#everyone is speaking with each other too Cleanly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alygator77 · 8 months ago

Text

∘₊✧─moment of passion─✧₊∘

✧ note // this is part two for moment of weakness ✧

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader

✧ summary. after getting in an argument with satoru, you unexpectedly encountered a vicious battle, putting you on the brink of death. feeling remorseful for his actions and words as you lay in the infirmary bed, satoru wants to do everything he can to make it up to you.

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f & m receiving), praising, kinda breeding, shower/bath sex, reader does have a slight panic attack (with comfort), satoru taking care of you, satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers

✧ words: 12.5k (ye i be yappin)

✧ a/n. the second part to moment of weakness! thanks everyone for your kind words :') i really had a lot of fun writing this. hope part two is to your liking ♡

Satoru feels an overwhelming sense of guilt and regret as he sits by your bedside in the infirmary of Jujutsu High. During each daily visit, he sits beside you for hours on end, silently clutching your hand and staring at your unconscious form. Each day that passes without you waking up is a day of torture for him.

He slowly watches your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, his expression a mixture of guilt and worry as he constantly replays the memory of your last conversation together. It was a stupid fight, and he regrets every harsh word that was exchanged between the two of you. He will not accept it – will not accept that those will be the last words he speaks to you.

Satoru desperately wishes he could take it all back, to beg you to forgive him. But for now, all he can do is sit by your bedside, waiting for you to wake up as he prays for you to pull through. He longs so much for you to open your eyes and look at him again, to hear your voice. The thought of losing you is unbearable for him, and he's willing to do anything to make sure it never happens.

As consciousness slowly comes back to you, you find yourself staring at the familiar white ceiling of Jujutsu High's infirmary, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the pristine cleanliness of the room confirming your location. Soft voices can be heard talking in the room, but they sound muffled and indistinct, the words difficult to make out.

You take a second to gather your bearings, your mind fuzzy and disoriented. It takes a moment for you to realize that the voices belong to none other than Satoru and Shoko. They continue their conversation in hushed tones, not noticing you regaining your consciousness. Their soft and indistinct words blend together in a low murmur.

You can tell that Satoru’s voice is laced with worry, his words carrying immense desperation. "It's been days now...why isn't she waking up?"

"She's been through a lot. Her body needs time to recover." Shoko’s voice is calm and steady.

Your body feels weak and fatigued as you struggle to sit up in the bed. Your muscles barely respond to your commands as you only manage to fumble around the mattress feebly. The shuffling of your bedsheets causes Shoko and Satoru to immediately take notice of your movement, their conversation coming to a halt as they turn their attention towards you.

They both rush to your side, faces filled with relief and concern. Shoko is the first to act, her eyes widening as she sees you weakly attempt to sit up. With a firm touch, she gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

"Don't try to sit up too quickly," she warns, her voice stern. "You're weak and battered, your body needs time to recover."

Satoru is beside you in an instant, his hand gently resting on your own, tracing soft circles.

"You’re awake,” he exhales. “Take it easy, don't overexert yourself."

Shoko checks your vitals, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she assesses your condition. "How are you feeling?"

You turn to Satoru and can see the concern etched in his features. Your heart sinks, immediately recounting the last time you saw his face – the coldness in his icy eyes. And now this look he is giving you – you can’t help but feel disappointed in yourself. Despite everything that happened, you always have hated causing him to worry. In an attempt to hide your slight discomfort, you give him a strained smile. “A bit… groggy. Just feels like I have a really bad hangover.”

Shoko can't help but roll her eyes and snort at your comment, her expression a mixture of relief and sarcasm. "Only you would compare recovering from near-death to a hangover."

Satoru gives a small, flicker of a smile at your attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry still lingers in his eyes. "You gave us quite a scare," he mutters with a huff of a chuckle, "but I suppose it's good to see your sarcastic wit is still intact."

As Shoko continues checking your vitals, her hands move with practiced ease, maneuvering around the hospital bed with urgency and poise. "Honestly, you're lucky to be alive y/n. You sustained quite a lot of damage."

You feel Satoru’s grip on your hand tighten a fraction, his eyebrows furrowing at Shoko’s comment. "Are you in any pain? Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not experiencing pain, my body just feels weak,” you rest your head back on the infirmary’s stiff pillow and look up at the ceiling fan – your mind spinning just as much as it while you try to recall the events that happened. What did happen? You remember arguing with Satoru and then... nothing. Just a fog of uncertainty. Your eyebrows furrow as sadness washes over you – though you can’t recall what triggers this emotion, your body responds on its own volition. “I remember pieces… I think... it’s a bit of a haze.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he picks up your somber expression. He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with warmth. "Pieces, hmm?" he mutters.

You feel Shoko’s hands move quickly but gently over your body as she continues your check-up.

"That's not unusual," she says. "Trauma can sometimes cause memory gaps. Especially considering what you've been through."

As she finishes, she takes a step back, a small sigh escaping her lips, clutching her clipboard as she charts your vitals. "You'll be weak and tired for a while. The pain will probably come later, once your body fully registers what it's been through.” Her eyes flicker up to you and Satoru as she breaks her focus from her notes. “I need to report your condition to Principal Yaga. Gojo, will you watch over her in the meantime?"

Satoru nods, his gaze never leaving your face. "Yeah, of course."

The door closes behind Shoko with a soft thud, leaving you and Satoru alone in the infirmary. He remains seated in the chair beside your bed and his hands do not waver from yours – the soothing circles not stopping. You feel that with each gentle brush of his fingertips, he is touching you as if you are the most delicate thing in his life.

The silence that falls between you both is heavy. There is still a lingering sting in your heart at the sight of Satoru. You cannot shake the image of that once cold stare of his, the one he directed directly at you during your argument – and his words, the way he claimed that your shared passion meant nothing to him… it replays in your head constantly like a broken record.

Yet despite it all, despite all that was said and done, you undeniably wanted him by your side. Feeling conflicted, it is clear there is much that needs to be said, but neither of you speak up for a few moments. It is ultimately Satoru who breaks the silence, his voice soft and low, barely above a whisper.

"You scared the crap out of me. Don't ever do that again."

“Guess I caused you trouble again…huh?” unable to hide the somber tone in your voice, you force a smile in hopes to mask it.

"I'm not worried about the trouble you cause," he mutters, his voice laced with both irritation and affection. "I'm worried about you, dummy."

You blink as he squeezes your hand gently, his gaze softening as he fixes it on your features. He braces himself with a deep breath. "You've always caused me trouble. But I'd rather deal with a lifetime's worth of trouble than lose you," releasing an exhale – his voice evokes vulnerability as you hear it tremble slightly.

"I know I've been an ass... and I know my words have hurt you... but the thought of losing you... it..." shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, he struggles to find the right word to express his feelings, his emotions getting the best of him.

"I..." He pauses, his snowy lashes fluttering open as his gaze locks with yours – eyes blue with sorrow. "I'm sorry. For the way I acted and what I said. The fear I felt when I found you in that village, hurt and unconscious... it was a waking nightmare."

Satoru reaches out his free hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment, caressing your face tenderly.

"You have no idea… how much you mean to me," he murmurs, "I don't know what I'd do without you... I can’t lose… this." He intertwines his fingers with yours, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. His hands are a bit clammy upon yours – is he nervous? You’ve never seen him be so vulnerable with you. You look down at your hand, intertwined with his, and shift your gaze back to meet his own.

“And what exactly is, this, Satoru?” you whisper, a slight tremble in your voice. “I’m so confused. You constantly send me mixed signals.”

Satoru swallows hard at your question, his hand still holding onto yours tightly, as if holding onto you for dear life. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to articulate his feelings and thoughts.

After giving him a moment, you continue “You need to let me in. I can’t understand how you feel unless you tell me.”

“This… us,” he murmurs, his voice strained with emotion. “Honestly, I don't know what we are either. I can't define it, but I know how I feel about you... and it scares me.”

He releases a shaky exhale, his gaze breaking from you momentarily as he looks away. "You're right, I know I've been giving you mixed signals. But every time I tried to get closer, something held me back. Letting people in... it's not something I'm good at."

You feel his grip on your hand tighten, his thumb gently stroking the skin on the back of your knuckles as he slowly adverts his eyes back to your own. "But you're right... I need to let you in. You deserve to know... everything." He pauses, his eyes searching your face as he chooses his next words carefully. "The truth is, I love you... I've loved you for a long time. And it terrifies me." Satoru’s confession hangs in the air, his words ringing with raw honesty.

His eyes soften as he watches you take it in. "I didn't want to admit it... even to myself," he whispers. "I thought if I kept my distance, if I played it cool, I could protect you from the danger that comes with loving me. But the truth is... I'm not good at staying away from you."

He gently brushes a tear from your cheek that you hadn't even realized had fallen.

Reaching up, you lightly place your free hand upon his. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, his pulse pounding slightly faster than usual. As you stare into his blue eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear, and vulnerability, you finally speak the words that have been ringing in your mind since your fight.

“You… when you picked me up from the bar. What we did… you said it didn’t mean anything,” you feel your voice tremble slightly as you try to prevent any more tears from falling.

Satoru’s gaze flickers momentarily as guilt and regret flash across his face. His eyes shift away from yours, unable to hold your hurt gaze as the memory of his harsh words come back to him.

"I was a bastard," he mutters under his breath, his eyes averted from your own as his white tousles hide his shame. "Those words... they were a lie. What we did... what we shared...” he pulls his gaze back up to meet your own, “it meant everything to me.”

"I was trying to protect myself... protect you... by pushing you away. But the truth is...” He sighs heavily, his fingers fidgeting with yours as he searches for the right words to say, finally letting out a defeated groan. “God, I wanted you more than anything in that moment. I still do. I was scared... and I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, it would be easier to keep my distance.”

The raw honesty in Satoru’s confession causes your chest to tighten. The words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, his words, cut through any lingering doubt in your heart. The truth of his feelings and his vulnerability laid bare before you – you feel the tears well up in your eyes. Damnit, you can’t hold them back anymore.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to compose yourself. When you open your eyes to meet his, your voice is soft yet firm. “You hurt me, Satoru. Your words... they stung.”

"I know," he mutters softly, strained with guilt. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I was an idiot, a coward. I should've told you the truth from the start.” He swallows heavily, his throat bobbing with the weight of his emotions. “I hope you can forgive me, though I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness… so I understand if you can’t.”

With a shaky exhale, you sniffle and wipe your tears – your lips curl into a half smile. “I’m the real idiot… can’t believe I fell in love with such a fool.”

Satoru’s face transforms at your words, his eyes widening slightly and a flicker of hope igniting within them. The tension in his shoulder’s eases slightly as a wry smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’ve got a lot of making it up to me to do. I won’t go easy on you Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh, I know you won’t make it easy on me. You never do,” He lets out a small laugh, a mixture of disbelief and relief. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Believe me, I know I'll have to work my ass off to earn your forgiveness. But I’m up for the challenge. I’m gonna make sure you never doubt how I feel about you ever again. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll grovel, beg, whatever it takes to make up for my idiotic behavior.”

“The world’s strongest sorcerer on his knees for me? Now that is a sight I can get used to,” you snort and can’t help but give him a smug smirk.

Gojo huffs at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully while he pretends to take offense at your words. "Hey, careful there, I have an image to maintain," his brows furrow dramatically as he teases you with a mock hurt voice.

Pleased with his dramatics, you let out an infectious laugh – a wide smile expands across Satoru’s lips, the sound is like music to his ears. He truly missed your laugh.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” you snicker.

“Careful, princess,” he warns mockingly. “Don’t rile me up too much otherwise I might actually have to fulfill that fantasy for you.” His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “I have no problem getting on my knees for you in other contexts. But trust me, I'll find a way to make you kneel for me too.”

You feel the warmth rise up to your cheeks as your eyes widen. “S-Satoru!” you pull away from him and whine as you bring your hands to your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. He snickers gleefully, his eyes gleaming with mischief – he knows exactly how to get to you, and he's enjoying every second of it. “You’re being unfair. Shut up and help me up from this bed, would you?” you pout.

Unable to keep the shit eating grin off his face, a low chuckle escapes his lips. “Aww, you’re just too fun to tease. But alright, alright. As you wish, my princess.” Satoru lifts himself from his seat and nears you on the bed. He reaches down to gently pull the infirmary’s bedsheets off of you and his gaze drifts down to your damaged body.

His grin fades as he takes in the sight of your battered form, his heart clenching with worry. He can see the extent of your injuries more clearly now. The burns, the bruises, and the bandages covering a widespread of significant wounds. “Hey... are you sure you should be getting up? You're hurt pretty badly, love."

Looking down at your own wounded frame, it’s as if suddenly everything hit you all at once. You feel a lingering pain begin to course throughout you – your body finally registering what it’s been through. The extent of your injuries causes you to wince slightly in discomfort.

The helplessness of your condition causes a wave of frustration to wash over you. You hate being like this – you’ve always tried to keep up with Satoru and Suguru, and you know that him seeing you like this is going to cause him to worry even more. "I know," you whisper back with a strained voice. "But I can't just lay here all day. I feel so... hopeless. I want to get up and move, even just a little. Sitting around doing nothing is going to drive me insane."

Satoru studies your face as he hesitates for a moment – Shoko did say you need time to recover, but he’s always had a hard time saying no when he sees that determined look in your eyes. He knows trying to keep you in bed against your will is futile – you’ve always been unbelievably stubborn when you set your mind to something – it's one of the things he finds both endearing and frustrating about you. Finally relenting, he gives in with a resigned sigh and reluctant nod.

"I understand," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "How about we try walking a few steps first to see how you feel. But if you start to feel faint or dizzy, you have to promise to tell me, alright? You're not going to do yourself any favors if you push yourself too hard too soon."

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, though you can hear the uncertainty in your own voice. “I won’t sit here doing nothing.”

Satoru carefully helps you sit up, gently slipping an arm behind your back as he takes your arm and wraps it around his own shoulder for support. His hands slowly and gently guide you into a comfortable position and his body feels warm and firm against yours, providing a support for you to lean on. As he slowly ushers you to the edge of the bed, you feel a tinge of soreness in your body, but it’s nothing unbearable.

"Just take it slow, okay?" he murmurs. "And you better tell me if you need to rest, no pushing through it."

With a gentle pull, Satoru helps you to your feet. As you take a subtle step off the bed, you cannot help but wince slightly the moment your weight drops to the ground. A lingering pain shoots throughout your body, but you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to distract yourself and muster through it. You refuse to admit it – refuse to let him worry too much.

"How do you feel? Is the pain bearable?" his brow lifts as he examines you, his voice laced with concern.

"Just a bit sore," you say, trying to brush it off. "It’s fine. I need to move around anyways, stretch my muscles."

He huffs at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. I can tell you're in pain, my Six Eyes don’t lie, sweetheart. You’re wincing and we haven’t even taken a single step yet.”

You roll your eyes at his concern and groan with a strained voice. "Satoru, I feel weak, not broken… just help me get to that chair over there.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” he grumbles as his grip on you tightens. “But alright, if you're determined to make this difficult, I'll help you walk to the damn chair."

The journey to the chair feels like an eternity, each step causing a pained wince to escape your lips as Satoru carefully helps you with each tender step. His unwavering grip supports your weakened body and his gentle arms guide you into the infirmary’s seat slowly. Settling into the chair, you let out a loud exhale as your tense body begins to relax from the alleviating pressure.

Satoru’s own relieved breath escapes his mouth the moment you sit down as well – his hands lingering on your frame for a moment, as if not wanting to let you go just yet. He kneels down in front of you, his expression softening as he observes your fatigued form.

Taking in the lines of pain etched on your face, Satoru runs a gentle hand over your hair, his fingers tenderly brushing through the locks in a soothing motion. "There," he whispers, "You did good, you stubborn idiot. Now can you finally admit that you’re hurting?”

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the comforting feeling of his fingers flowing through each tousle despite his snarky comment. As you lean into his hand, for a brief moment, the pain seems to fade away.

"No, I..." you waver, losing the energy to put up this front. As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t combat how worn out you feel – your own stubborn attitude finally begins to yield. Opening your eyes, you give Satoru a sidelong glance, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you let out a soft sigh. “Fine. I admit it. I'm hurting… a lot.”

Satoru flashes a wry grin at your admission, a small sense of victory dancing within his eyes. "Took you long enough," he teases, still gently stroking your waves as his fingers tangle in your locks, giving you a gentle tug. "See, was that so hard? Admitting you're in pain is the first step to recovery, you know."

You exhale and release a slight chuckle – although you loathed being in this state, you had comfort knowing Satoru was here to take care of you. But as the breath escapes your mouth, you are suddenly met with a sharp discomforting twinge upon your abdomen. Flinching from the pain, you shuffle to readjust your position in the chair.

Satoru’s expression turns serious as his brow furrows with concern – he watches your body betray the strength you’re adamantly trying to cling onto. After withdrawing his hand from your head, he rests it gently on your knee. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Right…here.” Lifting up your shirt slightly, you observe Satoru’s eyes widen, his hand on your knee clenching involuntarily as you reveal your abdomen – the bandages wrapped around you are stained in blood.

You grimace as the cool air hits the wetness of your blood-stained body and Satoru’s expression grows more serious. "Jesus," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching. "We need to have Shoko change your bandages… y/n, what did this to you? What the hell happened? Was it a curse?"

“I…” you hesitate, suddenly it feels like your head is spinning – the lack of blood making you just as light headed as the thick fog sheathing your memory. You lift your hand to your temple and close your eyes, furrowing your brow and pursing your lips as you desperately try to put the pieces together. Although your memories are hazy, you vaguely recall being with Suguru.

Satoru gently takes your hand in his, his touch firm yet tender. "Hey, take it easy," he says softly. "Don't strain yourself. Let’s take it nice and slow, okay? Can you tell me where you were last? Do you remember anything that happened beforehand?"

You nod slowly, swallowing hard. Images of the dim atmosphere, the sound of the calming music, the aroma of delicious cuisine – they all start to come back to you. “I… I remember getting dinner with Suguru. I think he took me to a village.”

Satoru’s expression tightens at the mention of Suguru's name. He can feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, but he quickly pushes it aside, his concern for you taking precedence over his own feelings. Why wasn’t Suguru there then? He needed more answers.

“Yes, Koji village,” he echoes. “That’s the location you sent me on your phone, it’s where I found you unconscious. You were with him...? What happened then? Do you remember anything after dinner?”

You take a moment to recollect your thoughts – suddenly your eyes widen in shock and your lower lip begins to quiver. Was your mind playing tricks on you? The gruesome imagine of Suguru killing civilians, the visual of blood splattering on him, the smell of burning flesh, the screams, the empty look in his eyes. It becomes too much – you feel your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he watches the color drain from your face. He can see the realization and horror in your eyes, and he knows you are remembering something awful. He rests his hands on your shoulders and rubs them soothingly, trying to ease your shaking frame.

"Hey, hey," he repeats, his voice softer this time. "It's alright. You don't have to recount everything that happened. Take your time, I'm right here with you."

You were on the brink of breaking down. You feel a tear start to fall down your cheek, your breaths coming in ragged – no control over your body, over your emotions. A high-pitched ringing sound begins to buzz in your ears as the sounds around you drown out. Were… you having a panic attack? You stare at Satoru in shock, his lips are moving as he tries to call your name, but you can barely hear him, can barely focus – the images were overwhelming you.

Satoru’s heart clenches in his chest as he sees the tremors wracking your body. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable and terrified. He squeezes your hand gently, trying to keep you grounded while his other hand tenderly cups your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," he whispers. "Just take a deep breath. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe."

As the pace of your breath increases, you desperately try to cling to Satoru’s calm presence, but your trauma is formidable – you find your mind to be caught in a cycle of fear and pain. The tightness in your chest makes you begin to gasp, trying desperately to get air inside your lungs as sobs escape your throat.

"Baby, breathe," he urges, his voice low and soothing. "Take a deep breath. Just focus on me. I know it's hard, but you have to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Satoru’s voice is steady, commanding, and filled with tenderness – a lifeline in the midst of your panic. He keeps his grip firm on your hands, anchoring you to reality. "In and out, alright?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with concern. "Just listen to my voice and breathe with me. In... and out."

Satoru begins to take slow, deep breaths, counting silently in his head – you mimic him, the breaths gradually bringing you back to the present. Once you begin to stabilize, Satoru lifts himself up to his knees, pulling you close to him until your head is resting against his chest. His arms envelop your still shaking frame, holding you up as you regain control.

You continue to exhale into his chest, a tremble with each release. He holds you tightly against him, his hand stroking your hair in a soothing motion, waiting for your emotions to settle completely. The room is filled with only the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of his heart. He silently holds you for a long moment – once he feels the tremors in your body subside, you pull away and your eyes connect.

Slightly releasing his hold, Satoru’s hands still rest on your shoulders, a silent assurance that he's still there, still close. His expression is filled with concern as he studies you – although your face is etched with sadness, he is relieved that your breathing is steady now and your tears have subsided.

"You alright?" he asks softly. "Can you talk to me now?"

“Yes,” you whisper, voice still slightly trembling. “I remember everything now.”

Satoru takes a moment to absorb your words, his jaw tensing slightly as he senses the turmoil behind them. He knows whatever you're about to say isn't going to be easy. He takes your hand again, his fingers stroking your palm gently as he gives you a soft nod. "Okay. Tell me… everything."

“The village,” you murmur, your words feeling immensely heavy. “Suguru killed them all… and he almost killed me.”

Satoru blinks at you in disbelief – his eyes widening as he hears your words, his grip on your hand tightening. Did he hear you correctly?

"What?" his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru… did that?”

Satoru takes a deep breath trying to calm his racing thoughts. Suguru – his closest friend. There is no way… he can't believe what he's hearing, but the look on your face is telling him that you're not lying. A mixture of shock and anger begin to bubble up within him.

"He almost… what?" his tone becomes sharp as a low growl emanates his throat – his eyes flicker down to your battered body briefly. "He hurt you?"

You swallow hard and nod, your eyes studying Satoru’s own as you can see the hurt pooling behind them. You are unsure where to begin – unsure if you have the willpower to even relive it, because speaking about it feels like it will make it true. You desperately wanted it not to be true – for this to be some terrible nightmare.

The intense gaze that you share with Satoru abruptly snaps apart, interrupted from the infirmary door swinging open – Shoko and Yaga enter the room swiftly. In that moment, Satoru’s expression darkens further, his first clenching in disbelief as Yaga confirms the worst.

“Y/n, pardon the intrusion. I was just given a report from a survivor at Koji village. We were told that Geto Suguru massacred the entire village. He has been missing for days.”

∘₊✧

Your recovery period is by no means lonely – Satoru is constantly by your side after hearing the news. He can’t help but feel high strung knowing Suguru is missing. He wants to be there to protect you at all costs.

Throughout the passing days, you can see how worn-out Satoru’s become. Though he tries to hide it, the exhaustion in his features are prevalent, the bags under his sapphire eyes grow darker with each passing day. Despite his fatigue, he doesn't complain, not once does he even mention how tired he is, but you undoubtably know. So much is expected of Satoru, him being the strongest and all, yet rather than going home to sleep he chooses to come to the infirmary after his duties, immediately slumping into the chair next to your bed with his normally immaculate hair looking disheveled.

Shortly after Yaga confirmed Suguru’s crimes, as hard as it was, you filled Satoru in on all the details of what had happened – including the conversation that you shared with Suguru before he began spilling blood. Satoru’s worst fears were confirmed. The realization that Suguru would target you, knowing that you were his Achilles heel – it crushed him and shook him to the core.

Satoru always knew deep down that you were his greatest weakness, anyone who wanted to hurt or control him could easily do so by targeting you – hence why he would always push you away in the past. But now, hearing that his friend, someone he trusted, would exploit that fact… it leaves him with a bitter taste of betrayal. Suguru knew that if Satoru joined his ambition, his dreams could become reality – after all, Satoru is the strongest, nobody would be capable of stopping them.

Mustering through ten tiresome days of physical therapy, vitals, medication and bland hospital food, your recovery is at long last within reach. You’re able to move easily now, with your strength finally returning to you, but this also makes you all the more restless – you are ready to get out of this dreaded hospital bed.

“Looks like you’re free to go!” Shoko looks down at her clipboard and back up at you smiling.

The words you’ve been itching to hear. A wide grin spreads across your face from your unreserved delight – you were so excited to finally go home. Your eyes instantly flicker over at Satoru sitting beside the infirmary bed. He stands up from his chair, stretching out his limbs slightly, and a small smirk crosses his lips as he meets your gaze. "Ready to get out of here, princess?"

Beaming in excitement, you spring up from the edge of your bed with an unwavering grin and leap into Satoru’s arms, feeling the rumble of his low chuckle as his warmth engrosses you in an embrace. Lifting your head up from where it was buried in his chest, you meet his eyes. “Please, get me the hell out of here.”

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "As you wish," he declares. With you still in his arms, he turns to Shoko and nods his thanks. "We'll be taking our leave now. Thanks for everything, Shoko."

“Right then,” she muses. As Shoko turns to leave, she hums and flashes you both a sheepish grin. You can feel her eyeing the two of you with a curious expression. Ah, that’s right – she hasn't been filled in on the details of what's happened… you never did get the chance to tell her about how your relationship has blossomed with Satoru. Later, you think.

After the door clicks shut behind Shoko, Satoru holds you close, his grip firm yet gentle – lifting his free hand, he prepares to wave his hand sign to teleport. “Here we go,” he mutters into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t throw up this time, okay?”

You laugh and roll your eyes – that night, when he teleported you eagerly, it felt like a lifetime ago after everything you’ve been through. “Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Yeah well, I’m not drunk this time Satoru.”

"True, you're not drunk,” he barks out a laugh. “So, hopefully, I won't have to hold your hair back this time, sweetheart."

You huff and shake your head at his teasing while he adjusts his grip a little more firmly around your waist. "Hold on tight, princess. You know the drill."

You nod, and the sensation of being pulled in all direction’s envelopes your body – you feel yourself thrust through eternity, and with a blink of an eye, there you are in your apartment. Your gaze flickers from the sofa to the kitchen, to the small collection of photographs and trinkets scattered around the space. It is peaceful and quiet – undisturbed, just as you left it.

He watches as you look around the familiar surroundings, a small sigh escaping his lips. His grip releases slightly as he allows you to stand on your own – but his hands remain on your waist with a lingering touch.

“Home sweet home,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your face with a relaxed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Feels good, huh? Miss it?”

You exhale your own sigh of relief, slightly pulling away from him. “Yeah. I for one can’t wait to take a bath. The infirmary’s quarters are nothing to ride home about.”

Satoru chuckles at your comment, his eyes full of amusement. "Oh, princess, if you think you're going to get a peaceful bath, you're mistaken."

His smirk widens as he pulls you closer to him, his arm sliding around your waist while his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "You think I'm letting you out of my sight for even a second after everything that's happened?"

Satoru’s words send a shiver down your spine, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and seductive. “S-Satoru!” you whine. As he watches a flush of heat rise up your cheeks from his words, a low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you have a peaceful bath when I haven't felt you in weeks?” he purrs, his voice dripping with honey. “Let you soak in the hot water all alone, when I could be there with you, hands roaming across your skin, touching you in all the right places? Come on, sweetheart. We never did finish what we started last time…”

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours. His face is so close that you can feel his hot breath dance upon your skin, his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off of him in waves. You can see the desire swimming in his eyes, the way his gaze rakes over your face, as if he can't get enough of you.

As his lips begin to graze the edge of your jawline, you mewl – the feather-light kisses against your skin trailing down you as he carves a gentle path towards the crook of your neck. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as you clench the fabric of his shirt. Dipping your head back, you invite his kisses to deepen as you expose more of your flesh for him to feast on.

He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply, before his lips slightly part and his tongue flicks out, trailing a wet path along your pulse point. “S-Satoru..” your breath flutters, and he feels the rapid beat of your heart against his mouth.

A low groan emanates from his throat as he can feel the heat rising on you – God he’s been craving this. He pulls you even tighter against him, his hands gripping your curves, fingers digging into the skin underneath your thin skirt as he presses his hips into yours.

He begins to nibble at your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he sucks, leaving small marks while his hands slide to grip and caress the plush of your ass. “Wh-What’s gotten into you?” you moan breathily as the aching need between your legs begins to pool from his touch.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes darkened with desire as he looks into your own. “You,” he whispers gruffly. “It’s all you. You drive me crazy, princess.” His gaze is smoldering and his lips are tantalizingly close to yours.

Closing the distance, your lips capture his in a deep, passionate kiss. His arms trail down your waist, snaking under your thighs as he effortlessly pulls you up. You press your chest flush against his own as he holds you, deepening your kiss as you wrap your legs around him and his hands grip your backside.

Satoru’s tongue explores your mouth in a heated frenzy as he carries you across the room and towards your bedroom. Your kiss is frenetic, as if each crash between your lips is insatiable. He halts his stride through the hallway to the bedroom as he presses you against a wall for a moment, his body pinning you there as he kisses you hungrily. You arch your back against him, your fingers tangling in his messy ivory hair as you feel a hand glide up your shirt, gripping your supple breast firmly. He groans into your mouth, his cock throbbing as his body responds to kissing you, touching you – the tension between you thick and electric.

When he pulls away, his breath mingles with yours, his chest heaving against you - looking down at your kindled expression. "Fuck, I missed you. You're driving me crazy," he growls, "I've been waiting patiently for you to recover, I can’t wait any longer.”

As he collides his lips back against yours, his grip adjusts on you, allowing you to feel his length twitch between your legs. The pressure of him against your clothed core makes you desperately crave more contact as you increase the pace of your sloppy kisses with heavy breathes. Once you enter your bedroom, he swiftly throws you onto the bed, following quickly after as his body looms over you.

He stares down at you with a hunger – tousles of his disarranged hair hanging down as his icy blue eyes sweep over you, raking in the sight of your lips, plump and swollen as they glisten from the remnants of your shared kiss. You feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like a maddened drum as your chest rises and falls, the heat radiating from your body.

“Don’t hold back ‘toru,” you mewl while you slide your hands up his chest and down his broad shoulders. “I need you so bad.”

A low growl escapes him as your words reach his ears, your plea pushing him even further over the edge. "Oh princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "You have no idea how long I've been holding back. I won’t. I won’t hold back now."

He lowers himself to you, lifting your shirt off of you as he begins trailing kisses upon your abdomen. Once his lips reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers begin to play along the trim of the fabric. His touch is slow and deliberate as he pulls it down, exposing your black laced panties, already soaked from the pooling warmth between your thighs.

His breath hitches at the sight, and he lets out a low growl, “Fuck.” His body responds intensely as he feels himself throb at the sight of you. "You’re soaking wet," he murmurs. "I've been aching to touch you for so long."

You shiver from the sensation of his breath dancing on your thighs while he peppers kisses up them, until finally his lips are met with your clothed center. "Can’t stop thinking of last time.. I’m desperate to feel you against me, to hear your sweet moans," his voice is sultry as he slowly runs his fingers up and down your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your core.

Each time he pulls away, you groan in frustration, your hips buckling forward and that tingling ache between your legs, eager for him to touch you. “Satoru, please... need you to touch me.”

With a low hum of approval, he leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from the spot you ache for him most. "Well, what’s this? So needy… are you begging for me?" a smirk playing on his lips. "Go on then. Use your words sweetheart," he purrs as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, his touch feather-light. “Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it.”

A shiver of anticipation runs through your body as he leans in, your body trembling with a shockwave of desire as his fingers trace intimate patterns against your skin. A moan escapes your lips, your breath hitching as you cry out, “Fuck, ‘toru. Please, please. Touch me, I need you. Can’t wait any longer..”

He grins in response to your pleading, his expression smug and satisfied as he revels in your desperation. "Hmm..." he hums, his fingers pulling your panties down to expose your pretty folds. "Begging suits you, you know. Told you’d I’d have you begging for me.”

As you lay bare before him, he relishes at the sight of you dripping with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Didn’t get a good look last time. Been eager to taste you.” He inhales and licks a long strip across your cunt up to your sensitive bud. A needy moan escapes your lips and your hips shutter under him as his warm breath murmurs against your entrance.

Your moan is like music to his ears, sending a shiver down his spine and making his length grow, pressing firmly against the fabric of his pants. He grips your hips and buries his face deep within you, as if trying to mold you against him. You can’t help but moan more, breathless while his tongue works extensively, exploring every inch of your womanhood, wanting to ingrain the taste of you into his memory.

Arching your back, you look down at him to be met with his gaze, intense, almost feral – a gaze that could set fire to the room. The hunger within him is barely contained as he drinks you in like a man deprived of water. Each flick of his tongue causes a primal need to pulse through his veins and shoot to his cock, throbbing and desperate to claim you.

He pulls back for a brief moment, panting slightly as he rakes in your flushed face, painted in pleasure as your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. A smirk plays on his lips – lips glistening with your essence. "You taste so good.” With a devious glint in his eyes, he reaches down to your sensitive bud. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure and a moan escapes your mouth as he begins to massage your clit with soft, circular motions. “Enjoying yourself?" he muses, his voice low and sultry.

“Feels good ‘toru,” you manage to gasp out. “Please… more.”

His smirk widens as he hears your breathless pleas, his fingers continuing their gentle torture on your sensitive button. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I’ll give you all the pleasure you deserve." He pushes his face between your legs again, his tongue dancing in your slit as he softly sucks and laps in your nectar.

You grip onto his head, your fingers pulling at his snowy locks while you plunge him further into you, rocking your hips upon his face, his nose rubbing against your vibrating clit. He lets out a low groan at your sudden fervor, and he feels his cock ache hard, almost unbearable, as it presses against his pants. Fuck, he loved it when you used his face like this. His tongue works quicker, matching the pace of your movements as you grind completely on top of him.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘toru. Don’t you dare stop, ‘m so close,” your voice trembles as your pitch rises – your vision goes blurry as the pressure builds below from your nearing peak. Your grip on his hair tightens and you are relentless with your movements, wanting so desperately to come undone on top of him – feeling like you’re ready to burst.

"Cum f’ me, princess," he murmurs, his voice breathless and gravelly as it vibrates against you. It brings you over the edge as you arch your back and rock intensely on top of his pretty face, rubbing it vigorously against your clit. Your pace ascends with each ardor movement – the tension within your core becomes unbearable, until finally, shivering and writhing in ecstasy as your toes curl and you moan his name, you cum on top of him. He lets out a deep strangled groan as he feels your walls tremble against him and the weight of your pleasure floods into him while you release yourself into his mouth. He drinks it all in, savoring each drop of your essence like sweet sweet honey.

When he pulls back with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he admires your trembling figure, basking in the lingering waves of pleasure that ripple throughout your body. His own breath is ragged and his azure eyes are darkened with desire, yet glimmering with satisfaction as he licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” he murmurs, “Could watch you all day, princess. We’re just getting started.”

You close your eyes for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, but they instantly flutter open as you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. You watch as Satoru sheds his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso – his muscles flexing with each movement. He fumbles with the belt of his pants, his hands desperate and impatient to free his aching length. The buckle clinks softly as he releases it from the loop and Satoru lets out a sigh of relief as he unleashes himself from the confines of his pants.

Biting your lip, you cannot take your eyes off of him. His evident erection throbs in front of you. You can’t believe how big it is. It’s girth thick, it’s length long with a flushed red tip, glistening from a pooling drop of precum, aching to be touched.

Satoru grips his length, rubbing the slit of his head as the bottom of his thumb slides over the bead of clear liquid. He pumps himself slowly a few times in preparation, his words dripping with confidence as he promises, “I’m going to make you scream my name.”

A hand sinks on the mattress beside your head, bracing himself as he leans in closer. His body is coiled with need and tense with anticipation, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he holds himself over you and strokes his cock, inching it closer to your cunt. He gazes down at you intently, his eyes dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of your flushed body lying underneath him.

You feel the head of his erection circle around your lower lips, teasing you with brief moments of collision before momentarily pulling back. As he rubs himself against your already sensitive clit, a soft gasp escapes your mouth and you moan sweetly, squirming underneath him as you feel the heat and wetness of your combined passion beginning to blend together at your entrance.

His breath hitches and his grip on the sheets tighten as he leans closer. "So sensitive for me, princess," his breath is hot against your ear, dripping with desire. "You feel so good under me like this. I want to hear all of your moans as I bring you to the brink of ecstasy.”

His hips continue their gentle press against yours, his movements a delicious tease that borders on the edge of pleasure and frustration as he heightens the friction upon your reactive clit. Your body trembles beneath him with every touch, “Please ‘toru,” you whimper, “I’ve been wanting you inside me. Please, please fuck me.”

A low growl of approval escapes his lips at the sound of your begging – he pauses his movements, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, his arms caging both sides of your head now, trapping you beneath him as he stares down at you with lascivious hunger.

"Mmm, my sweet girl," he purrs, his tone laced with a mixture of affection and lust. “You begging me like that, it's driving me crazy. How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He moves closer, body pressing insistently against yours as he pushes your knees up to your chest. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, princess,” his voice dropping to a silky whisper. You arch your back as he finally sinks into you, thrusting his length into your cunt without any hesitance – parting your pretty folds as the warmth of him is welcomed against your plush wet walls.

The heat of his shaft is hot and his girth is eruptive, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You watch him shudder as he slides into you – a low rumble of satisfaction escaping his throat as your walls clamp down on his thick length. “Fuuck,” the words rolling off his tongue in a low growl, “you are so tight. God, you feel so good.”

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he completely bottoms out inside of you. The heat of your combined passion melding together as you fully become one with him – his dick pressing hard against your cervix.

“Nngh ‘toru… it’s big. Feel like I’m going to tear apart,” your body trembles beneath him and your gasps and moans are like a symphony of pleasure, fueling his own primal need. Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers brushing against his undercut and grasping for his ivory locks.

His head dips down, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “I know baby, I know,” he breathes, his voice hot and damp against your skin, “But don’t worry you’re doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, the deep timbre of his voice and the hunger in his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you – his words a mix of praise and desperation.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his hair falling over his forehead, framing his face in a wild untamed way while his gaze is filled with a fierce desire. "Gonna start moving now, sweetheart," he grumbles huskily, both a reassurance and a command. "You ready for me?"

Your eyes roll back as you feel his movements begin, slow and deliberate. His hands slide down your body, caressing your curves and gripping your hips, pulling you even closer against him. Breathy moans escape your lips as each thrust inside you has his cock kissing your cervix with insistent and measured pressure, causing you to arch your back even more against him.

Your pitch rises as your gasps fill the air, causing his own desire to surge with each needy sound echoing off the walls of your room. His hips grind in a steady, relentless rhythm as he rocks against you, his chest vibrating with a deep rumble of approval as he presses you into the mattress – clenching your hips tightly while his body envelops you. He takes deep trembling breaths as he relishes in the sounds of you writhing under him. Every shift of his body brings a new wave of pleasure to crash over you.

His eyes remain fixated on your face with each thrust, studying every expression and reaction. The heat from his skin sears against yours, each point of contact igniting a fresh wave of electricity through your body. He hungrily drinks in the sight of you, flushed and needy, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "God, you're so – ha – beautiful like this," he groans, his voice low and strangled. "So perfect."

He quickens the pace, his breath becoming strained as he increases the friction between your bodies, his own moans growing louder and more frenzied with each thrust as he feels his own desire driving him wild – his cock getter harder as he feels your pussy milk him, an overwhelming pressure building within him.

“Fuuuuck baby, fuck,” he manages to rasp out as his hands move to your chest, cupping your breasts as he begins to caress and kneed them, rubbing soft circles around your nipples, twisting and rolling them with his fingers. His own breath comes in short gasps as your hot wet walls consume his cock, squelching sounds filling the air with each thrust. He feels a desperate need boiling inside him – the need to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Every time he feels you tighten around him, he struggles more and more to hold back the overwhelming pleasure coiled within him. His strokes begin to become erratic, less controlled and more urgent. The slaps of your colliding bodies fill the air, along with your sweet whimpers and moans. A low growl escapes his lips as he captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the bed. He leans in closer, his body hovering over you, his eyes locking with yours in a heated stare.

“S-Satoru…” you mewl.

“You like that?” he groans, biting gently onto your shoulder while grinding into you harder. “Fuuuck, I can feel you squeezing my dick...”

His increased pace creates a delicious friction that steals the breath from your lungs. You feel his cock rub against your clit with every thrust into you, the vibrations causing a shiver of pleasure to ripple through your body, relishing in the feeling of being completely full of him.

“Don’t stop… nngh, yesyesyes SatoruI’m so close.”

He grits his teeth as you continue to squeeze around him, your pussy milking him like an expert. With a low growl, he clutches your hips tighter and increases his pace even more, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that matches the beat of your hearts. His eyes flare with determination at your words, responding instantly to your pleas.

“Shit, your cunt is gonna be the death of me...” he groans loudly, feeling his orgasm building quickly within him. “Let go for me,” he growls, reaching down to tease your clit with his thumb. “Cum all over my cock baby...”

The sensation of his thumb on your clit brings you over the edge as you writhe in ecstasy. Your hands grip Satoru's back as your nails dig into his skin, carving down on his flesh as your plush walls clamp onto his cock - screaming his name as your essence coats his shaft with pleasure.

"Nnhh, oh fu-u-ck," he grits out, his voice choked and rough, his body shaking with pleasure from the sight of you, coming undone beneath him – the feeling of you covering his cock with your release, it’s enough to push Satoru over the edge.

With a strangled moan of pleasure, Satoru gives into the sensations overwhelming him – spilling his load deep inside you, plunging you with his hot sticky seed as ropes of white cum paint your insides. His cock pulses against your walls and he grunts as he rides out his orgasm, pumping his load until there was nothing left.

He looks down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness, his body heavy and spent as he tries to regain control of himself. He quivers with pleasure as he pulls out his sensitive limp cock, his thick white cum oozing out of you, dripping down your thighs.

"God, princess," he gasps, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You drive me wild." He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving against your own, his heartbeat rapid and erratic as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Your panting breaths mingle together as you gently brush your fingers through Satoru’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp while you hold him close. “Hmm,” a satisfied hum escapes you. “Guess I am your weakness.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm, murmuring against your skin. "You figured it out.” Melting into your touch, Satoru holds you close and nestles himself further – embracing you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, inhaling the scent of your skin. “You definitely are, always have been."

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies – but you can’t help but let your mind race a bit. Thoughts of Suguru tug at the corners of your mind. You haven’t mentioned him to Satoru since that night, when you told him about the crimes he committed. You had a strong desire to catch up to Satoru, you don’t want to be his weakness, his downfall. You want to stand beside him as an equal – you want him to come to rely on you just as you rely on him.

“Hey ‘toru…” you speak softly and seriously as you continue to run soothing circles on his scalp. “Whatever happens next… you don’t have to do it alone.”

His eyes flutter open as he feels the shift in your demeanor, the change in the air. He can sense the seriousness in your tone and the concern in your touch. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his own gaze softening slightly at the worry he sees reflecting back at him. For a moment, he is silent, contemplating your words and the weight behind them.

Finally, he lets out a sigh and nods, his expression growing more pensive. "I know I don't have to," he says. "But it's not about me. It's about everyone else, about doing everything I can to protect them… to protect you."

A wry solemn smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Typical Satoru, putting himself last. There was no sense in arguing with him right now. Instead, you were going to work ever harder – to push yourself to catch up with him. One day you’d make him rely on you, and then you’d both face Suguru together. Shaking your head slightly as a sigh escapes your lips, you bring your hand to Satoru’s cheek as you softly caress his face. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He grins at your words, the corner of his lipa curling up in amusement. "Yep, that's me," he replies, his tone lighthearted. "Hopeless and in need of saving." He nuzzles his face into your hand, relishing the feeling of your touch on his skin. With a turn of his head, he presses a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before speaking again, "But trust me, princess, I appreciate it. More than you know."

With a fond grin, you let out a sigh and rest your forehead against his own. "Love you, you big dummy."

Satoru rolls his eyes playfully, but his expression softens at your words. Leaning in slightly, he brushes his nose against your own, "Love you too, you stubborn pain in the ass," he teases, and then he captures your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss – his hand coming up to rest on the side of your face. You let out a hum of contentment, savoring the tender feeling of his lips on yours.

When he pulls away, you let out a small whine of disappointment, only to be greeted with his smirk and the sound of his teasing words. “We should get you cleaned up. I guess you can finally have that bath you’ve been wanting.”

Your eyes light up at the thought, the promise of hot water and steam calling you. A soft huff of laughter escapes your lips and your eyes sparkle with amusement. "About time you remembered," you reply, with mock exasperation. "I was starting to think you were going to make me wait forever.”

"Yeah, yeah" he glints, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "But you know… honestly a bath sounds nice. I could also use a good wash. Especially after all the work you just put me through."

You raise your eyebrow as you can see a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and you snort playfully at his suggestion. "You're just looking for an excuse to soak with me."

Satoru leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours – his breath dances upon your face while he hums at you mischievously with a lazy smirk. "Why, you up for a little more fun in the tub?"

He still had more in him? Biting your lip, you look away from him for a moment as you pretend to think before responding, your tone playful and sultry. "Oh, I dunno, I think I’m pretty tired after all that exertion you made me do."

Satoru’s grin mischievously widens, “I can help you relax, common just let me join you,” he pleas childishly with a slight pout as he nuzzles closer to you with puppy dog eyes.

Your roll your eyes but they quickly betray you as they flicker down to his lips, tantalizingly close to your own. "It depends," you tease, your voice low and alluring. "Can you behave yourself in there?”

His eyes rove over your body, taking in each curve and contour as an unwavering smile spreads across his face. "Behave myself? That's a pretty big ask, princess. But for you, I'll try my best." He leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he speaks. "But no guarantees," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

∘₊✧

"Fuck baby," he grunts through clenched teeth, "That's it... Just like that..." He pushes his dick into your mouth, eyes half lidded in pleasure.

It is clear that Satoru had no intention of cleaning up. The sounds of his moans echo off the tile of the bathroom, steam enveloping your bodies as it creates a veil of warmth around you. Satoru’s groans heighten as you wrap your lips around him, taking him in deeper and deeper with each bob of your head. Your tongue swirls expertly around the sensitive underside of his shaft while your fingers trace teasing patterns along his balls. Muffled sounds escape your lips as he thrusts gently into your warm mouth.

Satoru’s hands cradle the sides of your head as he pulls you closer – his hips bucking forward. “Mmm.. that’s it…,” he hisses as he watches your lips stretch around his length. His fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you steady, thrusting himself deeper into you.

The sounds of the bath water rippling underneath you with each thrust, the grunts of Satoru’s pleasure and your muffled moans fill the air. His fingers tighten their grip on your hair, guiding your movements. Suddenly, he pulls back just enough, teasing the head of his cock across your plump lips, giving you a moment to breathe as you pant on his aching arousal.

“You’re so cute taking all of me like this. Fuck, your mouth feels better than I imagined. Been wanting to do this for a long time,” he murmurs breathily while his hand reaches down to gently stroke your cheekbone before lifting your chin up to look at him. He rakes in every inch of you with a mixture of pleasure and adoration – drinking in the sight of you, lips plump and pink while slightly parted.

“I’ve been wanting you too ‘toru..” you hum in pleasure, a tingling ache pooling between your thighs as you’re satisfied in how desperate he looks for you – you flick your tongue out and swirl it around the slit on his weeping tip, savoring in the taste of his precum as his head rolls back slightly from the sensation.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sensational gasp of pleasure from your tongue, dancing tantalizingly over the sensitive head of his cock. A shiver racks through his body down to his spine and a rumble of satisfaction vibrates in his chest. The sound he makes sends a thrill throughout your body – you smile around him, your tongue swirling in a way that drives him wild.

“You're too good at this...” he grunts out between ragged breaths. “Getting too close, I need to cum inside of you,” he rasps and suddenly pulls away, grabbing you as he spins you around. He pushes you forward onto the side of the tub and lines himself up with your soaking entrance.

You whine and welcome him eagerly as you rub his cock between your slick folds, bent over and craving him as you coat his tip with your sweet essence. “Nnnm, need you inside me, please ‘toru.”

He grins down at you with a sly smirk plastered on his lips. “So needy, what happened to being too tired princess?” and with a swift motion he plunges himself deep into your wet pussy once again, causing a sharp gasp to escape your throat that slowly turns into a needy moan. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he grips your hips tightly.

Leaning himself over your back, Satoru’s hand snakes around your waist and cups one of your breasts firmly, kneading it as he presses kisses along your neck. His warm breath plays upon your ear as he begins to move. “Good girl, taking me whole,” he purrs, “gonna fill you up again.”

Feeling the warmth of your slick walls enveloping him sends a wave of pleasure coursing through his body – he begins moving rhythmically, each thrust met by a symphony of soft gasps and lewd squelches echoing throughout the bathroom.

"Nnngh, – you feel – ha – so good ‘toru " you gasp, your voice coming out in short, breathless sighs, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through you. Satoru revels in making such erotic sounds escape your lips, it fuels a primal passion within him and drives him even more over the edge.

Groaning in pure pleasure, Satoru wastes no time picking up his pace – each forceful thrust making your body bounce enticingly on the waterline of the bathtub, sending waves of satisfying splashes to cascade against the sides of the tub.

His hand on your breast searches for your nipples, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You can feel the intensity building within you, the pleasure mounting with each passing moment – arching your back from each satisfying sensation, you push yourself deeper against his shaft and moan. “Yesyesyes, I’m so close ‘toru.”

He can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, signaling your impending climax. With a smirk, Satoru increases his pace even further, driving himself deeper into your quivering depths. His other hand slips down to tease your clit, rubbing small circles around it while he continues to pound deeper into your dripping cunt with each stroke. “That's it... let go, princess,” he murmurs into your ear before biting down gently on the lobe.

You gasp as his throbbing dick hits deep against your cervix, and the combined stimulation of your sensitive bud sends you over the edge to ecstasy – your body a live wire of pleasure. You cry out Satoru’s name loudly, a mantra of pleasure and surrender, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, gasping and shuddering through your orgasm as your clamp your walls down on him, coating his cock with your sweet messy release.

Savoring each ripple of your inner muscles gripping onto Satoru’s aching length with such delicious fervor, he feels you milking every last drop out of him until he finally surrenders to his own building orgasm. His strokes become erratic as he chases his climax, driven wild by the sight and sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls, adding fuel to his own burning desires.

“Fuuuck – ha – ‘m gonna cum.” His balls tighten as he releases his hot seed deep into your quivering cunt, spurting forth in hot streams, filling you up until you’re dripping with your combined pleasure. Holding onto your hips tightly, he rides out every last pulse of pleasure until finally collapsing.

You fall against the side of the tub, both panting and trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breaths fills the room, the only other sound being the soft slosh of the water around you. He holds you tightly, his body draped over yours while he trails gentle kisses upon your skin, his hot breath dancing on your neck with each shaky exhale. He buries his face in your hair as he attempts to catch his breath. "God, you're... amazing," he mutters.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your voice raspy and spent. "Hmm~ you're not so bad yourself," a tired smile playing at the corners of your lips as you feel the exhaustion and blissfulness settling in your bones. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against yours.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his own breath still coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Not bad? I'll have to try harder next time," he teases, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. As he adjusts your position slightly, his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer against him like a protective cocoon as you sit back in the tub.

His skin is hot and slick against your own and his heart beats softly against your back – a steady reassuring rhythm in the stillness. He leans in closer, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, "God, I can't get enough of you," he murmurs.

Feeling yourself melt into his arms, your body relaxes against his in a comfortable heap. You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his embrace. “Good," you murmur back, your voice drowsy with contentment. “No more pulling that shit where you leave me high and dry, okay?”

He chuckles lightly at your response, his chest vibrating against your back as he laughs. "No more leaving you high and dry, I promise," he reassures you, his tone serious. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, he runs his thumb gently over your hip, his touch soothing and comforting as he mutters. "Never gonna leave you hanging like that again. I swear."

∘₊✧

As the warm sun peers through the blinds of your windowsill, you grumble as you sleepily rub your eyes. "Satoru?" you mutter and reach out, searching for his warmth, but all you feel is the cold, empty sheets beside you where he used to be. Your eyes flutter open, and you squint against the glare of the sunlight streaming in. “Satoru?” you mutter again, your voice still thick with sleep. You frown suddenly deepens as you realize that he's not here. The silence is deafening. There is no way, right? He wouldn’t do this again?

You spring out from your bed and briskly walk down the hallway, unable to hide the desperation in your voice and the tears that begin to slowly well up in your eyes as you call him again “Satoru?” Your stride freezes as you hear the clattering on pots and pans coming from the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting in the air.

Relief washes over you, followed by a surge of slight irritation. How dare he leave you in bed alone again, worried about where he disappeared to. You walk briskly to the kitchen and see Satoru standing at the stove – the early morning light casting a warm glow on his disheveled hair. He is dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants, cooking breakfast as if nothing happened, looking all too domestic with a spatula in one hand and a mug in the other. How does he always manage to look so damn attractive while aggravating the hell out of you at the same time?

He turns slightly at the sound of your footsteps, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, as if he wasn’t just mysteriously absent moments ago – his casualness only fueling your annoyance.

“Satoru Gojo, I swear to God,” your voice is tinged with frustration and relief as you grab the throw pillow from the couch and hurl it at him – only for it to hit an invisible barrier and fall to the ground, Satoru stopping it with his infinity, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Hey, hey, now. No need to throw things at me. I was just making you some breakfast." He holds up the spatula in one hand and the coffee mug in the other, looking entirely too innocent.

✧ahhh, something about satoru being a big clueless idiot but meaning well :') hope ya'll enjoyed this! thanks for reading ♡

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl

595 notes · View notes

immortalbumblebee · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 22: Weakest Link

Happy Christmas Eve to all!!

I’m actually writing this on my phone because I left my laptop at home while visiting family…but inspiration hits!

I hope you all enjoy, and have an excellent holiday season, no matter what you celebrate!

Masterlist

One of the traders, a stout man from Shurima, leaned forward, speaking through clenched teeth, a lit cigar dangling from his mouth. Each word was punctuated by a puff of acrid smoke curling around his face like a dragon. “We’re the ones risking our necks here, gents. Sneaking supplies past Piltover’s checkpoints? It ain’t just dangerous—it’s suicidal.” He twisted the cigar to the other side of his mouth, a fresh plume of smoke spilling into the air. “We need more coin up front, or the shipments stop. End of story.”

Sevika was on her feet before anyone else could react, the dull thud of her fist hitting the table echoing in the dimly lit room. “And what? You think we’re swimming in cogs down here?” she snarled, her voice sharp enough to cut steel.

You couldn’t help but groan quietly, the weight of hours spent in this stalemate grinding against your patience. Exhaustion tugged at every muscle, but what else was new? From your spot at the table, you watched the scene unfold, arms crossed, eyes boring into the line of traders opposite you. Next to you, Benzo’s posture was tense, his weariness written as plainly on his face as on his rumpled shirt—usually crisp and professional, now missing a button and sporting deep wrinkles. You move to speak, but Benzo motions for you to stay back.

“Enough,” Benzo snapped, his voice carrying the authority of someone who had been in these trenches too long. Sevika froze, her hand still planted on the table, fingers twitching as if daring someone to challenge her.

Benzo leaned forward, the dim light catching the early creases forming on his forehead. “We all know what’s at stake. If this deal collapses, Zaun suffers—everyone suffers. Your risk is real, Urhak, no one’s denying that. But don’t act like your supply chain doesn’t depend on us just as much as we depend on you. We all bleed when Piltover milks us dry.”

Urhak, the Shuriman trader, removed the cigar from his mouth with a slow, deliberate motion, his narrowed eyes glinting like polished amber. “And we’re just supposed to bleed a little more for your rebellion? Hah.”

“Rebellion?” Another trader, a wiry man from Bilgewater, cut in with a bark of laughter. “We don’ give two shites about yer rebellion. It don’t feed our men. And wit’ Enforcers blockin’ every dock in Piltover, we’re startin’ to wonder if yer deals’r worth the trouble.”

Benzo didn’t flinch, his tone steady but urgent. “We need compromise. Protection for your shipments—more bodies on the ground to make sure they get through. In return, you cut back on the money demands and prioritize essentials: food, medicine, guns. The bare necessities.”

Another trader, a green-haired woman, scoffs. “Protection? Against Piltover? That’s a death sentence.”

“That’s what this revolution’s all about.” Felicia stepped forward, her voice calm but firm, the glint of determination in her eyes unmistakable. “We know what we’re doing. Smaller convoys. Decoys to draw the Enforcers away. It works—we’ve done it before, and you’ve seen the results.”

The Bilgewater trader snorted. “Aye, and look how far it’s gotten ya. Vander and Silco’ve been eatin’ Stillwater slop for what—two years now? Is that the kind of security you’re sellin’ us?”

Alright, you’d had enough.

Before anyone could react, you flicked your wrist, sending a razor-thin shard of metal slicing through the air. Urhak’s cigar split cleanly in two, the lit end tumbling to the floor in a hiss of ash. A tense silence followed as some of the traders instinctively reached for their weapons, but you were faster. A wave of your hands, and their firearms clattered to the floor, skidding out of reach.

You stood, your presence commanding, your voice cutting through the room like a blade. “My associate has been incredibly patient,” you said, the words slow and deliberate. “But I’m done wasting time. Let’s be real—Zaun makes up two-thirds of your trade profits, even with the dock blockades. If you think you can do better elsewhere, go ahead. Pack up your mediocre goods and hawk them to some backwater village. We’ll find traders who don’t waste our gods-damned time.”

The weight of your words settled over the room like a storm cloud. One by one, the traders hesitated, their bravado dimming under your glare.

Benzo turns to you, his movements measured, his eyes narrowing as he leans ever so slightly in your direction. “I thought I told you I had this,” he mutters, voice just loud enough for you to catch.

You meet his gaze briefly and roll your shoulders, the gesture as nonchalant as it was deliberate.

“Urhak breaks the lingering tension, his voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder. “We’ll need guarantees,” he says, his words deliberate. His gaze flickers to his colleagues, who murmur in low tones, their unease palpable. “If the patrols catch us, there won’t be a second chance. No excuses, no do-overs.”

Benzo exhales sharply, but his frustration is aimed squarely at you before he turns back to the table. His composure is a mask, slipping on just long enough to face the traders. “We’ll rotate our people to guard the shipments,” he says, his voice steady. “Small teams, low-profile. No risks we don’t need to take. You hold up your end, and we’ll hold up ours.”

The traders fall into another bout of quiet deliberation, voices hushed but sharp. The Bilgewater representative eventually shrugs. “Don’t be expectin’ miracles. You don’ give us what we need, don’ blame us when it all falls apart.”

Sevika finally lifts her fist from the table, the faint outline of her knuckles still imprinted in the wood. Benzo straightens his shoulders, reclaiming his usual air of authority, and folds his hands in front of him. “Nobody’s blaming anyone,” he says firmly, his businessman tone smooth but grounded. “We’re all in this together. That’s the point.”

The meeting concluded with a fragile patchwork of strained agreements, punctuated by supplementary deals to placate the traders’ endless demands. As they filed out, heading toward the ships that awaited them at the docks, your inner circle lingered. Quiet murmurs filled the air, the tension from the negotiation still simmering in their voices.

You sat apart from the others, your focus buried in your worn notebook. The faint scratch of pencil against paper was a welcome distraction as you tallied the promised inventory of firearms, mentally accounting for time and resources. They’d need inspections, repairs, and modifications—because they never arrived in workable condition.

With a sharp snap, you closed the book and rubbed a hand over your face, dragging your palm down to stifle the mounting frustration. Your new bandana lay limp around your neck, black and distinctly free of bloodstains. You were nearly 25 now… Two years. Two years since they were gone, and it already felt like a lifetime. In their absence, the weight of Zaun had pressed heavier on you than ever.

Piltover’s interference had worsened tenfold. No crossing the bridge without papers. Mandated curfews. Power outages that choked entire districts in darkness. The blockade at the docks was a vice on your trade, tightening every day. And the promenade? A ghost of its former self, crawling with Enforcers. The fighting rings were shut down. Businesses folded under the strain.

Zaunites had always been resilient, but now they were desperate. And desperate people fought back—often recklessly. Without resources, without backup, rebellion wasn’t a fire—it was a spark struggling to catch in the damp.

You adjusted the oversized vest draped over your shoulders. It hung loose, three sizes too big, and though his scent had long since faded, you still found comfort in wearing it. A small fragment of the past. A piece of a world that no longer existed.

“I told you I had this.” Benzo’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp with annoyance. His frustration lanced through your skull, worsening the pounding ache that had been building all evening. You really needed coffee.

“Do you have any idea how sideways that could’ve gone?” he continued, his tone rising just enough to set your teeth on edge.

You snapped your gaze to him, already irritated. “They still think they can push us around,” you shot back, stepping closer, your voice rising to match his. “And you let them!”

Benzo’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. “We don’t have the luxury of throwing our weight around without consequences,” he said, his voice low and hard. “And we can’t afford another enemy right now.” He turned abruptly, his eyes landing on Sevika. “Go keep an eye on them. Run security on their ships if you have to.”

Sevika lingered, her gaze flicking between the two of you, as though calculating whether to push back. After a moment, she sighed and turned toward the door. “For what it’s worth, I’m with Min.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Benzo shot after her. His voice was sharper than necessary, and it drew a pointed look from both you and Felicia.

Before tempers could flare further, Connol stepped in, his calm, even tone cutting through the tension. “Fighting between ourselves isn’t fixing a damn thing,” he said firmly, stepping between you and Benzo. His broad hands rested lightly on your shoulders, as if grounding both of you. “In case anyone’s forgotten, we don’t have the manpower to be a divided force right now.”

Benzo exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping as his anger softened into resignation. He looked at you again, and you met his gaze.

For a long, silent moment, the two of you simply stared at each other. His exhaustion mirrored yours, the weight of Zaun evident in every line of his face. His eyes, usually sharp with purpose, were dull—drained beyond recognition. You understood the feeling all too well.

Neither of you was Vander. Neither of you was Silco. They had been an unstoppable force, even when they were at each other’s throats. You hadn’t fully understood the weight of their positions until they were gone, ripped from Zaun and sent to rot in Piltover’s cells. Now it was on you and Benzo to pick up the pieces, to hold together the tattered remnants of a revolution that sometimes felt like it was bleeding out faster than you could save it.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, until Benzo finally looked away. He turned to the others, quietly issuing instructions as Felicia stepped forward to lend her voice to the plan.

And you? You tightened the vest around you again, steeling yourself for what came next. Because there was always something.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly once the others have filtered out, leaving just the two of you. The room feels heavier without the murmured discussions to fill the space. You glance at Benzo, guilt threading through your voice. “You’re right. I was reckless. Stupid.”

Benzo doesn’t respond immediately. He leans against the table, his arms crossed, staring at a spot somewhere past your shoulder. Finally, he exhales and shrugs. “You got the job done,” he says simply, though there’s no accusation in his tone. After a moment, he unfolds his arms and extends a hand toward you. “I know you miss him. I do too.”

“I miss them both,” you admit, your voice cracking as you clasp his hand. But instead of the firm handshake he seems to expect, you use the gesture to pull him into a tight hug.

Benzo doesn’t hesitate. His broad, stocky arms envelop you, grounding you in a way that words never could. He’s thinner now than he used to be, you knew you were too, the stress of the past two years carving its toll into both of you, but his hugs still feel like home. They always had, since that first day in the dump.

You press your face into his shoulder, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this without them, Benz…”

His arms tighten around you, a protective squeeze that’s equal parts comfort and reassurance. “I know, Fishie,” he murmurs.

***

One might imagine that living in a warring nation would be a constant thrill, every day a unique and dangerous adventure. And in some ways, they’d be right. But when every waking moment is consumed by survival, by the relentless grind of uncertainty and danger, the days begin to blur together.

Nights are spent patrolling the crumbling streets, ducking under shadows to avoid the cold, watchful eyes of curfew enforcers. By day, there’s the ceaseless clatter of tools as you work on gun engineering and mechanics in the dim light of your makeshift livingroom workshop. Taking care of your parents took considerable time, even with Mikaels improving health. Not to mention actual shift work at the factories you were still employed at. The bridge barriers made it impossible to continue working at Morichi’s, but you still had to make a living. So you took what you could on this side of the bridge, toiling in the suffocating heat and deafening noise of the factories, each shift bleeding into the next.

The loss of Vander and Silco’s leadership wasn’t the only major impact of their incarceration. The loss of income was a huge hit to your day-to-day lives. You managed to scrape by Mikael’s treatments, but food was steadily more expensive, funds were running dry. Numbers were already tight, but now you almost felt strangled.

And then there was the tunnel.

The one project that felt like you were finally doing something that mattered, something right. In a world that seemed to be crumbling at the seams, the tunnel was your proof that not everything had to fall apart.

Engineering the damn thing had been an endeavour. You and Connol had spent countless sleepless nights over that past 24 months slogging through its damp, claustrophobic depths. Every leak you patched, every weak point you reinforced, felt like a small victory.

The leaks were relentless at first. Water seeped in from all sides, turning the tunnel into a slick, treacherous path. You and Connor worked in knee-deep muck, sealing crack after crack until your arms ached and your fingers felt raw. And then there were the weak points—entire sections that seemed one heavy step away from collapse. You reinforced them with steel sheets that you bent and shaped with your own hands.

Months turned into years as the project evolved. It started as a desperate plan to bypass Piltover’s stranglehold, but it became something greater. A lifeline. A sanctuary. It was Felicia who had the brilliant idea of connecting the tunnel to a long-abandoned mining cavern nearby. She and a few of the older minors had mapped the area, their experience with the mines proving invaluable. The cavern was vast, its winding corridors a maze that could confuse even the most determined enforcer. With the connection established, the tunnel transformed into a network—a hidden artery for Zaun. Connected to the mines, but far enough away as to allow for passage without much air corruption.

Slipping into the manhole that led to the tunnel, the muffled sounds of labor greeted you before your boots even hit the ground. The faint echo of crates scraping against the floor, grunts of effort, and low conversations filled the air. It didn’t surprise you to find Felicia already there, gesturing sharply as she directed a small group maneuvering heavy-looking crates toward the mining hub.

“How’s it looking?” you asked, sliding down the ladder and brushing the grime from your hands. Your eyes quickly scanned the wooden crates stacked against the damp tunnel walls.

Felicia turned to face you, her expression softening the moment she saw you. In her arms, a familiar blue-haired toddler bounced excitedly, letting out a piercing screech when her wide, blue-grey eyes landed on you. Powder squirmed and made grabbing motions with her chubby hands, her little braids bobbing wildly.

“Everything’s going smooth so far,” Felicia replied, her voice heavy with skepticism. She shifted Powder on her hip with practiced ease. “Although, little miss over here has been trying to make mischief. As usual.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Mischief? Her? Nah, not my Pow-Pow,” you said, holding your hands out. Powder immediately launched herself at you with an excited squeal, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck as if she hadn’t seen you in months. You pressed a kiss into her hair, the faint smell of damp tunnel and baby soap filling your nose. “Perfect little angel, you are,” you murmured, gently swaying her in your arms.

Felicia scoffed and rubbed a hand over her face, exhaustion carving lines into her features. “Easy for you to say. She’s been trying to climb the crates all morning. Nearly toppled a stack of rations.”

You chuckled, the sound dry. Powder babbled in your arms, reaching for the pen you always kept tucked into your pocket. You let her grab at it, her tiny fingers closing around the object with triumph. She brought it to her mouth, and you caught her hand before she could start chewing.

“How’s the moving going?” you asked, shifting Powder’s weight onto your hip while you glanced back at the crates.

“The firearms are heading to the mining hub, like you wanted,” Felicia said, motioning to the group lugging the heaviest crates. “I’m splitting the rations and water supply—half near the residential opening so they’re easier to access if things get tight.”

“Smart,” you said, pulling out your notebook one-handed. You jotted a quick note, using Powder’s squirming form as a makeshift desk. Her hand reached for the page, and you tilted it out of her grasp just in time. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Felicia sighed, her shoulders slumping as though the question alone carried weight. “The chem-barons are brutal, Min. You should see the factories down there. People are working longer hours for less pay—and those are the lucky ones who still have jobs.” She ran a tired hand through her hair, her thumb brushing over Powder’s cheek. “It’s hard. Really hard.”

Your chest tightened. You glanced down at Powder, who had abandoned the pen and was now tugging at the frayed edge of your vest. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re not alone in that. If you need a break, come by for meals. Seriously, Fel, we’ll make it work.”

Felicia let out a noise that was half-laugh, half-scoff. “Oh, sure. And when exactly are you finding time to cook for me, Nanny Min? When was the last time you had a proper meal? Or some sleep? No offense, sweetheart, but you look like death.”

You shrugged, the motion heavier than you intended. “What else is new?” you muttered. The exhaustion was bone-deep, clinging to you like the dampness in the air. You weren’t sure you even remembered what it felt like to wake up rested.

Felicia placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Min, I mean it. You can’t keep burning yourself out like this. We need you. Zaun needs you. But you’re no use to anyone if you collapse. After Niya…we can’t lose you too.”

“I’m handling it,” you said, the response automatic and hollow.

“Are you?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening slightly on Powder. The toddler hummed, oblivious to the tension, and grabbed at your face with sticky fingers. Her palm landed on your nose, making you sigh and shake your head.

“Trust me, Fel. You’re not going to say anything I haven’t already heard from Benzo, Sevika, Mikael, Babette, or my mother,” you said, flicking the pen from Powder’s grasp and sliding it back into your pocket. “I’m handling it.”

Felicia didn’t look convinced, but she let out a low sigh and dropped her hand from your shoulder. “Just… don’t let it break you, Min,” she said. Her tone softened, but the concern in her eyes remained sharp.

You didn’t respond, instead watching as she turned back to the crates and started issuing instructions again. The room settled into a familiar rhythm: the scrape of crates, the shuffle of boots, and Powder’s soft babbling filling the space. But Felicia’s words lingered, heavy in the air.

When had you last eaten a real meal? Or slept more than a few hours? The question tugged at the edges of your mind, but you pushed it away. There wasn’t time for that. There was never time.

“Come on, Pow-Pow,” you murmured, brushing a hand over the toddler’s braids. She looked up at you with a toothy grin, and for a moment, her laughter broke through the weight pressing on your chest.

The echoes of shuffling crates and the rhythmic commands of Felicia's voice faded as you continued to sway Powder in your arms, the hum of the tunnel now a steady background. For a fleeting moment, everything felt almost... normal. As if this could be a day not haunted by the weight of survival or the ghosts of lost leaders. But the crackling tension in the air wouldn’t let it last long.

You glance over at Felicia, her tired yet determined expression etched into your memory. As she coordinates the laborers, directing them with a precision that only comes from years of doing what’s needed to keep Zaun's pulse alive, you feel a surge of admiration. She was right—we need to do this, but at what cost?

Suddenly, the muffled clatter of boots approaching breaks the fragile silence. A figure steps into the tunnel’s dim light, the shadows catching on his messenger uniform–like the one Silco used to wear. You recognize him as a regular, one good at his job. His presence shatters the illusion of calm.

“Min,” his eyes lock onto yours and immediately, you set Powder down, although she stays latched onto your leg. “Been trying to track you down for ages.”

You cross your arms, straightening your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“New notice from Topside, get a load of this.” He reached into his vest, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment that he thrust toward you without hesitation.

You took the note, unfolding it with a quick snap of your fingers. The seal was unmistakable—Piltover. Your stomach churned as you scanned the words.

“In light of the escalating unrest within the Undercity, Piltover’s High Council has decided to implement a tax on all businesses operating in the lower sectors of Zaun. The tax will be enforced immediately. Failure to comply will result in fines, asset seizures, and the possibility of further punitive actions. Tax rates will be determined based on business size and output. Enforcers will begin inspections at once.”

“For fuck’s sake!” The words tore out of you, raw and jagged. You hadn’t meant for the rage to bubble over so violently, but once it started, there was no stopping it. The crumpled parchment landed on the ground with a dull thud as you hurled it, your chest heaving.

Your hands shot up, threading through your short-cropped hair, pulling lightly at the strands as if the pain might somehow ground you. You clenched your jaw, trying desperately to keep the flood of frustration from overwhelming you completely. But it wasn’t working. Every breath felt sharp, shallow, like it wasn’t enough to fill your lungs. The metallic hum of the tunnel around you—normally a distant comfort—felt suffocating, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

Why does it feel like everything is falling apart?

Your thoughts spiraled, one after another, crashing like waves in a storm. The tax, the factory work, the constant surveillance, the dwindling resources—it was relentless. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, it was never enough. Zaun was slipping through your fingers, piece by piece.

Then you felt it—a tiny hand resting gently on your thigh. It was a touch so light, so soft, that it pulled you out of your storm like a lifeline.

You looked down to find Powder gazing up at you, her big, round eyes shimmering with concern. Her expression was earnest, her little brows slightly furrowed as if she could feel the weight pressing on you, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

“Min-Min,” she cooed, her voice soft, almost like a dove’s call. She stretched her arms up toward you, her small fingers opening and closing in that familiar “grabby hands” motion. It was a plea for comfort, but it felt more like she was offering it.

Your heart cracked at the sight. The tightness in your chest, the pounding in your head—all of it eased, just a little, under her gaze. Powder had always had this uncanny ability to cut through the noise, to remind you of the parts of the world still worth fighting for. Still worth protecting.

You glanced at Felicia, who was now carefully unfolding the paper you had crumpled and tossed in frustration. She scanned the words, her lips moving slightly as she read them to herself. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the weight of the decree sank in.

“Can they do this?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“They’re Pilties,” you spat, the venom in your tone sharp enough to cut. “They think they can do whatever they damn well please.”

Felicia shook her head, slipping the paper into her pocket with a grim expression. “Nobody’s going to be happy about this. The businesses are barely hanging on as it is.”

You turned to the messenger, who shifted nervously under your gaze. “Who knows about this so far?”

The young man shrugged, his wiry frame taut with unease. “Notices are being sent out all over as we speak. Won’t be long before everyone hears.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, exhaling sharply. Your hand instinctively found Powder’s head, your fingers ruffling her messy blue-tinted strands. She babbled contentedly, oblivious to the tension simmering around her.

Your eyes stayed on Felicia and the messenger. “Alright. Time to play crowd control. Spread the word that I’ll be on the Promenade if anyone needs to talk. And tell folks that if anyone’s going hungry tonight, I’ll have a soup on by dusk. Empty bellies are welcome.”

You made a move to leave, already thinking ahead, but the messenger stepped forward, his words rushed and urgent. “There’s something else, ma’am.”

You froze, your stomach tightening. “What is it?”

“A barge,” he said quickly. “Big one. Seen docking from Stillwater.”

The mention of the prison made your heart leap into your throat, your mind racing to places you didn’t want it to go.

“Dropping off or receiving?” you asked, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Not sure,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Didn’t get close enough to see.”

You clenched your jaw, nodding sharply. “One emergency at a time,” you muttered to yourself before addressing him again. “Keep me updated. The moment you hear anything more, you come find me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the messenger said, giving a quick nod.

Without wasting another second, you turned and headed off. There was no time to dwell on the possibilities—not with a city on the verge of uproar and lives that needed saving. Your boots echoed against the damp tunnel floor as you strode forward, determination hardening your expression. Zaun had always been a place of resilience, and no decree from Piltover—or mysterious barge from Stillwater—was going to change that.

***

“I’m not cut out for this, Benz,” you mumbled, sliding down the door until you were sitting on the floor, your head resting against the cool surface.

The weight of the night pressed down on you as you shut the door behind you, the muffled sounds of the city outside faded into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the apartment. It was almost dawn, and exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. People had filtered in and out all night, seeking reassurance, venting frustrations, or just looking for a hot meal. Now, a kitchen full of dirty soup bowls and spoons awaited you, each one feeling like another hit to your dwindling energy.

Benzo, sprawled out on the worn couch, was mid-way through unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric hung loose around his frame as he glanced at you, his expression heavy with his own exhaustion. “I know, Fishie,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “But what are you going to do?”

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “…Cry?” The word came out half-serious, half-desperate as you stumbled forward, collapsing onto the dusty carpet. The coffee table—your makeshift workshop—rattled slightly, its surface cluttered with dismantled trinkets and half-repaired pistols. You curled up on your side, feeling the sting of your aching muscles as they protested the movement.

Benzo let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Nah, not you,” he said, glancing over at you with a faint grin breaking through his exhaustion. “You’re too damn stubborn for that.”

You let out a low groan, flipping over onto your back. The musty ceiling above you stared back, a blank canvas for your frayed thoughts. You didn’t even have the energy for a half-decent clap back. “Says you, asshole,” you muttered, your voice barely more than a grumble.

“Hey.” His tone shifted, drawing your attention. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, finding his expression unexpectedly serious. “You’re doing just fine, Fishie. Honest. We’ve got this. The guys would be proud of you—of us.”

His words hung in the air, filling the silence that followed. You stared at him for a long moment before letting out a loud sigh, letting your head fall back against the floor. The ache in your body felt heavier, but his words planted something small—a flicker of hope you didn’t have the energy to acknowledge just yet.

Instead, you turned your gaze back to the ceiling, letting the stillness settle over you both. You didn’t respond, but Benzo didn’t push. The quiet understanding between you spoke louder than words ever could.

“You ever wonder,” you begin, your voice uncertain, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “What would’ve happened if we hadn’t met that day? Back in the trash pit?”

Benzo pauses, his hand instinctively digging into his pocket for a cigar. “Not really,” he says, voice casual as he fishes it out. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, drawing your knees to your chest as you sit on the carpet. “I mean…it completely changed my life. I was a nobody, some Bilgewater rat fresh off the boat. And now…”

The soft click of his lighter cuts through the stillness as he lights the cigar, the faint glow flickering in the dim room. He takes a long drag, exhaling a ribbon of smoke that curls lazily into the air. The familiar scent fills the space, oddly comforting.

“You’re on our island of misfit toys. Closest thing our people have to a council.” His voice is steady, almost teasing, but there’s a weight behind it. He hums thoughtfully, the cigar bobbing slightly between his fingers. “You should be proud, Fishie. This revolution wouldn’t be the same without you.”

You frown, resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know about that,” you murmur.

Benzo’s gaze sharpens as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re the smartest out of all of us, Fishie,” he says firmly. “Even with my charm and Silco’s head for strategy. You think any of us have anything close to that engineering brain of yours?”

“I’m good with gears,” you reply, shrugging again. “But…I don’t think I’m supposed to be a leader. All this responsibility? Everyone relying on me, looking to me for answers…I don’t know how Vander and Silco do it. They make it look so…effortless.”

Benzo leans back again, taking another drag from his cigar. He watches the smoke swirl for a long moment, as if searching for the right words. Then, he reaches out, extending the cigar to you.

“Well then,” he hums, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I guess it’s a good thing you’ll always have one of us to help you along the way, right? We’re in this together, Min. I can promise you that much.”

You stare at the offered cigar for a moment before taking it, holding it delicately between your fingers. The warmth of the ember radiates against your skin, grounding you. You look at him, his steady presence like a lifeline in the chaos, and for the first time that night, you allow yourself to breathe.

“Thanks, Benz,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he nods anyway. It’s a quiet understanding, a bond that doesn’t need words to be felt. In this crumbling world, you weren’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

The apartment was silent, save for the faint crackle of Benzo’s cigar and the occasional groan of the pipes in the walls. The world outside was stirring—Zaun never really slept—but for a moment, here in this little bubble of exhaustion and cigarette smoke, everything felt still.

Benzo stretched out on the couch, head tipped back, his eyes half-closed as he murmured, “You’re gonna burn out that brain of yours, Fishie, if you don’t sleep soon.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” you replied automatically, the corner of your mouth twitching into a faint smirk.

“Don’t tempt fate,” he muttered, a hint of humor slipping into his voice.

Just as the quiet began to settle in again, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. It wasn’t hesitant or unsure like the knocks you’d been getting all night—it was firm, deliberate, almost impatient.

Benzo glanced toward the door, his brow furrowing. “Someone’s got timing, I’ll give them that.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the floor with a groan. “It’s probably someone from the Promenade,” you said, brushing off the dust from your trousers. “Maybe they didn’t get the memo I’m done playing soup kitchen for the night.”

Benzo waved a lazy hand, settling deeper into the couch. “Your circus, your monkeys.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the door, rubbing at your tired eyes. “Alright, alright,” you called as you turned the latch. “I’m here, I’m here—”

The door swung open, and your words caught in your throat.

Standing in the doorway were two figures you thought you’d never see again, not outside of Stillwater’s cold, suffocating grip. Vander, towering and solid as ever, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorframe. And Silco, sharp and composed, his eyes glinting with that calculating gleam you’d never forgotten.

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing. They weren’t supposed to be here. They couldn’t be here.

“Minerva,” Silco said smoothly, his voice a razor’s edge of familiarity. His lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile as if he was amused by your stunned silence.

But it was Vander who drew your attention, his warm, familiar presence anchoring you to the moment. He stepped forward, just enough for the dim light of the apartment to catch the edges of his worn face. His gaze softened as it met yours, and he smiled down at you, that same reassuring, unshakable smile you’d longed to see for two years.

“Hello, Minnie,” he said, his voice rumbling low and steady like the earth itself. “Miss me?”

59 notes · View notes

sordidmusings · 1 year ago

Text

Switching Up Roles - Part 1/2 (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: So the request got insaaaaanely out of hand cuz I can't shut the fuck up about this stupid clown 🙃 In the future I gotta have requests ask for headcanons, full fic, or headcanons with drabbles in the future so I can put a cap on my brain lol I had also been wanting to write Switch!Buggy learning to embrace the sub part of himself. I wanted to get part of it out and the set up cuts off pretty cleanly here. There is a taste of smut in it, but it stays with the style of the exposition for the most part instead of really delving into it.

Word count: ~1760 (The draft is at 8100 rn 🧍🏻‍♀️)

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), switch!reader, switch!Buggy, NSFW, p in v, creampie, they're like probably too into each other, Buggy leans towards opla Buggy, I have a propensity to just keep sentences going man

I hope you enjoy a taste and thank you for your patience 🙏🏻

Part 2

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

You’d always had a hunch about Buggy. It started with little things like how his grunts and moans would sometimes slip in and out of something more whiny and breathy. How the look in his eyes would turn from something rabid and devouring into something desperate and uncertain. Maybe he was just more comfortable using the whole range of his voice than most men. Maybe that look just came from the insecurity in him that you were constantly trying to wring out with every lingering hug and reassuring whisper.

Speaking of those, he drank them up like an addict. Now, it’s not like you think it’s abnormal to enjoy soft touches and sweet words; everyone wants those from their partner in one form or another. The thing is, Buggy seemed to hang on those words with extra ardor. He’d focus on you like nothing else existed. He’d twist and turn both himself and his comfort zone in order to receive them. Whenever he accomplished something, whether it was as big as defeating a new enemy or as small as making a new joke, he would turn his face to seek you out like a plant’s leaves reaching to feel the sun. He’d go to you whenever he was uncertain. Difficult announcements were made with you within arm’s reach, vital decisions were made with you sitting thigh to thigh, and battles were fought with the two of you back to back.

Despite his status as captain, Buggy was always following you. Of course, he was the one in charge, the one who gave orders, but you were the one for whom he would change those orders or redirect his path. When you entered a room, he was the one to go to you. It was only on rare occasions that he’d order you to him like an owner would a dog. His calls for you were greetings, that is if he wasn’t getting up to lead you in himself. Buggy did know how to demand but he preferred to handle you with invitations.

Even so, you were well versed in Buggy leading you to touch or lay where and how he wanted. The extending months of your relationship have been filled with the two of you pushing and pulling at each other, empty of any thoughts and aims other than the need you had for each other. He has growled out commands and desires, expecting you to do just as he asked and he fit the role of manhandling you into a compliant sub very well. There were times when it seemed to be just that though - a role. Not every time; the more starved for your body he seemed, the more he’d take you just how he wanted. Now that you were months in and the pent up “what if”s were easing into the new joy of deep connection, his need for your body settled to hunger while his appetite for connecting to You became insatiable. Being able to allocate more time to exploring each other let latent behaviors break through the frantic way that you two tried to consume one another. Buggy had always aimed for your pleasure, hitting steady bullseyes, but now he was consciously seeking it and looking for new avenues to sate you and file them away for the future. He gained the clarity to observe while he was flooding himself with you.

You also noticed that with this change of pace came his need to chase your movements. You don’t think Buggy was even aware of the way he would lean his body towards you no matter the time or place, the way he would follow your lips whenever you pulled away, or the way his body would seek out your hands and happily mold to their movements like you were an artist working with clay. There was the way he seemed almost relieved when you would guide him. It appeared that he savored the time to unload the responsibility of decisions onto someone else but he had never known anyone he could trust to give him that peace before.

You understood that need. The rush you got when you only had to think of pleasing him and then hearing him tell you how good you were at doing just that? It was euphoria all on its own. It had you feeling like you knew in your core that you were doing something right and that you were making your love feel good - feel proud and happy. While you enjoyed partaking in it yourself, you had no problem taking control to give that to Buggy. Honestly it was a dynamic that was sounding tastier by the day. Seeing him act out of need for your direction and approval made you crave it more each time. You were eager to see him when he loses himself in the role of being what you want. You’re positive he’d take to it well; all you want is him after all, but now that he’s given pieces of himself to you, you want all of him. You want him to expose his needs to you, right down to the core of his desires, so that you could feel the thrill of holding that trust and vulnerability. You want to prove to him that he is always safe with you and that you can fulfill all that he wants and more.

One night a few weeks back, you got the final evidence you needed to feel confident labeling him as a switch like yourself. It was one of the few times Buggy was letting you ride him when he was close (he seemed to be embarrassed of the way it would pull out higher pitched moans from him, no matter how you complimented them), and he had let himself fall further into acting without thought than he usually would beneath you. His typical grapple with composure was replaced by him melting into bliss, leaving you a Buggy who was slack-jawed, glassy eyed, and trembling. You could still feel some hesitancy in the way he kept making his eyes focus on you even when they wanted to roll back or the way he would reign in his volume after a particularly (and deliciously) loud moan. His hands still went through the motions of guiding your hips, but this time your hips were pushing into that heavy grip instead of his hold directing the bounce and grind of your body on his.

Even though the feeling of his cock splitting you open and rubbing deliciously from your clenching entrance to the deepest stretch of your cunt left you struggling for thought, you were determined to keep an eye out for his tells that he would try to flip you back over. Whenever Buggy blinked some focus back into his eyes, you leaned down and captured his panting mouth in sloppy kisses. His eagerness to feel your swollen lips and teasing tongue made it easy to kiss his mind back into a blur. When he planted a hand down and sat himself up, you tightened your core to clench down on him and changed to the heavy grinds that made him weak with the way he could feel every hot, plush inch of you gripping him. He fell down to his elbow, but when you followed him to nibble at his ear and fill it with moans, he lost all his strength and collapsed back on the bed.

You kept at it because you needed to cum on top of him. The promise of a body shaking orgasm always came to you in the squeeze of your thighs around his waist, the grind of his pelvis on your clit, the way you could change your angle to have the head of his cock massaging whichever spot felt the most electric in the moment. It took hold of your mind with the way you got to look down on him spread out beneath you while he looked up at you with that desperate face. You could see how steeped he was in pleasure and need from his furrowed brow and shining eyes. Buggy always fell into the most beautiful, incoherent mess when you were the one leading him. His long blue hair spread out wildly, the few strands sticking to his face bringing out his pink flush. His gorgeous eyes, highlighted by stripes of blue makeup and long fluttering lashes, glistened up at you. His painted red mouth looked all the more tempting with how his kiss-wet lips parted for him to gasp in air and breathe out moans.

With little warning, Buggy sobbed out an overwhelmed, “Fuuu-hah-huuuuck,” and the next thing you knew strong hands yanked you down and he trapped you close in an iron grip. His forehead dug into your neck and his humid breath tingled down your chest. All you could feel, hear, smell was Buggy - so much burning skin, jumbled curses, lingering sea salt. His hands scrambled on your back, pulling you closer like he needed it to live, and amidst all the sensation you felt his cock pressed tight into you, twitching heavily with each wave of hot cum it pumped into you. It shoved you immediately far over the edge and you curled into him, squeezing and shaking and grabbing and gasping. You got what you were promised and your body shook, letting you get extra jolts of friction against his still pulsing cock.

The come down was slow and lethargic with the two of you molded to each other and unwilling to leave the moment behind. Your breaths eventually slowed while you both enjoy giving and receiving little trailing touches. Your brain was high from the intense orgasm and the building joy that you can finally open the door on this aspect of your relationship where Buggy lets himself submit.

That is, until he ruins it.

Both of you were too tired to say much of anything through the swift cleanup and release to slumber. You didn’t think anything of it, because it wasn’t the first time it happened. You did start to catch on to Buggy’s avoidance when he would find convenient ways to dance around the topic or disappear when you were leading up to it. It became unquestionable when he started to run out of clever escape routes. The final straw was when you approached him with an “I wanna talk about the other night” and he did a 180 with a panicked “forgot some captain stuff for the thing” yelled back to you. So you let it drop. For a time.

You spotted your opportunity just over three weeks after you’d dropped the subject. Buggy continued to slip around you for almost two of those weeks, approaching you with the same caution a child would when entering a haunted house on a dare. He held the same nervous excitement and insatiable curiosity too. The whole time, you pretended that you hadn’t noticed. You were well practiced in the art of playing blind; Buggy wore his emotions on his sleeve whether he wanted to or not, and he loved that you would let him pretend some of it didn’t happen. Even though he knew you sometimes played it to your advantage and still let most of your comments and cackles out during his outbursts and foibles. He just paid you back for those with his own tricks and teasing and all’s fair in love and war.

You knew not to strike right away. You needed to reaaaaally let him settle back into normalcy between you two so that The Incident wasn’t on his mind. Not that you’d been able to get it out of yours; you were endlessly replaying the memory of him being seized by instinct and impulse so violently that he clung to you like he could never be close enough while you made him cum so hard that his dick felt like someone was jolting a toy inside you. Whether the imagery came to you on purpose or involuntarily, it always had you squirming and looking for some way to get off.

Today had been especially filled with that memory, but luck was on your side, finally ready to reward you for your patience. Buggy had been getting a bit exhausted recently, prepping the crew, the ship, and everything on it for a risky raid happening next week. It would be the culmination of a few months planning, and he had been running himself ragged making sure that everything would go smoothly. And, when it didn’t, there was a backup plan and at least two more backup plans for that one.

He had been seeking rest from you more than interaction the past few days - falling asleep almost immediately after getting back to his room late, giving you long hugs where he’d close his eyes if only for a minute and let you hold up some of his weight, scarfing down his food so he could power nap with his head on your thigh while you finished your own meal. If he was doing something that only needed one hand, he’d send the other to you so he could have the comfort of your touch and the pick me up from feeling your occasional squeeze on it. He had to find and stop you the time you decided to massage his overworked hand, because the relaxing feeling had him zoning out through full conversations.

All that to say, the man clearly needed someone to force a break on him and take care of him. Just as clearly, Buggy was needing that care from you so much that he was allowing himself to seek you out in ways that he (wrongfully) feared would annoy or drain you. His exhaustion outweighing that sea-sized insecurity of his was the cue you’d been looking out for. If he really didn’t want to be submissive to you then that’s fine, but you’d be damned if it was just his own negative self-talk keeping the two of you from feeling that way again or from bonding even closer with another dynamic to exchange trust and affection. After all, that act of trust being met with affection is one of the best ways to chip away at his self-doubt and self-loathing.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

More to come - hope you enjoyed 🤍

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece #my writing #thirst hours #gn reader #afab reader #x reader

335 notes · View notes

thehomophobe · 2 months ago

Text

Dusk, the resting hour.

You decided to eat outside in the gardens. With the Sun setting, the air turned to a biting cold. You left your shawl in your room so you shivered when the wind blew. You watched the great star lay in the mountains. Imagine, in his physical body, resting his head with crossed arms, watching the citizens go by with white, hazy, lidded eyes and a sleepy smile, resisting the urge to fall asleep so soon. "Not yet" he'd whisper, "just a little longer."

You breathe in the cold air. Good Lords above, you made a fool of yourself. Everyone must think you're crazy. The village idiot, or the town lunatic. You looked at the wooden bowl of fish soup. A sea of broth with little crumb sailors swimming peacefully in the dusk. The soup had gone cold, yet you still drank the broth. Good Lords, you can't stop thinking about today.

What you said was true. Except that it wasn't a vision, but a dream.

The Moon; he rode on a boat. A canoe made of stardust. Like Charon on the River Styx, he offered you a ride amongst the stars. Glittery nebulas, twinkling stars, myopic planets floating in a vast ocean of darkness. The sea of the night. It's no wonder other monks and priests describe him as a fish; to swim through the night with gallant fins as you practically shift the stars to your command. You told him those tales with lief as you wallowed in the black. He chuckled, watching your ecstatic expression like a parent; the exuberant wonder in your eyes shimmered like stars. He stood up, taking the oar in hand, and guided the little stars rippling from the boat upward. The oar swirled the stars like paint, creating a mural on a canvas of black. Aquila, The Eagle. The King of the skies. You've heard the tales, but even hearing it from The Moon made it seem more tantalizing than how others narrated. His voice was like crushed velvet, deep and silky with a rasp. A waterfall into a babbling brook. A grotto.

He held you close, whispering into your ears. You felt yourself sink deeper into the night, resting peacefully in his arms.

Then you woke up.

And The Moon's brother rose in the sky once more.

You loved The Moon. How brave he is, how nurturing he is, how tender and caring and benevolent he is. And what you love the most, he listens. He listens to your pleas. He listens to your cries. He listens to your prayers and wishes. Unlike his brother, who's unable to speak in his current form, you'd wished he would talk to you. Lie down on the cleanly cut grass, idling as you chat about anything that pops into your head.

The wind blew away your daydreams. The Sun had fallen asleep. The other stars had awoken in the dark night, and the lamplighter had ignited the lights. You quickly wished the Sun sweet dreams before scurrying off in the shadows, heading back to your room.

You lied. Somewhat.

You did go to your room. To get your shawl.

You wanted to go to the beach before heading to bed. The shore is the best place to find peace, it is the birthplace of The Moon. While the Sun was born in a bed of flowers at dawn in the morning, the Moon was born in deep waters of the ocean in the dead of night. It was said that he had risen from the sea, walking on the water with grace. Many stories of his always reference water in some shape or form; from emerging from the water to answer a poor man's prayer to drowning a beast with the tides to stopping a caustic inundation from dissolving the town. Each story, somehow, always returned to the water. Exactly why you enjoyed walking along the shore at night.

Speaking of night, the moon wasn't out. Only the stars shined from the darkness. Where was he? He's leaving the little ones unsupervised! You kneel in the muddy, damp sand, looking upward, trying to search for your god.

...

Hmm...

Perhaps he too is asleep. No matter. It doesn't stop you from praying. The same rules applied, only you may speak English to him.

O benevolent Moon, please grace our land with your protection. Please ward off the demons and the spirits, and protect our children--unborn and born--from the evils. We offer our arduous work and effort from the day in return for peace and sleep. May you too rest, for you deserve the peace you bring to the land. O loving Moon, we are grateful to you. We love you.

I love you...

You breathe the three words. A little tear formed in the corner of your eye. You loved your god. You loved The Moon.

*squish squish squish*

Distant steps slap the soak sand. Whoever was coming was getting closer. The sound made you trip over your robes, falling to the sand. The steps stopped, probably noting your fallen form before offering a hand.

“Thank you.” You exhaled, dusting your robe again.

”You’re welcome, sister.”

…

”It’s you!” Your hand yanks away from the man’s grasp. It’s him. The merchant. Still in his tawny garbs with his hood up, and two blue eyes.

"And it's you, dear." He joked, chuckling softly before grabbing his sleeve as he looked. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing here?" You asked.

"Just walking around, enjoying the peace and quiet." The merchant answered. "I...heard you praying."

"Oh...that was just a small hymn." You said sheepishly. (Why though?)

"To whom?"

"Um..." You looked upward. The stars playfully winked at you. "Him."

The merchant looked up with you, trying to find who you were talking about. He blinks, noticing the missing piece in the sky. "Oh. He's has been quite unresponsive lately." He mirthed. "Frightened?"

"A little. I have seen him in a dream once." You stated. "The vision I told at the gathering."

"That was a dream?"

You nodded. The merchant hummed. "I told a lie, yes, I know the great lords would scorn me for it one day." You sighed. "But it seemed unfair for The Moon to be excluded from today's gathering."

The merchant chuckled, or whatever it's called when you exhale a short breath through your nose. "I believe you've done him a great honor." He smiled.

"Really?" You asked; honestly, you weren't sure about that at all. The shame of what you said; a lie, a "half-truth" about your god. You couldn't dare to face him in your sleep, hence why you went to the beach. To ask for forgiveness. Yet through all your internal overcompensation, the merchant nods.

"I've been through most of the gatherings in the past and frankly, it's been nothing but lies, or half-truths." He said. "The horrors and terrors of the god of night. How he slaughtered the nocturnal animals at midnight, how he flooded cities out of boredom, how cruel and evil the stories exaggerate he to be." He hissed, "To this very day, people still believe he's the god of death, that the ocean is truly the river of the dead, and that he killed his brother....out of envy."

The anguish exhausted from his mouth like smog. The tension was thick, dark like the night. The grottos dimmed in disgruntle as the merchant's mouth thinned. He then shakes his head, clearing away the smoke. "My apologies. I've grown bitter in the last few days."

"You needn't apologize." You said, "I do agree though; it seems our gods are slowly being forgotten with time."

"But that's what your role is, is it not?"

"..."

"It seems to me you still care for The Moon. Even if he's not present."

The merchant was right, your prayers were always listened to, always heard by him. Even when you couldn't see him floating in the night, he watches. You sighed, getting up from the damp sand. It's getting extremely late. At this point, the other priests would be worried sick trying to look for you. You dusted off your garbs, looking down at your crusted feet. You're gonna need to wash them. And you rather not use the ocean.

"I wish I could talk to you more, but I have to get going. The high priestess would scorn if came back this ragged." You looked at the merchant, still sitting on the beach. His eyes shined crystal blue again as a soft smile rested on his face.

"If you want, we could meet at the marketplace again. The same stand in the corner is where I'll be." He offered. You nodded, that would be nice.

"You're not going home?"

The merchant hummed, gazing at the horizon. "Not yet. Just a little longer..."

You smiled. The night was truly beautiful.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's security breach #security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf moon #moondrop x reader #moon x reader #moondrop

21 notes · View notes

mizuki-foreshadowing · 3 months ago

Text

English Pronoun Use for Mizuki

*Disclaimer: Since making this post, I've found a lot of counterexamples with Ena using 'they' for Mizuki without a plausible linguistic reason, and not one other time where anyone uses 'she' for her. But, I worked really hard on this post and I still like it, so I'm leaving it up.

As we all know, the members of N25 don't know Mizuki's secret. They've been working with her so long under the impression that of course Mizuki's a girl, that when they meet her for the first time they don't think twice about it.

However, Mizuki's classmates all know her secret, and the gossip and negative attention is what drives Mizuki to chronincally skip school. To some extent, they know about her because of the rumors, but it's also something people meeting her for the first time pick up on, too.

In Mizuki Side Story: Nightcord at 25:00, Part 2, we see a student who's never met Mizuki interact with her for the first time and become disgusted.

In Kamiyama High Festival, Episode 1, we see Kohane meeting Mizuki for the first time. While Kohane is shy around new people, and while she may be getting second thoughts if her day with An means spending time with a stranger, we do see two things in this interaction that mean that the gender interpretation can't simply be written-off.

One is that Mizuki picking up on Kohane getting nervous about her as a trans girl fits cleanly into the event story's core arc. It opens with Mizuki wanting to stay home to avoid more negative attention, An treating Mizuki as a friend and inviting her accommodating for her secret, Mizuki reflecting on her bond with Rui as being the same as Tsukasa helping Toya take agency over his life at the expense of others' expectations, and ending with her and Rui reflecting on their loner days together and how far they've come since then. Narratively then, it is Mizuki's secret that drives her to run away after seeing Kohane's reaction to meeting her.

The second thing, is the choice of English pronoun used for what Kohane says. Mizuki had already introduced herself by first and last name by this point.

Originally, I thought it was a translation challenge; Japanese can freely omit pronouns and has a lot of expression between first name, last name, and honorifics. But, the writers using they/them for Mizuki isn't because it's their default, and it isn't because it's what's most diplomatic or correct for her, it's because it's used to indicate whether the person speaking knows her secret.

In Secret Distance, Episode 6, Mizuki, Ena, and Kanade split up to find Mafuyu after she runs off hearing Mizuki tell the story of the haunted school, of a gifted girl with too much pressure taking her own life. Mizuki searches for Mafuyu in SEKAI but it turns out the other two found Mafuyu quickly and were searching for Mizuki. This is Ena's English dialogue using she/her to refer to Mizuki. One very important detail we know today, is that Ena does not know Mizuki's secret.

In Nightcord at 25:00, Episode 9, we learn how what Mafuyu said, that each of the others secretly want to disappear, is true for Mizuki. The harmful gossip and rumors refer to her with they/them.

However, it isn't the case that they/them in the English dialogue is used for Mizuki when people are saying hurtful things. It's used simply for when the person knows her secret. Rui is the person most in Mizuki's corner, who was there with her at the beginning and helped her to change, and he also refers to Mizuki that way in his English dialogue, in Kamiyama High Festival, Episode 5.

Ena not knowing Mizuki's secret and using she/her for her, with everyone who does know her secret using they/them, regardless of their intent, means that pronoun choice in the English dialogue is a deliberate tool the writers use for telling Mizuki's story.

39 notes · View notes

kungukingi · 11 months ago

Text

Meditations on bris/isbr [11/?] "A Moment Just for Them (Because Why Not)"

Link to previous part.

After the match, Team White settles down in their new room, and Isagi already has his eyes on the next match-up. He wants to play against Rin's team next, and tries to get everyone's attention to confirm that they're fine with the plan.

None of them seems to listen though, what with Barou being occupied with fixing up his new bed, Nagi by the videos on his phone, and Chigiri with his hair.

Isagi starts wondering about how difficult their living situation is going to get when the team already had Nagi and Barou in it, who not only don't get along, but who are also don't like to compromise about anything.

As if on cue, Barou starts berating Nagi and Chigiri: One has left a towel on the floor, the other one a pair of socks; one does not dry his hair enough, one is taking too much time to do it. And what's worse, neither of them seems to acknowledge his authority.

While this is happening, Isagi is notably exempt from this tirade of criticism, and in light of what we learn later from Episode Nagi, it seems likely that this is because his cleanliness and efficiency have quickly risen to levels that meet Barou's standards... to the point that Barou will later lament and curse his departure from the team after having spent just a couple of days together.

But more on that later.

For now, Isagi gets alarmed by the undesirable chemical reaction that seems to be happening between the three other members of his team, and attempts to diffuse the situation by suggesting they all have dinner together.

It doesn't play out like he hopes, since Nagi and Chigiri shoot him down immediately. Nagi wants to keep watching his videos, and Chigiri has his knee to take care of. Isagi gets frustrated at their lack of cooperativeness, but then Barou cuts in to say that he'll go with him.

Isagi is understandably surprised. Chigiri is his teammate from all the way back to Team Z, and he's stayed with Nagi for the whole duration of the Second Selection. Both are rivals and friends to him at this point, and he's very comfortable around them.

What comes to Barou though, so far all attempts Isagi has made to try to get closer to him through friendly approaches have been duds. Not to mention even their rivalry has been one-sided up until earlier that day, when Barou made it mutual with his declaration to never lose to Isagi again. And that only happened after Isagi put Barou through the wringer, crushed his spirit, and made him question his whole life.

So it is surprising that Barou would so readily join him to eat dinner in private while exuding this nonchalant air about it.

When the dinner scene opens, they appear to be the only ones present in the cafeteria. They take their seats at a table next to each other, and eat in silence for a while as Isagi waits for Barou to initiate a conversation. He has to have some reason for taking up his offer, after all, right?

Isagi is suddenly reminded of the moment he called Barou 'loser' in the match earlier, and wonders if he's still holding a grudge about that.

Could it even be that Barou accepted his offer specifically so that he'd have a chance to corner Isagi and beat his ass without the other two interfering? He is prone to threats of violence and did seem to really hate getting called a 'loser', so it would make sense, wouldn't it?

When Barou finally addresses him, Isagi flinches and wonders if this is the way he's going to die, but then:

Everything about this must go against the image Isagi has of Barou in his head based on their interactions so far.

The normally so decisively speaking Barou starts by hesitating: He pauses, uses a filler word (uhh), and then asks Isagi to tell him about himself. I'm not 100% certain [and might check later], but I think this is the first time we've seen Barou do either of these things (hesitate while speaking, ask a question like this) with anyone. But it does make sense.

Before this day, the world made perfect sense to him, and he had unshaken confidence in his own place within it, as well as on his own ideals and methods.

Isagi made him recontextualise and reconsider everything during that match, and now he's coming forward with a new approach; speaking cordially to Isagi to get to know him a bit better. And the question he asks Isagi is the exact same one Isagi approached him with previously, which just underscores how much their relationship has shifted in such a short amount of time.

It's a huge show of respect from someone like Barou, and Isagi is exactly the right amount of surprised for it.

Isagi answers him by telling him about his weapons, and Barou easily draws the connection between them and how they help Isagi control the whole pitch. He also proves how uninterested he was in Isagi previously by saying Isagi should've told him sooner, to which Isagi replies that he did, while thinking to himself that Barou wasn't willing to listen.

(In truth, Isagi didn't actually even get around to telliing Barou about his own favoured playstyle and weapons when he approached him before, but that's beside the point. Even if he had told him, Barou wouldn't have cared.)

Now he is listening, though, and he does care.

Flustered by Barou's sudden interest in him and shamed by the grace he's currently showing, Isagi apologises properly for the things he said to him on the pitch. But Barou surprises him again by telling him that they already settled that when he made Isagi take back the 'loser' — and continues to say that everything else Isagi said was true.

While casually munching on his steak, Barou admits that his mentality wasn't good enough. He had room to grow, and now that he's absorbed the lesson, he's showing that he harbors no hard feelings towards Isagi for it.

The way he's acting supports the opposite interpretation, in fact: Even though he doesn't say it out loud, I think he's feeling grateful to Isagi, and this is his way of showing it.

Sure, he's interested to learn about Isagi as a player just for the sake of their rivalry, but the fact that he goes about this by asking the exact same questions Isagi asked him before is a bit too on the nose to be a coincidence.

I think this is Barou's apology for dismissing Isagi before, his show of gratitude for the lesson he taught him, and his peace offering — all rolled up into one. I don't think this is entirely conscious on his part, but that's what I think this is, regardless. They're rivals on the pitch, but that doesn't mean he dislikes Isagi.

Isagi, of course, thinks this is all very cool of him, and rightfully so. It demonstrates that Barou is able and willing to tap into the vast potential Isagi always saw in him. It also shows Isagi that Barou, much like Isagi himself, can put his whole being and emotional spectrum into the game while on the pitch, and still rise up above it afterwards.

It's as admirable and relatable as it is surprising, and it must also be very flattering to Isagi. At the start of Blue Lock, Barou dismissed him as someone who did not 'have what it takes' to be a striker. And yet here they are now, talking about their mutual passion as equals.

So it's no wonder he gets caught up in the moment and voices his honest feelings.

It's wonderful when characters sometimes just flat out tell what they're feeling, so that you can always pull up the receipts when someone mistakes banter on the pitch as proof of two characters hating one another.

This is one of those instances.

This whole moment also parallels Isagi's dinner with Kunigami early on in the series, and for those two the scene was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. From my perspective, the fact that Kaneshiro decided to include this whole scene at all, is indicative enough of the fact that the readers are supposed to assume that Barou and Isagi are on good interpersonal terms from now on.

Even though in the future we'll get to see repeatedly how Isagi and Barou clash on the pitch as emotions get heated, it's clear to me at least that, after this moment, Isagi has learnt to like Barou as a person. He already admired him tremendously as a player and found his attitude cool, but this is the moment he's won over by Barou the Guy as well, not just Barou the Symbol.

What comes to Barou, it's less clear how he feels about Isagi as a person as of now. However, looking at this moment with the knowledge of the kind of tsundere tendencies he'll starts exhibiting in the future, and knowing how absolutely preoccupied he becomes with Isagi soon, I'd say his reaction here might give us a hint.

He quickly turns the focus on himself and explains his interest as him just being on the lookout for any and all information that might help him obilerate Isagi in the future.

One could call it falling back to a more secure and unambiguous mode of relationship — their mutual rivalry — when Isagi pushes at a boundary Barou is not entirely comfortable allowing him to cross yet. Villains and heroes are easy for Barou to understand, but I'm pretty sure that he does not have a lot of experience in friendly relationships where he stands on an equal footing with someone else.

Isagi is unbothered though, and challenges Barou to go ahead and try, because he's willing to be an open book for him. Villains and heroes, rivals or friends, Isagi is just happy that they're able to have this kind of a relationship.

Speaking of relationships, I divide Isagi's rivals into two groups based on his primary mode of relating to them:

Rivals first: Barou, Nagi, Rin, Kaiser, Yukimiya, the rest of Blue Lock (and the rest of the football world, to be entirely honest) Friends first: Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri, the rest ofTeam Z

To this date [chapters up to 254 have been published by the time I upload this meta], Barou is the only one of Isagi's rivals from the first category with whom Isagi has shared such a casual and intimate friendly scene together.

Even Nagi hasn't had this type of scene together with Isagi, despite having spent the most amount of time in private with him out of this group. A scene that is based on mutual interest in each other outside the context of immediate tactical and strategic concerns. While football is what Isagi and Barou talk about, they're acting relaxed about it, and the conversation doesn't go anywhere near the next match, even though it's what Isagi has been waiting for ever since Rin stole Bachira from him.

Isagi does not have any revelations about himself, or about anything that would relate to the next match, or the ones after it. We learn that Barou is not as sore a loser as one might've initially assumed based on what we know of his character, but that information is of peripheral importance compared to what we learn about his changed perception of Isagi.

The chapter starts with Isagi thinking about the next match, but only after Barou and Isagi depart in comfortable silence does Isagi return to thinking about it. While they dine together in the empty cafeteria, it doesn't even cross his mind.

Bottom line is: This whole scene is about how the relationship between Isagi and Barou has evolved, and nothing else.

Link to next post.

#barosagi #barousagi #bris #isbr #Blue Lock #bris/isbr meta #Kaneshiro was truly crazy for this

55 notes · View notes

kankuroplease · 10 months ago

Note

can you tell us what happened after Ringo and Wolgang's marriage, their daily lives, when they had their first child and especially how many children did they have?+ their leave Konoha ?

I have a few quick HCs about those things~

The first thing to happen was Wolfgang placed her Uchiha robes under the floorboards of their home as she was an Inuzuka now, but he thought it would be a shame to burn them like she had wanted to

Ringo dedicated a good amount of time trying to figure out Wolfgang’s hair color sections and realized his stubble is even two toned

Wolfgang learned that Ringo snores in an adorable manner when she’s truly exhausted (he’ll never tell her that she snores as she very proud that she doesn’t)

Her cat did not like his ninken but, he eventually all got along with them after being forced to train together by Wolfgang

Ringo thinks it’s funny how serious Wolfie is about cleaning and tries to keep up with his cleanliness

Which he appreciates, but still does majority of the cleaning for his own sanity

He gives her foot massages whenever she seems stressed as those seem to relax her down and he can better contain himself unlike with back messages

They often stay up late when the night sky is clear to appreciate the stars and moon with some nice snacks and sake

She still teases him often by helping him clean up while wearing something revealing or by asking him to wash her back for her innocently

He ends up having to mend whatever he’s torn because she often wears his clothes while tempting him in that manner

They are a possissive (and somewhat jealous) pair which does lead to some negative reactions when Wolfgang sees another man eyeing his woman on her or when Ringo catches some other woman wagging her tail around her man

It’s not that they don’t trust each other; they both just view it as disrespectful for someone else to hit on their partner

Nothing a few kisses and a quick dismissal can’t fix to make it clear they’re a pair and not looking for a third

Outside their happy home; the Inuzuka ladies were eager to bring Ringo into their group of friends and teach her more of their ways

Wolfgang got her a puppy and the girls joked (it’s not really a joke) that he was getting her ready for a baby

Ringo is very much happy with her new life but is bothered that she still has to answer to her older brothers or they’re brought up in decision making (I.e. “Madara does think it’s a good time—“ , “Izuna said—“ blah blah blah she doesn’t care)

Their first child wasn’t planned necessarily but was very expected and welcomed into the world about a year and half after their wedding

Her mother came and helped with their first son

After the birth of their second child, Ebba decided it was time for her homeland and Ringo saw it as an opportunity to establish her own life away from her brother’s watchful eyes

Ebba only agreed to take them because she was attached to her grandchildren, she still told them it was probably a bad idea though given her people are welcoming, but rough around the edges Ringo didn’t listen

It wasn’t an easy decision given her family didn’t want her to leave and she’s never been away from them for more than a couple of months here and there

but she set her mind to it and promised to stay in touch with everyone before setting off

It was quite the journey to get to Ebba’s homeland and Wolfgang was surprised to see so many Inuzuka there as well

Ebba like “boy, we merged. Of course there’s Inuzuka’s here too!”

Ringo picked up on their language fast and taught their children how to speak it as well, even though it wasn’t necessary given they also spoke hers, but that earned her and Wolfgang’s little family kudos

Wolfgang gets teased that she speaks it better than him

It’s there they have the rest of their bunch. Six pregnancies leading to eight kids 🐾

#ask #kpz naruto founder au #OC: ringo uchiha #OC: Wolfgang Inuzuka #knfau 🖼️#my art #Wolfgang x Ringo #kpz pack 🐺

35 notes · View notes

caliburn-not-calculator · 5 months ago

Note

I’m not really sure how unpopular of an opinion this is in the fandom since it’s honestly not discussed a lot, but since it’s mentioned rather often on the pod I’ll go ahead a say it. I don’t like Dani/Davion. It feels remarkably forced.

Before I get any further, I really don’t want this to come off as shading any one who does like this ship. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it, and there are even a few circumstances where I can see the appeal. Everyone’s allowed to like whatever they want to like. Personally, it’s not my cup of tea, which I’m about to explain why, but if it’s yours, go nuts and have fun. That’s what fandom is for.

Anyways, I don’t like Dani/ Davion as a couple. It feels very hetero/amatonnormative to me. Oh a guy and a girl are bickering, that must mean they like each other and are secretly pining inside. I’m quite bored of this. Obviously this is a popular troupe for a reason, and I can…*understand* the appeal. I’m just… tired of it.

What I *can* say is I do like Dani & Davion. As like, frenemies would be the word I guess. They’re very funny. I like that they bring out sides of each other that we don’t really see otherwise. Bad sides, they’re catty bitches and it’s great. I think the dynamic of having two people who constantly, *genuinely!!!* what to rip out the other’s throat, but also, to one degree or another, trust each other is very compelling and entertaining. I genuinely liked the moment in 5.6 when Dani asked Davion to defend Brass because she couldn’t be there. As much as she rags on him, deep down she does actually trust him.

What I don’t like is when this dynamic is turned fully, cleanly romantic. It feels like it just flattens it down a lot. Perhaps this really is just an issue I’m having because of my particular experience being aroacespec. I find a lot of character dynamics far less interesting when they get cleanly slotted into the “romantic” category instead of all the messy facets and feelings that can exist in nebulous platonic/queerplatonic spaces getting to be explored (This is true of any gender parting btw).

Rolling with difficulty is a show I enjoy so much largely because of the vast variety of relationships in it. There are so many different relationship smoothies with different amounts of platonic or familial or alterous love blended in. Each of them have distinct tastes even if they have similar ingredients to another paring. None of the platonic bonds are treated as less valuable than the romantic ones, none are treated like they need to turn romantic in order to deepen or obtain true value. (Shoutout to aromantic Kyana and her bestie Ione, I loved their convo in 5.6 too.)

None of them, I feel… except for Dani & Davion.

I know really all the Davani teases have been out of character by the players, but I actually think that’s why it bothers me. It’s literally out of character. It’s forced. Organically, without outside forces like players’ out of character preferences (which of course have a place in ttrpg settings, I’m speaking solely from an in universe perspective/preference) I really don’t think either Dani or Davion would ever see the other as a romantic partner. It just doesn’t fit. I could see them growing very close, continuing with the dynamic they currently have— tearing into each other like wild dogs anytime they meet, but under the surface, the trust growing and maybe after a while even respect too. And that’s the dynamic I like.

I think the TL;DR here is something adjacent to: I’m not a fan of romantic relationships being treated as a better version of platonic ones, and, although in general RWD is very good about not falling into that hole, I feel like to a certain degree Davani (as a romantic relationship) does.

So sorry for the essay, but I’ve kind of been stewing on this for a while and it feels kinda good to get it all out in words. (Reiterating no shade if you like this ship, this is just my personal opinion! :D)

Oh this is very fair, I have to say I agree with you. It was kinda funny but yeah it never felt compelling to me, more like a joke than anything.

You put this incredibly well so I’m not sure I can say much that builds upon other than, yes, I get that.

#rolling with difficulty #rwd #I don’t dislike Danvion but yeah I also just #can’t see it #but to be fair I can’t see a lot of romantic relationships #anyway good essay

17 notes · View notes

she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to my first ever fic! I have another one in the works as well but currently neither of them have a title because title's are hard, so for simplicity's sake this one is Kanej themed and when I share the other one I'll refer to it as Helnik themed.

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who out her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7

I've only tagged people who specifically said they'd like to read more, not everyone who expressed general interest, but if you'd like to be added to the list let me know! <3

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's descriptions of blood/wounds, and implied sa references (not graphic).

Chapter One - Kaz

"Now listen," Kaz leaned back and ran a gloved hand through his hair, vaguely aware of the traces of blood he was leaving on his forehead, "this has been fun and all, but I promised my wife I'd be home in time for supper,"

He consulted his pocket watch and frowned.

"And I'm already running late,"

It was clear that the man tied to Kaz's chair had no idea what to say. Or maybe he just couldn't. His cheek was a bloody crater; his jaw tight at a painful looking angle. Kaz paused for a moment to survey his half-closed eyes, wondering if he'd done the job too well. But the man was still breathing his pathetic, shaky breaths, and his eyelids were quivering slightly. Kaz hit the chair leg with his crow's head cane, and the man shook back to life.

"Are we done here?"

The man nodded shakily, quivering as he leaned as far from Kaz as his chains would allow.

"Good. Then I'll see you next week, with the money," Kaz pulled a key from thin air and placed it on the man's knee, "Have fun getting out,"

He walked away, listening to the man attempt to call him back through a mouthful of blood right up until the door slammed shut. Kaz stretched, smiled, rolled his shoulders. That had gone well. He was late though - she wouldn't be happy. Speaking of which, Annika was leaning against the wall opposite him, picking at her nails with a knife. She must have news.

"Go check on him if he's not out in an hour. Cleanly, for now, but keep an eye on him. If he tries to run this week, put a bullet in his skull,"

"Why me?"

"You're in my line of sight. And on that, what are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be at the Crow Club?"

"Just came off a shift. Brought you a message,"

Kaz nodded.

"She's back?"

"And pissed at you," Annika confirmed, "She's coming to find you,"

Kaz was meant to go to her. If she'd decided to come to him, it could only mean one thing: he was in deeper shit than running late.

"Fine," he said, and marched upstairs.

" - something else!" Annika called after him.

Kaz turned.

"Yennefer Baars is dead,"

"Then it's a happy day for everyone. Except for me, because unlike other people's spouses when my wife suggests murder, she actually means it. Go to the dock's and rustle us up some attention, the Silver Six is quiet,"

And with that, ignoring Annika's brief mumble of protest, Kaz began to head up the stairs. Yennefer Baars was dead. So that's what Inej had been up to. She'd been gone for the last month, and as a rule they didn't tell each other what a job was until it was over - no sense in worrying each other over nothing. But that didn't mean they didn't guess at what the other was up to, and usually figure it out. Kaz knew that Inej wrote a goodbye note before every job she did and left it with a particular member of the Merchant Council and his risk-loving fiancé, to be passed on in case something went wrong. He only knew that because he did the same thing, and Jesper was a terrible liar. Inej was better at figuring out what he was up to than he was her, that was true, but usually he had some idea. This time he'd heard nothing, until today. Yennefer Baars, owner and proprietor of the Tulip Mill, the most successful pleasure house in Ketterdam since the Menagerie close, was dead. Kaz had to smile.

Even if he was next on Inej's list. What the hell had he done this time?

It was raining, but what else was new? Kaz opened the window and listened to the droplets flowing over the pane and hitting the sill like a waterfall. He couldn't hear Inej, but he wouldn't be able to. Definitely not over the wind and rain. He left the window open for her, and headed to the basin. He shed his gloves and began to wash the blood off before it dried. Running hot water. Years ago he'd added this, with the bathroom of their suite at the Geldrenner on this mind. It was such a luxury, back then. So normal now.

"Inej,"

He smiled to himself as he imagined the brief look of annoyance on her face at him greeting her just as she opened her mouth to do the same.

"Kaz,"

He turned to see her, and immediately Annika's message was unimportant. It was good to see her. She smiled.

"How are things, Kaz? I heard the Silver Six has been quiet,"

Of course she had.

"A little slower than usual, but the Crow Club's booming. I've got time to fix it before the profit's take a hit,"

Inej nodded. A moment passed in silence, before she said:

"Maya Olsen,"

"What of her?"

"You know her then?"

Kaz shrugged.

"One of Yen's girls, isn't she? The Tidemaker. Never met her, but she passes information to the Dregs. I have a few people watching her, making sure the information's good and trying to find out where she gets it. Why?"

"I met her tonight,"

"You mean when you killed Yennefer Baars?"

They looked at each other, dark eyes stone. And then both their hard expressions collapsed, and they smiled.

"It's good to be home, Kaz,"

He liked it when she said 'home'. Really, he knew, 'home' was Ravka. But the Suli travelled the country, never static, never anywhere long enough for that one solitary place to be the only singular point they'd always want to return to. That was too limiting for Inej; she existed to explore. To her, 'home' really meant 'family'. It had taken the last ten years to get here, but he'd come to like that word.

"But we do need to talk,"

Kaz sighed.

"Of course we do,"

Kaz cooked. Nothing special, just warm bread and soup, but Inej seemed to like it. They sat opposite each other at their little wooden table, eating and waiting for the other one to talk first. Kaz was stubborn, but Inej was infuriatingly patient when it came down to this sort of thing. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Maya Olsen, then?"

"She's at the shelter - "

"I didn't ask where she was, I want to know - "

"Let me finish, Kaz,"

"You know I've killed people for less than interrupting me," he smirked

"And I've killed people for far more. Now be quiet, and listen to your wife,"

Kaz frowned and mumbled something about only agreeing to marriage for the tax break, but stopped interrupting her all the same.

"Maya's sixteen, I met her tonight at the Tulip Mill and took her to the shelter along with a couple of others, but they were the only ones I managed to get out," she paused and glanced away, just for a second, before picking up the thread of her story, "the other girls were both passed out - long story, I'll tell you later - I'm going to check on them in a couple of hours. But Maya was awake, so we talked and... Kaz there's no easy way to say this, but she wants to kill you,"

Kaz almost laughed. So this was why Inej had come to him, instead of waiting for him near the shelter. The had a second place there, unbeknownst to the gangs or anyone else, except the liberated kids - in case they needed Inej.

"Invite her to join the queue,"

"This is different, Kaz. This isn't some random act of aggression or some boy from a rival gang who wants to prove himself. She hasn't just picked you because you're Dirtyhands, she's picked you because you're... you,"

Kaz collected their empty bowls and began to head towards the sink, before Inej tutted and took them out of his hands, swapping them for his cane. He leant against it, and pretended the relief wasn't palpable. Somehow it was still a bad thing to rely on her.

"How does this kid even know about me? The information she was sharing wasn't specific to the gang, she didn't know who she was talking to. Just that he paid her to talk, and to not talk to anyone else. Did Yen find out about the extra income?"

"I don't think so, but Maya didn't say much about it,"

"So what information, in your extreme wisdom regarding matters of life and death, did you manage to gain?"

Inej looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Information isn't my specialty anymore, Kaz,"

"Yes it is,"

She laughed, and Kaz closed his eyes to listen to the sound, but it was only short.

"She blames you for her indenture,"

Shit. No wonder Inej was mad at him.

"What do I have to do with that?"

"Apparently there was no choice but to sell her indenture to a mercher, when her father was in debt. The mercher died and her contract changed hands, several times, before it ended up with Yen,"

The tap hummed as Inej washed the plates. Kaz shifted his weight against his cane.

"She blames the man her father was in debt to," she glanced at him over her shoulder, "No prizes for guessing who,"

This wasn't sounding too good.

"And just for that she wants to kill me? So do a thousand other unlucky sods, Inej, I'm not concerned,"

"You also killed her father,"

Damn it.

"So, she wants to kill me. That doesn't mean she gets to. Doesn't really mean she even tries. I've killed a lot of people's family members, but I'm still standing here. Did you...?"

"Tell her we're married? Yes, Kaz, I'm that much of an idiot,"

"Alright, alright. Still, you might as well. Talk her down, take her back home and find some relative or whatever to take her. That's what you do, right?"

Inej rolled her eyes. She was now perching on top of the half wall between the little kitchen and dining spaces.

"She can't go back. She's a Fjerdan grisha, she wouldn't be safe. And as for relatives - anyone she's got would either kick her out or not dare the risk of taking her. But that's not the problem, Kaz,"

"Right, and remind me why we're more worried about this murderous little problem than any of the others?"

"Because she's different to the others, Kaz. She... well, she reminded me of you,"

"Oh," said Kaz, freezing for a second before slowly returning his watch to his pocket, even though he hadn't checked the time yet, "Then I guess we have a problem,"

Problem was an understatement, and both of them knew it. There was every chance that he was completely and utterly fucked.

84 notes · View notes

aggold15hi01 · 3 months ago

Text

Paula's writing- Getting well soon- Esteban Ocon and Reader Fan Fiction-Tumblr edition-Part 1

Author's note: This is it! It's finally here and honestly; I wasn't expecting it to be a short story however because I am feeling truthfully nervous about this Fan Fiction of Estie a.k.a Esteban Ocon and reader as this is both my first time writing for Esteban Ocon and also using the second person's point of view with Y/N and 'you' plus 'your' therefore please take it truthfully easy on me to be honest at this point; everyone ever since this is my first time returning to writing; first time writing on Estie Bestie and also writing on using the 2nd person's P.O.V on 'You', 'Your' and 'Y/N' as your name as well.

Oh and I am truly terrible when it comes to titles of my very own Fan Fictions obviously. (That's the one and only worst part of doing Fan Fictions or even writing in general sometimes obviously; thus coming up with an actual title for a writing project can be such an actual nightmare for real.)

Trigger warning: Mentions of illness (Non-C*v*d-Normal Flu) and sneezing.

Also, you can imagine both Y/N and Estie have normal ordinary day jobs where they both are working together at Honolulu while the both the of them are living at the reader's apartment in Waikiki. (I'd think the apartment location is the same location where it is near the famous Diamond Head Crater, Queen Kapiolani Park; Honolulu Zoo and Waikiki Aquarium. Plus if you are feeling truthfully confused or uncertain about the location I am speaking about then you can search for it through a search engine you would normally use it on any browsers you are currently using it.)

"Ahhh choo!" You sneezed while you are now standing at the living room before you grab another piece of tissue paper from the Premier tissue box where you did blow your nose just as when Esteban Ocon who is now living with you at your very own apartment as both your partner and your best friend too as well ever since the both of you had met each other for the very first time.

"Hey Y/N: are you okay?" Estie ask you, sounding truthfully concerned about how you kept on sneezing and blowing your nose non-stop erratically ever since you first woken up very early in the morning.

"I-I . . . I don't think so; Estie." You replied while you blow your nose again before discarding the used tissue paper into a garbage bin at the corner of the living room before heading to the bathroom where you washed your hands cleanly with both soap and water after covering your face from both the sneezing and blowing your nose which you did experienced it the last of couple of days; leading you to the point where you have to sleep at the guest bedroom to avoid any close contact with him since you are feeling truly afraid he might get sick too from you.

"Oh." He replied from the distance while preparing breakfast just for you while you are now exiting the bathroom and now entering the dining room and the kitchen area.

"I'm sorry I didn't meant to give you the burdens I . . . I . . . ahhh-chooo!" You replied just as when you grab another clean piece of tissue paper before you sneeze again; covering your mouth and nose at the same time while he prepares you a hot cup of ginger lemon tea since you are feeling both physically and truthfully under the weather from the sickness you did have to truthfully experience it while heading to the guest bedroom of the apartment where originally you are planning to sleep there however you did ended up falling asleep when he had decided to make a quiet move to the living room where he slept on the couch despite his tall and lanky body is way too tall to sleep on a couch and you would had told him to take the guest bedroom ever since you are feeling under the weather physically.

"Ah, it's okay: Y/N. Uh . . . Y/N?" He ask quietly while looking up from the breakfast he is now preparing for you.

"Huh? Oh sorry, I'm just heading to the guest bedroom ever since I am feeling worried I might make you feeling too sick too and . . ." You replied, sounding genuinely both equally nervous and apologetic as he searches the kitchen cabinets for clean dishes to set up the dining table.

"Don't worry, Y/N: I understand and no offense but . . . you did sound foreign; Y/N." He replied to you; noticing how you sounded foreign when you are talking to him due to the sick condition you are now feeling.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to scare you with my foreign voice; Estie." You replied, now sounding truthfully bashful and embarrassed while your faces turns as red as a bright red hibiscus flower you had seen it along the way whenever you and Estie are going on the daily walks you both have always done it frequently especially when the both of you have a respective day off from both of the actual jobs you both are now working.

"Oh. It's okay, why not you can take a rest there while I prepare breakfast for you?"

"Oh sounds like a good idea to me especially now when I am feeling truthfully sick though." You replied to him before you sneeze again as you walked into the vacant guest room before closing the bedroom door with a soft click.

"Oh, okay."

While you decided to wait at the guest bedroom; you heard a soft knock interrupting all do your thoughts about how you still have a doctor's appointment whom you still have to see them later today for a medical check-up to make sure nothing is too serious with the illness you are now experiencing it physically.

"Come in," you called to him while you wrapped yourself around in the clean, soft and fluffy white thick blanket which makes you look like an actual human burrito wrapped in your big, fluffy white blanket despite how you are feeling truthfully warm from how your body temperature rises out of nowhere; making you feeling even more pale and drained than how you used to experience it in your normal daily life.

After opening the door for Estie, he is now bringing a tray of your breakfast to you just as when you instantly smell a strange combination of both the delicious aroma of the hot instant chicken noodle soup from the hot bowl where he had prepared it earlier and also a hot cup of a ginger lemon tea where you felt as if did wanted to spit it out since you did fondly remember how you do have to take a hot cup of ginger lemon tea back when you are feeling sick while also having to take the antibiotics and the other medicines.

"Are you feeling truthfully okay?" He ask you, feeling genuinely concerned while you are now wrapping yourself into the big and soft white blanket where you brought it closer to you obviously.

"Oh; hi Estie, I mean . . . I wish but I don't think I truthfully am to be honest, Estie." You replied; sounding hoarse, exhausted and drained from how your body does feels drained from the sickness you are now truly experiencing it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that--I'll let you take your breakfast; okay? It's not that . . . I don't want to be with you but . . ."

"I know you don't want to get sick from me; do you, Estie? Thus I don't want you or anyone else to truthfully fall sick or getting sick in general; Estie."

At first; he does seems to truthfully looked confused however after you did explained to him about how you don't want him to truthfully fall sick from how he got a close contact with you; knowing you are feeling truthfully unwell physically wise; he does truthfully understand what exactly you are saying to him.

"Sure, no problem but make sure you dress up warmly when we both are heading out to see the doctor." He replied to you before giving you his signature wink to let you know he'll be waiting for you patiently.

"Okay," You replied after he close the door with a soft click and you start taking your breakfast quietly.

#my own post #my own words #my own writing #my writing #Esteban Ocon #esteban ocon x reader #eo31 #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 imagine

8 notes · View notes

maythedreadwolftakeyou · 20 days ago

Note

8 and/or 18 for the Rook Story Time Game?

thank you!! from these prompts and using my Juniper Aldwir :)

8. A time Rook argued with someone they care about.

"If you you cared you would have made sure the map wasn't destroyed when you went back to those ruins--"

"If you cared you wouldn't have wanted anyone to die! Even if I knew the map would fall apart crossing back over the wards a second time, I couldn't just leave them there!"

Their voices ring across the clearing, the other Veil Jumpers uncomfortably not meeting each other's eyes as they pretend not to listen in. The stone wall Strife and Juniper Aldwir stand behind is still open to the sky, and does little to mask the argument that's been raging between them for almost twenty minutes.

"Don't try to walk on it yet," Irelin quietly advices the elf who's broken ankle she's just finished bracing between two sticks. "We'll help carry you back to the camp." He nods, his movement singular and sharp, teeth still gritted against the pain. Neither he nor the other three injured elves say anything as they wait. They won't meet anyone's eyes, either, as they listen to Strife shout about how they should have been left to die.

"Everyone here knows the risks. Any one of us could get trapped in ancient magic at any time. And now we'll all continue to be in danger from whatever's at the epicenter of that warded area the map lead to."

"We can find another way in," Juniper insists. "The confusion aura around it that turns us back can't be impenetrable. If there was a map through it once, we can make a new one."

"We won't be doing anything. I think you should go."

"I--what?"

There is a moment of silence then, following the disbelief that rings in Juniper's voice after his last words. When Strife speaks again it is quieter, his tone final. Irelin is still close enough to hear what he says next.

"You clearly don't respect the mission of the Veil Jumpers. Maybe you need some time away to consider how your actions impact the rest of us."

"So you're kicking me out, just like that? For making sure people following my directions aren't killed?"

"I'm kicking you out because you refused to follow orders. This time it saved people, but next time it might get more killed. It's not your call to make."

"You know what? Fine."

The group hastily find reasons to be looking anywhere else as Juniper strides from behind the crumbling stone tower, and back into the clearing. She doesn't acknowledge any of them as she heads to the pile of gear and picks up her pack, slinging it across one shoulder while she reaches for her staff.

"Where are you going to go?" Irelin asks quietly, watching her.

"Dunno. Not that it's the Veil Jumper's business anymore, apparently." The anger has returned to Juniper's voice, but there's a crack in it now too, that belies how upset she really is.

"He doesn't mean it. Not forever," Irelin tells her. "Just give him some time to cool off, before you come back." She tries to hide her own doubt about how long his anger will last, but Juniper shakes her head anyway. "That dwarf who ran into us at the ruins--we've met him before, during that time last year with all the Venatori--maybe you can talk to him. He's staying at the inn at D'Meta's crossing. His name's Varric."

"Thanks," Juniper says. She straightens, and stares ahead into the trees. When she starts walking, she doesn't call farewell, or look back.

18. Rook trying to impress someone.

"All right. Let's head back towards the markets," Rook says, and launches herself from the Treviso rooftop and across the alley two stories below. The drama of the moment is ruined as her chest slams into the opposite rooftop, hands scrabbling at the tiles as she slowly hauls herself up and over the edge to safety.

Lucanis and Davrin watch silently, wincing at the sold thump when her body hits the building.

"Did--she mean to do that?" Davrin asks.

"Let's not ask," Lucanis mutters, and springs to make the jump himself, landing cleanly on the other side.

#for a veil JUMPER my rook sure did not do great in the cities 😞#and strife i love you but OOOOOHHHHHH do i need to Argue with him more than the game lets meeee #it would have been so funny if you got to bicker with him every time you went back to their camp #juniper aldwir #jade plays dav #ramblings #replies #answered prompts #dragon age: veilguard #strife #irelin #my writing #also i typed 'Rook' so many times before having to backspace bc she doesnt get that nickname til after varric oopsie #tunicnoir

3 notes · View notes

joonkorre · 2 months ago

Text

finished s2e10.

how did will kill tier so cleanly and swiftly? nobody knows. now he’s really channelling the ripper's mysterious ways

the museum scene is sooooooo 😭😭😭 literally fuck offfff they’re just glazing each other now in full view of everyone

will thinking of god as he kills. the horse’s ep theme of rebirth. will dragging his kill to his creator like a sacrifice, an offering. hannibal taking will’s hand, makes me think of the creation of adam. but god succeeds. then a baptism via first aid. even as will's fantasizing about killing his maker thru the dude, he’s essentially killing off hannibal’s fav creation to take his place. stepping on another tier to be hannibal’s most worthy devotee. oh my godddd

mason is so different from the other characters. that scene w margot was absolutely horrific, christ alive. love that he tried to intimidate hannibal as well but one line from hannibal and dude shrivels up.

oh that’s. that’s fucked up. including foreplay that big demonic orgy took more than 10 minutes and out of all things I’ve seen in this show, this is the scene that I skipped straight through. I get that you want an heir but margot…. you shouldve been at the club.

willbloom sister wives era !!!

alana treating will like the other woman and hannibal nipping it in the bud??????

see I can acknowledge that alana should reasonably believe hannibal due to the info she has available, but when freddie lists out all of the dead patients hannibal has and she just ignores it….. yeah girl fuck you. also, red/orange coat = hannibal’s flames. woohoo.

the ending is absolute bonkers. BONKERS I tell you. looking like they just came back from a grocery trip. will giving hannibal something he loves and hannibal unwrapping it hastily as if he’s a child unwrapping his christmas present. the double entendres. “you slice the ginger” is an instant classic. them cooking together. hannibal leaving his seat at the head of the table to sit in front of will, as accomplices and equals and friends and partners. hungrily watching will eat. will smelling the wine like how hannibal would before subverting expectations by speaking his mind, telling hannibal how to properly treat him. “i’ve abandoned good and evil for behavioralism.” hannibal asking if will has partaken in the act of creation, if he has also slaughtered and eaten freddie like hannibal would. orchestral music ebbing and flowing between them, hopeful but aching at the same time. then tipping to the uncanny with the superimposition of will and hannibal’s faces. end episode. wow. WOW.

so. will going crazy on freddie and the way he talks about her with hannibal afterwards is…. terrifying. I feel betrayed actually. BUT. I don’t think he killed her. I think freddie’s investigation mirrors katz’s (like even the stray bullet. love it) isn’t to show that hannibal and will are now one and the same (regardless of what the ending shot would have us believe). that’d be too easy, the pacing too quick. will here is cementing his place in the world, swept along by hannibal’s influences but aware and conscious of his every decision regardless. he won’t mirror hannibal exactly, it’s not in his nature. hannibal tortures and kills without explanation. will tries to explain. it’s a red herring and freddie isn’t dead yet. she’s too smart for her role in the plot to be over. they’re probably eating tier, and the dinner is the first time will actually successfully swindles hannibal.

jacka and alana definitely are onto will

#hannibal #hannibal s2

3 notes · View notes

white-weasel · 1 year ago

Text

Saw IV and V thoughts after my Saw Saturday movie viewing experience last night:

Really glad we got some new characters introduced into the series. It breathed a lot of life into things I feel like

Finally got to meet Hoffman and Strahm let’s gooooo! I knew that these were popular characters and honestly they did not disappoint

I cannot believe that John Kramer ate a fucking tape before dying. My friend and I were discussing how he did that so cleanly without gagging or choking and our only explanation is that he’s a throat goat

Rigg’s whole trial was rough man, but it was actually very interesting. Basically “You’re obsessed with saving everyone, so the only way you can win this gauntlet (and save your friends) is to let it go.” I think that this series of traps was MUCH more well done than the series of traps Jeff went through in 3 and they also did each feel like they were testing different aspects of the same “sin” so to speak.

Favorite of those trial traps was probably the one with the husband and wife and them being impaled. I thought it was clever in its theme and its conceit. Sometimes I look at some of these saw traps and go “okay so somebody just thought of the most fucked up thing they could for the shock value” but this was not one of those so I enjoyed that

The iceblock trap though? Amazing idea and execution on that shit. Just the concept of a melting block of ice slowly hanging someone while that melted ice water fills a pool that will eventually touch another person, thereby electrocuting them because there’s a current running through the pool? Very very cool. Plus the added mechanism that kills you if someone (Rigg) walks through the door. Very scary but very good

The puppet still makes me laugh. Him just sitting on the chair before (unfortunately) blowing up at Perez got me. My friend is convinced that I need a little Saw puppet for my apartment now, though I think having the actual thing and seeing it irl might freak me out

Not sure I *needed* to learn more about John’s past before his diagnosis and his descent into becoming Jigsaw, but I also didn’t absolutely hate it. I liked getting to see his ex wife at least and get an insight into his interpersonal relationships

I’m 50/50 split if I like John’s first victim being someone who personally wronged him and ruined his life. On the one hand, I think it does great to kinda show his own hypocrisy in all of this. He says it’s not emotional and these traps are meant to save his victims, and he does at least give him a way out, it did not seem like he really wanted to reform him and that’s interesting to me. On the other hand, I don’t think the movie presents this action or putting him in the trap this way so??? Yeah

My new motto for these movies is “If I don’t see you get murked on screen, you’re still alive somewhere.” Because I was *positive* Eric was dead before they revealed him, but, well, he’s certainly dead now I guess lol

The reveal this movie that it was all taking place at the same time as 3 and that Hoffman is Jigsaw’s apprentice was amazing. Absolutely brilliant, no notes at all

I really liked how Saw 4 and 5 basically felt like a TV show in that they were very obviously meant to be viewed together/feel like one continuous story. I’m assuming that production wise the studio knew that they had 4 and 5 guaranteed so they could leave some stuff for the next movie which I appreciated

(I’m assuming they knew they were at least getting a 6 too because we didn’t get any answers for what was in that box Jill got 👀)

Hoffman carrying that little girl out of the warehouse and being like “We were the only survivors :((“ only for Strahm to get wheeled out on the gurney literally seconds afterwards was so funny

Speaking of, I can’t believe Hoffman didn’t take Strahm’s pen from out of his pocket during the water cube trap. He took all his other stuff but it’s weird he overlooked that. Granted, I doubt that he knew that Strahm would perform a tracheotomy on himself but wow

I liked the backstory we got with Hoffman and how he came to know Jigsaw. The idea of a copycat killer designing his own “trap” but it really just being a way to murder someone he wants revenge on was marvelous. Then the whole part with John kidnapping him and teaching him his ways was also cool

(Hoffman tied up with the shotgun nestled right underneath his neck? Unfortunately kinda hot)

The trap gauntlet for the five people was fine. The first trap I was like “oh my god he’s telling you to all work together! Just go get your keys one by one or have someone get their key, unlock, and then get the next person’s after they’re unlocked” at least for that one though I can see why they panicked. The second one they had no excuses lol I literally said out loud “you can definitely fit at least two people in a cubby hole”. That one seemed sooo obvious, too obvious to at least not give it a try. I didn’t totally hate the set up though, just moreso me getting mad at horror movie characters lmao

And I get Hoffstrahm now lmao. Saw IV I was like “? They barely interacted what’s this?” And then we got the whole cat and mouse game in Saw V and went “Oh yup. There it is. Theres the dynamic.” Especially with the whole glass coffin bit at the end

Speaking of the glass coffin I loved that scene. Just the wasy Strahm shoves Hoffman into the coffin and you can see Hoffman start to gloat and taunt Strahm from behind the glass because he’s sealed his own fate? Amazing. No notes. I did have to look away at the end of the trap though because watching the Saw movies has taught me I cannot handle broken bones, especially when they are very prominent. As soon as I saw Strahm start pushing on the walls I went “I know where this is going” and dutifully turned my head away

Anyways Hoffman is an interesting new antagonist! I’m curious what’s gonna happen next in this little murder soap opera. Honestly, I hope that Agent Perez gets out of the hospital and fucks up Hoffman. She finds out that Strahm is supposedly Jigsaw, goes “wtf no I could never believe that” and starts trying to pursue the real killer

Current Saw movie ranking (giving this because I gave it to my friend after discussing Saw V and my thoughts on the franchise overall)

Saw (The og and the goat, don’t think anything will really topple this one. I was glued to the screen the entire time and loved how this one really focused on Adam and Lawrence, the people in the trap, rather than the killer himself. I feel a lot of future installments lack compelling trap victims which is kinda a shame)

Saw V (I liked the story of Hoffman in this and the cat and mouse between Hoffman and Strahm a lot)

Saw IV (This was a really well done trap gauntlet for the main portion of the plot and the ending reveal was so awesome. Lots of adrenaline pumping for this one, but it did get lowered because I’m still meh on a lot of the John Kramer additional backstory stuff atm)

Saw II (Saw II gave me so many issues ranking it because the final reveal was PHENOMENAL but the main game portion didn’t always work for me. I did like the idea of Eric’s game of just having to wait out the clock but I kinda count that as being a part of the final reveal and thus it can’t elevate the whole movie. There’s potential this and Saw IV could flip flop depending on my moods. This one just has higher highs but lower lows for me)

Saw III (I liked Amanda getting tested and the whole ending with the chain reaction of violence/death, but that’s about it. The main traps in this game did not do it for me, nor did the story connecting those traps. This one also just really felt that they needed to escalate the traps for escalation’s sake rather than to tell a compelling story, which I know is probably a dumb complaint for the gory trap horror franchise but idk I just didn’t like it)

#saw #saw franchise #saw series #sawposting #saw iv #saw v #white weasel talks #I scream about Saw

10 notes · View notes

tiredtriedfailures · 2 years ago

Text

The recurring dynamic between Dong Eun and Yeo Jeong where she expects him to behave, think in a certain way, stemming from her misjudgement of his character and he clears it up in a way that surprises her and she has to take a step back to reevaluate him and every time it brings them closer. It happens in only one direction, i'm guessing because Dong Eun is a closed off person with cynical views set down for everyone and isn't able to judge him accurately as he keeps breaking her expectations and because Yeo Jeong is a very observant and socially intelligent person with dead-on analyses of people he meets, he has a look in his eyes even as she does the simplest things, he reads her well enough not to be surprised at her actions in the same way.

So first is the time when they first met and had their Go sessions, while leaving him she makes some cruel remarks about how easy his life must have been, how he could never understand her that she won't even attempt to explain herself to him, which she later finds out, happened at the most difficult and turbulent time of his life (his father's murder still very fresh) when he himself clears it up after they meet again at the train. He asserts he only seemed like an untroubled, kind, person thanks to her and their lessons together was something grounding for him in the hardest time of his life, incredibly well played as he isn't even telling her she hurt him with her words, he is thanking her for being there, making her understand herself that the way she talked to him was wrong and then thinking she should speak to him again and apologize.

Second is more lighthearted and kinda funny, while he is aware the erectile dysfunction pill is just an excuse to talk to each other a part of him insists that she wouldn't need an excuse for it, so it could be real, and he shows petty jealousy at that possibility, first telling her she deserves better, someone who doesn't need the help and that it's concerning, and then, when it looks like he's done with his little rant that's pretty polite and proper considering the topic, he slides in this comment about how wondered what other health problems this guy could have and that he wished there wasn't an inch of him that was healthy, ending with an overly sweet demeanor of someone trying to downplay their emotions and intentions. Nothing too big. Just a little surprising for Dong Eun he would so easily wish bad for someone for so little.

Third is important because after opening up to him her entire story, he tells her she will lose herself with them if she goes through with this (she doesn't know in that moment that this is the very battle he is giving himself and not just an empty cliche spat out randomly), earning a bitter laugh and Dong Eun feels compelled to drive home the point that one with such perfect life and personality, dignity, wouldn't get the lack of autonomy and dignity she feels, it isn't a choice to her anymore, she strips and whatever moving parts he had in his mind settle into place and just after being told off for being a perfect, example person, he tells her not only will he aid her in every way, he will kill anyone for her. And while she can't know just how much of it he means in that moment it's still much more than what she expected from him, cleanly separating him from Ha Do Yeong. Do Yeong, as someone who simply didn't experience anything similar, can't find it within himself to muster more than the cliches, he can only approach her situation, her life, her mind and soul baring to him as a thought experiment, a debate about human morality and the ideal way to handle a dilemma, not the gut wrenching identifying of himself in her that Yeo Jeong feels, he has inherent understanding of her.

Fourth is again, silly, she takes a jab at him saying he can't look at/like her scars but she accepted them long ago, a combination of expecting disgust and pity whenever she reveals them to anyone and expecting that reaction from him, but then he tells her, no actually, he is mad she went to see Ha Do Yeong in pretty, revealing clothes. He isn't disgusted, he is possessive and full of desire at the sight of her. Her extremely covering/ modest wardrobe has him barking at the slightest skin reveal god help him. Dong Eun was wrong again about him.

#WHY DO I WRITE LIKE THIS ITS SO ANNOYING TO READ #mypost #the glory #moon dong eun #joo yeo jung #joo yeojeong #ha do yeong #character analysis #i want to write sooo bad about them but my sentences are endless and annoying and pretentious for some reason I JUST CANT GET MEANING ACROS #ugh

49 notes · View notes

boysplanetrecaps · 1 year ago

Text

Build Up, Ep 5 Recap: The Neglected Performances

Welcome back to the one of the top twenty best Build Up recaps out there! In the previous one, we saw an adoring junior take on his senior. In this one, we’ll talk about the four performances that MNET saw fit to skip almost completely.

So yeah, MNET saw fit to just unceremoniously fly through a total of four performances in less time than they spent on most of the other single performances. I’m so mad I feel like I could spontaneously combust. Where is Junyheok and Yeo One’s fire extinguisher?

MNET spent about a minute per round (ie, less than 30 seconds on each performance) but I’ll go through a little more carefully.

First up is Hyukjin and Jeong Inseong versus Lee Minwook and Jang Intae.

I’ll remind you who everyone is as we go along, since MNET hates all eight of these guys for no reason.

Hyukjin is from an unfortunately VERY nugu group called Fave1. He was in the Power group, V22, the one who sang that heavy metal sounding song. I mean, he frickin’ went for it, I’ll give him that. He wore that red suit on the first day. He performed in the Kajima Kajima (Don’t Go) group, and was made Low Tier just because everyone else did a bit better, not because he did badly. He seems to have lightened his hair a little bit since the Pre-4 round.

Jeong Inseong is from a group called KNK. He was a V6, in the Allround section, and I remember really liking that first performance (my notes just read, “ooh, I like!”). He was in Breath, and along with Hwanhee, was sort of a go-to backstage reaction king during the whole Pre-4 mission. We didn’t hear what the judges thought of his performance one where or the other, but I thought he had a smooth, rich voice.

They’ve decided to sing a song called Still Love You, originally performed by Lee Hongki and Yoo Hweseung. If you watched either You’re Beautiful (the Hong sisters k-drama) or Produce48, you’re familiar with Lee Hongki; he was Jeremy in You’re Beautiful and he was the cool, Japanese-speaking vocal coach in Produce48. But of course, you might know him as a member of FT Island. Hweseung was on PD101 Season 2. Now he is the main vocalist of N Flying, and I think he has a glorious voice. So yeah, I like both these guys.

The song itself isn’t my thing, but that’s fine, it doesn’t have to be. The lyrics are just typical K-ballad material -- “I love you and I’ll miss you and I will never forget you but I nobly hope you’ll be happy” blah blah. You know the drill.

Full version here.

My thoughts:

Overall, I actually like their version better than the original. I’m not a huge fan of the song itself, but I like the way they sing it.

Hyukjin is the weaker of the two vocalists, which is a bummer because I root for anyone who gets less than 10,000 views on his MVs. He still has a very nice voice. He just has a bit of sharp nasality occasionally that kind of spoils his tone. He also could slightly improve his agility. His straining high notes at the end were not… great. On the positive side, he has a really nice natural vocal color when he’s not straining, and he has excellent pitch and breath control, allowing him to hold -- and control -- long powerful notes, as long as he doesn’t push the high pitch too hard. I wish he’d sing more in his lower register, because that’s what I think sounds best.

I really like Inseong’s voice. It doesn’t quite give me the tingles like Jay’s voice, or Neon’s, or Euibin’s, but it’s so nice. It’s just so rich and nice to listen to. He varies his dynamics, singing softly and cleanly sometimes, and loud and powerfully other times. He uses just the right amount of vibrato for my taste. I just think he’s a great singer.

Their harmonies sounded really pretty; you can hear both of them, so they’re blending just right.

Ok, so let’s see what we see on the show.

The editors made sure to include Hyukjin��s not-too-great high notes. Sigh. They get an 87 from Wendy and a 65 from Jaehwan! Way harsh, Tai!

VCG says, “You should have made the best use of your weapons, but since you used it too often, it didn’t seem like a special move.” I assume he’s addressing Hyukjin, and I think I get what he means. Hyukjin kept the emotional level at 11 the whole time, and didn’t really vary up his dynamics. I think that’s kind of how the original version of the song goes, as well, but maybe they could have adapted it a little more.

Poor Inseong. He sang so beautifully. Even if that one high note of Hyukjin’s wasn’t great, poor Inseong got dragged down with him.

Next up is Minwook and Intae.

Lee Minwook is from a group called Newkidd. He was in the Soul group, V9, and you guys, that little performance has been living in my playlist ever since. He wore a bunch of vests, including that bright blue vest that sort of gave gym-class jersey vibes. I really like his voice, but I guess the other guys didn’t because he was tied for 33rd in the vocal check in. He ended up in Something Like That, where the judges praised him effusively and he was chosen as Top Tier.

Jang Intae is from the Allround group, V31, and is one of the mysteries of the show. I don’t even know his age. He actually came in last in the initial vote after the vocal check in, with only 5 votes. He was in the Every Moment group, along with Bain and Seunghun from CIX. Unfortunately, I haven’t exactly loved his singing on the show so far. In my opinion, his voice is quite nasal, and he lacks both agility and breath control. Solar disagrees with me, though; she voted for him as Top Tier (everyone else voted for Seunghun).

The song they’ve chosen is Universe by EXO. This may shock and amaze you, but I really like this song. What? ME? LIKE A SONG BY EXO? WHAT NEXT?

Anyway yeah, it’s a great song. Sure, the lyrics are basically the same as those of most k-ballads -- I lost you but I’ll look for you forever, blah blah -- but the chords are complicated and interesting and there’s a drive and power to it that make it feel authentic. Plus they look like this:

Was there ever a more delightful concept than just “they’re dressed for fall and holding steamy mugs”? Sigh.

Anyway, I’d be scared to sing this song because the original was sung by some of the best vocalists in the world, but I really like Minwook, so let’s see what he can do!

Full version

Mostly, very nice, and since my ears can’t help but compare them to D.O. and Chen and Baekhyun and Suho and Xiumin and Chanyeol, for me to say they did well is a big compliment. I do think they were both a bit nervous. This is still really nice, but their soft notes were shaky for both of them.

Intae did better than he did the other times I’ve heard him, and Minwook didn’t do quite as well as other times, so they ended up a balanced pair.

Intae, left, and Minwook, right.

Minwook starts off a bit shaky. His tone is very pretty, but he actually hits the wrong note at about the :27 mark in the Youtube version. If you haven’t listened to the song 1000 times like I have, you may not notice, but I noticed, and I feel like the judges might have noticed too. (I thought about it -- was that a purposeful change on his part? And all I can say is that if it was meant to be purposeful, it doesn’t SOUND it, so the effect is the same.) His belts on the chorus also seemed a little harsh and out of control. But his natural vocal color is really nice, and he has a nice way to him, where he’s not overacting or straining all the time.

Intae was still a bit nasal for my taste, but less so than other times I’ve heard him. He also uses more vibrato than I prefer, but not all the time. He has a lot of power to his belts and

Their harmonies sounded really great, even the ones I think they worked out on their own that weren’t in the original song. I think they were smart to drop the octave right after that one long note.

In the brief glimpse we see of them in the actual show, they look great. We only get a tiny bit of commentary, and it’s from Solar, who gave them their high score of 96. It’s not clear who Solar is addressing, but she tells someone -- maybe both of them -- “you have a great voice, and your manner and style of singing is also good. I think it was even better because you created it together.” Again, Solar is the same one who voted for Jang Intae in a previous round. She just really likes him for some reason. Seungkwan gave them their low score of 78, but we don’t hear from him.

We get the final score, and it’s 543 to 589 in favor of Minwook and Intae. If you do the math and subtract out the high and low scores, the average score of the other five judges was 83 for Minwook and Intae, and it was 78.2 for Hyukjin and Inseong.

Round ten! Ding Ding!

Next up is fan favorite and Boy’s Planet survivor, Lee Hwanhee of Up10tion, paired with soldier and Pixar character Jo Hwanji. Hwanji isn’t dressed as a soldier today; he and Hwanhee are both wearing leather jackets instead, and Hwanhee has decided to a 90s scene girl looking choker. They’re going up against Lim Sanghyun and Taewoo.

Team Hwan-hee-ji has decided to sing Four Seasons, originally by Taeyeon of SNSD. Here’s the Full version on Youtube.

My thoughts:

Ok, I’m not the biggest fan of jazzy singing, but this seems really nice. They seem to be enjoying what they're doing and it comes across kind of classy and cool.

I think Hwanhee uses a tiny bit too much vibrato for my taste here, and he gets a tiny bit shrieky, but it feels like a stylistic choice. Hwanji’s voice is so clean and lovely except for his kind of painful shrieky high note at about 2:57 in to the Youtube version. Neither of them are nasal and both have good breath control and sense of pitch. They also brought bounce and interest into it with their facial expressions and dynamics.

They did a thing where they sang one line back and forth to each other, and it kind of makes sense when you know the lyrics are “We longed for each other / We got sick of each other.” And their cute punchy harmony section right after that sounded great.

The MNET edit is downright cruel. It makes it seem like they did that “trade lines back and forth” the whole time, but that was just one little part. The on screen captions say things like “the two voices do not sound in harmony.” Who writes these captions? What are you talking about?

We find out that their high and low scores were 79 and 69 respectively. I don’t get what the judges are annoyed about. It just feels like they were tired and cranky here in tenth round, really. Because 79 high and 69 low feel punitive. Are you really saying that they were worse than Woong and Seokhwa? Yeah, Hwanji had that one bad note, but come on.

Wendy gave the high score of 79, but we don't get to hear from her. VCG, who gave the low score, says “I couldn’t hear the lyrics. ‘I’m good at this’, ‘this is how good I am,’ ‘This is how high I can go and I can sing a little jazzy,’” he says in a mocking tone. “I think it was a performance that only showed your skills.”

Genuine question: Were they not supposed to show their skills? What were they supposed to show? I’m confused. If they hadn’t shown their skills, you would have said “I wanted to see your skills.” What was bad about showing their skills? What is bad about showing that they’re good at this?

Also, I am far from fluent in Korean, but I could compare what they were singing to the lyrics I found online and I didn’t get lost along the way, so they were pronouncing it well enough for *me* to understand them.

Hwanhee and Hwanji take their bad scores with grace. Hwanhee has been on dozens of these shows by now and is just like, sure, whatever.

Next up is Lim Sanghyun and Taewoo. They both performed in the Beautiful group. I enjoyed Sanghyun’s soft, gruff tone, but couldn’t quite get behind Taewoo’s “YG” style with its sharp, nasal tone and swaggy affectations.

They’re singing Downpour, the song I.O.I. used as its sort of “goodbye” before it disbanded. The lyrics mark it as a fairly standard k-ballad about a breakup, comparing the sadness of a breakup to a temporary downpour, but it has a lovely melody. Fun fact: It was co-written by Woozi of Seventeen!

Full version without reactions

My thoughts:

I still am not really on board with Taewoo’s style of singing, though I think it would have a time and place. It’s not that he’s a bad singer; it’s just that I don’t much like the manner of his singing. He does this little sigh thing at the end of each line that is very YG feeling and not something I like, and he is unpleasantly pitchy on his falsetto and shrill when he employs his mixed register. Note to note his voice can sound really different, and some of the ways it can sound is nice, but he’s affected and stylistic when I think his natural color might be his nicest voice.

Also, why don’t people open their eyes? What is this singing with your eyes closed thing so many of them do? And I’m aware, they probably don’t have completely closed eyes, but if that’s how it looks on camera, then… they should be aware of how it looks, right?

Sanghyun is still more my style. His voice is just so soft and pretty in a smoky kind of way. He does kind of drop off at the end of lines sometimes, but not all the time, so I won’t hold it against him or anything. Sometimes his voice reminds me a little of Baekhyun’s, so that’s a compliment, right? I really don’t have a lot to say just because it’s such a nice voice -- not nasal at all, not pitchy, good breath control. None of the bad things, all the good things.

I do actually think their voices sound nice next to each other, but I wish Sanghyun had a different partner.

In the MNET edit, we see a few moments with the caption, “A stage with very different voices but good harmony.” They get a high of 100 and a low of 85, so it’s pretty clear that they’ve won.

We can’t see which judge gave them which score, but I assume that Solar may have given out the 100. We get to see her saying, “When different people come together like this, a truly unique team will emerge. That’s what I felt watching the performance.”

The final score is 641 to 515, which is just… ouch. That means that Hwanhee and Hwanji got the second lowest score of the whole round. It was just unnecessarily harsh for no raisin.

If you take out the highest and lowest scores and find the average of the remaining scores, the other five judges gave Team Hwan-hee-ji an average score of 73.4, and gave Sanghyun and Taewoo an average score of 91.2.

Well, I’m so glad we spent so much time watching Geonu and Soomin make up a handshake, and watching Inhyuk and Joohee smack talk, and had instant replays and reactions drag things out the whole time, and wasted time with people wondering what the score would be just seconds before the score is actually shown, etc.

Imagine if we’d used that time to watch the SINGING on a SINGING SHOW that would have been TOO MUCH SINGING FOR A SINGING SHOW PLEASE I only want to watch people MAKE UP HANDSHAKES AND SMACK TALK ON MY SINGING SHOW The word “SING” stands for “SMACKTALKING IS NOW GOOD” and “MUSIC” stands for “MAKING UP SHAKES IS CRUCIAL” I guess

Why do I watch these MNET shows?

Oh yeah, that��s why.

Ok, I’m going to cut it off here for now, and my next post will be an Elimination Special! See you then!

XOXO

BRP Unnie/Noona

#mnet build up #bpr recaps build up #build up mnet #build up #up10tion #lee hwanhee #knk #newkidd #Inseong #Jeong Inseong

3 notes · View notes