#but we’re not doing that either and I could have gone to target like I wanted to also but I didn’t want to leave and go anywhere bc I didn’t | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mojogojocasahouse · 7 months ago

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Just in Time Part II

Satoru Gojo x f!reader (Principal Gakuganji's daughter)

On the eve of a wedding of your father's arrangement, you call upon your reliable yet agitating old flame Satoru Gojo in an act of desperation and defiance

words: 6.5k series content: infidelity (in an arranged marriage so does that even count?), angst, smut, unprotected p in v, oral m & f-receiving, face fucking, rough sex, minor choking, spit kink, creampie, jealous!Gojo, protective!Gojo (moreso in part ii), minor degradation 18+ only

Part I

You follow the sound out into the cool summer morning, Satoru leaning back against the railing with his head hung. He’s in shorts and an unzipped hoodie, his snowy locks still mussed from his pillow. He raises his eyes when he hears the door opening, blinking the agony from his eyes away before he smiles. Had you not been paying attention you’d have missed the switch.

“Go sit in the bedroom and stay there,” Satoru instructs, turning you by the shoulder and gently shoving you toward his room, “Actually, lock yourself in the bathroom or something…Okay, or just stand there…”

Fear has frozen you in place, but when he pushes down on your head you drop to the floor in a heap, leaning back against the counter in the middle of the kitchen as a call of your name on the other side of the door signifies the worst has come to pass. You hear Satoru mutter ‘Good enough, I guess,’ before he snaps his jovial, mischievous persona back into place, his sing-song greeting to your father outside barely audible just as the hinges close behind him. It takes you too long to drag yourself across the sleek wooden floor and hover your ear against the same place you’d been pressed to in very different circumstances earlier that night.

“I know she’s in there you insolent brat!” That’s your father’s voice, sounding as furious as you’ve ever heard him.

“Are you going senile in your old age?” Satoru’s wit never fails him, “We’re gonna have to strip you of that fancy position if you can’t keep your thoughts straight. I think I could be a principal, don’t you? Not that I really want to go to Kyoto but…”

The sound of blood spattering against a wall proves there’s a third out there with them, Satoru’s taunting laugh confirming he’d been the target of a blood manipulation technique.

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on, Gramps. Call off your little attack dog, you know it’s pointless. Unless you forgot that too…”

“She’s getting married tomorrow and this nonsense that’s gone on for too long already is finished! Stop harboring her like there’s anything you can do, what’s done is done.”

“But it isn’t done, is it?” The change in his tone is almost jarring. It’s menacing now, low and rumbling even through the barrier you're still pressed against.

“You have nothing to offer–”

“Ha! Don’t I? Does that shriveled raisin rattling around inside your skull not remember? I AM the Gojo clan. It’s all me! And no offense to Kamo’s cute little squirt gun technique, but we all know who’s winning this fight, right?”

It’s all murmurs that follow, the wood too thick to allow any legible words no matter how hard you press your ear against it. You fight the urge to wrench open the door…

“You know, Gakuganji,” you can hear Satoru respond after 30 seconds of eternity, his tone once again light and carefree, “A smart man would have tried to bleed me dry as a 15-year-old kid when you caught me sneaking out of her room at that first Exchange Event.”

“It didn’t matter. What could you give me, Gojo?”

“Now? Not a damn thing! And let’s be honest, probably not back then either. You’ve always been a slimeball. Go home, old man. You lost. No seat for you at the round table.”

“There’s nothing you can do-“

“You have ten seconds to leave, I don’t think I need to warn you about what happens if you don’t.”

The door knocks you flat onto the floor when he reenters the house, his hands quickly coming to right you as he drops to his knees. You’re just trying to keep yourself from crying, the pale stretch of his bare chest at your eye level and it takes every ounce of your waning self-control not to break down into him. His hands are warm and the arm’s length distance feels like miles, and he’s the only thing you want. But he’s something you can’t have.

When he’s certain you’re steady he jumps back to his feet, grabs his phone, and walks to peek out the window to ensure your unexpected visitors are gone. A flash of headlights flickers against the wall and you sigh in relief, your body still frozen in place.

“Nanami!” Gojo greets, phone pressed to his ear, “Yeah…yeah…No, I don’t need a ride … That happened one time six years ago! … Shut uuuup…No…Wai-wai-wait! I need something! … It’s important! … Is that apartment in your building still available? … It’s not for me…It’s not for me! … I got baby Gakuganji out, she needs a place… Okay, what about that other place… Uh-huuuh… Yes… No, I’ll just cover the year… Yeah, upfront… Here tonight… No, my place in the city… I’m staying up… Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“You’re not paying for-” you begin to argue when you’re certain he’s hung up.

“I didn’t ask,” he quickly cuts you off, “Take the bedroom, I’ll stay out here. One of good ol’ Kento Nanami’s suit buddies is a building manager, says he might have a place. No promises the Kamo clan will let me into their little fortress to get your stuff, but I’m gonna call Yaga to see if he can swindle a deal.”

The typically childish, flippant Satoru was gone, and in his place was the intelligent, efficient man that so very few saw, including yourself. He was a strategizer, calculating and quick-witted not only with his sarcastic words, but solutions, too. In ten minutes he’d already freed you of your shackles and found you an alternative path; could you have just asked him for help years ago and gotten this same response?

“Get some sleep,” he urges again, lifting his phone back to his ear for his next call, “Nothing will happen tonight… Yaga, need a favor!”

His bed feels like quicksand as you settle beneath the silky sheets and plush blankets. Everything smells like him from the pillows and the shirt you wear to your skin that he scrubbed clean with a touch so gentle it had sent ripples down your spine. You can hear him still murmuring in the living room, the conversation growing heated and you want to run to tell him you’re not worth this trouble. Nine years as an intermittent visitor to his bed doesn’t qualify you for this, he should have just surrendered you to the men at the door.

“They tracked her phone!” He’d said that loud enough you were able to hear it clearly.

Has there been any one moment of your life where you had control? All this time you’d thought your moments with Satoru had been yours and yours alone, a secret kept between the two of you, but it wasn’t. Your father had known all along and let it continue, and you knew that it wasn’t for your benefit. The trip down memory lane leaves you sobbing into your hands, all the emotions of the night cresting over your weakening composure. You do all you can to keep quiet, choking and sputtering on the wails that want to break free, you can’t show weakness. Not now, not ever.

Even in your best attempts at discretion, you’re still too loud to hear the door slowly open, so when a long, slender body curls behind you it comes as a complete surprise. Satoru’s arm wraps tightly around your middle, his face notching into the curve of your shoulder.

Tears of despair turn into those of relief, your fingers threading with his on your stomach before you clutch his hand to your aching chest like a child’s teddy bear. It’s big enough to be one. Your muscles ache from tension, your resolve beginning to crack, and when he nuzzles his thin, pointed nose against your skin you finally lose the battle.

He holds you as you sob, the embarrassment, shame, and fear you felt running down your face. You can’t make out whatever he’s whispering in your ear but you swear it sounds like a pleading ‘stop’, and you can feel the way his arm pulls you even closer, your knuckles going white as you tighten your own grip. The burning in your throat is made worse with every gasping breath, and you can’t tell if it’s your body quivering or his until his palm swallows your jaw whole and pulls your chin up to face him.

The salt of your tears is bitter in a desperate kiss, his tongue coated with what had soaked your lips. There’s nothing gentle about his movements, they’re frantic and hard, the shock of his desperation enough to snap you back to reality. It’s him who’s trembling, his brow knit tightly for reasons you don’t and will likely never know.

“Stay…” you choke, throat thick with sorrow and strife, the thought of him leaving you in his bed alone dropping heavily into your stomach like a stone, “Please.”

“Sure,” he agrees, pecking at your lips again at a drastically softer pace.

Despite your turmoil, you doze off quickly. His embrace is an oasis, the feathering kisses he leaves along your neck, shoulder, and in the hollow behind your ear blooming like flowers and spreading their vivid warmth until you slip beneath the weight of sleep. He greets you here as he often does, the life you’d built in your dreams welcoming you.

It’s still dark when your eyes snap open, an arm pulling you tighter into a searing cocoon when your body jolts. Your long-held fantasy has burned to ash and crumbled into a nightmare, the image of white hair billowing in the breeze as tears ran from crystal blue eyes still painted behind your eyes.

“Toru?” you whisper as your fingers graze along the soft, smooth skin locking you in place.

“Hmm?” he hums, his tired voice like a balm.

“Are you here?” It’s delirium fogging your train of thoughts, words your mind has fabricated still echoing.

“Where else would I be?”

“Please stay…” You’re not even responding to him at this point, exhaustion has taken hold once again and thrown you right back into the fire. “Toru…”

The sun is blinding when you wake again, the bed cold and empty. A toothbrush is sitting on the bathroom counter when you wander in, a fresh set of shorts and a shirt that will be far too large for you perched on a shelf. Who knew Satoru could be such a gracious host?

There’s no sign of the man in the question even when you make your way to the living area save a mug of half-drank coffee sitting on an end table near the sliding glass doors leading out to a balcony. When you turn towards the kitchen, you spot another mug set out by the coffee maker, one for you, and that sinking feeling in your chest that had woken you up in the early hours of the morning returns.

“Then do something!” a distant voice shouts, “Do something!”

“Morning,” he greets in a jovial tone you know is a lie, “I left you a mug—“

“I know,” you cut him off, and here in the light of a new day, you realize something you’d known all along.

You’re in love with him.

The pain of that admittance is freeing. He’s cast in a warm orange glow looking every bit as ethereal as he was, and you press your cheek to the patch of sun shining on his chest, wrapping your arms around his slim waist and stealing this moment with him knowing it very well may be the last. His arms lock around you faster than your hands can knot at the small of his back, there is no hesitation, not even enough time to consider a different course of action, and when he notches your head beneath his chin and sighs, your mind goes quiet.

You’ll stay here as long as he allows it. Five minutes, an hour, it doesn’t matter. This feels good, it feels safe…

I love you, I love you, I love you… It’s like a mantra, and while you don’t dare speak it you hope the message gets to him somehow. Maybe in the tightness of your hold, the tension from your efforts, or the shallowness of your breath. The world is still quiet, giving you enough peace to soak this in. There’s no blaring of car horns or busy conversations floating into the sky to disrupt you, it’s just the steady thrum of his heart beating. You’re positive this is the first time anyone has just…held you like this.

When he pulls away you try to hide your disdain for the distance he creates, your eyes are still closed when he tips your face up towards him with the side of his pointer finger.

He catches you mid-breath in a kiss harder than you expect after just waking up. You can feel his failed restraint, it’s been years since you’ve welcomed a new day together, lonely nights after long taxi rides home have been the norm. Two hands grip behind your knees and hoist you upwards, your arms slipping around his neck as his tongue drags along your lower lip, urging your mouth open and a whine to slip free.

There are a thousand reasons to stop him, but none of them matter right now. He’s so warm and solid, his jaw slightly rough with stubble too pale to see. A smile spreads across his face when he finally catches himself in his frenzy, slowing his frantic pace to something much more gentle and languid.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he purrs into your mouth, sliding his tongue over your own before you can respond, “I want crepes.”

The sun disappears from behind your eyelids, and you feel the cool surface of his kitchen counter as he sets you on top of it. With free hands, he explores the soft stretch of your legs, slipping between them as you continue to tug at his lips greedily. The clock hasn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but the ache settling into your core is beginning to burn. There was something so pathetically irresistible about seeing him so comfortable, so unguarded, it felt like you weren’t just a visitor to his bed. And that was a dangerous precipice to be standing on.

“Are you always so needy in the morning?” he laughs against your throat, a whine slipping free from his tease, “This what I’ve been missing out on?”

When his tongue swipes over your searing skin, your fingers lock into his hair as he explores the throat you bare to him. It’s those open-mouthed, lingering tastes that he tortures you with that have your hips flicking in search of friction, so he gives you his thigh, pulling you down to perch on it and dragging you over the slim, firm muscle. You know you look desperate and unkempt, but he keeps you moving enough to have you spasming as you find release and go lax in his hold.

“So…” he practically sings, a lilt of conceit in his tone, “Crepes?”

“It’s too early for crepes,” you pant, confused by his choice of a morning meal.

“Pfft, for you maybe! You want any or no?”

After dressing in a hoodie and sweatpants, Satoru leaves with a quick peck to your forehead, promising to be quick before the door clicks and locks behind him. Seconds later, a fluffy head of white hair pokes back in, his keys still rattling in the lock.

“Don’t use your phone,” he instructs, “Or open the door.”

You passed the time tidying the space up. There isn’t much that needs to be done, but you get into a steady rhythm that you’re all too familiar with, wiping down counters, picking up laundry, and you almost make the mistake of leaving the apartment to take out the trash before remembering his warning to not open the door.

As you begin to wipe down the bathroom, the sharp scent of the cleaner burning at your nose, you realize the ease he’d infused into you this morning has all but dried up. You watch as your hand trembles around the rag, a terrified reflection coming into view as you circle the white foam off the glass, revealing the truth of what lies beneath the crumbling facade.

“What are you doing?” a smooth voice asks from behind you, causing you to yelp and your heart to skip a beat, “Are you cleaning my bathroom?”

“Uh…” you stammer, still reeling from the shock, “Yeah.”

“Don’t… You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh. I’m sorry–”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry.”

With that he walks off, yelling over his shoulder that food was here and to hurry up before it got cold. You’d become so accustomed to being scolded for not being busy tidying something up that having him go and do the opposite had thrown you for a loop. When your own house had been too clean to keep you working, you’d been sent somewhere else to help, your existence nothing more than a housemaid for the Kamo clan. You’re own fault, you’d been told, with such a useless cursed technique what else would there be for you to do?

“C’mon!” he calls, “I’m being nice and waiting!”

Where a pile of cream-filled crepes sat in front of Satoru, a much more normal option was beside his on the table, a paper bag sitting on the couch in front of it. He paid you no mind as you cautiously pulled the bag towards you, peering inside to find a dress and jacket that cost far too much money.

“Satoru–” you scolded, squashing the leap your heart did into your throat, “I can’t pay–”

“Didn’t ask you to,” he cut off again, “You can’t go out in that.”

Right. You’re going to see an apartment today. Suddenly, what little appetite you’d mustered was gone, but you slink down onto the couch anyway, trying to eat as much as you can with a boulder in your stomach.

“What’s a’matter?” he asks with a full mouth, “I thought you liked that place.”

Adding a heaping pile of guilt to what you were already carrying threatened to shatter you, but you set a smile on your face and force the food down. His knee rests against yours, his long legs spread wide, his focus honed on his phone as he types away with one thumb. The furrow of his brow has you wondering if it’s just more trouble you’re causing him, technically now with clothes proper enough to be seen in public wearing, you could leave him free of whatever burden you’d inadvertently placed on his shoulders.

When his phone begins to vibrate with a call, he throws his overly sweetened crepe back onto its wrapping and wipes his hands on his shorts, greeting whoever it is with a cheekful of whipped cream and dough.

“If you’re calling me with more shit news…oh really!? So kind of him…I’d love to hear how that conversation went…Tell me…It is important…It is…Because I said it is…God damnit, Yaga!...”

The next bit of the conversation even you could hear thanks to tempers flaring and voices rising: “He said she’s your problem now.”

You can’t leave the apartment fast enough, even in nothing but Satoru’s baggy clothes. He yells at you to wait as you run to the door, circling down the stairs as fast as you can with tears dripping down your face. When you make it out onto the sidewalk, a solid chest and two long arms pull you in immediately, and you don’t need to see the person’s face to know exactly who it is. It’s easy to forget what he’s truly capable of. He probably leapt right off the balcony.

“I’m too tired for this,” he sighs, the agitation he was masking slipping through, “Go inside. Please.”

“No,” you argue, trying to shove him away, his hands easily catching yours and trapping them in cuffs of long, dexterous fingers.

“I just want to sleep for two fucking hours! Please, go inside!”

“You’re free to go–”

“Oh my God! Shut up already!”

It’s embarrassing how easily he hoists you over his shoulder like a tantruming child and carries you inside, sitting you on the couch and flopping down beside you, his head falling into your lap like it was a pillow.

“You piss me off,” he mumbles, curling an arm around you as his eyes drift closed, “I never do anything I don’t wanna do. Thought you knew that by now.”

A lingering drop falls from your cheek into his still tangled hair, your fingers instinctively moving to swipe it away but instead digging deeper, scraping against his scalp soothingly. He rumbles in appreciation, already drifting off, and so you continue. The steady, slow breaths exhaled through parted lips assure you he’s getting the sleep he desperately needs. You know he’d stayed awake all night anticipating another uninvited guest to his door, and who knows if he’d even managed the night before. He claimed he never slept on missions, unable to relax enough to find even a semblance of peace away from home.

Three hours later, he hasn’t moved. A small braid sits across his temple, keeping some of the strands that had been falling into his eyes neatly twisted away. You’ve barely been able to keep your eyes off of him, your wandering touch having moved from his hair to trace the sharp features of his face ever-so-gently to not wake him.

“I love you,” you whisper to ears that can’t hear you, hoping it alleviates the weight bearing down on your chest. It doesn’t.

You can’t see him again. At this point, being with him only has the potential to throw you deeper into this void you’re hurtling down. After seeing this apartment, you’ll find a hotel and take the weight of your problems off his shoulders. You know he has more than enough of his own to handle, sometimes you can’t help but think it’s a miracle he’s still standing.

The thought makes your chest tighten, and it’s simply more evidence this cord needs to be cut. He’s got his little black book and you’re simply just another number. You’re not even fun anymore, the baggage you carry is too much to bear to still be considered a good time. Whatever responsibility he feels for you is displaced, just because it all blew up right outside his front door doesn’t make this—you—his problem.

“Hmmm,” he hums twenty minutes later, his face nuzzling down into your legs as his arms around you tighten, “What time is it?”

“Two-ish…” you reply, trying to keep your voice level, but when his fingers pull up the hem of his shirt you’re wearing and his lips press softly against your stomach there’s no helping the sharp gasp that betrays you.

Within seconds he’s twisted you onto your back against the armrest, greedy hands tugging your borrowed shorts still loosely hanging off your hips down and off. White hair fills your fists as your spine arches off the couch, Satoru’s lips locking around your clit and suckling hard. All thoughts of never seeing him again are quickly thrown out the window. His palms hold your thighs spread wide as his silver tongue finally tastes what you’d denied him last night. He’s the only man who ever has, and he’s the only one you ever want to.

His thin, sharp nose drags over your clit as he laps at your entrance, your legs begging to clamp down around his ears as searing heat boils in your belly. It’s pathetic how you’re already trembling, but it only spurs him on, your eager response to his affections is always his greatest motivation. Despite his tongue being buried deep, it isn’t enough. You still feel so empty and your body instinctively asks–begs–for more by rolling your hips over his face, searching for anything to satiate the hunger. There is no surrender in his appetite, however. In a battle of wills, he always comes out on top, and today is no exception.

“You taste so good,” he hums against your soaked core, half-drunk on nothing but you.

“Please,” you whine, keening when he teases your back entrance with a taunting flick.

“M’gonna take care of you.”

Something foreign and tranquil washes over you in a steady wave, and Satoru immediately pauses when you go slack beneath him and sink into the plush material of the couch. As he presses his lips in a reverent trail from your hip to your throat, pushing the baggy shirt you’re wearing up to clear his path, you relax even further.

You trust him. You love him.

Your fingers are still locked in his hair when you hear his quiet request beneath your ear: “Can I?”

It’s such a stupid, juvenile thing, but it’s something you’ve been denied in all the years of this… situation, so you nod, taking a deep breath in a poor attempt to calm your nerves. Your pulse is thrumming with anticipation beneath his mouth, and the moment he clamps down hard enough to sting, he thrusts into your wet heat as blood pools beneath the fragile skin his tongue soothes over.

He does it again, decorating the dip of your collarbone as the spongy head of his dick kisses your cervix, and you’re limp, taking anything and everything he’s willing to give. Let him decorate you, claim you, fuck you until you’re incoherent, it doesn’t matter. Just as long as it’s him and he doesn’t stop.

“So wet…” he praises, groaning when his words cause you to tighten around him.

Always for you, you think as his tongue dives between your parted lips, the taste of yourself still lingering. The gentle way he cradles your jaw is the complete opposite of the speed of his hips battering into you. He’s chasing something he can’t quite reach, whether that be a sensation or an emotion you can’t tell, but he’s looking, willing himself to find this answer even if it kills him. Every stolen kiss seems to connect his wayward thoughts, but when he starts to whimper into your mouth and his pace begins to falter, you know the friction of his cock dragging along your walls has consumed him.

“I can’t–” he stammers when you lock your ankles on his lower back, tightening around him further, “Fuck, baby, that’s n-not helping.”

“Give it to me, Toru.” One last time. “Pl-please, I want it.”

There’s barely time to take a breath before you’re on your stomach, ass being pulled straight up into the air, his shaft filling your gaping hole so deep you can feel the pressure in your chest. Long, slender fingers find your swollen clit and being moving in steady, quick circles, and at this point all you can do is scream and cry out until he’s shooting hot, thick ropes of cum into your spasming cunt, your own orgasm ripping through you, leaving you boneless and drooling.

“Shit…” he pants, his phone vibrating on the table in what has to be a third attempt at a call in the last two minutes, “Gimme a second.”

The bedroom door closes as you slump down into a heap, the mess between your thighs getting sticky and uncomfortable as you adjust to the emptiness returning. It’s tempting to sneak out now, if it wasn’t for your current debauched state. You’re still so surrounded by him, the couch smells like his stupid cologne, your thighs are quivering, and you can still feel the tips of his fingers digging into your hips. Maybe you’ll never be free.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, lifting you off the couch bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom, “Quick shower then we gotta go.”

By four o'clock, you’re heading out the door, donned in a new dress accompanied by Satoru in sleek black pants and a silky black button-down, bag in hand. It’s an overnight bag, you can tell from the size and also because you caught him packing it in a rush. He hadn’t seen you, well, at least as far as you could tell, and as much as you wanted to believe he was heading out on a mission, you couldn’t convince yourself of it. The phone call he had to talk out of earshot, the fancy clothes he wore just to go tour some shitty apartment, the bag…you’re well aware of what it all means. You don’t even let the fact he’s opening your car door for you distract you from the knowledge he’ll be doing the exact same gesture to another tonight.

“Okay,” he sings out as he slides into the driver’s seat, “Ready to go?”

All you do is nod, keeping your eyes focused out your window.

“Why’re you so quiet?” he complains–whines–five minutes into the drive, “It’s boring.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, “Where is this apartment?”

“What apartment?”

“The one we’re going to see?”

“Oh…riiiight. That apartment. You don’t really want to go look at that, do you?”

He can sense your anger bubbling in the cramped space, but he laughs when he looks over to find you staring daggers at him, nostrils flared.

Relax!” he chuckles, “So worked up over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Satoru!” you yell back, groaning when your body betrays you for a moment and relaxes when his hand falls to your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing softly up and down over your exposed skin, “My life is a wreck!”

“When hasn’t it been?”

“You arranged that apartment. And now we’re not going?” You have to change the subject before you combust.

“Well, you said I couldn’t pay for it, and you can’t pay for it. Not yet anyway–”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder. So, what now then!?”

“Dinner!”

The car comes to a screeching halt outside of a ramen place, and you burst into tears.

“Hey…” He’s frantic, leaning over the center console to take your face in his hand, “Hey…no-no-no. Don’t do that.”

“What am I supposed to do?!” you scream at him, your cheeks already soaked and eyes swollen, “Just go in there and eat ramen like nothing is wrong!?”

“I mean…yeah. Why not?”

“Fuck you!”

It’s a battle when you try to get out of the car, his left hand continuously locking the doors as his right attempts to stop you from pulling at the handle at all. He’s grunting ‘stop’ and ‘listen’ and ‘calm down’ but his words fall on deaf ears.

“Why won’t you just let me go?!” you finally sob, both of you panting and flustered.

“Because…” he replies quietly, threading his fingers with yours, however unresponsive they are, “Will you stay in the damn car?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t move to leave either, and he takes that as confirmation. With a heavy sigh (and an empty stomach) he takes off down the road until you’re outside the city, finally pulling into a large gated property. Flowers surround you on all sides, and the sound of a fountain in a pond pairs serendipitously with the birds singing the sun away as it begins to dip closer to the horizon. The house nestled amongst the gardens is massive, winding paths of stone leading through the rainbows of blooms, and you can’t help but be entirely awestruck for a moment before confusion settles. Satoru opens the door with his keys, pulling you inside the manor that’s every bit as impressive on the inside as it is outside.

“Where are we?” you ask harshly, pulling your hand free of his.

“The Gojo Estate,” he answers so casually you want to throw a shoe at the back of his head.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m showing you around. It beats Kento’s buddy’s apartment, dontcha think?”

Not even the coldest winds could have frozen you in place so quickly. He’s brought the overnight bag from the back of the car in with him, tossing it onto the kitchen counter before opening the fridge and grinning when he finds a bottle of strawberry soda waiting for him on the shelf.

“There’s more to the place than the foyer!” He’s moved out of sight now, but not far judging by how close he still sounds, “C’mere! Don’t be shy now.”

He’s waiting on a porch overlooking the pond you’d heard earlier, koi fish gently swimming in the clear water without a care in the world. If you’d thought the city suited him before, it was nothing compared to the sight of him framed by lush greenery and the unhindered glow of sunset. He looks every bit the part of clan head here, oozing authority and confidence as he leans with his back against the railing, smirking as you cautiously approach.

“What are we doing here?” you ask again, meek and quiet, all signs of anger gone.

“Giving you options,” he answers, gloating almost, but trepidation is still laced with what you recognize as false conviction.

“I can’t live here.”

“Why not?”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I mean, you wouldn’t be living alone. No one should live alone here, that’s why I don’t. What if I slip in the shower and no one finds me for days? Ha! Could you imagine…”

“Satoru!”

Does he know what he’s asking? Does he know what it means? If it means nothing to him, fine, but you? The idea of it has you tensing and pushing back tears, your bottom lip trembling as you allow the fantasy of a home and a life to slip through the cracks forming in your barriers you keep it behind. His fingers are chilled from the glass bottle he’s been holding, the sharp contrast against your burning cheeks causing you to gasp and you’re met by infinite blue eyes staring down at you.

“Look,” he begins, his tongue darting out to wet his perfect pink pout, “I…” He sighs, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts, “Why didn’t you ask me to get you out of there sooner?”

The question hits you like a ton of bricks. You’d been asking yourself the same thing since it all blew up last night.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” you answer truthfully, “If it’s not me, you have someone else–” “There is no one else. There never has been.”

“What?”

“There is no one else.”

No one else? His lips press softly against yours as you stand in stunned silence. All these years thinking you were second to twenty, and there had never been another?

“Say it again,” he breathes into your slackened jaw, and your brow furrows in confusion.

“What…” you blubber, meeting the galaxies living in his gaze once again.

“Tell me again.”

A tight grip on your wrist tugs your hand up to what remains of the braid still twisted in his hair from his nap earlier, you hadn’t realized it had survived both the shower and what transpired before it, but it had clearly held on tight. Too many thoughts buzz around in your head for you to comprehend what the hell he's asking for until he requests it one more time, his voice cracking like his life hinges on knowing if what he’d heard was real or a figment of his overactive imagination.

And then it clicks. Your heart comes to a skidding halt as fear runs cold through your veins, and you try to run but his arm curls around your waist, holding you in place.

“I…” your tongue is paralyzed, a phrase you’ve never uttered to another person knotting and twisting, “You were asleep.” It’s such a cop-out, and the way his face falls shatters your heart.

“Right, thought so,” he concedes, “Okay. Well, do you want to see–”

“I love you.”

The words spill out so suddenly you’re clasping your hands over your traitorous lips, the urge to flee burning in your legs, and he smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he leans in, pulling your wrist to free your shock-slackened lips from their cage, and kisses you.

This kiss is different. It’s softer, lingering, it’s the kind of kiss that welcomes you home after a long day and melts the toils and tribulations you faced away. While your hands shoot to the kitchen counter behind you and your knuckles go white in an iron-like grip, the tips of his fingers brush down your cheek so gingerly a shudder shoots down your spine. You’ve never been touched so softly, with so much…you can’t think it.

“Again,” he whispers, and you reply with those little three words in just as hushed a tone, “Again.”

With every repetition, the words fall with more grace and his smile grows. Your cheeks are burning, nerves fluttering to life in your belly, but when he asks for the fifth time to hear you say that phrase, you close the distance between your bodies, grab his jaw in both hands and finally with conviction you tell him the truth: “Satoru. I love you. I don’t kn—mmph!”

As quick as it is, the force of his lips crashing into yours is bruising. There’s nothing tactful about it, he just needs contact and he needs it now.

“Love you,” he murmurs, and you understand immediately the incessant nagging to hear those words over and over.

You know someone, at some point, had said that to you, but time has robbed you of the memory. This is the first time you can ever recall hearing it, and something breaks down inside of you faster than you can keep up with. His chest is there to collapse into as the tides roll in, tears pouring from your eyes as relief washes over your storm-stricken shores. The space carved out in his embrace fits you like a glove, your head tucked neatly below his cheek as he leans down to swaddle you in tight. You’re shaking and sobbing but this time he doesn’t ask you to stop, because he understands. It’s the same for him.

“Can we go to dinner now?” you sniffle, wiping your nose on the back of your hand, gazing up at him with glassy eyes.

“Nah,” he brushes off, “I’ll order something. There’s a shirt for you in the bag, take your pick.”

Donned in a t-shirt that hangs down to the middle of your thighs, you’re perched on the couch beside Satoru with a spread of food on the table before you once again. He puts on some movie but you aren’t paying attention, all you can concentrate on is trying to convince yourself it’s over. It’s done. You’re home. But too many years have passed, and it’ll take time.

“What, Yaga?” Satoru barks into his phone, “I’m not going…I’m not going…Find someone else.”

“What was that?” you ask as he tosses it away, looking over at you with eyes glowing in the dim light.

“Oh, a mission abroad. It usually goes to me but…”

There are more important things now.

“They can figure it out,” he chuckles with that signature aloof, pompous lilt, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.

Maybe it won’t take as long to get used to this as you think.

Sorry this took so long!!!

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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cyncerity · 2 months ago

Text

Hero au time!!

This is an idea i’ve had in my head forever, which is why it’s so fucking long. Hope y’all enjoy!

tw: soft, safe vore

“We know you have him. You’re not leaving here until you either tell us where he is or your friends fess up and tell us for you. And if we find his body before you can admit to anything, we kill you. Simple as that.”

The voice came from behind him, the ornate table in front of him empty and shrouded in shadows. Sapnap shifted uncomfortably in the chair he was tied to, the ropes rubbing uncomfortably against his now bare wrists. He saw his gloves laid on that table in front of him, now replaced with power suppressant cuffs. Great, so whoever took him wasn’t stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’d better let me go this instant. It’s a federal crime to hold a hero hostage.”

“Oh we know, Mr. number 2 hero. But I think you’ll find that we’re wanted for worse.” The voice said before a shadowy figure finally stepped into his line of sight.

The man was fairly average in height and build, but that wasn’t what made him intimidating. No, the glistening black wings longer than he was tall and deadly sharp talons that reflected in the dim torchlight made him quite fearsome looking all on their own. Azrael. The top villain of the greater smp and leader of a group called the Syndicate, an organization of some of the most feared villains in the public eye. The villain glared at Sapnap, icy blue eyes visible behind the crow skull he wore. “You have something that belongs to us.”

“You’re mistaken, unfortunately. Anything I have that I took from you was rightfully someone else’s to begin with. I have no quarrel with you outside of the battlefield.” Sapnap said, doing his best to maintain his professional anti-conflict hero tone that he’d been trained to use. The villain loomed over him, the eye contact prolonged and uncomfortable. Sapnap knew that he was trying to read for any expression, but they were at a standstill. Perks of having blank white eyes in this more humanoid form that the hero agency requested he take during missions (as to not scare the kids or something) meant that he was hard to read. He mentally thanked his dad for picking up that trait, as even though his father was kind, Bad was fucking terrifying.

“Liar.” Was all the villain said before more people came into his view. Not all the members of the syndicate were here, Sapnap noted, but the recognizable ones were Phase, a villain who could teleport, Thunder, a villain with a pretty self explanatory power, and Metis, a villainess who could read people’s feelings and the basic gist of thoughts and just also happened to have deadly aim with a dagger. He took a few moments to wonder where Azrael’s right hand man Blood God or presumed son Psychosis were before remembering they’d both been missing in action for a few months now. Ignoring the few other hooded figures and some minor villains, the only person who Sapnap was actually surprised to see was Brutus, a [seemingly] young new vigilante on the scene who’d made a habit of specifically targeting Azrael in fights and running from everyone else, heroes included. Everyone seemed oddly chill with him being there, in fact everyone seemed to be going out of their way to look any direction other than his.

“Where are the rest of you.” Sapnap asked, more a demand than a question. He could almost hear Azrael’s smile in his response. “Observant, aren’t we, Blaze? Well, the rest of us are going to be taking care of your little friends. I’ll call them off if we get what we want out of you, but if not, we’ll have to get answers from Dream and Nightcap. It likely won’t be hard with your life on the line. As for right now, though, they haven’t noticed your absence. So let’s make this easy; you give us what we want, and you’ll be free to return home before they even notice you’re gone! Everyone wins, really.”

“For the last fucking time I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sapnap sneered. Azrael looked like he was going to respond, but Metis suddenly spoke up. “He’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t know what we want, he’s just that stupid.” “Hey!” “Fine,” Azrael sighed. “Phase, his bag, please.” At that, Sapnap paused. What could they possibly want from his bag? It was just a bunch of his hero junk and-

Oh. Oh fuck.

Metis noticed his falter immediately. “He’s afraid.” She announced, turning her attention to Azrael who looked back at Sapnap with a glare in his eye that could kill a man weaker than a professionally trained hero. “So you do know what we want then.” He said, pulling something out of the bag. Red sunglasses. Round, gold rimmed thick bright red sunglasses. “If you’re so innocent, tell me, Blaze, how you got these? Or better yet, the rest of it?” Azrael spat, shoving his bag over on the table and knocking the contents everywhere. A red button up, gold corset, black and red pinstripe dress pants and red heeled leather shoes. A black dress coat with an insignia on the back, a red star encompassed by a horizontal diamond. A logo that had haunted the hero agency for years. The symbol of a gang with a leader so evil and cunning that he’d not only evaded capture, but evaded any forward malpractice in his casino so no one could legally shut it down. Sure everyone knew a villain ran the casino as a front for crime, but legally, there was no evidence, so it became a hub of drugs, violence, and information. A villain who’d been active before even Sapnap, Dream, and George became heroes.

Oberon. Casino owner, leader of the Las Nevadas gang, spreader of illegal information to whatever party was willing to pay him. Supervillain.

And all of his costume had just fallen out of Sapnap’s hero bag.

“Speechless? I thought you’d take pride in having caught one of the biggest criminals in the city.” Azrael droned. Sapnap stared, unblinking, willing his face not to move despite the mask that covered the lower half of it. “Anyway, we will be needing him back. He’s useful to us, after all.” Sapnap stayed silent, and he could tell it was aggravating Azrael. Metis stepped closer to him, a dagger held at his throat as the Lynx mask she wore drew closer to his face. “He’s terrified. I can’t tell of what exactly, but it’s not us.”

Azrael hummed, not making a move. Sapnap didn’t dare flinch. No, he wasn’t scared. Not of the Syndicate, not of the knife at his throat, not of being kidnapped. He was a hero, shit like this happened.

No, he was terrified because he knew exactly where Oberon was, and he couldn’t get out of this situation.

Sapnap was something of a hybrid. His dad was a demon, his surrogate mom was a human, Skeppy was Skeppy and no one quite knew what he was. But Sapnap was a demon hybrid, a fire demon hybrid to be exact, which didn’t fair well normally. He remembered being beaten up for his horns in school, having his tailed yanked on the street, having people point and laugh at his fangs in cafes. He learned he could hide his hybrid traits. It made things easier. He passed as human almost completely, save for the white eyes and pointed ears. That’s how he was as a hero. Blaze, to the public, was a human with some odd hybrid-esc traits, and that was that.

To his friends and family, he was Sapnap, a fire demon. To his parents, big brother, best friend, and fiancés, he didn’t have to hide. They knew all the weird shit that being a demon came with, one fiancé especially.

Quackity, in Sapnap’s eyes, was perfect. They grew up as neighbors and became instant friends, with Quackity even announcing in the 3rd grade that he was marrying Sapnap and no one was gonna steal him. In high school, after much deliberation, he conceded that he would back down a little bit and share with Karl. As adults, they’ve been planning their wedding for years now. Quackity was funny, optimistic, and kindhearted; the perfect future husband.

Who also happened to be a supervillain on the side.

Sapnap knew. Of course he knew, he’d been one of the first people Quackity told when he first started and couldn’t keep all his secrets and stay sane. But Sapnap became a hero, following his big brother into the field because that’s what he always did. He followed Dream, as did George. Eventually, Karl followed, too. Quackity knew. The first time Quackity walked up to the new heroes on the battlefield as Oberon, he wiped the floor with them. No real damage done, but he knocked out 4 new heroes in one fight solo, and that made him a significantly more threatening and famous villain to the public.

From Sapnap’s perspective, he didn’t want to fight his fiancé and as he was later told from his fiancés perspective, Quackity just wanted the fight over with as quickly as possible. 3 out of 4 heroes pulled their punches while Quackity fought hard. It was an easy match, in the end.

Karl knew who Oberon was too, since “you can’t keep a secret like that for long when you’re so intimately in love with a person that you could identify them by the way they flick their wrist” (and was swiftly punched for by both fiancés for being too sappy). George guessed it immediately. It took the three fiancés a while to stop trying to convince him that Quackity was a regular civilian when George wouldn’t back off that he knew. Dream…well, they’d tell him eventually. Probably.

Point is, Quackiy is awesome and the love of Sapnap’s life, whether or not he’s a supervillain. And as the love of Sapnap’s life who also happens to have shapeshifting superpowers, he volunteers to do some things to help his demon instincts that Sapnap really appreciates. As the only two hybrids of the polycule, they help each other out. Sapnap preens Quackity’s wings, helps him nest, and makes sure he’s warm for the winter while Quackity…well, Quackity lets Sapnap eat him.

Sapnap has been called names before. “freak,” “hellspawn,” he’s used to that, but every so often he’ll hear “maneater” called in his direction and wonder if the person calling him that knows how close they really are. See, while demons have a bad rep for plenty of made up things like stealing souls or cursing people, the rumor that demons kill and eat people is only half wrong. No demon would grab someone off of the street and eat them alive, but a person who the demon cares about immensely and who could fit in their mouth?…yeah, they’d get eaten, but not without proper warning and consent. Demons had crops for a reason (albeit an unknown one, far too evolved in this modern society that the original use for it has been lost to time), and that reason was to store things the demon cared about. There was a reason Bad, at over 9 feet tall, had married a man who could shrink to 2 feet. Sapnap had instincts to store plenty of things: items from his childhood, his fish (he wouldn’t), his friends (he physically can’t but damn if his instincts aren’t stupid), and of course his fiancés. He’d just happened to win the lottery and fall in love with a man able (and more importantly willing) to be stored. Quackity, as an avian, knew the instinct cause he had a crop too, and was more than willing to help Sapnap when he needed it (he occasionally wondered how Quackity dealt with it considering he and Karl couldn’t shrink, but Q always said “a friend” or “work associate” helped him out, so really it wasn’t Sapnap’s business).

Today, Sapnap’s shift had sucked and Karl was stuck at the tower for the rest of the night doing paperwork. So as he often did, Sapnap called Quackity and asked if he would “sleep in” that night. Quackity, as he often did, said yes. Sapnap went down to Las Nevadas and was passed into the casino with no hassle, the worker’s shock of seeing a top three hero walk into a villain lair long worn off. He made it to the office and there sat Oberon. Average height, long wild black hair, and a massive gash that took up almost the whole left side of his face that left his eye milky and showed a golden fang behind his split lip. The expression he wore was always mischievous and hard to read, a poker face that he’d bet not even Metis could get past.

It all fell apart when he saw Sapnap.

His expression melted into joy, the cunning and somewhat frightening look dissipating as he waved slightly. The man shrank to below average height, his hair becoming much shorter and showing feathered ears for a split second before a beanie was hastily thrown over them. The scar closed itself until only a thin pale puckered line showed where the scar had once been, though his eye remained murky. He removed his dress shirt so he was only wearing a tank top and sighed as he let his wings out, stretching out the black and golden feathers. This was Quackity, the man Sapnap fell in love with.

Within a few minutes they were both in pajamas and Sapnap was holding his fiancé in his hands. The only warning Quackity gave was that he had a meeting in the morning so Sapnap would have to let him out early. Sure, he could do that. So carefully, he lifted his hands up to his mouth and slowly tilted his lover in. He felt Quackity melt into the warmth as he slowly raised his own body temperature knowing how much the duck avian liked the heat. He felt feathers press into the walls of his mouth as Quackity stretched his wings and then shapeshifted them away again to get down easier without leaving feathers in his fiancés throat. Other perk of marrying a shapeshifter: they can do shit like that. Within moments of Q patting the roof of Sapnap’s mouth, he was being pulled down by the throat muscles, and Sapnap could feel when Quackity landed in his storage because his powers immediately flared.

Being a fire demon was…weird, Sapnap had come to learn. He’d always known his powers were emotion based, he learned that at a young age. Joy and anger sparked the strongest, sadness and fear dimmed him. Simple. Until he stored Quackity for the first time and almost lit his bedroom on fire. Sapnap learned 2 things that day: 1- turns out, as sappy as it sounded, love was way stronger than joy or anger. 2- according to Quackity, his fire, the root of his power and life force as a fire demon, was in his storage. Literally. Quackity told him cause Quackity saw it. Physically. A glowing orb of fire that just permanently existed in Sapnap’s storage. Quackity also decided touching it would be a good idea (that’s how the bedroom fiasco happened, but that’s besides the point). Point is, when that love he has for his fiancé is combined with the primal demon instinct to store and protect, Sapnap can become an absolute powerhouse of destruction. Higher endurance, stronger, faster, even his flames were hotter. The rest of the heroes called it Hellfire. Quackity agreed it was fitting.

Which meant that when he got an emergency call that a supervillain was on the loose and he was needed immediately, he knew he’d get it over with quickly. He felt Quackity pull his wings back out and push them against the walls surrounding him, a sign that he was good for Sapnap to go do his job. So, that’s what he did, knowing it wouldn’t take long with his hellfire active.

He was right, of course. It was less than an hour before the criminal was in custody, unable to escape past the walls of fire Sapnap put up. He was home only an hour after than, drained of energy and barely able to stand (Quackity massaging him from inside was definitely not helping). He fell asleep before he even got changed out of his hero gear.

Looking back, he realized neither of them had remembered that there was anything important the next day.

Sapnap geared up to do hero work the next day at around noon, packing up Quackity’s villain costume in his bag so he could let his fiancé out later and he could get back to work. He told his higher ups that he was going to patrol around Las Nevadas, which wasn’t suspicious cause of the absurd amount of gang activity that needed dealt with. Quackity, meanwhile, was still asleep, and likely would be till Sapnap returned him to his office and he had to be Oberon again.

Then he was grabbed from behind.

In a split second, he was in a dark alleyway he hadn’t been in a moment before, and there was something swung at his head rapidly before it all went black.

And now he was here. Tied to a chair with a power suppresent cuff, surrounded by supervillains, with his supervillain fiancé in his storage.

Sapnap was speechless, for maybe the first time in his life. He..he couldn’t deny this. There was no way he could plead innocent to having every single piece of Oberon’s costume in his bag. Half the syndicate was glaring down at him, the other half was staged to fight his friends, and the one thing they wanted was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t give up.

“How…how did you know it was me?” “We have a tracker in his costume.” Metis answered simply. “Oberon has never missed a meeting. We have trackers in all Syndicate member’s costumes, just for cases like this. When he didn’t show, we tracked it and it just so happened to lead us right to your stuff. Never imagined a hero would stoop so low as to kidnap someone rather than arrest them.” “I wouldn’t.” he growled. “Are you seriously trying to argue with us right now?” Brutus spoke up for the first time in the conversation. “You have all of Oberon’s missing stuff, you’re getting really defensive, and you’re a hero for fucks sake! Who else would have taken him? Now give us our friend back or else.”

“Pardon, ‘friend?’” Sapnap questioned, momentarily caught off guard. Sure, he knew Quackity worked with the Syndicate, but were they his friends? Did he enjoy their company, or know them on a first name basis? “Yes, friend, dickhead. Villains can have friends too, y’know.” “I know, I just…I don’t know, assumed it was more of a business relationship?” Sapnap questioned, Brutus going to answer before Azrael pushed him back. “Our relationship with Oberon is none of your business, hero. Now tell us where he is.” Oh it very much was his business, but Sapnap wasn’t going to mention that right now.

“…no.” “Ex-fucking-cuse me??” Azrael gawked, momentarily dropping his mask as a terrifying supervillain to just be plain confused. “I said no.” Sapnap said as calmly as he could given that there was still a dagger at his neck. “I can’t tell you where he is, all I can tell you is that he’s safe and I sure as hell didn’t kidnap him.” Azrael’s supervillain mask of annoyance was slipped back on as he glared at Sapnap. “You expect us to believe that, Blaze? You expect us to blindly trust a pro hero?” Azrael scowled. “Exactly, i’m a hero. I wouldn’t hurt someone with no reason, even a villain. I wouldn’t hurt Oberon.” Sapnap pleaded, and from what little he could see of Brutus and Metis’ faces, he thought they might have believed him. Phase and Thunder stood stock still, masks fully covering their faces so Sapnap had no idea what they were thinking. Azrael, however, looked angry. He looked so fucking angry.

“We’re getting nowhere, we don’t have time for this! Oberon could be dead, I can’t trust a word out of your mouth.” He shouted, pushing Metis’s dagger out of the way and grabbing Sapnap by the hair, yanking his head up to look him in the eye. “This isn’t a request anymore. You’re going to tell me where he is right-“ Azrael reeled his arm back, and Sapnap only had a few moments to realize what he was going to do “-fucking-“ oh no “-now!” Azrael punched Sapnap in the stomach hard, knocking the wind out of him.

Sapnap screamed.

He curled in on himself and gasped for air, crying and screaming. It was all he could think to do in his panic. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of words to say, could only shout and cry and hope that Azrael would leave him alone. He saw the winged man jump back in shock, along with the rest of the villains. He doubted they’d thought that when they captured a superhero they’d end up watching said superhero sob, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wrapped his arms around himself, desperately trying to feel for any sign that Quackity was alright, only to realize that this was the first time in hours he’d moved his arms.

He looked down through the tears in his eyes and realized he wasn’t tied to the chair anymore. The ropes that had been tied around him were now strewn on the ground; singed, tattered, and smoking. The power suppressents lay on the ground with the ropes, sparking and useless. Holy shit, did he just break the power suppressents??

Sapnap’s thoughts were cut off when he felt and heard something from in his storage. He felt Quackity grow heavier, likely shifting just a little bit bigger, and he could feel him pressing into the walls. “What the fuck?” Quackity asked groggily, Sapnap feeling him stretch out. “Ow, fuck, what the fuck was that, Sap??” Lots of thoughts ran through Sapnap’s head, his instincts flaring and clouding his thoughts. Was Quackity ok? He was conscious thank god, but he said ow, how badly was he hurt? Quackity was supposed to be safe when he was with Sapnap, but he wasn’t safe, how could he keep his fiancé safe? “Blaze?” Who? “Blaze, you with us?” Not Quackity, Quackity would have called him by his name. He looks up and sees Brutus standing over him, most of the villains having taken a step back, including Azrael, surprisingly. “You feeling better?” “…please don’t hit me again.” Sapnap pleaded quietly through a sore throat. “What the fuck does that mean? Sapnap what the fuck?? Are you safe, where are you!?” Quackity shouted, shifting himself smaller so he wouldn’t be as loud. Brutus, oblivious to what Sapnap was hearing, knelt down to be eye level with the hero.

“I won’t. Maybe those guys will, but I’m not that kind of guy. I like to think of myself as a hero.” “…I can’t back down on this. I’m not telling you or the Syndicate where Oberon is. That’s final.” He said strongly. “Fucking what?!” Quackity shouted, pushing himself forwards only to fall. “Fuck! Shit, ow…” He trailed off, which almost made Sapnap panic again, but he knew things would only get worse if they knew where Quackity actually was. Brutus was silent for a moment. “Ok,” he said finally. “Then they’ll just keep you here until you do, I guess. But I can stick around to make sure they won’t hit you again, that was uncalled for.” He finished, glaring angrily at Azrael at the end. “Thank you, Brutus.” Sapnap finished, not making any move to stand or move. “Brutus?!” He heard Quackity yell, though he just hoped his fiancé could understand why he wasn’t answering.

Things got quieter after that. Sapnap, despite still being free from his restraints, did nothing to run. What could he do, after all? He was totally outnumbered. And despite Brutus’s promise that he would keep him from getting hurt (again), he knew that if it came down to it, Brutus would fight with the Syndicate, not him. Besides, even if he did get out, the villains would come after him immediately. Or worse, they’d target Dream and George, and Dream did not need to know of his (or literally everyone else’s) ties to the casino villain.

Quackity tried communication. Sapnap could hear him asking questions, begging for any reply to let him know that Sapnap was safe, that they were both safe. But he couldn’t. The villains and Brutus were watching him like a hawk, making sure he wouldn’t run. As if he was that stupid. But in return, he couldn’t comfort his frightened fiancé. Every second he spent listening to Quackity was another second he spent willing tears out of his eyes.

“Ok, ok, so you obviously can’t talk right now. Or hum. Or physically signal. Fuck, how…how can I talk to you?” Quackity pleaded aloud as if Sapnap hadn’t been pondering the exact same thing. He couldn’t speak, tap, hum, or even try to constrict his stomach: he didn’t know how badly crowfather’s punch had hurt him or if constructing the muscles around him would worsen the injury.

Every thought frustrated Sapnap further. It was infuriating.

“That’s it! Sapnap, your flame!” Quackity exclaimed. “It just flickered and got brighter, did you do that on purpose? Can you control it?” Holy shit, right, the power suppressants were off. Sapnap didn’t think he could, he certainly didn’t mean to just then; it must have been his anger that made it flare. But the idea that he could communicate, even one sidedly, with his lover made hope blossom in his chest. “There! You did it again, the flame got bigger!” Quackity excitedly yelled. ‘Ok, we can communicate,’ Sapnap thought, ‘all I have to do is control my emotions.’

“Are you safe? Flicker for yes, do nothing for no.” Sapnap tried very hard to not feel frustrated at the current state of things so he could signal that he was not, in fact, safe. There was a few seconds of silence as Quackity processed this. “…shit. Ok, so not safe.” Yeah no duh, stupid fucking supervillains. He could almost feel his flame flare in his chest at the thought. “Yeah, definitely not safe. The syndicate, you said?” Sapnap looked over Azrael , who was watching him with disinterest. He let his disdain for the man take over his thoughts. His flame sparked. “Ok, fuck, that’s worse.” Quackity said. “Are you hurt?” Jesus fuck the emotional whiplash he was putting himself through for this was gonna take years off his life, Sapnap was sure of it. He tried to reel back the hate, to take deep breaths and calm himself and imagine his flame returning to normal. “Ok, that’s good at least.” Quackity sighed, and in that moment Sapnap wanted nothing more than to ask it back. To beg, to plead that he answer his own question. He heard the pain laced in Quackity’s voice, he wasn’t going to forget the pained yells right after he was hit. He needed to know Quackity was ok.

A door across the room that Sapnap hadn’t even realized was there burst open, startling everyone in the room. “Sorry, Dream and Nightcap got away. We chased them, but they were too quick.” The man who was speaking had dark green hair, a massive gas mask looking face covering, and was big as a motherfucker. This was one of the most well known members of the syndicate, a previous hero called Machina who had quit the committee before the Dream Team was ever even introduced to the public, though he trained them all behind the scenes. Only a few months after his retirement, he showed back up as a villain. Sapnap knew this man well. “Shit,” Azrael cursed. “That’s fine, Warden, we’ll work with it. We just need to let them know we still have Blaze as ranso-“

“Sam!!” Sapnap screamed, pleading to whatever god that would listen that Sam could get him, them out of this. He felt Quackity perk up, dragging himself to the front of the stomach with only minor noises of pain. Sam was his hero mentor and one of his dad’s best friends, basically his uncle. He trusted Sam, and he knew Sam would at least want to do the right thing here. Whether or not he could convince Azrael to let him, though, was a different issue.

“Hm? Blaze!? What the fuck are you doing here, what happened?!” Sam yelled, storming over to Sapnap. Ok, so apparently Azrael hadn’t told him why he was supposed to be attacking Dream and George. “Look at his bag. We haven’t heard from Oberon, and it’s pretty damn clear whose fault that is.” Sapnap couldnt see Sam’s face behind his mask, but he could imagine his expression as he faced the bag and slowly turned his head to stare at Sapnap. It almost would have been comical if not for the situation.

See, Sapnap wasn’t the only one who was close with Sam. Quackity, despite not being a hero, knew the man pretty well himself, given that he was his legal guardian and all. Quackity’s parents abandoned him when he was really young, and Sam, his older cousin, took him in. Sam and Quackity had been pretty inseparable ever since, so he was sure that Sam’s presence made his fiancé feel exponentially better. Given that Sapnap and Quackity had been neighbors growing up, Sam had a lot of time to get accustomed to his ward’s role in Sapnap’s weird demon halfling shit. A role that grew larger when they started dating as teenagers, and Bad had to begrudgingly explain to Sam what a storage was when Quackity didn’t come home on time one night and Sam walked in on Sapnap eating him. That had not been a fun talk, but in hindsight it was better for him to have learned earlier than later.

Sam’s gaze lingered on Sapnap for a while before he flicked his head down just a bit, almost imperceptibly. Sapnap gave a quick abrupt nod in response and saw Sam’s shoulders tense. He knew.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, his head tilted down enough to show that his eyes were clearly not trained on Sapnap’s own, but rather his torso. “Yes.” Sapnap answered simply, hoping that if Sam thought one or both of them were injured he could get them out. He knew Quackity was hurt, that was his main priority. Sam sucked a breath in. “Azrael, I’ll handle it from here.” “Warden, I don’t think you-“ “I said,” He turned to the other villain, looming over the man. “I’ll take it from here. I know Blaze from my time as a hero. I know how to get him to crack.” Sam said, walking over to Sapnap and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Sapnap very carefully kept his face stone cold. He needed Azrael to believe Sam would actually torture information out of him. “…if you insist. I suppose you know him best.” “Perfect. I’ll be taking him now then.”

“Now hold on! What?!” “Is there a problem, Azrael?” “Ye-“ “Of course there is!!” Brutus interrupted, shockingly. “You can’t just fuckin’ kill the guy! Y-“ “I won’t hurt him more than necessary. You know I won’t.” Sam said, placing a hand on the boys shoulder who just sighed. “…ok.” “Warden, what are you going to do?” Azrael responded clearly fake calmly. “I’m taking him to a safe house for interrogation. I know his weaknesses, you’ve clearly been going to easy on him if he hasn’t spilled. I’m not letting Oberon get hurt.” Sam said with a tone of finality. And again to Sapnap’s surprise, Azrael stepped down immediately. In the back of his mind he wondered if the syndicate knew how close Sam and Quackity truly were, or if they knew the two were family, but he pushed the thought off. That wasn’t what was important right now.

Sam walked back over to him, pulling his trident and holding it to Sapnap’s neck. “You want to live, you’ll do what I say. Got it?” Sapnap nodded easily, incredibly used to the persona Sam puts on when working (Machina and Warden acted incredibly similar, one was just a lot scarier cause he had a giant fucking trident and was no longer bound by law). He pulled a piece of fabric from his costume and handed it to Brutus, who quickly got the message to tie it around Sapnap’s eyes. Once he was blinded, he felt the cold metal of Sam’s suit gloves grab him by the back of his neck and lead him (hopefully) out of the room. After that, there was no communication between the two of them besides the occasional warning of a step or ledge, but Quackity kept talking. “We’re walking, ok, I can tell we’re walking, that’s good. Sam’s getting us out? Are we safe? Ok I can’t tell if we’re not safe or if you just can’t respo-“

“Sam, are we alone?” Sapnap said, desperate to finally be able to console Quackity. “Yes, but play it safe. I don’t remember where the cameras are.” Sapnap nodded. Ok, better than nothing. Sapnap discreetly rubbed his storage, figuring that would look innocent enough over any potential security footage. Then, with no better option, he started to hum. Sapnap had never been incredibly musically gifted, but he hoped the tune of “Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright” was recognizable enough to be comforting. Not long after, he heard Quackity quietly laugh and sing along with whatever words he knew. He smiled. Eventually, Sam’s hand shifted from grabbing the back of his neck to supporting his back, and he felt the trident be lowered away from his throat and heard the scrape of metal on metal as it was re-holstered. He felt the now empty cold metal glove take his hand and guide him further until eventually he was stopped and the blindfold was removed.

Sapnap stopped humming. He was standing outside a car and Sam was very quickly shoving most of his supervillain gear in it. From the look of the run down city around him, they seemed to be in one of the poorer areas of L’manburg, probably near the Pogtopia district. Something tapped his shoulder, and Sapnap whirled, coming face to face with Sam. Not Machina, not Warden; Sam. His dark green eyes and freckled face looked at him with worry. He’d seen that expression so many times; as a concerned family friend, as a mentor, and Sapnap always hated it. Hated seeing Sam sad. Sapnap couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes, couldn’t help pulling the man in for a hug. He would have squeezed him half to death if he wasn’t hyper aware of the weight in his middle who was still hurt. He felt Sam hug him back just as carefully, equally aware of Sapnap’s passenger even though he was unable to feel him. “I’m taking you to my place, let’s get out of here.” Sam whispered, and Sapnap nodded, letting out only a few tears before he got in the passenger seat of Sam’s car and immediately pressed both of his hands to his stomach.

“Quackity holy shit are you ok?!” “Fucking finally!!” Quackity cheered in response, growing larger once again now that he knew he didn’t have to hide before hissing in pain again. “I, uh..could be better, hotstuff. What happened?” Sam sat silently behind the wheel as they drove, though Sapnap saw his ear flick in their direction. He wasn’t sure what the limit of his enhanced creeper hearing was, but he hoped he could hear Quackity cause Sapnap didn’t want to have this conversation twice. “There was a tracker in your costume. We forgot about your stupid fucking meeting so the syndicate tracked your costume and found it in my bag. I was on my way to Las Nevadas to return it to you and let you out for work but I was kidnapped because they thought I kidnapped and de-masked you. Then when I wouldn’t talk Azrael punched me in the stomach, which is what woke you up.” “That…that explains a lot. I was half woken up by getting the shit knocked out of me, but also cause your flame fuckin’ blinded me, dude.” ‘That would make sense,’ Sapnap thought. If he got scared enough that his powers managed to burn off literal power suppressant cuffs, it must have been pretty damn bright. “Azrael fucking what?!” Sam interjected. “Yeah. I’m not hurt too bad, maybe a little bruised, but Q seems to be in bad shape.” Sapnap explained. “No I’m-“ “Yes you are. You sound like you’re in pain, you move like you’re in pain, you’re clearly in pain.”

Quackity sat in silence for a moment before relenting. “…I can’t move my left arm and anytime I move my torso or breathe my chest feels like it’s imploding. I think my shoulder’s popped out of it’s socket and my ribs might be broken.” “Fuck.” Sapnap and Sam said simultaneously, answering Sapnap’s silent question on if Sam could hear Q or not. “Ok, we get back to the house and go straight to Ponk. Quackity, do you think you can handle getting let out?” Sam asked louder than normal so Quackity could hear him. “I…I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t want to be a pussy but…fuck, it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, Sam. I don’t wanna know how much worse it’ll get if I get compressed.” “You can cut me open, I don’t give a shit.” Sapnap said, deadly serious. “No, absolutely not you psycho.” Quackity said, kicking his stomach.

“I’ve got enough cuts up here, it’d be fine. It’d match.”

“Those are top scars you bitch that’s not-“

“Same difference.”

“Same difference my ass! We’re not cutting me out of your storage.”

“You need medical attention! What if you’re like, bleeding internally or something??”

“You’ll fuckin’ see what internal bleeding’s like if you insist that I get cut out of here one more time Sapnap I swear to god-“

“Boys!” Sam yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. “No one is cutting anyone open! We’ll see what Ponk can do. Worse comes to absolute worst, we’ll wait to see if Q feels better enough to come out tomorrow.” Sam pulled the car into his driveway and stepped out, motioning for Sapnap to follow. He walked in behind Sam, untensing muscles he didn’t even know were tensed upon seeing the familiar rooms and smelling the same lemony citrus scent that had filled the house since his childhood. Safe, he was finally safe.

“Ponk! Get down here, we have a situation!” “What’s up?” He heard yelled from upstairs, then he saw Ponk come into view. A retired hero healer, Sam’s spouse, and Quackity’s step parent who honestly functioned more to him as a cool aunt rather than another caretaker. Sapnap also knew them well. They were well acquainted back when Blaze was new to the Smp, and they’d spent a lot of time getting to know one another given Sapnap’s track record of very very frequent injury. “Q is hurt, but we can’t get him out of Sapnap’s storage. Any ideas?” “Oh fuck, what?” Ponk said, running down the steps. “How bad? What happened? Is he conscious? Is he bleeding? Sam, what are you doing, go get my med bag!” Ponk rambled, and Sam ran to the bathroom and came out seconds later with a first aid kit. They took a stethoscope out and looped it around their neck before Sapnap even had a chance to process half of those questions. “Ok, Sapnap, you’re not the one hurt, correct?” “Correct.” “Ok, then I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off.” Sapnap shrugged and removed his hero gear, and while he was at it, shifted back to his more comfortable and natural half demon form, letting his horns and tail grow back out. “Ok now lay on the couch.” Ponk instructed, leading Sapnap to lay on the couch and pushing a coffee table out of the way so they could kneel next to him. They pressed a hand down in a few areas on Sapnap’s torso before they found Quackity and took off their stethoscope, pressing the cold metal right where they felt the shrunken man.

“Big Q? You doin’ alright in there?” “Good as I can be, Ponk.” Quackity replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Awesome.” Ponk replied with equal sass. “Now, this is a bit of an unorthodox check up, but i’m gonna need you to shift bigger if Sapnap can handle it so I can get a better idea of where I’m checking you.” “Im good,” Sapnap replied, “Do what you have to do, Angel.” Sapnap’s breath hitched as he felt Quackity grow larger, laying on his back in the storage and stretching out the walls around him, just on the brink of being uncomfortable for Sapnap but not quite there. Sapnap sucked in his stomach as much as possible to give Ponk more direct contact to Quackity. With Quackity so thoroughly pinned in his storage, he could feel every breath, every twitch, every heartbeat. He nodded at Ponk, who went back to checking up on the shrunken man. “Ok, I’m gonna press where I think your chest is, you’re going to tell me if I’m pressing in the right place and if it hurts.” Ponk placed a hand down and pressed gently, making Sapnap wince as Quackity flinched and shoved at his storage. “Yeah, that’s my chest and it fuckin’ hurts.” “1-10?” “8 or something I don’t know. I’m a supervillain, I get hurt a lot, i’m used to it.” “Ok. I have an idea. I can’t tell if your ribs are broken or if you just have a contusion, but either way it would take too long to heal naturally in there. You need to get out, but getting out would worsen the injuries, so I’m gonna try something.”

Ponk placed both hands right over where they’d deduced Quackity’s chest to be. Then, their hands (er, hand [Sam was never going to stop apologizing for that, despite it being a workplace accident that Ponk had long forgiven him for]) began to heat up. Sapnap was very used to seeing Ponk use their powers, having had them used on himself many times, but what Ponk was trying to do now was not only fascinating to watch, but logically also impossible. They were trying to heal Quackity through Sapnap’s skin. Ponk’s eyes squeezed shut tight as they bit their bottom lip almost to the point of blood in frustration, focusing all their energy on their power. “Ponk?” Quackity asked, before gasping. “Holy shit…” and Sapnap knew what that meant. “Ponk, it’s working, keep going.” Sapnap pleaded breathlessly, because he can tell it is. He hears Sam gasp as well from his place watching behind the sofa. He can only feel minimal amounts of Ponk’s power on his own skin, the minor bruising left behind by Azrael’s punch dissipating under their power. He looks down at himself and sees Quackity glow with the affects of Ponk’s power on him, the healing light illuminating through Sapnap’s storage. It was mesmerizing.

Eventually Ponk lifts their hands off Sapnap’s torso and sighs. Sam runs and quickly returns with water, which Ponk accepts graciously. Sapnap sits up, placing a light hand over Quackity. “Angel? Are you alright??” “I- I can’t believe that worked. What the fuck.” Sapnap just laughed, curling both arms around himself and hanging his head down, crying out of sheer relief after the incredibly fucking stressful evening he’d had. “Oh my fuck, thank god. Thank fucking god.” “He’s ok?” Sam asks, hands on Ponk’s shoulders supporting his partner. “Yes. He’s ok.” Sam sighed dramatically and rested his head on Ponk’s shoulder who just laughed and placed their hand on Sam’s head. “That didn’t take nearly as much out of me as I thought it would. Bone healing normally is a lot more tiring, so i’m gonna guess that it was just a shoulder injury and contusion in your chest, no actual broken ribs. Still, though, neither of those injuries would have done well under intense pressure. I’m glad healing it worked from out here.” Ponk explained. “Yeah we can figure out how the fuck you did that later.” Sapnap said, standing and stretching his arms above him, feeling his shoulders pop and hearing Quackity yelp as he got constricted in the surrounding muscles at his still bigger-than-average size. He was kind of glad Sam and Ponk were distracted with each other since he was sure that Quackity’s outline in his stomach was incredibly visible at the moment.

Sapnap patted his stomach and felt Quackity pat back. “Ok, as much as I love having you this close and all, cause I do, it has been almost 24 straight hours. You ready to come out now?” “Fuck yes, i’m raiding Sam’s fridge.” Sapnap laughed and pressed under where he felt Quackity, feeling weight dissipate as his fiancé shrunk to a size that Sapnap could manage to bring back up and hid his wings away. It was only a few more seconds before Quackity was traveling up Sapnap’s throat and ended up back in his mouth. Sapnap paused for just a few moments to suck the remaining spit off his fiancé and savor his flavor just a bit longer. Quackity lightly kicked Sapnap’s teeth, though Sapnap could feel the vibrations of laughter against his cheeks until he eventually relented and pulled the man out of his mouth, holding him gently in his palms. “Couldn’t help myself, darlin’, you taste as good as ever.” Sapnap purred, the shrunken man turning red in response. “Christ Sapnap, don’t do this to me so soon after I get out. Give me like an hour of grace before you make me want to go back in, you know I can’t say no to a pretty boy like you.” Quackity smiled back, a smirk pulling at his scarred lips as he gently traced his finger along the palms he sat in. Sapnap flustered; no matter the size or situation, he knew he’d always lose these word games with Quackity.

He loved him so goddamn much.

Quackity was quickly pulled from Sapnap’s hands by a very relieved and stressed Sam, who held the shrunken man to his cheek tightly. “Quackity oh thank fuck, I was so worried when I figured out where you were I assumed the worst at first when Azrael said-“ “Sam, I’m fine!” Quackity comforted, pushing himself away from Sam’s cheek to make eye contact with his pseudo-brother. “I’m alright, thanks to you. You got us out of there, thank you. I mean, talk about a literal Deus Ex Mach-“ “Quackity if you finish that joke I’ll fucking eat you.” Sam sighed, no actual heat behind his words. Quackity just laughed. “And Ponk, thank you. I don’t know how you did that, but thank you.” “No problem. My powers are less based on contact and more if I can get a clear visual of the person I have to heal and what injuries they have. It apparently works just as well if I can picture them in my head, which was pretty easy given I’ve known you almost your whole life.” “That’s fuckin’ sick.” Quackity nodded. “Now Sam, hand me back to Sapnap, he’s a human furnace and it’s really cold out here covered in spit.” Sam passed Quackity off to Sapnap who held him reverently as Quackity melted into the warmth the fire demon provided, pulling his wings back out as he curled against Sapnap’s fingers. “Would you mind grabbing food, too? I don’t think he’s eaten in like a day and a half.” Sapnap asked, and Sam and Ponk nodded before heading to their kitchen.

Sapnap took his bandana off and offered it to Quackity, who took it and began wiping himself down. Sapnap gently sat Quackity down on his lap. “I’m sorry about all of this.” He sighed, and Quackity gave him a confused look. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do shit. Believe me, I’ll be sure to put Azrael through the wringer next time I see him for this whole situation. But everything turned out alright, didn’t it? I’ll bet you anything that this won’t even be the most stressful fiasco this week.” Sapnap groaned. “I hate that you’re right. Why the fuck did I pick this job.” “Beats me, hero boy.” Quackity shrugged, done drying himself off. “But we survived our life-threatening mission of the day, you know what that means?” “What does that mean, hun?” Before he could blink, Quackity was back to normal size, sitting horizontally on his lap and looping the bandana behind Sapnap’s head, pulling it forward to kiss him. Sapnap was taken aback for all of 3 seconds before he slipped his arms behind Quackity and under his knees and held him closer to his chest, not breaking the kiss for a moment. He wasn’t lying before, Quackity did taste incredible. Quackity in turn dropped his hold of the bandana, instead electing to loop his arms around Sapnap’s neck and ensnare his hands in his fiancés hair and around his jawline for a tighter hold. It was messy; too long and somewhat violent (listen, they both had sharp teeth, blood was bound to be drawn) and not quite right with Quackity’s scar and golden tooth and Sapnap’s demon fangs. They were both smiling like idiots, too caught up in the joy of just being there kissing the other to worry about if they were kissing right.

It was perfect.

“I love you.” Quackity whispered, and Sapnap took note because it was rare that Quackity ever spoke outright like this. His lover was always more for gifts or quality time than words, though flirting was his exception. Words were more Karl’s thing, actions were Sapnap’s. But Quackity almost never directly said what was on his mind. “I was scared tonight.” Quackity continued quietly. “I’m not used to being scared for you. I know you’re a hero, and I know you can handle yourself, but my…’work associates’ can be vicious. I couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t speak. I sat for so long just begging you’d get out safely. I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I felt…well, small. I don’t ever want to be afraid of losing you ever again. I love you too much for that.” Sapnap pressed gentle kisses to his fiancés hairline, wiping the slow tears that fell from his eyes. “If I could help it, you’d never fear for me again. I’d set the world ablaze before I’d ever want to see you scared.” “Jesus Christ you sound like Karl.” Quackity sniffled, chuckling.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a safe space for you.” Sapnap sighed. His storage was supposed to be a place where Quackity could feel protected, and now it had made him feel anything but. His instincts were in a fucking mess about it. “You’ll always be a safe space for me, baby.” Quackity answered, leaning his head against Sapnap’s shoulder. “I’ll always feel safer within you than anywhere else. I was scared for you, that’s all. I got you into that, and I couldn’t help you.” “You just being there helped more than you know. I hate that you got hurt, I hate that I couldn’t stop it, but…well, even if it’s selfish, I’m glad I wasn’t going through it alone.” Quackity smiled at him, an adoring look in his eyes before he laughed. “Aw, tsk tsk, selfishness is no trait befitting a hero. Maybe you should just quit and join my gang.” He grinned evily. “Ooooo, maybe some other time, but as of right now I rather enjoy upholding the law, Oberon.” “Ew, yuck.”

“We didn’t know what to grab so we threw frozen pizza in the oven.” Sam announced loudly, re-entering the room and placing two full hot pizzas in front of the couple. “Also we figured we should grab food that takes a while to make to give you two some alone time~” Ponk winked before he was promptly elbowed by Sam. “Oh fuck yeah!” Quackity cheered, practically shoving himself off Sapnap to grab a slice. Sam and Ponk laughed as Quackity shoveled the whole thing in his mouth, moaning at how good it was before swallowing and quickly grabbing another piece. Sapnap just watched for a moment. Quackity trying to reach for his third piece in the last 30 seconds, Sam trying (and failing) to hold him back so he didn’t choke and die after being saved less than an hour ago, and Ponk losing their absolute shit watching it all. All these people he’s known almost his whole life, yet when he also knew them so intimately on the battlefield, he sometimes forgot how…domestic it all was. How nice it was to just be with his lover and his family.

“Hey, Cracknap,” Ponk broke his train of thought, “you gonna eat or what?” Sapnap smiled. “Yeah, sorry, just got distracted. Thanks, guys.” “Anytime, Sap.” Sam replied, finally trusting Quackity to not die since he was now eating pizza at a normal speed. Good food and people he cared about, safe and sound.

Even if Quackity was right and Sapnap would probably have to go through another horrifyingly stressful ordeal by the next day, for now, everything was as it should be. As long as he could come back to this at the end of the day, whether it was with his friends, Quackity’s family, or his own, everything would be ok.

#cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #tw vore #giant!sapnap #tiny!quackity #sizeshifter!quackity #shapeshifter!quackity #soft vore #safe vore #cynwrites

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cryscendo · 7 months ago

Note

Kurtbastian + a kiss to prove you don’t have feelings for them 👀

(except we all know it's a lie there's totally feelings there)

i saw this prompt and my mind starting thinking about the potential of dalton era kurtbastian……. i MAY have gotten a little carried away with it, but i hope you love it <3

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe (+ platonic Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson)

Word Count: 1599

Rating: T

if you would like to send me a prompt, check out the prompt list here!

fic can be read under the cut <3

“God, he’s the worst, isn’t he?” Kurt muttered in mild irritation. He and Blaine were sitting in one of Dalton’s many study rooms, going over their… English homework? Or was it History? Well, considering they were discussing The Grapes of Wrath, he supposed it could be either. But it didn’t matter, because he could hardly focus on the assignment in front of him anyway.

“Oh, c’mon Kurt, he’s not that bad,” Blaine argued and it was in one of those moments that Kurt greatly questioned his friend’s sanity.

“Are you kidding? We’re talking about the same guy here, right?”

Blaine laughed, nodding. “Yes, we’re both talking about Sebastian,” he replied and even the guy’s name alone put Kurt on edge. Kurt’s transfer to Dalton had been generally pretty breezy. For the most part, the guys here were kind and accepting. Apparently Dalton Academy was serious about their ‘zero tolerance policy’.

But then there was Sebastian, who stood to be an outlier in terms of Kurt maintaining his peace. He was insufferable, to say the least. And it’s made so much worse given that he has chosen to target Kurt specifically. Kurt wasn’t sure if it was because he was the new kid or what, but Sebastian seemed to go out of his way to irritate Kurt. It wasn’t like he felt threatened by Sebastian, — this was hardly a Dave Karofsky situation — but he could most definitely attest that Sebastian was a consistent annoyance.

“I just don’t get how you can tolerate him,” Kurt went on, and Blaine rested his chin in his hand, listening patiently to Kurt’s rant with an amused grin. “Ever since I transferred here, he’s been antagonizing me. Like doesn’t he have anything better to do than exist like a gnat in my ear?”

Kurt could see it clear as day in Blaine’s poorly suppressed grin; he had something that he clearly wanted to say, but just wasn’t. Well, Kurt wasn’t really all too fond of being out of the loop, so to speak.

Kurt gave Blaine a look of suspicion. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Blaine replied, attempting to disguise his expression by taking a sip of his coffee.

Kurt wasn’t buying it, though. “No, what’s so funny? Is there some joke I’m not in on?”

Blaine paused for a moment, contemplating speaking up again. Finally, though, he sets his coffee cup back down on the table and holds his hands out in front of himself defensively. As if Kurt is some kind of threat. “Okay, if I say this, you can’t bite my head off about it. That fair?”

Well, Kurt didn’t exactly love the implications of that. But he liked being in the dark about things even less, so with some reservations, he released a sigh and shrugged. “Fine. What’s such a big deal that you don’t wanna say it? I promise I’ll be nice.”

“Well, I just noticed that any time you like a guy, you start talking about him a lot. I mean, that’s how you were with that Sam guy from your old school.” Kurt felt heat rise to his cheeks at Blaine’s accusation. He wanted to protest because he didn’t really think he had talked about Sam that much, but he decided to keep his mouth shut as Blaine continued. “And, y’know, you do talk about Sebastian an awful lot so could it be possible that you maybe have a bit of a… crush on him?”

That… truly stunned Kurt. What was Blaine thinking? Sure, he talked about Sebastian a lot but it wasn’t like that. His friend has really, truly gone off the deep end. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I’m just thinking aloud here! I could be completely wrong, I get that. But you have to admit that he does stay on your mind a lot.”

“I can’t believe you would even suggest something like that,” Kurt responded in disbelief. “I have not, nor would I ever, have a crush on him.”

“A crush oh who, Kurt?” A voice that Kurt is unfortunately painfully familiar with cut in. Kurt and Blaine both turned towards the doorway to find Sebastian standing there, snarky expression and all. Then, with complete and utter audacity, he came in and sat down in one of the empty seats at Kurt and Blaine’s table.

“Nobody,” Kurt said immediately. He really did not need Sebastian to be here right now. Of all the examples of the worst possible timing, this has got to be a top contender in the ranking. “Nobody worth mentioning, anyway.”

“Oh c’mon, Hummel, I don’t believe that. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Don’t you have a line of grown men on Facebook offering to be your sugar daddy for the low, low price of one sad handjob a week and no less than five weekly texts offering them ‘the boyfriend experience’? You must be far too busy to be spending your time here with us.”

“Ah, unfortunately, they couldn’t meet my rates,” Sebastian countered Kurt’s insult easily, letting the words roll off him without care. “But hey, no worries, I gave them your information. I know you could use the money. DaddyDom69 seemed particularly interested.”

“What are you doing here, Sebastian?” Kurt questioned, unimpressed.

“Well, I was here to visit with my old pal, Blaine, but then I heard that the great Kurt Hummel has a crush and realized I had to get more details on that! So, who is he?”

It was then that Kurt looked over at Blaine, shooting him a look that was a mixture of apprehension and frustration. Because this was Blaine’s fault. This entire discussion wouldn’t be happening if Blaine hadn’t insinuated that Kurt had a crush.

Apparently, the look that they shared was enough to tip Sebastian off. Either that, or he’s just such a narcissist that he believed that everything revolved around him. Regardless, he lets out a mocking gasp, bringing his hand to his chest as if pretending to be shocked. “Oh my, is it me? Kurt, I’m flattered, you could’ve just said that!”

“Never, not even in your wildest dreams, would I ever have a crush on you. Trust and believe.” Kurt spoke in such a way that he hoped left no room for argument. However, it seems like with Sebastian, there’s always room for argument.

“Yeah? Then prove it,” Sebastian challenged.

“How would I even do that?”

Sebastian’s smirk turned conspiratorial. “Kiss me. If it’s not a crush then nothing would happen, right?”

Immediately, Kurt could sense Blaine’s tension beside him. Blaine knew about Kurt’s history of being kissed in ways that nobody else did. It was sweet that he cared so much, but this was pretty much his fault to begin with.

“You must be joking,” Kurt said after some time.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Well he looked like a joke, that’s for sure. But that also wasn’t the question. And sure, he could end this. He could just say that he’s done entertaining this, but wouldn’t that be just the same as admitting guilt?

“Sure, fine, let’s do it.”

“Uh, Kurt,” Blaine began to cut in, “you don’t have to do that. Don’t feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” Well, he does a little bit. But he’s not going to say that. “Like Sebastian said, if it’s not a crush, it’s not like anything would happen anyway.” He scooted his chair closer to Sebastian and briefly caught a glimpse of a guilty looking Blaine out of the corner of his eye. Blaine didn’t need to feel guilty, at the end of the day, this was Kurt’s choice. “So… let’s do it.”

Sebastian readjusted in his chair. “I’m ready when you are, Hummel.”

So the ball was in his court. That’s fine. He could do this. It’s just Sebastian. No big deal. He’s never willingly kissed another man before, but it was fine.

Kurt leaned in, and before he could possibly talk himself out of it, he pressed his mouth to Sebastian’s. He didn’t know what he was doing really, but Sebastian didn’t seem to complain. In fact, he all but leaned into the kiss, carding a hand through Kurt’s hair in an act of unusual tenderness from the boy. It lingered for a bit longer than anticipated and—

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Kurt pulled away from Sebastian, trying not to come off as alarmed. He stood abruptly, and had two pairs of eyes locked on him. Wide, concerned ones from Blaine, and inquisitive, searching ones from Sebastian. God, Kurt hoped he didn’t find whatever he was looking for.

He knew his face must be hot from nerves. That, and the fact that he just found the kiss with Sebastian to be… pleasant? That was not supposed to happen.

Kurt cleared his throat anxiously. “See. Nothing. Just like I said.” He haphazardly picked up his belongings as he continued. “Well, I’d hate to leave so soon, but it’s getting late and my dad’s going to be expecting me for dinner. Bye.”

And with that, he rushed out of the room, not willing to be under the scrutiny of his best friend and his rival any longer.

It wasn’t until later that night when he received a few texts. One of them made his heart skip a beat. The one from Blaine was expected. It was an apology and it read Kurt, I am so sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have said anything, please don’t be mad at me.

But the other text; that one, Kurt could never have anticipated.

From Sebastian: Hey, Kurt. You wouldn’t happen to be doing anything this weekend, are you?

#glee #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #kurtbastian #kurtbastian fic #my fic #my stuff #this was a fun one i dont really write high school era glee fics very often #or at all ig since i think this may be the first time #backslashdelta

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eddiediazismyhusband · 7 months ago

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No but you’re so right about not wanting to watch season 8 because after how they handled the doppelgänger storyline I don’t want to watch it, with the rumours Gavin isn’t coming back and how this show has handled estranged parents storylines in the past I just have zero faith they’re going to do Eddie any justice especially after they sent him back to before the show levels of development, practically erasing everything we’ve seen him work on from seasons 2-6, like I can just picture the Diaz parents redemption and Eddie thanking them for taking Chris and ignoring everything a little like they did with the Buckleys

And something something this show hates happy queer parents, I don’t know how to really articulate this but like even if they do a gay Eddie storyline now, it’s not sitting right with me that it’s only happening now Chris is gone, like I know Eddie filters life through Chris/doesn’t really know who he is without the parent role etc etc I know that but with the way they treat Henren on the show and the way they treat Denny and Mara’s storylines, it almost seems like they weren��t going to let Eddie figure himself out while also actively parenting—it’s giving the straight grandparents need to save Chris from his gay dad (like they wanted to all along) i don’t know if I’m getting my point across well but it’s giving a “if you’re queer and a parent you will not be happy on this show your kid/s will get taken away from you”

👏👏👏

this. i understand the argument that eddie needs a chance to examine things without looking throughthe Chris lense, but it feels like he absolutely 100% could have had the realization because of Chris. like it would have taken chris saying he views buck as his dad one time and eddie would have spiralled and everything would have begun to fall into place— i get gavin having conflicts due to his move and possibly having to leave the show but there were so many other ways to essentially write him off (yes ik nothing is confirmed and that he very well could come back in a much slimmed down onscreen role such as may/harry) but it feels like they just went “eh… eddie started to reconcile with his dad…. let’s just send chris away even though eddie realistically would not have built up that much trust in this short amount of time (especially w helena)

and i 1000% agree w it mimicking the henren trauma bc why are we targeting the black lesbians with the same storyline we already saw with Nia…. why are we now lumping eddie into the traumatized poc paranoid losing their kid trope? especially if they plan to make him queer?

like i fully understand this show is a drama, but i miss when it was a DRAMA and not a SOAP OPERA… like earlier seasons had their fair amount of dramatic shit going on but this is just ridiculous and some of it feels farcical to me at this point… especially with the handling of buck’s bisexuality where his coming out scene to maddie included a joke about “always checking out a hot guy’s ass” once again reducing his character down to sex even though Buck has grown past that… idk it just rubs me the wrong way that we’re either sex-hungry, sassy, traumatized, or all three in one and it doesn’t sit right with me.

also them actively chosing to make a known problematic character queer just to serve as a plot device for a sexuality arc that didn’t even live up to any potential bc they kissed once, went on a coffe date and bam they’re suddenly together? even for a straight couple that’s such an anticlimactic relationship buildup let alone a queer one… and not only that but using his queerness as an excuse for his racism and misogynistic behavior as a way to sweep it under the rug is so icky to me… like why is the only decently treated canonically queer character Josh??? (even though even he was part of that whole hate crime plot!)

it’s so hard as a queer person to watch other queer people be told by straight people that they should settle for what we have… and that those queer people listen and also somehow think that settling is all we can do. i know it’s easy to settle for shit, but i’m sorry i did not spend six years watching these two build something beautiful to see it thrown away because what they gave us is (not even) “good enough.”

it really is disheartening.

anyway sorry for turning this into another rant post, anon, i just liked your added point of the traumatized queer parent thing and wanted to expand on that some more!

#911 abc #eddie diaz #911 #buddie #911 on abc #evan buckley #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #anti lou ferrigno jr #anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard #anti tevan #anti bummy #anti bt #anon ask #911 vent post

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spocktheestallion · 2 years ago

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why joel was right to save ellie bc i have a lot of opinions and by god i’m gonna share em

so since the show has premiered i’ve seen this debate flare up again and a lot of people saying joel “robbed the world of a cure” when he saved ellie but lets be real, the fireflies were never gonna make that cure.

first off in the original game the hospital and operating room were FILTHY. and yes in the remaster they retconned it to be clean but that just seems silly to me. the fireflies had so little infrastructure that they were wiped out by ONE angry old man in a single night, where are they getting hospital cleaning crews? where are they getting the supplies to properly and i mean PROPERLY sanitize a working OR? more importantly WHO were the medical staff? what were their qualifications? to pull off what they wanted they would’ve needed a team of brilliant scientists specializing in different specific fields and i doubt any of them had been to med school recently. the outbreak was over 20 years old by that point, and medicine is a continually evolving field. those licenses were EXPIRED and even if they had experience during the pandemic it likely would’ve been in field medicine, which is not the same as epidemiology or neuroscience or any of the things they would’ve needed specializing in to get a cure. also the fact that they were saying “we’re gonna make a vaccine!” was another red flag, bc fungal infections aren’t even treated w vaccines. it just goes to show they didn’t know what they were doing. they were just reckless and desperate and ellie would’ve died needlessly.

secondly killing ellie especially right off the bat would make NO sense. what if they find out later on they need a live subject or more samples or whatever? well too late your only subject is dead. why wouldn’t they do blood tests? imaging? or if the cordyceps is only in the brain you can still do a biopsy without killing the person. again, these people didn’t know what they were doing. they were grasping at straws and even if they had gone through with their original plan they probably wouldn’t have been able to synthesize a cure anyway. the sample would’ve expired or been contaminated in the dirty hospital or they would’ve fucked up their sample through ignorance. the whole rushing straight to pulling ellie’s brain out was ridiculous. they would’ve killed a kid needlessly without a second thought.

which brings me to my next point. the fireflies aren’t exactly cut and dry good guys either. i may be reaching w this and i need to rewatch the premiere episode to confirm this but they don’t seem all that picky about their targets and civilians seem to get caught up in them a little too easy. the fireflies aren’t super concerned about human life if it gets in the way of their cause, i mean they were recruiting young kids and giving them weapons just like fedra did. there’s a reason tommy left them high and dry. they’re extremists and they don’t care who they hurt or exploit so long as it serves their cause. they aren’t philanthropists and they FOR SURE would not have been giving out that cure out of the goodness of their hearts. they would’ve gatekept it to themselves and they absolutely would’ve used it as a recruiting tool or political bargaining chip.

but more importantly even in the very unlikely situation they COULD make a successful cure AND mass produce it AND move it cross country which they clearly don’t have the resources for, there’s no way fedra would’ve let them get away with it. their fascist control is all justified in the name of preventing infection, if the disease is no longer a threat that’s a massive blow to fedra’s power. they might’ve been chasing around fireflies for setting off a few car bombs or whatever but if you think fedra isn’t going full extermination mode if they find out the fireflies have a cure you’re kidding yourself. and we’ve clearly established the fireflies would be crushed if they had fedras full attention given that they were pretty much eradicated by one guy in a single night.

and if we’ve learned anything from our own covid pandemic, it’s that if you want to effectively immunize a whole population it needs to be WIDESPREAD. you can’t just treat a few people and call it a day, EVERYONE needs to take the cure or the disease is going to survive and mutate until it can come back in a treatment-resistant variant again and again and again. and after a 20 year outbreak the kind of infrastructure you need to make that happens is gone. it just doesn’t exist anymore. fedra is probably the only group with the level of organization and infrastructure anywhere CLOSE to being able to achieve that kind of feat and i doubt even they could, and even if they could they wouldn’t.

so the fireflies were NEVER gonna be able to make a cure in the first place, they were NEVER gonna be able to mass produce and distribute it, they were NEVER going to be handing it out to anyone they weren’t tight with, and even if they had been well equipped philanthropists who could make a cure and were actually giving it out freely fedra would’ve crushed them immediately.

and i’ve also seen people argue that either way it should’ve been ellie’s choice but i disagree. ellie was a traumatized CHILD with severe survivors guilt. she was not mature enough or in the right headspace to make that kind of decision. JOEL was the closest thing to a legal guardian she had, and it was HIS responsibility to protect her until she was old enough to make decisions like that for herself AND HE DID. a kid should not be allowed to make that choice even if they want to because they’re a KID. also the fireflies weren’t gonna let joel live anyway, i’m pretty sure they were planning to kill him even if he complied.

and ultimately it’s not like joel was considering all this when he made his choice, he saved ellie because he LOVED her. like i’m sure he picked up on some red flags and knew things were sketch and realized the fireflies would probably fail and she’d die for nothing but more than anything he went back bc that was HIS BABY and he wasn’t letting desperate assholes sacrifice her for their cause. “save who you can save” remember? maybe you can’t single handedly change the world or make some miracle cure but you can do what you can for the people you love and maybe that’s enough. maybe you can never make the world go back to the way it was and maybe you SHOULDN’T but you can take it as it is one step at a time and you can do it with the family you’ve made. i think that’s a much better takeaway and i don’t like how the “joel was selfish and did the objectively bad and wrong thing” narrative in tlou2 minimizes that.

#the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tlou series #tlou part 2 #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams

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the-name-is-z · 20 days ago

Text

SKELETONS | ch. 68

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The Alexandrians deal with the fallout after the attack. Someone makes a rash decision. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; teaching youths to use guns; discussions of fear and panic; character hanging above walkers; near-death experience; guilt-tripping

Chapter 68 - Heads Up

Iris stopped during her morning stroll, watching Morgan making use of one of the free spaces of grass in Alexandria. He was going through the motions with his staff, and now that it wasn’t covered in gore and they weren’t in the midst of an attack, Iris could admire the smooth intricacies of the carving and the skill Morgan exhibited in its wielding.

“Good morning.” He called, continuing his practice.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Iris called back, stepping closer. “We’ve never been properly introduced. I’m Iris.”

“Morgan Jones.” He replied.

“Did you have a teacher?” Iris asked as he finished, looking almost as if he was praying over the staff before resting it at his side.

“Yes.”

“I did too.” She offered, spinning a knife between her fingers. He nodded.

“It’s not a good story.”

“Mine either.” She replied. He offered a small smile, nodding.

“You’ve been teaching a couple people in here some self-defence skills.” He stated. Iris nodded.

“Nothing else to do while… waiting.” She replied. “See you around?”

“Sure.” He replied. Iris waved before continuing her trek. She was supposed to meet Rick, Carl and Ron to assist in their gun training. Not that Carl needed any, but it was good that he was there to learn. When she got there, they had already started, standing around one of the tables near the expansion site.

“Start without me?” Iris called.

“You’re late.” Carl replied, hitting his target dead on. She grinned, walking up to where Rick was talking to Ron directly.

“Handguns will be a little better for your first go.” Rick explained. He went through the parts, listing as he pointed them out. “Magazine release, slide release, thumb safety.”

“That stuff’s easy, right Dad?” Carl asked. He and Ron exchanged a sour look.

“Yeah.” Rick replied. “Empty magazine. Empty chamber. See it?”

“Yeah.” Ron nodded. “Someone’s in front of you, they have a gun.”

“You’re gonna be scared. You will be.” Carl assured. Ron seemed a little tired, but no less annoyed.

“Iris?” Rick requested, gesturing in front of him. She took the empty gun, pointing it at him in their fake scenario. “Your body’s gonna tense. You’re just gonna want to pull the trigger when you get it in front of you. But you’ll miss, and you’ll be dead. You’ve gotta get it up to your eye.”

“You’ve gotta be strong enough to wait for your moment.” Carl added.

“Can I, uh…?” Ron asked, accepting the gun from Rick. Rick stood beside him as he got into position.

“Hey, your finger doesn’t touch the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.” Rick chastised. Ron squeezed one eye closed, tilting his head.

“Straighten it up, keep both eyes open.” Iris instructed. “Won’t help you see better and your depth perception will be off.”

“Carry that one with you.” Rick offered as Ron pulled the trigger, the empty click sounding. “Get a feel of what its like to carry one around.”

“Can I shoot it?” Ron asked. “Maybe like down at the walkers?”

“No, with how things are, the walls are strong but we’re lucky the walkers are spread out. We don’t want to pull them all to one spot.”

“What about like, target practice in the centre of town?” Ron proposed. “The sound will spread out in each direction. Or maybe we could use silencers or something like that.” Rick tilted his head, pursing his lips at Ron's eagerness.

“Slow down, sharpshooter.” Iris taunted. “When the walkers are gone we can take people out to practice. For now, we have to wait.”

“Probably don’t want to waste bullets anyways.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just want to learn more.”

“Uh-huh.” Iris nodded, amused.

“You will.” Carl replied. Ron looked up at him before turning away, going off to do whatever. Iris shook her head.

“I’ll be right back.” Rick stated, jogging off to give Ron a talk about gun safety. Iris turned to Carl.

“Okay, so what’s that about?” She asked.

“What?” He replied.

“You two hate each other, or…”

“I don’t know.” Carl admitted, sitting up on the table. Iris raised an eyebrow in question. “He wasn’t good to Enid. She just liked him because he was… innocent, I guess.”

“Ah, it’s a girl.” Iris nodded in understanding. Carl flushed, shaking his head. “Not just that. I mean, I tried to go after her over the wall, but he stopped me and told my dad. I don’t know if she even made it out.”

“I know the waiting is the hardest part.” Iris nodded, Carl nodding, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Of course she knew that. “But you know that was the right thing for him to do, right? She’s a tough kid, and we can’t take risks by trying to save people who don’t want to be saved. Or might not need to be in the first place.”

“Yeah. I just… it’s frustrating how little he knows.” Carl stated. Iris chuckled.

“Yeah, I get that. But we know why, and all we can do is try to help. Maybe just… leave Ron to your dad and try and help some of the others.” Iris suggested.

“What? Why?” Carl frowned.

“It’s just… no matter your intentions, if he sees you as an ‘enemy’, so to speak,” she air-quoted, “then whatever you say to him is going to sound condescending, like you think you’re better than him, even if you don’t think that.” She hurriedly added as he opened his mouth to protest. He nodded then, in understanding.

“You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.”

Iris was walking through the streets with Rick and Tobin to talk about the expansion area’s reinforcements when they saw something rather unusual. Someone had tied a cable from the guard post across to the roof of the church and was crawling upside-down above the sea of walkers. They had a backpack and weapons, clearly headed somewhere.

“What the hell?” Tobin murmured. Rick burst into a sprint, Iris following quickly after, climbing up the ladder to the guard post.

“Spencer, what the fuck are you doing?” Iris called, eyes wide.

“Hey, Spencer, get back here!” Rick yelled. He was grunting with the effort, his weight pulling the cable down. “Get back here now!”

“Rick, the cable’s not going to hold.” Iris said quietly, pointing to the rusted grappling hook just barely hanging on to the edge of the church roof.

“Spencer, Spencer move!” Tara called. She and Eugene were on another guard post having noticed what was going on. The metal hook groaned, clanging loudly as it changed positions. The hook and cable held, but shook violently, Spencer losing his grip and hanging just by his gloved hands. He grunted in pain, feet dangling just above the clawing hands reaching upward. Any taller and he would have been walker food.

“Go! Keep moving! Hurry!” Rick yelled. The hook gave one last effort before snapping, the cable falling slack and sending Spencer slamming into the wall into the hands of a few walkers.

“Come on!” Iris yelled. Tara fired her gun from her post, keeping some of the walkers off of him, but any more shots and she’d draw every walker in the place to that one spot on the wall. Rick grabbed the cable and started pulling, crying out in pain as it rubbed against his bare hands. He braced it a little, allowing Spencer to climb a bit further from the other side. He lost his grip a little, almost going over the side to join him.

Iris grabbed Rick’s shoulders, hauling him backward as Tobin climbed up to help them. The three of them pulled Spencer out of the walkers’ grip, back safely over the other side of the wall. Tara, hanging over the side of the wall, needed Michonne’s help to get back over, panting as she braced her hands on her knees.

“Tara! You almost died once for these people!” Rick yelled.

“What?” She yelled back, incredulous.

“What the hell were you doing?” Rick asked. Tara simply answered by flipping him off. Iris gave her a thumbs up behind Rick’s back.

“Lost a shoe.” Spencer gasped. “Damn it.” Rick exhaled sharply through his nose, towering over Spencer, who laid panting on the post floor. “What was that?”

“I was trying to help.” He explained. “I wanted to get to a car, draw them away.”

“You ever make a climb like that before?” Rick asked. Spencer didn’t reply, looking down sheepishly. “You want to help? Don’t make us come running to save you. You got an idea, you come to me.”

“Would you have listened to me?” Spencer asked. Rick didn’t say anything, his silence speaking for itself. Iris huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you okay?” She asked. Spencer nodded, shooting her a small smile in thanks. “Don't look at me like that. That was stupid. If you’re gonna do something stupid, you should be smarter about it.”

“Hey, Iris, can you help me find Denise?” Tara asked, walking over to where Iris was ‘supervising’ Rick and Tobin’s work on the wall supports.

“Sure.” Iris agreed, brushing off her jeans and following after her. Rick murmured something to Tobin, jogging after them.

“Hey.” He called. “I’m sorry about before. I was just—“

“He was stupid. That, we know.” Tara stated.

“I just meant what you did for him, you didn’t have to.” Rick explained.

“I know.” Tara replied.

“You could have died.”

“I mean, I’d like to say I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t.”

“Is that why you did it? You weren't thinking about it?” Rick asked.

“No, that’s how it works with us. We’re stuck with each other, right?” Tara replied.

“You know, you don’t have to psychoanalyze someone every time they do something selfless.” Iris grumbled. Rick gave her a look and she shrugged.

“Rick, Iris, you saved my son.” Deanna called, jogging toward them. “Thank you.”

“You should thank Tara.” Iris replied, smiling.

“I already did.” Deanna replied, offering her a smile. Tara smiled back, patting her shoulder before continuing on her search.

“Do you want me to come—“

“I got it!” Tara called to Iris, waving as she walked backward. Iris waved back, shaking her head.

“Now I need to thank you two.” Deanna said, looking to the both of them.

“What Spencer did was stupid.” Rick stated.

“I can’t argue that.” Deanna agreed. “At least he tried.”

“That’s not the point.” Rick replied. “I could have tried. There was a chance.”

“How’s that?”

“When the walkers were going for him, it made a gap. I could have jumped down, ran, made it out. I could have got in a car, used it to lead the walkers away. I could have done that and Spencer would be dead.” Rick explained. Iris scowled at him, shaking her head.

“But you didn’t do that.” Deanna replied. “Why?”

“I helped save him because he’s your son.”

“Wrong answer.” She shook her head, looking to Iris. “And you? Why didn’t you run?”

“Because I wouldn’t.” Iris replied simply. Deanna smiled softly, nodding.

Their conversation was interrupted by a sight in the distance, and they all turned to look. Out past the wall, from a cropping of trees, a bundle of green balloons, the same ones they’d used to set up along the herding road, floated up into the sky, disappearing into the clouds.

Without hesitation, Maggie scrambled down from her post, running down the street toward them.

“That’s Glenn!" She called. “It’s Glenn!” Iris smiled, nodding. He was safe, he was alive. Their happy reactions, the small sliver of relief was short lived, however.

A thundering creak sounded throughout the community, bringing everyone’s attention from the balloons to the bell tower. It was where Spencer had always kept lookout before the semi truck bashed through the base, cutting off the stairs. The Wolves’ attack left it in a ruin of sorts, and now, the large crack along the side was growing.

Iris thought for a moment that her head was spinning, or she was falling, or she was tilting her head. It was nauseating, the sight of the tower moving. It tipped toward the wall.

No one saw it hit the ground, they only heard the booming crash echo through the community, the forest, everywhere. Everyone had turned away, starting to run. They all knew what it meant, the tower bringing down the wall. The swarming moans on the other side rose up in reply.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

#thenameisz #daryl dixon #the walking dead #skeletons #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x original character

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trans-shuichisaihara · 7 months ago

Text

it's been a long time since i added any new pieces to my tragedy au, but i've been thinking about Them again so here's a fic

---------

The van shook and groaned as they tore their way through the ruins of what used to be Kobe. Smoke lingered in the air, polluted evidence that the attack on this area had been recent.

Mere hours had passed since they were forced to abandon their home in the face of Ultimate Despair supporters closing in on the area surrounding Kyoto. Kokichi clenched the steering wheel tightly, sharply turning to avoid a fallen piece of rubble. This was such a mess. He almost wished they’d—no. He pushed that thought out of his mind. Things were fine. They had the necessities and that was all they needed. He repeated that over and over, as if it would block out Kaede’s crying in the back seat.

Miu wasn’t much better. “I just hated it, alright?!” She outright denied every potential new base, taking one look at the setup and deeming it either irreparable or just not good enough.

“If you keep hating everything, we’re going to have to sleep in the car tonight,” he finally rebutted, getting frustrated at her refusal to drop her standards for one whole night.

“I’d rather sleep in the car than some drafty, unsafe pile of crap!”

They continued arguing for a while, before Kaede finally spoke up. “Would you please stop yelling.” Her broken yet firm tone efficiently silenced the two of them—it was a command, not a request.

A long silence hung over them like a guillotine, the reality of their situation looming overhead as that blade might—threateningly. This wasn’t the time for petty squabbling, but there was nothing else they could do either to relieve the fear in their hearts.

“We can’t sleep in the van,” Kokichi finally muttered, squeezing the steering wheel. “And we can’t keep searching forever. We’re going to run out of gas soon.”

Miu leaned against the passenger’s window, hugging her arms to her chest. She let out a huff, her breath clouding the glass before dissipating. Quietly, she responded, “Fine. Just pick one, and I’ll get us some new gas, and we’ll find a better place tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a concession, but it was certainly a compromise. Kokichi knew that Miu was struggling with everything just as much as Kaede was—trying to process that their home was gone, that their parents were dead... Certainly, he held no hard feelings towards her—she was his bestest friend in this whole wide shitty world, after all.

But because he was her best friend, he knew that he had to keep her safe. So, if that meant forcing her to stay put in a shitty ruined building when anything intact would be an easy target of any rioters or followers of Despair, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Ideally, he’d find some place crummy, but not too crummy. Unappealing on the outside, but intact on the inside. Miu wasn’t exactly wrong in denying some of the places they’d looked at earlier, but... Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

He drove them into a gloomy neighborhood, slowing the car to a crawl. They observed each ruined house in turn, trying their best to ignore the splatters of dried blood on the cracked streets and driveways.

After a few minutes of “window shopping”, Miu sighed loudly. “These all suck.”

In the rearview mirror, Kokichi saw Kaede grimace. “I don’t disagree. There’s a lot of bomb damage in this area...”

“That works out in our favor,” Kokichi pointed out. “If they’ve hit this area, there probably won’t be too many people around, and they probably won’t target this area in the near future either.”

Miu harrumphed. “Stop being right about things. Just find one that isn’t fucked up already.”

Silently, he continued on, and after a few more minutes he found their first candidate in this area. A small two-storied house with an intact driveway, which they pulled up onto before getting out.

“The windows are shattered,” Miu complained as Kaede was grabbing their self defense weapons—nothing special, just a crowbar for Miu, a kitchen knife for Kaede, and a baseball bat for Kokichi.

“Just give it a chance, Miu,” Kaede begged, exhaustion pulling her shoulders downward. Miu frowned, but she complied and said nothing more as they made their way inside through the open front door.

It was dark inside, and though he could assume it was pointless, he still tried to flick the light switch to turn the lights on. Nothing, of course—the power grid in this area was probably long gone, annihilated in the destruction of Kobe. Reluctantly, he flicked on his flashlight, and Kaede did the same with hers.

“I’ll check the security of the first floor,” he decided, his voice firm as he made the call and continued delegating tasks, “Akamatsu-chan, check and see if the upstairs is intact. Iruma-chan, see if the garage has space and opens—if we can get the van hidden away, and the building is stable, this’ll have to do.”

Kaede nodded, while Miu gave him a shrug, again commenting, “The windows are busted; that’s a major weak point.”

Kokichi couldn’t disagree there. “Yes, but if we can lock and barricade the doors, some broken windows aren’t going to be that big of a deal. It might even tell others that this place is useless—no one would camp out in a house with broken windows, yeah?”

Again, Miu shrugged, but she seemed to accept his response as she wandered off towards the logical location of the garage, opening a door before flicking on her flashlight. It seemed to be it, as she walked through the door and started looking around.

“I’m going upstairs; be careful around the broken glass, okay?” Kaede gave him a smile before going off on her assignment, the stairs creaking as she walked up them. Kokichi watched her go, before silently beginning to patrol the first floor.

The windows in the front were shattered, but the side and back ones were still intact. The doors themselves were untouched, aside from the wear-and-tear one would expect on a home that had been lived in for many years. There weren’t any unpleasant smells, aside from spoiled food in an unpowered fridge. It looked a bit battered from the outside, but overall it was in relatively good shape.

Whoever lived here must’ve met their unfortunate end elsewhere, or fled. Hopefully it was the latter.

Miu returned from her search first, hands on her hips as she announced, “I think we can fit the car in; we’ll have to move a few things, but I was able to get the door open manually.”

He gave her a smile and decided to tease her. “I’m so glad that wasn’t too much for your itty bitty piggy brain to figure out!”

Somehow his response seemed to surprise her, and it took a moment before she pushed him by his shoulder in retaliation. “You lil shit, you think now’s the time to be flirting with me?” She stuck her tongue out at him, and his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

“Me, flirt with you? Wow, someone’s getting haughty!” He stuck his tongue out at her cheekily. “I thought the smell in here was coming from you, and I’m not into pigs that roll around in the mud!”

They poked and prodded at each other while they waited for Kaede, but after a few minutes, their bantering simmered and slowed to a stop. They stood in tense silence, Miu’s brows furrowed as she looked at the stairs. Kokichi looked as well, both of their minds in sync.

“She’s taking a while.”

“Yeah.”

Miu shifted in place. “You didn’t hear anything weird?”

He shook his head. “It’s been quiet.”

“... Maybe she’s just being really careful.”

“Maybe.”

The way the staircase loomed in front of them was starting to become unbearable. Finally, Kokichi scoffed and, without announcing it, he started towards the stairs.

“H-Hey, wait up!” Miu was at his heels as he ascended the stairs, his footsteps light enough that they made no sound—there was only the delayed creak of Miu’s steps behind him.

There was a murmur of sound on the second floor—voices—and Kokichi’s heart grew fearful and panicked. Quickly, he swerved his head around to pinpoint the location and darted towards a door at the end of the hall.

“What—” Miu started to ask, but Kokichi gave her a stern look and a finger to his lips as he pressed his ear to the door.

“What was that?” an unfamiliar voice asked—a man.

“Hm? Oh, that sounded like Miu; she’s my sister,” Kaede answered. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m keeping them waiting. C’mon, I’ll—”

Kokichi shoved open the door. The stranger and Kaede both jumped, and Kokichi took advantage of their surprise to run forward and disable the stranger by kicking him straight in the knee.

He fell like a sack of potatoes to his side, shouting out in pain and alarm. “What the fuck?!”

“Akamatsu-chan, hurry downstairs; I’ll make sure this guy doesn’t get the chance to do anything,” he growled, distrust and fear mixing crudely in his heart. His grip on his baseball bat was tight as he shoved the tip of it into the stranger’s shoulder.

Kaede stared at him with wide eyes. “Huh? Ouma-kun, what—ah, no, you’ve got the wrong idea!” She did the opposite as he commanded, instead hurrying to his side and grabbing his wrist. “He’s friendly! He’s in high school, just like us!”

Kokichi took another look at him—true enough, he looked about their age, with dark messy hair and an ugly goatee on his chin. He held his kicked knee and looked up at him with confusion-filled eyes.

He scoffed, looking back to Kaede. “Age and friendliness mean nothing,” he rebutted, twisting his wrist from her grasp. “Don’t forget there were teens in that riot in Kyoto, too.”

Kaede winced and stepped back. “Ouma-kun, I know that.”

“You know this guy?” the stranger asked, shoving at the baseball bat to divert it away from him. Kokichi scowled and aimed it back at him.

“Ah, yes, this is my friend Ouma Kokichi-kun—” Kaede introduced.

“Akamatsu-chan,” he hissed at her, “Don’t be so casual with giving out our names to people!”

“Ouma, huh?” the stranger repeated without bothering to use any honorifics. He inched back enough that he could stand up again, massaging his knee. “C’mon, I swear I’m not gonna hurt you guys; I was just tryin’ to bunker down for a while, and then Akamatsu here walked in.”

“Well, this is our place!” Kokichi declared, looking back to Miu. “Isn’t that right, Iruma-chan?”

“Huh?!” She blinked at him, before scowling. “Well, yeah, of course! I don’t want to go looking for another place when this one is actually decent!”

“Ouma-kun, he was here first,” Kaede chided. “But even so, he said it was okay if we bunkered down here for the night with him.” She turned to the stranger. “Right, Momota-kun?”

“Momota” hesitated. “Uh, well, yeah. I did say that...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But this Ouma guy here doesn’t seem to want to play nice...”

“Of course not! Playing nice with strangers is a sure way to get stabbed to death while we sleep!” he retorted. “No one would be stupid enough to share a living space with a total stranger in this nightmare!”

Both Momota and Kaede were silent. Miu crossed her arms, frowning.

Receiving no response, Kokichi pushed forward. “It’s three against one, and so you gotta leave,” he declared.

Momota’s jaw fell. “Don’t be stupid—and selfish, for that matter! I was here first!”

“Ouma-kun, I’m certain about him being safe,” Kaede insisted, putting herself between the two again. “If something happens, it’ll be my fault, okay?”

He glared up at her. “And if he hurts you or Iruma-chan? What then?”

“I’m not going to—!” “He’s not going to—!” Momota and Kaede said at the same time, before looking at each other. He gave her a nervous grin while she quietly laughed.

“Oh no, no you don’t!” Kokichi shoved his way past Kaede, stomping up to Momota. “Listen here, mister! You better not touch Akamatsu-chan, or Iruma-chan and me are gonna let you have it! I know she’s a total catch and all but she’s got super high standards and you certainly aren’t enough of a catch to be worth reeling in!”

Momota’s eyes widened and he gasped like a fish, stammering out, “No, it’s not like that! I’m not gonna do something like that, I just was being nice ‘cause she was being nice—”

“Aha! The victim blaming type!” Kokichi shoved his finger into Momota’s chest. “I’ve got you read like a book. Yup, I’m gonna keep an eye on you—and in the morning, you better leave, got it?”

“Ouma-kun...” Kaede sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Momota-kun. He’s normally not like this...”

Momota grimaced. “I sure would hope not, or else I’d wonder why you’re friends with a guy like him...”

Kokichi huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m a much better choice as a friend than you would ever be, thank you very much.” He walked behind Momota and roughly shoved him towards the door. “Anyway! This is our room now! Go find a different room—and then tomorrow, you better leave! I’m serious!” he demanded and reiterated, even as Momota protested.

Yes, it would all be better once they got this stranger out of their hair.

(Little did he know, this stranger named Momota Kaito wasn’t going anywhere.)

#drv3 #oumota #kaito momota #kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #miu iruma #my post #tragedy au #fanfic #eventually i need to compile all of these on ao3 #but that's for a different day

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gx-gameon · 6 days ago

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Somewhat building off of the Jaden getting left behind instead of Jessie idea, what if they were both left behind? Would Yubel still possess Jessie to mess with Jaden, or would both of them being there make it possible for them to escape?

Oh this is a fun idea. I need you to know that it’s just the meme over and over again

We don’t know how Yubel gets a hold of Jesse. Maybe he passed out from the duel afterward since they still have those stupid duel bands. If that’s the case then yes Yubel still gets Jesse

And we can go off on a tangent later about how that is torture for Jaden.

But let’s play with the idea that Yubel doesn’t get Jesse.

At the end of the duel Haden refuses to leave and doesn’t get knocked out. Grabbing hold of Jesse telling him. “We’re partners. We’re doing this together.”

The school and everyone else goes home and Yubel is laughing. They didn’t lose. Jaden is still here.

The duel ends and let’s say the energy produced was enough to fry the bio-bands. The boys quickly realize that while they aren’t home they aren’t in the same dimension either. Yubel laughs and tries to attack but the two are able to hold her off long enough to run for it.

They are exhausted. But they are surviving.

Jesse feels bad that Jaden stayed with him. He wanted to save his friend. Now that monster, who is specifically gunning for Jaden, is in their heels and there is nothing Jesse can do to stop it. He could try to use rainbow dragon again to send Jaden home but he know the other boy is to stubborn and will not leave him.

Jaden feels awful. Yubel is after him. He’s so grateful to Jesse for getting everyone else to safety but he’s upset that Jesse is still here. It’s his job to keep everyone safe. (No it’s not) This time the threat is here for him and he’s put everyone in danger. Jesse tried to sacrifice himself for Jaden.

Both boys are spiraling and they are going to have to confront their own feelings of self-worth and self-sacrifice, as well as their feelings for each other before they are going to be able to work together to get home.

Meanwhile

The DM cast and Gx cast are freaking out.

Chazz is leading the Gx charge to get the two idiots back with Ojama yellow.

The Dm cast are operating separately from the students as they don’t realize that the kids have come as well.

Leading to shenanigans when the group meets up.

Yubel would definitely target the Gx cast when they show up. We got to get super poly some how. Maybe the resentment is focused on Jaden and Jesse.

It’s Jesse’s fault Jaden stayed behind. Jaden’s basically forgotten us in favor of Jesse.(things like that)

Or at Chazz, “he’s not as good of a leader as Jaden” “I bet he’s glad Jaden’s gone”

Frustrations that have been building over the years and exacerbated by the arrival of the transfer students who are showing the Gx crew how useless they have been over the past 3 years

#yugioh gx #jaden yuki #judai yuki #dad yugi #jesse anderson #spiritshipping #chazz princeton #johan andersen #yubel

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mahs-dumpster · 7 months ago

Text

a/n: I got pirate treasure brainrot while drawing Jeanne so I made this in a hurry......... Also kinda continuation from my other fit Jasmine. Imma head to bed now

cw: oc x canon (Kalim x Jeanne), uhhhh lies to try to push people away? If that makes sense? Also thoughts of self hatred

words: 1070

“Kalim.” Jeanne spoke suddenly, her hand stopping from caressing the boy’s hair. He made a sound of acknowledgement, waiting to hear what his beloved would say. “I think it's time we stop whatever this is.”

Kalim’s eyes immediately opened, and he sat down to look at the girl with confusion on his face. His red irises looked everywhere on Jeanne's face, searching for any hint of a joke, but her expression was serious, there was no smile, no indication that she didn't mean what she said.

“What… what do you mean?” He asked, his anxiety building up as he lifted his hand to touch the girl's face. She held his wrist with her hand and leaned into his touch, a melancholic look in her eyes. “We… we’re together, right? Are you– you're trying to break up with me?”

“Kalim, there wasn't even a relationship to begin with.” she gently pushed his hand away, holding it on her lap. “We never agreed to be together as lovers.”

“But we are.” He insisted, almost frantic. “I wouldn't have kissed you that day if I didn't love you. You never rejected me either, so–”

“Because I wanted to use you.” Kalim blinked. his heart sinking as he saw the girl frowning, her eyes fixated on the ground. “I wanted– I'm a pirate, Kalim.” She began, biting her lip. “I steal, that's what I do. You're a rich boy who I thought would be an easy target.”

“I… know that.” He said, and it was Jeanne's turn to feel like her heart was breaking. “I always knew that, I’m not dumb.” Of course he wasn't. Jeanne knew that. But still, hearing him say it… “But I just loved you so much I couldn't help it.”

Jeanne let out a painful chuckle, letting his hand go and playing with her hook.

“Love? You don't know what love is, Kalim.” He couldn't love her. It was impossible to love someone like her. “You’ve known me for months.”

“But I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Kalim tilted his head, his hand moving to her chin, making her lift her face and look him in the eye. Kalim smiled softly, his dimples that Jeanne loved so much showing up. “I love you.”

No.

She took his hand out of her face and got up, but before she could walk Kalim held her wrist, making her look at him. Her face was redder than an apple, but she couldn't help it, he had always been like that… so gentle, so loving, so honest.

She would poison his existence if she stayed for longer.

“Jeanne, please.” He pleaded, deciding to get up, not once leaving his grip on her wrist, scared she’d run away. “I don't care about your intentions at first. I only care about how you feel now.” He smiled, his fingers caressing the girl's face, and she felt herself melting into his touch once again. “So, please, stay with me.”

Jeanne closed her eyes tightly and gently took his hand out of her face, she was bracing herself for the absurdity she was about to say, for how much this would hurt not only her, but him as well.

But there was no other way. She needed him to get away from her. For his own good.

“I don't love you.”

Kalim blinked. “What?”

“I don't love you, Asim.”

“What are you saying…?” He questioned, holding onto her tighter. “Jeanne, I told you, I–”

“This was all a trick, Asim, I never loved you.” She continued the lie, daring to look the boy in the eyes, no matter how much it stung. “Unfortunately, I realized that Jamil and Damali are onto my schemes. There's no benefit for me in pretending any longer.”

She pushed his hands away, but she couldn't help but do it softly, gently. Almost as if trying to undo the damage she had caused. But she was too far gone.

“Do me a favor.” His red eyes never left her gaze, not even when he started to tear up. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stay strong. “Forget that I ever got into your life.”

With that, she turned around, closing his bedroom door behind her. As she did, she tried to hear anything from the boy inside, but it was pure silence.

Then, she heard soft sniffles, almost as if trying to keep quiet, as if trying not to bother anyone. Jeanne felt her eyes tear up.

He was hurting. Because of her.

She was a monster.

The girl crouched down, her face resting on her knees as she let a few tears fall. She couldn't help it, she wouldn't be able to wait until she reached her room in Savanaclaw, she needed to let it out now, at least some of it.

She hated herself for this. She hated every last part of herself. How dare she, a girl like her, try to take advantage of a boy like him, and later think they could be happy? Why? Because he had ‘changed her'? Because he was gentle and caring? Because he made her feel safe, and loved? And as if she deserved attention? And deserved kindness? Because he treated her as the most precious jewel in the entirety of Twisted Wonderland, despite all the riches he got?

What a joke!

She had tried to manipulate him, and therefore she didn't deserve his love. Kalim needed to find a wonderful, kind girl who would love him for who he was, and not for what he could get her. He deserved someone whose family had a decent job, who didn't steal for a living.

He… deserved the opposite of her.

“Jeanne?” She fell on her butt upon hearing her name, and after realizing it was Jamil, a plate of food in his hands, – probably for Kalim – she dried her tears and got up almost immediately. She didn't want him of all people knowing how much this affected her. “What–”

“I'm not gonna show up at Scarabia anymore.” She said, making Jamil blink in surprise. “Sorry for being a nuisance this whole time.”

And with that, she left, running back to Savanaclaw with tears in her eyes, and a heartbroken. She hated admitting this but she would never be able to love anyone as she loved Kalim.

But he should love someone else. For his own good.

#twisted wonderland #twst #oc x canon #twst oc #💌! mah writes #twisted wonderland oc #kalim x oc #kalim al asim #💌! pirate treasure #💌! jeanne

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ijwrsmff · 1 year ago

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Lucifer’s been keeping his and MC’s relationship a secret, to keep from them getting targeted by lower demons/his fans as well as keep his brothers from teasing him, and MC finally breaks down because they think it’s cause he is ashamed to be with them

Here goooooo! It took a while, but it is finally done XD

Now that I have no job, just school to worry about, I'm gonna try to write more on my pages. Maybe not daily like I used to do, but somewhere between 2-3 stories on each page a week. I think thats manageable at least. I think. We'll see. I'll certainly do my best!

You were sick of it. Not being able to even go out of the dorm with your boyfriend. He was your BOYFRIEND! But his brothers didn’t even have a clue you were together. Instead, he glared from a distance when Asmo hugged you, when Satan read with you, Beel ate with you, Belphie napped with you, Levi played games with you, Mammon…anywhere even near you. It was irritating as hell. Pun intended.

When you would go to hold his hand if one of his brothers was present, he’d step away without even looking at you. It hurt more than anything. But after almost six months of being together, and you silently hurting from a distance, you decided to confront him. It had gone on long enough, having to only have “dates” when no one else was home. Or even pretending he had to lecture you for something, of which his brothers always believed. He did tend to lecture people…and you were about to give him a lecture of his own.

He was in his office, (big surprise), and when you walked in he didn’t even hardly acknowledge you. Nodding his head at you, as you walked in and crossed your arms in front of your chest. He didn’t so much as look up from the papers he was examining. It only served to make you more upset than you already were. Which…was quite a bit.

“Lucifer.” You said, stern as you could be. It wasn’t a voice he often heard from you, so he did look up briefly. “Lucifer!” This made him glare at you, but he didn’t say anything for several moments.

“Yes, darling?” He tapped a finger on his desk, and didn’t let you respond before he continued, “You know it’s important I get this done. It isn’t even time for our date yet.” Yeah. That’s right. He lived on a schedule, and only allowed dates to happen in either of your rooms. Somewhere his brothers wouldn’t come. Ever. On top of that, he intentionally “scheduled” them for when no one else would be home.

“We need to talk.” Again, with that stern voice of yours. “Besides…” You began, but the end of your sentence trailed off into an angry grumble, “What’s so date-like about our “dates””. If it had been another day, you might have even teared up. But your six month anniversary was coming up soon, and you were just mad you let this facade go on for so long.

“Go on then. Talk.” He looked at you with a guarded expression, and it only made the situation worse. “What is so important that you need to interrupt my work?”

His words fueled the anger in you, and you found yourself raising your voice as you scolded him. “We can’t go out anymore. We never even have dates outside of our rooms, you don’t let me hold your hand, we can’t even be in public in front of your brothers. BROTHERS!” You leaned forward with a scowl, but when his expression barely changed it made you waver. He…didn’t seem to even care.

“What is this about?” he folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and had you been able to make eye contact at that moment you’d see the glimmer of hurt residing within them. “You know it’s dangerous for anyone to know about our relationship, it’s to protect you that I keep it so secret-”

It fueled the fire in you once more as you cut him off, “Protect me? Protect…ME?” You slammed your hands on the desk as your eyes watered out of a mix of hurt and anger. “It’s to protect YOU, you never want to be seen with me, we can’t hold hands anywhere, and you can’t even trust your family to know we’re together. We sit in our rooms, and aren’t even allowed to be in the same room together half of the time if anyone is home!”

The anger subsided and you felt overwhelmed with sadness. “I love you…Lucifer. But you’re ashamed of me. If you didn’t want to be with me, you shouldn’t have asked me out.” A tear fell, then another. “Do you regret your decision to be with me?” The insecurities continued to seep into your words and you ended up so much more fragile than what you had meant to. “Do you…even WANT to be with me?” You took a brief moment to look at him.

He looked shocked. And you turned your eyes away. You heard him get up, and you were expecting him to usher you out of the room. Instead, he pulled you into a gentle hug. It made you look up at him just as shocked as he had previously looked.

“I’m…so sorry.” He said, and cradled your head with one hand and wrapped the other around your waist. “I had no idea I was hurting you so badly.” At the words tears poured down your cheeks, and you hugged him as tight as you could. Was it delusional to think he meant it? Or was he just doing damage control…

“I could never be ashamed of you. I’m so proud of you, you know that?” He let out a weary chuckle, “The avatar of pride…proud of the human he loves.” He pulled back and looked in your eyes. “I do love you. So much. I’m so sorry I made you feel any less than that.” He rubbed your cheek, and smiled down at you.

“Then…why do you hide me?” It sounded pathetic, even to you, and it made him smile sadly.

“Because…I’m scared. Scared of what would happen if my “fans” found out. They could hurt you. I know you have the power of our pact, but what if I couldn’t get to you in time?” He frowned, and looked lost in thought briefly before returning his gaze to you. “If my brothers found out? They’d tease you. Make you question your choice. If they were to convince you…that they were better for you then I, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I’d try to support you, but losing you would hurt me more than anything else.”

You pulled him close, grasping onto him as if he’d disappear. As you spoke into his chest, you tried to reassure him. “I could never love anyone but you…I don’t care if I get hurt, if it’s the price for being with you I’d do it again and again.” When you looked up at him you had a small smile, “I love you so much Lucifer. I just want you to be proud of me.”

He leaned down and hovered his lips over yours. He didn’t initiate it, and allowed you to make the first move at that moment. Even now, he didn’t want to push your boundaries. Without hesitating, you closed the gap. It was both an eternity, and a mere second. A kiss showing your love for each other.

When he pulled away, he smiled and pressed his forehead to yours. “I am, and forever will be, proud of you.” He looked at the door, and back at his paperwork, before he grabbed your hand. “To prove it, what would you say to a date? At your favorite restaurant in the devildom?” He held your hand gently, and raised it to his mouth to place a small kiss upon it.

You wiped your eyes with your free hand, and nodded. “I would love nothing more.” As you walked out of the room, all of his brothers were at the door. Some tried to play it off as if they weren’t listening, but Asmo and Satan looked at your and Lucifer’s hands interlocked.

Satan spoke up first, “Tch. About damn time.” He walked away first, as Belphie and Beel smiled and congratulated you. Asmo and Mammon looked like they were going to cry, and while Asmo recovered quickly and mentioned how he could do your makeup for the date, Mammon walked away with goldie in hand. Ready to spend his worries away. Levi simply walked away muttering about how he was going to play his favorite game now that the “normies” admitted their feelings.

It was a long and winding road to get to where you were, but knowing Lucifer wasn’t ashamed in the slightest made that road worth it. You felt silly having hid those feelings for so long, but in the end it brought you even closer to him. You hadn’t seen him smile so warmly in public in your entire relationship. But as you went to the restaurant he laughed and smiled at you. Not a care in the world.

In the end, it turns out you both needed it. No more secrets, and nothing to hide. You were open, honest…genuine. Your relationship only grew that much stronger, and helped you both in ways you couldn’t have imagined. Afterall, you had each other. You against the world.

And it would always be that way.

#x reader #gn reader #obey me x reader #request #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hurt/comfort #happy ending #fluff #om lucifer x reader

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torchship-rpg · 1 year ago

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Dev Diary 8 - Identities: Terrans & Lunars

Happy International Moon Day! Torchship is set 200 years after Neil Armstrong first set foot on the moon, with history diverging when Alexei Leonov followed him a few days later, keeping the space race hot through moon bases, Mars, and beyond. A bit like For All Mankind, if everyone was a bit less of a complete drama queen.

In celebration of the incredibly cool feat of somehow putting boots on another world, we’re going to be focusing today’s Dev Diary on the two human Identities which descend directly from the event; the Terrans who went there and the Lunars who stayed.

Terrans

We touched on Terrans in Dev Diary 2, as an example for how even the most ‘standard’ of human identities still has a lot of interesting Traits to draw from. Still, Terrans are very much the ‘default’ human identity, being the most populous human group. They’re called Terrans because they got upset about everyone calling them Earthlings, and it had a nice symmetry with Lunars.

Even before we get into the specific sub-Identities, each Identity is divided into a bunch of subsections which dive into various details about the group; where they live, what the environment is like, and what specific biological or genetic details you might need to know. Any of these can come with Traits; the Biology one is where aliens get their signature features, and humans get the developmental and genetic distinctions that set them apart.

(As an aside, these Identity entries are big. They’re not just a couple of paragraphs, they’re thousands of words about history, culture, and biology. Sometimes I get distracted and go on for four paragraphs about the Zinovian biological and cultural concept of sex and gender. Sorry not sorry.)

For Terrans, our Biology section includes our first two Traits. As mentioned last time, 1g is unusually high for humanoid life in the setting; most other species evolved at around half to maybe three quarters of that, and the various spacers will have grown up under even less.

This means that Terrans are a great fit for the Heavyworlder trait, which is one of the Gravity traits. This gives you better tolerance for high Gs (important when you’ve got to work on your spacecraft while under thrust) in exchange for worse penalties in 0g. Compared to a spacer who could spacewalk before they could normal-walk, you’re going to come off clumsy in freefall. You also get a bonus to Physical Instrument, the cert used for basic physical strength and endurance, and do more damage in melee.

The other Terran biological Trait is Baseliner. An assumption underlying every biological Identity is that unless we say otherwise, there’s genetic engineering afoot, either ongoing or in the species' past. While some of this is awful Gattaca-style eugenics nonsense, for Torchship’s humanity this has mostly been just some tidying up. Evolution settles for a lot of ‘good-enough’ solutions, so with a little bit of targeted editing we can do stuff like prevent cells from hoarding molecules they’ll never use, or use a chemical that’s actually good at the job instead of one that the body just had lying around.

Baseliner is the Trait where we say otherwise. You pretty much can’t survive off Earth without some genetic engineering; turns out even a pretty small reduction in gravity long-term is going to be bad for your heart, nerves, muscles, bones… your everything, basically. But if you and your family have always lived on Earth, you could well have gone the last hundred years without genetic editing.

The downside is that it costs more XP to upgrade Physical Instrument and you take extra consequences from different levels of gravity, but on the upside you have an extra ten minutes in low Oxygen before consequences start setting in, and you have a higher tolerance for drugs and poisons. You might not be peak human performance, but all those redundancies can come in handy.

Once we’re done with biology, we move into the sub-Identities, which are specific regions or subcultures. Right now Terrans only have two; rural and urban. (I’ve played around with some others but I haven’t been happy with anything yet, send in your suggestions!). Urban Terrans live in the dense, futuristic megacities that dot future Earth, in communal archeologies that are like self-contained villages. Theirs is a life of beautiful buildings, abundant greenery, a different kind of library for everything, and a joyous excess of monorails. It’s everything you could have wanted from Usborne’s Book of Future Cities (1979) come to life.

Urban Terrans get recommended the following Traits; Polyglot (to get across the cosmopolitan nature of the cities), Well-Connected (to show your closeness to the Star Union’s bureaucracy), Divergent (because urban Terrans are exactly the sort of people who do recreational genetic modifications), and Communal Spirit, a trait which boosts the effectiveness of working together. This is a common Trait for many Human identities; it’s pretty much the one that models prosocial production practices in action.

The Rural Terran trait represents a much smaller proportion of the population. These are the mix of farmers, ecologists, and indigenous groups piecing the planet back together after a close brush with climate change. Outside of lithium, there’s not a lot of on-world mining anymore (space mining has made it uneconomical) so this is mostly agriculture. These communities are relatively isolated, bypassed by the high-speed trains connecting Earth’s cities; the saying goes that Mars is closer to the cities than the farms are.

Rural Terrans get these Traits suggested: Biome Specialist (representing a familiarity in whatever regional ecology you grew up in), Stiff Upper Lip (farm work tends to toughen you up), Natural Esper (a lot of psychics try to get away from the crowded cities), and Trusting, a trait that rewards you for helping others, but makes you more vulnerable to manipulation and makes it stressful to initiate violence.

Finally, at the end of each Identity is a section dedicated to how this group fits into Star Patrol, and how their presence can result in extra Traits through social interaction with other groups. Here, the privileged, ‘default’, often somewhat thoughtless Terrans are recommended the Imposing trait, which gives you some bonuses for being intimidating, but makes it a little harder to get people’s trust. It also does a decent job representing how Terrans are simply more heavily built than anyone else in the Sol system; when you’re comparing to tiny Martians and spindly Spacers, Terrans are collectively a bunch of Conans the Barbarian.

You grew up somewhere where air is free and water falls from the sky, and people are understandably sometimes hesitant to correct your ignorance because you’re three times stronger than they are. Terrans often have some growing up to do as they realise how they come off to others.

Lunars

In Torchship’s world, there have been moon bases since the early 70s, and people have lived on the moon full-time since the early 2000s. The Soviet moon base program eventually withdrew due to budget problems, leaving the ever-increasing network of American bases the sole full-time real estate on the moon. In the 2040s, Armstrong City took one look at the unfolding disaster that was the collapse of American capitalism and seceded. Playing up its neutrality, it eventually became the de jure capital of the Solar Union and, now, the Star Union, though in actuality this is mostly symbolic.

This is because living on the moon is genuinely very difficult. The gravity is just 16% of what it is on Earth, it’s airless, and there’s no atmosphere to stop the radiation. When people started living there, its only selling point at all was being closer to Earth than Mars was.

Now that people do live there, though, in a vast underground city, there turns out to be a second advantage. The Moon is very rich in mineral resources and very poor in biospheres you might destroy by aggressively mining them, and it’s incredibly cheap to get things to lunar orbit. This has ended up making the moon the industrial powerhouse of the Star Union.

Lunars are living in the most extreme conditions of any of the human Identities, which is reflected in their Biology Traits. Like Spacers, they get Freefaller, a gravity trait that is in most ways an inverse of the Heavyworlder trait. They might not actually be living in freefall, but the gravity is so low it might not make a difference. The very low gravity also means they are recommended Medical Dependency; humans simply were not meant to grow up in these conditions. Even with genetic modifications, some ongoing medical treatment for bone density or nerve issues, arising from being seven feet tall and effectively 30 pounds, is to be expected. Finally, Lunars are recommended the Wireless Brain Uplink Trait, an extension of the implanted medical monitors which were once standard on US moon bases for long-term survival.

Lunars also only have two sub-identities. The first are the Mazedwellers, those who live in Armstrong City itself. Armstrong City is built out of the subterranean mines of Luna, using the thick crust of the planet to protect against solar radiation. This makes the city a twisting, sprawling web deep under the surface, where space is at an absolute premium even beyond what Spacers experience. To live in these conditions but still contribute your industrial might to the Union, your town doubles as a factory floor, converting back and forth every day.

This gives Lunars a distinct identity in their work ethic; while everyone else can be more content working at their own pace, on Luna the faster you get the job done the faster you get your living room back. Your recommended Traits are Claustrophile (giving you a bonus in a space suit but mild agoraphobia), Driven (representing this unusual work ethic), and Shifting Gears, a trait which lets you have two sets of Personality Impulses, in this case representing the strict work-life divide that is at the centre of Lunar culture.

The other Lunar sub-identity is being a Yardworker. The Lunar Yards are the reason that humanity won the big space war; turns out running a slower-than-light multiplanetary civilisation requires an absolutely ludicrous number of spacecraft, so Lunars built an absolutely enormous and ever-expanding space station to do that with, using a giant railgun to shoot raw materials up to it and commuting every day with short-hop shuttles. In the post-FTL era, the sheer scale of the Lunar Yards means humanity can produce an almost comedic surplus. During the war, Lunars couldn’t serve in Star Patrol (see the end of the dev diary for why), so people started living on the Yards to make as many rockets as possible instead as a way of contributing.

Being a Yardworker is a prestigious job for a Lunar, and also a competitive one. Work never slows down, six shifts twenty-four hours a day. For this reason, Yardworkers share the Driven and Claustrophile Traits with their Mazedweller counterparts, as they aren’t that divergent. They gain the Voidborn trait (which gives bonuses for making repairs, cheaper upgrades to the Cosmonaut cert, and stress when your rocket is experiencing shortages) and the Cultural Tool trait, which gives you a bonus 4d6-era item you can carry atop the normal inventory. For Lunars, that’s your Yarkworker’s Marker, the thick-nibbed, vacuum-writing pen workers carry to leave each other vital notes about problems that could potentially kill them and/or draw dicks on the spaceship. The Yardworker’s Marker and all the little notes that crews would find in their spacecraft developed a mythology, which is why now it’s as much a badge of honour as a practical tool.

Finally, the Lunars in Star Patrol section touches on an important consequence of Lunar biology; being a Lunar was for life up until shockingly recently. They couldn’t even survive something as tame as Martian gravity even a few decades ago, which meant they could never visit Earth and couldn’t serve in Solar Patrol because their hearts couldn’t take the acceleration. This only changed in the past few decades in the form of an intense, and often rather painful, two-year series of treatments and acclimation.

This comes with two suggested Traits. The first is Augment, the trait we use to represent attempts at genetic engineering that go above and beyond the normal evolutionary cleanup, which can represent some of the extreme intervention and above-average effects it might have had. The other is Stiff Upper Lip, as per Rural Terrans, representing the adjusted pain tolerances you’re going to develop after undergoing something like that.

As you can see, Trait overlap is pretty common in these things, and of course these are just suggested Traits. Despite all the differences, everyone is a lot alike in most ways.

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