go shopping today?” Nanako asks. She looks expectantly at Suguru, who fakes being deep in thought. It makes you lift a hand to hide your smile.

Suguru looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He knows you don’t like getting out. It’s both because you’re in introvert and hate the crowds of malls and streets, and also from the fact you don’t want to get caught by jujutsu sorcerers. Yes, you could handle them, but you didn’t want to deal with such hassle; defeating them would be easy. Unless it was Satoru, of course.

“I dunno,” he hums, “but I think you’d better ask Mom, don’t you think?”

The two ten-year-old twins get whiplash when they turn to face you with sparkles in their eyes. You almost look away, reminded of a young girl with black hair that had the same look of excitement in her eyes.

You don’t deny the twins their excitement or Suguru his satisfaction.

So you take the twins to the mall. It isn’t the one closest to your home, Nanako and Mimiko having been there a few times already. You take them to a new mall, one that’s just outside proximity of the normal one.

That was your first mistake.

You have four bags next to your seat as you devour the soba in front of you. The twins are happily eating their favorite ramen, in a contest to see who can finish the too-big bowl first. You’re texting Suguru, who’s happy to hear that the girls are having a good time. It’s better than what he’s dealing with: an unruly set of followers of the cult he leads, questioning him and his methods of dealing with the riddance of “monkeys” on such a large scale.

You understood them, you really did. But there was no doubt that your lover would kill them before the sun sets.

As you’re putting your phone away, that’s when you sense it: the familiar, boundless cursed energy of the Limitless, belonging to the person whom you’d left behind to fend for himself. He may have been the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, but that didn’t mean he was the strongest mentally, even if he tried to or appeared to be.

You direct your attention back to the girls and ask them, “You guys still want to go to the candy store?”

“Yeah!”

You fish for the card you’ve been using and give it to them. “I think you two are big enough to go by yourselves. Just don’t by too much, okay?”

Nanako and Mimiko buzz with excitement, eyes twinkling with absolute glee. They take the card and skip away. You weren’t worried about their safety. You could easily track their cursed energy if you need to. So you stand, ready to turn and gather your jacket-

“[Name]?”

The clear brokenness in his tone made you stop, facing away from the man that the voice belonged to. You’re frozen solid; as much as you want to turn around and face him, your feet seem to be stuck, rooted to the ground.

But Satoru is strong enough to move for you, and your eyes suddenly see his black shoes mere inches from your own.

“Look at me.”

It’s not commanding. Not even slightly. He���d never use that tone with you. With you, he was always soft, always treating you like the porcelain you’d always wanted to be since you were a little girl.

But you fear porcelain has turned to titanium, that Satoru would no longer want a girl that had made herself into steel.

Your eyes slowly lift to meet his, and you feel the burn of tears edge at your eyelids.

God, he’s so handsome, so ethereal. If Suguru saw him now, you’re sure he’d feel the same as you: all you want to do is press your lips to his in the sweetest, most apologetic kiss you could muster. You’d wrap your arms around him and never let him go again. You’d never walk away from a man that loved you and Suguru so dearly ever again.

But the guilt gnawed away at you. You don’t deserve it anymore. This is the path you chose, your regret tells you. And there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Satoru knows you too well, even after a few good years apart. He loved you so much he could read you like an open book written in big letters in bold print. He doesn’t need the Six Eyes to feel the remorse pouring from your soul.

“God…” he breaths out.

Tears wet your lashes as you blink. His love thrums from his cursed energy and you feel even worse. You almost speak, but he does first.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You cry out his name, and are unable to help falling into the sanctuary of his arms you’ve longed to feel again.

But this is the path you’ve chosen.

You don’t tell Suguru when you get home. Not immediately. He knows, because he can see his other beloved’s residuals on you. He doesn’t pry, not then. He’ll eventually come to know what transpired, but for now he’s okay with making sure you’re comforted, that you know he loves you, too.

It’s 2017 when Suguru zones in on the school he once went to. He becomes enamored with Okkotsu Yuuta, a new Special Grade sorcerer that you can tell is a distant relative of Satoru’s. They have a similar wavelength, you note, that only appears in a familial way.

He wants to bring him over to his side, if only to be able to take and tame the Queen of Curses, Rika Orimoto from him to bring Suguru’s goal to life. She’s, from what you understand, almost unstoppable. Even for Satoru. You’re sure the white-haired man could take her on if need be. You still have that much faith in his abilities.

Secretly, you hope Suguru fails.

It’s 2017 when you become extra nauseous in the late morning and immediately puke into the sink. It’s not the smell of anything that does it; just a random, overwhelming nausea that makes you almost crumble to your knees by the sink.

You’ve had your suspicions for a week now. But when you take a look in the mirror, you activate your cursed energy, and in that moment, all of your prior suspicions are confirmed. You begin to cry in joy at the thought of having your own baby, your own flesh and blood with one of the men you love so dearly.

One of them.

You wish Satoru was here to enjoy your pregnancy too.

You grow and grow over the months and Nanako and Mimiko are absolutely overjoyed to have another sibling join. They hope it’s a girl too, because the only boy they can stand is the man that’s their father.

Come September 21st, you give birth to a carbon copy of yourself. Suguru couldn’t be any happier. If he was, he might explode from the joy pumping through his veins. The absolute happiness in his eyes is worth every second of agony you went through during labor. There’s nothing of the man who runs such a dark organization to rid the world of non-sorcerers.

There is only Geto Suguru, the man you fell in love with at the naive age of 16, who stares down at his newborn daughter and swears with every ounce of his being that he is going to give her world and place it at her feet.

It’s 2017, Christmas Eve, when your love launches an attack on jujutsu high, determined to win and come back with Rika Orimoto at his beck and call. There’s so much loss and sufferance from both sides that you can barely stomach it.

You don’t stay on the frontlines too long, opting to use your powers to teleport to the school. You know Satoru knows you’re involved, you just wonder if he’s going to tell anyone.

At the school, you make one last appeal to your love before he takes on the new Special Grade teenager. You’re terrified. You see how strong the boy’s Curse is, and you get to dissuade him from the fight. You’re terrified even further, because you know that Suguru is going to lose.

Indeed, he does lose. Not just the fight, but so much more.

It’s 2017 when Geto Suguru admits defeat and succumbs to the consequences of his actions ten years ago and henceforth, all while holding the dead body of the mother of his child, the woman he and Satoru loved the most, with tears streaming down his face and agony rending his soul asunder.

It’s 2017 when Satoru meets the little baby girl you gave birth to, and just the same as her biological father, he also swears to her that he’ll put the world at her feet if she asks, protect her and her dad, the man he loves, just like her mom would’ve wanted him to.

She coos in response, and he swears on his own life that nothing will ever happen to her.

It’s Halloween of 2018, and before them stands the woman they both fell in love with.

But the stitches across your head told them that you were not you.

Not anymore.

That someone, something, was inside of you, possessing your body. Desecrating your soul, your existence, their memories of you, and the wonderful life you’d lived by their sides for as long as you had. Desecrating the beauty of your being and the possibilities of what could have been had the both of them not been so damn fucking selfish.

In Shibuya, on Halloween, for nineteen days, Gojo Satoru is sealed within the prison realm by a madman inhabiting your body.

On that day, both he and Suguru swear by everything in their power that they will do what they must to get rid of the evil inhabiting your body. To end whatever sick games the person inside your corpse has planned.

For themselves, for your daughter, and for you, they will lay your body to rest and let your soul be in peace.

After everything you’ve done, you deserve that much.

a/n: I’ll do an rb w/ tags later omg, the taglist is so long

[uhhlifeig]

Gryffindor Common Room - Nov. 25 - word count: 794 - @wolfstarmicrofic (TW: Allusions to Walburga's A+ Parenting, SH kinda? oh and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms)

The Gryffindor common room was almost empty. 

Sirius Black sat on the edge of the armchair closest to the hearth, wand spinning nervously in his fingers.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since that night, and every moment since had felt like dragging his feet through mud. He had apologized to James, to Peter, even to McGonagall. 

They’d all forgiven him- eventually, in James’s case, but none of it mattered because Remus hadn’t. 

Remus, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes in class, who barely spoke to him except when absolutely necessary.

Sirius didn’t blame him.

And for why he was sitting in the common room? He was planning to apologize again- and maybe, just maybe, Remus would hate him a little bit less.

But now, all his carefully constructed words felt hollow, like a dead tree stump. He didn’t know if he could fix this. 

He wasn’t sure he even deserved to.

The sound of footsteps on the boys’ staircase pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up sharply, his heart leaping to his throat as Remus appeared, rubbing a hand through his messy hair.

The werewolf froze when he saw him. His once-warm amber eyes were sharp now, wary. “What are you doing here?”

Sirius shot to his feet, gripping his wand tightly as a reassurance that this was real. “Remus, I- I was waiting for you. I need to talk to you.”

The other boy’s expression tightened. “You’ve already said enough, don’t you think?”

The words cut deep, but he couldn’t back out now. “I have to make this right.”

“Make it right?” Remus laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You can’t just- wave your wand and undo what you did.”

“I know. I know I messed up. I know I betrayed you.”

“You don’t know,” the taller boy snapped. He took a step closer. “You don’t know what it feels like to have your worst fear used against you. To know someone you trusted- someone you loved- put you in that position.”

Sirius flinched. Every word was like a punch to the gut. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But please, just let me-”

“Let you what?” Remus’s voice rose. “Say you’re sorry again? Beg me to act like nothing happened? It doesn’t work like that!”

The dog animagus’s throat tightened. He couldn’t find the words he’d practiced. Everything in him screamed that words weren’t enough anyway. 

Nothing would ever be enough. 

“Then do something about it,” Sirius said abruptly, his voice shaky. He took a step forward and held out his wand to his ex-lover. “Here.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

The wand was shoved into his hands. “Take it. Just take it.”

“What are-”

The noiret dropped to his knees before he could think about it. He hit the stone floor hard, but he didn’t care. The sting felt right. 

“Do it.”

“Do what?” Remus asked, his voice sharp with confusion.

“Curse me. Hurt me. I don’t care. I deserve it.”

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire and Sirius’s ragged breathing. The dirty blonde stared at him, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and horror. “What are you talking about?”

“I betrayed you. I hurt you, so you can hurt me back. This is what I deserve.” the older boy’s voice broke on the last word. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, cold and cruel. 

Repent. Learn. 

Take the punishment you deserve.

It’s what you do for the people you’re a burden to.

“Sirius...”

“You’ll feel better,” he insisted, his voice rising in desperation. “You’ll see.” He bowed his head, his shoulders trembling. 

Nothing happened. 

There was no spell, no harsh words, no punishment. Sirius looked up, confused, only to find Remus standing frozen, the wand hanging limply in his hand. 

“Why did you give me this?” 

“Because you should use it,” the gray-eyed boy said. “I know you want to. You have my permission, okay?”

The werewolf’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Sirius, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you should. It’ll help.”

“No, it won't.” Remus sounded very sure of himself- so sure, in fact, that Sirius looked up out of shock. 

He watched, shocked, as his ex-boyfriend knelt down in front of him, setting the wand aside. “You’re not your mother, Sirius,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry for saying you were.”

The dam broke. Sirius’s chest heaved as tears spilled down his face. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Remus reached out hesitantly, his hands settling on the shorter boy’s shoulders. “We’ll figure it out- but not like this. Never like this.”

The dog animagus sniffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“And so am I.”

(heavily inspired by "but i want it, it's a crime" by fertilizingdaffodils on ao3! check it out, i love that fic sm)

pt. 1, pt. 2

@estellethewriter

[shallyouobeyme]

Rise

Obey Me - Yandere!Brothers x Reader (GN); Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (GN)

Summary: Your death had not been an unexpected one - at least for the seven reasons behind it - what had been unexpected was what happened afterwards. How far are the residents of hell willing to go to get you back?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Major Character Death, Death of a relative (mentioned), Yandere!brothers can be interpreted either as platonic or romantic, poison, murder, Manipulation, blackmailing, non-consensual kissing, angst generally, I do not condone this - this is all just fiction

Everything about your death had been planned prior, not a single detail was unaccounted for. At least for the ones behind it. You yourself had no idea that you were eating your last meal one Friday evening - it had been Lucifer's turn to cook and he made one of your favourites - and you were enjoying dinner with all the brothers. Quite honestly, you should have known something was afoot simply by the fact that all of them were on their best behaviour, no fighting, no cursing - the literal and the magical kind - and even Levi was acting sociable, without a handheld console anywhere in sight. Belphegor was wide awake (at least for his standards), Beelzebub was eating with relative moderation, Mammon wasn't bragging about any of his new purchases, Satan was calm as he could be, and Asmodeus had his complete attention on you, but not in his typical flirty way. It was like they were all trying to savour the moment.

Lucifer seemed to be the same as always, but you knew him too well and knew how to look beyond his shell. He was sad, somehow, and you would have guessed this sense of self-loathing that his pride usually didn't allow, but that always was just below the surface was bubbling up. Why, you didn't know, but you figured you'd ask him after dinner when you had some alone time. When you were finished eating, Mammon jumped up exclaiming that he'd do the cleaning today and you knew one of the brothers would ask what he was trying to even out now, which scheme of his he needed to repent for before it had actually come out. Not a word was said though. That was the moment when you became slightly suspicious, but sadly not suspicious enough - not that there was anything for you to change at that point. The deed had already been done.

A yawn straight out of your mouth pulled you away from your suspicions. You were really tired all of a sudden. The day must have been more exhausting than you had thought. 'Oh well', you thought as your eyelids slowly became heavier, 'you had time to ask Lucifer about what was going on tomorrow, after all, it was the weekend and you had had all the time in the world'. 'All the time in the world', oh how silly that phrase now sounded. You said goodbye to the brothers, giving each of them a small kiss on their cheek as it had established itself in your routine before you turned to leave for your room. 'MC', Lucifer had called after you as if wanting you to stop, but when you turned around to him, he seemingly had discarded whatever it was he had wanted, instead telling you to sleep well.

And you did sleep well, for about two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, your heart beat for the last time, and then your body grew cold and stiff and lifeless. Death had come for you at last. A peaceful death, that the brothers knew for sure because as they all sat waiting in the dimly lit living room, they only felt a slight ache and a sense of finality as their bonds broke apart. It was regretful that they had to these measures and they were well aware that for the rest of their eternal lives, they'd mourn their actions - but what had to be done was done, this was the only way. The one way that would mean that you would spend eternity with them.

Their plan had first started being formulated when you had gotten news of a relative of yours dying - they had been old and sick and their death had not been an unexpected one. The brothers had decided they'd be there to help you mourn and cheer you up, but they found that while you felt the pain of your loss you were actually relieved, knowing that your relative now didn't have to suffer anymore, especially since they had made peace with their end already. It was what you said when Levi had wondered how you could be so nonchalant about death that kickstarted it all. 'We all die at the end, some sooner, some later - death is a part of life and I find that fleeing from it is impossible so I might as well embrace life for the short time it blesses me.'

They had always known that you'd die one day - they knew you were mortal, but still, knowing that you knew that you would, made this more real. It meant that it was something that would happen in the near future (for them at least) and after they had a long talk where all of them agreed that they could not, would not, live without you anymore they decided that the only way for you to be with them forever was to make you like them, to have you be a demon. That way you'd be safe in the Devildom - not that they'd stop protecting you - and you'd be bound to them for eternity, just like the pacts had bound them to you. But for a mortal to become a human, they had to die first.

Lucifer had cleared things with Diavolo - made him promise that once you died and came to hell, he'd make you into a demon (decidedly not mentioning that your death might happen sooner than the prince might expect) - and Satan took care of a poison that would make you die peacefully and painlessly in your sleep. From then on everything would be simple, your soul would come down to hell, that much was sure, you had made pacts with not one, not two, but all seven of the lords of hell, so there wasn't a way in the world that you'd end up in heaven.

That's what they had been so very sure of, but they didn't realize just how pure you were, how you had been able to keep your soul shining and clean even while surrounded by the worst of the worst, how you hadn't indulged in sin even while being surrounded by it. It might have been your celestial heritage or just your heart of goodness, but it seems the great father had his eyes on you and decided to give you another chance after your death. A new life as an angel - the same soul just elevated into a high, celestial position, and without memories about your mortal life. The brothers had no idea of your new angelic self, just mulling over the fact of how long it was taking you to make the track to hell, worrying that you might have been trapped in the mortal realm with unfinished business. It was Simeon who cleared it up for them, he had been in Celestia with Luke while they had ended your life, so when he appeared in the mansion, face white as a sheet and eyes filled with sadness, exclaiming that you were in Celestia now, that you had no memories, asking the brothers what had happened to you, why they hadn't been informed of your untimely demise. They improvised, exclaiming that you had died of some natural causes that unsuspectedly came with a mortal like you spending so much time in the Devildom, that they were in deep mourning and hadn't even gotten to contact your family yet. Simeon - too goodhearted for his own good - believed them, telling them that he'd mourn with them, but it was what he said before he left again that stuck in their mind: He'd take good care of your soul in Celestia.

No, they wouldn't let this happen. They'd do whatever they had to, whatever it took, to have you back in their midst again. A new plan formed, this one more destructive and with much more dire consequences, but they did not care anymore. Lucifer was again the one to get Diavolo's help but this time he was straightforward about it - he knew that he'd act on it with or without the prince's help. It was a surprise how quickly Diavolo agreed and how eager he was to help, it was a sign of his own ulterior motives, but having Diavolo on their side was the biggest trump card they could gain so Lucifer decided to keep that to himself.

Their plan would surely lead to another century, if not more, of animosities between the realms. It might even lead to another Celestial war, but the brothers were more than prepared to fight their former brethren if it was just to have you in their reach again. And so it was enacted ruthlessly and without hesitation. The seven of them along with Diavolo could easily summon an angel, even one as protected and new as you, and so when you arrived in the middle of their circle they were all too ready to embrace you tight enough to make sure you could never escape, the would have clipped your beautiful white wings - the same that Lillith had sprouted out of her back when she was alive and celestial - and would have buried your halo below the deepest ditch in the deepest sea, but they knew that that was not the end goal of their plan. Instead, Diavolo made you an offer. To join him. To become one of the rulers of hell, the eighth lord/lady of hell, and get a power beyond a simple angel's imagination. Of course, you declined, no self-respecting angel without any reason would agree to that, after all, angels were made, born, with the knowledge that the inhabitants of the Devildom were evil, the enemy.

Again, the brothers had expected you to decline, but they wanted to have at least offered it to you under these circumstances. They would get what they wanted one way or another though and so after a simple snap of Diavolo's fingers, Barbatos entered the room, carrying in his hand a small angel. He was holding him with his hand around his neck from behind and Luke was either unconscious or... you didn't want to think about what the or was. Of course, he was just sleeping from a potion in the cookies he had made with Barbatos earlier, during the baking session they had used to lure him down to the Devildom to work as their blackmail.

The ultimatum was clear. Agree, become one of them, and Luke would go free, or decline, go back to Celestia with the knowledge that the young angel, one of Michaels's very own pupils, had died while you could have stopped it. Had you retained your memories from your mortal life, you might have believed that they wouldn't have dared to hurt Luke, but even then you would have been wrong because there was nothing that was too far in their attempt to regain you by their side.

The goodness that had brought you into this situation in the first place was now also the reason for your decision. No way could you live with yourself knowing that you could've stopped Luke's death. And so you held out to shake Diavolo's hand, only for him to pull you towards him and kiss you deeply. The kiss was unexpected, but it turned out to be a welcomed distraction from the burning that started in your midst and widened out until it had reached every single part of your body. Your wings felt like they were made of pure fire as the feathers that were white as snow before turned into an ashen grey. The pain was almost as bad as the one in your temples where horns came out and curled backwards until they were horizontal to your head with a slight angle.

When the kiss - and the transformation - had ended the complete morph of your body took its toll as you fell right into Diavolo's arms. At that point Diavolo saw himself faced with a choice, he was so tempted to just take you with him - make you his partner like he knew you would one day be the moment he had given you your first kiss, now was the perfect chance, you were a demon like him now - but the brothers would surely wreak havoc up him and his kingdom if he did and he had more than enough time after all. People didn't expect him to be a patient man given his childish demeanour, but for you he was willing to wait decades, if not centuries, knowing that once he had you, he'd have you forever by his side. For now, he'd let the brothers take you home, coddle and care for you while they searched for ways to bring your memories back. They'd surely have their work cut out for them, after all - as Barbatos had explained after your transformation - as a result of a mix of celestial blood and the pacts you had with them during your time as a mortal, you were now the ultimate sin, an amalgamation of all of them: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, hunger and sloth.

A/N: My thirteenth entry into Yandere Writetober - based on the result of a poll I held - I hope you all liked this slightly longer and more experimentally written Friday the 13 'special'. If you did, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Look forward to tomorrow's entry 'castle'

[chaotic-iguana]

how about a five where Javi rejects the reader, so the reader like gets really sad, but one day Javi hears she is going on a date (is not true, Murphy made it up) and he rushed to her apartment and confesses and reader is like ?? What are you talking about, super angsty but super fluffy? Pleaseeee

Out of time | javier peña x f! reader 

summary: javi rejects reader. repents like the idiot he is. (i love him) he is a FOOL in love. fight me. 

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: rejection, angst and fluff, hurt and comfort basically, happy ending. 

A/N: i got you, anon. this promt is the perfect apology for the last one. repentance fr. love u ALL. let me know what you think. also nothing against “hippies” just giving murphy pov. i do however as an indian have a  bone to pick with fake white yoga gurus. it’s gotta be appropriation. 

masterlist

Javi had never been heartless before. Never been cruel before. Now, as you pointedly hunched over your desk in an effort to ignore the chortles and cheap jokes that kept sounding from the men crowded around his desk as they all stood around a nameless note someone -you- had slipped onto his desk. 

He laughed boisterously with them, before crumpling the paper in his fist and dropping it into the bin next to his chair. You refused to so much as raise your head and look his way, feeling the crushing wave of heartbreak sweeping through you. It wasn’t until you felt a tear on your cheek that you realised that you had started crying, and so you muttered an excuse about getting some coffee before rushing to the bathroom and sobbing in a closed stall. So much for Valentine’s day. 

It wasn’t until the end of the day, when you saw him walking your way in the parking lot, that you met his eyes. And you could see, with the set of his jaw; the arch of his brows, that he knew. Before you could scramble into your car, he was yelling after you. 

“Is your new hobby being extended to everyone or did I win the lucky draw? Cute note.” 

Oh, that bastard. 

You scoffed, looking him straight in the eye. “Call it a moment of weakness, Peña. Thought I felt something for you, and it was Valentine’s day. Pretty sure all I feel now is rage, you asshole.” 

A laugh from him. “Don’t be like that, hermosa. Let me know if you feel something between your legs for me, alright?”

Scowling, you turned from him and got into your car. You could have sworn he looked like a kicked puppy as you pulled out of the parking. These past few weeks, you had caught him looking at you more often. Finding excuses to touch you more often, too. A hand on your back, fingers accidentally grazing yours, his knee pressed against your thigh in Murphy’s backseat. Fucking idiot. You didn’t even know if you were madder at him or yourself. You know him. All of fucking Bogota knows him. God knows how you were foolish enough to think he felt anything except for between his legs. 

A few months go by, excruciatingly slowly. It’s as if time itself has decided to fuck with you. You miss his gaze on you, his hands, his smile, him. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Stopped looking at him even when he was in the same room, hardly spoke to him even if it was in the middle of a raid, declined Connie’s many many invitations to parties you knew he’d be at. It was just easier to pretend that February the 14th had been a completely normal day. You’re just tired of all of it. It would have been easier not to have said anything at all. 

What you were completely unaware of, however, was that you had a sneaky little shit for a partner. The fact that he had clocked what was going on immediately was completely unbeknownst to you. Both of you pining silently with what Steve dubbed “moony heart eyes”, the radio silence, and the fact that you had stopped talking to Connie just so you didn’t have to show up to her parties? Something had gone wrong. Initially, Steve thought that maybe Javi had made an unwanted move on you - and had damn near scuffed him to death - until he saw Javi’s eyes the next day. Haunted. It seemed that you had managed to take more out of the man than Escobar had. But you weren’t faring much better, either. Irritated and tired and grumbly all the time, refusing to so much as look in Javi’s direction. But you both were pretty much just staying out of each other’s ways, not causing any trouble, so he let it go. For now. 

But then Steve and Javi had to chase a lead down together, and Javi introduced him to an informant who - with a little imagination - looked like your spitting image. The same hair, terrifying similar voice, and a lopsided grin, just like yours. And it clicked. The day that had started it all, and the “anonymous” note Javi had gotten. The idiocy with which you both had handled the situation made him want to run unarmed into a sicario’s den, but he came up with another idea instead. 

Just before a weekend he knew on good authority that you had no plans except for lounging in bed, he started nudging and hinting to Javi the randomest shit about you. Just to reignite the interest. Almost like, you know - bait. 

“Man, her hair looks good. I wonder if she got it done?”

“Hey Peña, d’ya reckon that’s a new skirt? Connie’d kill me if I didn’t ask where from”

“Javi - look - she got her nails done. Before an op? Doesn’t that get a bit…impractical? Hey, I’m jus’ asking.” 

Each time, Steve was met with an irritated eyeroll, scoff, or just flat-out ignored. But around midnight on Friday, he ‘bust out the big guns’, so to speak, making an offhanded comment while jutting his chin out in the direction of your chair. 

“Good thing she left early. Never woulda made it to the date tomorrow mornin’ otherwise.”

Which, instead of being met with the usual options, was met with Javi’s brain almost short circuiting. The sight of his friend, gaping like a fish as his eyes practically bulged out of his head while he stammered out the easiest one-syllable word in the English language is one Steve can never forget. Or let Javi forget, either. 

“W-wha-what?”

And so, like the most devious matchmaker on the planet, Steve proceeded to make up some utter bullshit about a boy he’d supposedly seen you around with, one that had apparently asked you out tonight to meet him for ‘brunch’ tomorrow. Just to fuck with Javi, he made the guy from LA, and a tourist. And white. And the kinda hippie who did yoga and spoke about his newly-discovered chakras all the time. 

Javier could feel the blind panic clawing at his chest, his heart threatening to burst. He didn’t know exactly why, but he had hated every single second you hadn’t spoken to him. Laughed at his jokes. Flashed him your smile, even the sarcastic one. He missed your quips and the way you groaned and swore at him when he pissed you off. He’d convinced himself he could live with that. But this? A date with some idiot he knew wouldn’t treat you right? He couldn’t understand his own feelings compelling him to pack up in a frenzy, ignore Steve’s pointed laugh, scramble into his car and drive straight to your apartment. He didn’t even stop to smooth his hair back, or fix the wrinkles in his shirt from slumping in it all day. No, all that mattered to him in that moment was you. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he felt the way he did. He’d just been under the illusion that ignoring it would make it go away, but it hadn’t. He had to fix this now. 

Standing on your doorstep, Javi blinked for a second while marveling at how fast that drive had been - he’d barely registered doing anything since he heard the word date come out of Steve’s mouth. Hesitation clamped a hand over his mouth, his body, and he stood frozen, unsure of whether to knock or just turn around. But if not now, never, right? And who knew how long he would live? Wasn’t this a time he should be getting what he wants, spending time with the people he…loves? 

Before he could overthink himself out of doing it, Javi raised his fist and rapped it against your door, twice. And when you opened the door, rubbing your eyes and standing there in your sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, it took a second for his brain to catch up. It wasn’t until you were squinting at him, then stumbling over nothing as your eyes widened that he realised where he was. The hurt on your face in the split second before you moved to close the door had him jamming his foot in the doorframe. 

“Just hear me out, hermosa. I promise if you want me to fuck off after that, I will.” 

After waiting for you to nod and open your door wordlessly, he stalked after you, further into your apartment, stunned by how homely it was. The walls had pictures of you and other people laughing, of art and paintings and sketches that seemed to all have been done by the same person; the sofa was a rich brown leather and the fluffy throw on it just a shade lighter. Everything was carefully coordinated, in color and texture, and he couldn’t help but note the contrast. Some of his stuff was still in boxes. He’d been in Colombia for longer than you, and his stuff was still in boxes. The difference was laughable. 

But when he heard a sniffle from ahead, he found himself walking faster - practically walking into you - before he was planting his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to him, and then gripping the sides of your arms as if they were his salvation. His eyes searched yours, and the heartbreak he found as you tried to look away threatened to make his knees buckle. So he hooked an index finger under your chin to tilt your head up to him, resting his forehead against yours. Moving his thumb to smooth out the furrow in your brow, he huffed at the stubborn frown that refused to budge. 

“I am sorry. I truly am. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to react. I want you, and I did then, too. But I just…didn’t think it was real. I swear I thought you were joking at first. It’s why I let the guys see. Then I saw you in the parking lot, and you were actually sad, and I just panicked. I just don’t think I was ready back then. But I swear to God, I can’t bear another six months of the cold shoulder. I love you, you know. I’ve just been too much of an idiot to realise it.” 

For a whole minute, you just stare at him unblinkingly. Then, suddenly, your face crumples, limbs slackening in his grip. He holds you through it, letting you sob into his chest as he coos reassurances and apologies to you until you pull back from his embrace to look at him questioningly once more. 

“Why now?” Your words make Javi smile, and he cocks a brow at you. 

“You really thought I’d let that idiot take you out before I told you how I feel?” 

You look even more confused now, which is confusing him in turn. 

“Wait, what idiot?” There’s no twinkle in your eye - no smirk tugging at your lips. Not a joke. 

“The one who…asked you out?” Javi cocks his head at you, watching your frown deepen. 

“Who?” The absolute befuddlement on your face is on the verge of making him snigger, and he feels his lips twitching already. 

“The-does Murphy know? That you weren’t busy tonight?” His overworked mind supplies the answer to him, and he has never more in his life wanted to punch and hug his other partner simultaneously. 

“Oh, yeah. He asked cause Connie wanted to know if she could come over? I guess she must have gotten caught- oh. Oh.” Javi gives you a moment to reach the same conclusion he did, and both of you end up bursting out in laughter at the same time. 

But Steve was the one with the biggest grin when, come Monday morning, a bottle of premium whiskey and a brand new watch sat on his desk with a little note: 

Well played, motherfucker. 

What is it they say about couples adopting each other’s habits when they get into a relationship? Javi’d picked up your so-called hobbies within a weekend. 

You ended up spending enough time with each other to pick up everything else, too. Call it cliché, but atleast you weren’t boring. Or, you know, going on dates with imaginary guys that existed only in Steve’s extremely limited imagination. Win-win. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @ nostalxgic, @sscorpiiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk dividers by @reveriesources

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 16

Okay okay okay, things are finally beginning to wind down now.

Premise: Doing anything possible to ease the guilt

Words: 2,334

Music Inspirations: Dear God - Avenged Sevenfold

~~~Repentance~~~

               I can see that smile, the word “good bye” fresh off those endearing lips like a stake through the chest. This is our last moment together; I’ll never have this love again. With the mysterious visitor goes my heart and I’ll be alone again.

               Please don’t leave. I love you.

               Glittering eyes, welling with water, spare one last fleeting glance before turning to the portal to another world. That’s where I focus—the realm beyond my own. But for all I try, I can only see the one leaving me behind.

               Desperately, I cling to that vision, grasping at threads. Pain surges through every nerve in my arm like electricity. In my hand sparks my magic, struggling to manifest the door to a place I’ve never known. Meanwhile, the darkness crawls between my fingers, bleeding across my hand not unlike the wound in my heart.

               “That’s enough.”

               Ignoring those words, I force more magic to my fingers, reaching farther than I ever have. I have to open this door.

               A grip on my arm spikes the pain, tearing me from the memory as my eyes snap open.

               The dragon is displeased, but more so, he appears concerned. “I said that’s enough.”

               Exhaustion brings me to the floor, encouraged by the agony that’s consumed my hand.

               “Are you alright?” Malleus asks, kneeling beside me. His gentle touch aggravates the infestation as he investigates the malady on my arm.

               “I’m okay,” I murmur, feeling the sweat drip down my back.

               “You went too far. It’ll be weeks before this heals.”

               “It’s fine. Just give me five minutes and we can try again.”

               His response is immediate. “No.”

               “Mall—”

               “We’re done for today.” His hand sneaks the crystal from the grasp of my unmarred hand.

               A knock draws the king’s attention where the door allows Silver inside.

               “My lord—oh. Is now a bad time?”

               “No. We’ve just finished.”

               “Uh, okay. There’s a guest for you in the foyer.”

               His dark brows furrow. “Very well. Can you help here?”

               “Yes sir.”

               Malleus looks back down at me. “Go rest. No more magic today.”

               I sigh. “Fine.”

               His parting gesture is a gentle hand atop my head before he takes his leave. Silver, on the other hand, hurries forward.

               “Can you stand?”

               “Not very well. Sorry.”

               “That’s okay.”

               I’m not proud being unable to support my own weight, but I accept Silver’s assistance. He carefully helps me through the scattered collection of gems, no longer the beautiful, gleaming rainbow it had been. Each and every one had been overwhelmed with the same blight that I had been. I suppose Malleus had been right in that we were done for the day.

               On my insistence, Silver’s help ends at the door to my room. This leaves me to ruminate as I clean up.

               Though the memoric gem is no longer in my possession, its secrets are already mine. All the heartbreak and sorrow that Malleus felt in that moment the prefect left also belong to me now. While I don’t think it’s strong enough for the task at hand, it’s all too easy to empathize with that loss.

               On a superficial level, I’m finding it more difficult to hide the struggles as of late. I can’t just sit around, lest the grief creep up on me. However no amount of scrubbing will remove the ink stains on my skin. Time is going to force me into the company of my own thoughts, it seems.

               When I’m dry, dressed, and contemplating what to do now, I hear the second knock of the day.

               “Come in.”

               Silver is once again the messenger. “Our guest is waiting for you in the study.”

               My brows furrow. “For me? What happened to Malleus?”

               “It seems they’re done talking, but now your presence has been requested.”

               Well, I had no other plans for my time. “Very well.”

               Legs protest, forcing me to rely on Silver once or twice, but I inevitably reach my destination.

               “Would you like me join you?” my escort offers.

               I give him a glance. “They spoke with Malleus first?”

               “Yes.”

               “Then I should be fine. Thank you.”

               His head dips, but Silver allows me to enter the study on my own.

               Honestly, I shouldn’t be that surprised to see who’s waiting for me. I’m slightly surprised that he spoke to Malleus first, but I can’t think of anyone else who would come asking for me. Even so, I’m so very nervous. I don’t know what he wants; this could be our chance at mending things. It could also simply be our final goodbyes. Plus, there’s still always that chance he simply ends me. Anything could happen.

               “You’re a long way from home—” I bend at the waist, my clean hand extended in reverence. “—Prince Leona.”

               From his spot leaned against the window, the lion’s piercing gaze stares me down.

               “And you live here in the castle but still kept me waiting.”

               I straighten up, trying to ignore the screaming in my heart. “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting guests and had been indisposed when your request came. Silver delivered it as soon as he was able.”

               His chest rises with a huff. “Whatever.”

               Speaking past the lump building in my throat, my voice is surprisingly even. “What can I do for you, your highness?”

               He scoffs, strolling around the desk. “’Your highness.’ Look at you bein’ all proper. Just like that pathetic little mouse I found sulking on a ballroom balcony.”

               He’s not wrong. “Propriety is recommended when interacting with royalty such as yourself.”

               That doesn’t seem to be the response he was looking for. But as Leona opens his mouth to insult me again, his sight zeroes in on my hand. His grip reigniting the sting, Leona lifts the blot-infected hand. My instant reaction is to jerk away but proves futile.

               “What’s this?” Anger simmers in his demand.

               I choose my words carefully. “An unfortunate incident.”

               “Did he make you do this? Is he forcing you?”

               “No.” This time, he lets go when I pull back. “It was an experiment gone wrong but it’s fine.”

               “Bullshit it’s fine!”

               “Leona, I’m okay,” I insist.

               “Did he ever tell you what it’s like to overblot?! How every terrible memory replays in your head while the blot chokes you?! How much it hurts as the demon sucks the life right outta you?!”

               “It can’t hurt any more than this!”

               Fuck.

               Leona’s anger slips and, for the first time ever, he seems to feel sorry for me. That’s not what I wanted. I don’t deserve that, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do now.

               I glance to my blackened palm. “I…I know I put you through hell, so this misery is the least I deserve. But not everyone has to suffer for what I did. And I just want to help…someone, anyone, get out of this pit of despair I dug. So if it takes a little blot to make even the smallest amends, that’s what I’m going to do.” A deep breath suppresses the despair bubbling up. “In saying that, if there’s anything you need, all you have to do is to ask.”

               That pity gnaws at me and I wish he’d just stop.

               “So everything we did—you regret it?”

               For the first time in months, laughter rattles my chest, weak as it may be. “Only the times we were apart.”

               There’s silence, the acceptance of my consequences seeping into my bones. Whatever comes next, I’m ready.

               Except for what comes next.

               Fingers tilt my chin and the moment my head rises is the moment he takes me. Surprise hits my brain like brick wall though my body immediately conforms to his rhythm. I remember the taste of his desire, but its grown—filled out with something honest that I so desperately need. His grip clenches at my back, arms pulling me against him flush. It exposes the excitement of his heart, calling out for me.

               That familiar happiness washes over me, bringing tears to my eyes. I never thought I’d feel this love again.

               Cautiously, hesitantly, Leona lets the kiss break. His breath comes forcefully slow as if he expects me to just vanish.

               “You wanna make amends?” This time, far softer, he raises my stricken hand. “Don’t do this. I don’t care what it is or what he wants. Don’t.”

               I soak in his request. “I can’t just give up.”

               “Then find another way.” Gently, his forehead lays against mine. “This is the last way you’ll want to do anything. Trust me.”

               There’s no argument I can bring myself to raise. “Okay.”

               Relief visible, Leona buries his face in my shoulder. That’s when it occurs to me.

               “Why did you come here?”

               His body goes rigid in my arms.

               “Leona?”

               Straightening up, the lion peers down. He wears the same look he wore on my wedding day: an uncertain anxiety. His gaze averts and those ears lie flat in his mane.

               “All this fucked up shit happened because of me and my grudge. I blamed you, but it was my own fault. And I’m sorry. That doesn’t change what happened though—I love you.” It’s surprising to see that his courage doesn’t come so easy, his breath shuddering. “But none of that can’t happen again. If you choose to stay with him, that’s it. I’ll leave now and we’ll never see each other again.”

               I want so badly to say something, but more than that, I want to know where this is going.

               “So I came to give you a choice.”

               From his pocket, Leona produces a black box that he places in my hands. Pounding in my chest, it feels like my heart is trying to escape with my imagination. Trembling fingers carefully pry the hinges back to prove that it’s not fiction. Nestled in the velvet is a black band striped with two golden rings. Between the gold is a stripe of black stone and gold leaf. It’s the simplicity that makes it beautiful but what it means is far more important.

               His warm palms cup my hands beneath the box. Softer than ever before, Leona nearly begs me.

               “Marry me. Let’s get out of here. We can start planning now or we can run away. I don’t care what we do, I just—”

               My brain is still stuck on the first two words. “Yes.”

               At first there’s disbelief—as if he expected much more resistance. Then it cracks. It’s been so long since I’ve seen that smile, but my heart skips and immediately, I break into a teary smile. Leona’s arms take me in, enveloping me in the love I could never forget. Meanwhile, his face brushes past mine, greedy for all the contact he’s been neglected. That quickly devolves into another kiss and then a few more. Only his hasty thoughts have the power to break through his excitement now.

               “I need to call Ruggie. We’ll need to find you a lawyer to divorce that stupid lizard and get you moved to Sunrise City. I—”

               “Leona.”

               My interruption surprisingly causes him to pause.

               “We’re already divorced.”

               He blinks once. Twice. “What?”

               “Malleus and I had a talk and we realized that we weren’t really compatible. Actually, we were both miserable, so we agreed to an amicable divorce. We’re just waiting to announce it.”

               The gears behind his eyes turn, building tension that rises in his shoulders.

               “I threatened that lizard for nothing.”

               “WHAT?!”

               “That’s why he was laughing! That bastard!”

               I wave my hands frantically. “Wait! You threatened Malleus!”

               “Well yeah! I mean, after I said sorry, I told him what I was gonna do and he’d have to live with the choice! Then that bastard laughed at me and wished me luck!”

               “And you didn’t take that as a sign?!”

               “I took it as a challenge! How was I supposed to know you were already divorced?!”

               A hand meets my forehead. “For Seven’s sake.”

               From behind my palm, a laugh escapes me.

               “Great. Now you’re laughing. I’m leaving.”

               “No!” I snag his hand as he tries to leave. “No no, I’m just…I’m delighted to know you would threaten a centuries-old fae for me.”

               “Nope. Not helping.”

               I have to pull against him. “Okay okay! I’m sorry. You’re the most amazing person in the world.” He glares down at me with skepticism. “You’re clever and strong and gorgeous. I’m head over heels for you and so exceptionally lucky that you’re giving me a second chance.”

               “Alright, now you’re layin’ it on a little thick.”

               “And yet I mean every word. Shall I go on?”

               Though his eyes roll, I notice a tint of pink to his nose. “Maybe later. So are you allowed to start wearing that? Or is it gonna get you and the lizard king in trouble?”

               I close the velvet box in my hand. “I’ll speak with Malleus and our advisor about publicly disclosing our separation. Until then, it’s probably best not to stir up trouble.”

               “Fine. How long have you been divorced?”

               “A least a few months now.”

               “And you didn’t say anything?”

               I shrug. “We were advised not to say anything yet and I didn’t get a chance. Besides, I doubt it would’ve made any difference at the time. After that, Malleus and I decided not to make any announcements until we worked out a few things. There was no use creating drama for futures we couldn’t guarantee.”

               “What do you mean?”

               I wiggle my achy fingers. “I’ll tell you about it later.” My face presses into his chest, knowing that this is exactly where I’m meant to be. A familiar lump in my throat threatens to break my voice. “For now, this is all I want. I missed you so much.”

               His sigh is a mockery of the most burdened, inconvenienced man in the world. But his arms find their way around me in turn. I truly am lucky.

               “I missed you too.”

~~~~~

Part 17

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist