#he continues and turns to me he’s like what kind of guy are you! and i’m like! dude i didn’t fucking know One line led to two registers.

[themagicmusicman]

quick context: character im doing is shå; she is the girlfriend of angu, one of the main characters in neim’s worldbuilding project, kunirn. shå uses she/her, angu uses she/ her, kik (angu’s close friend/basically brother at this point lmao) uses he/xey 👍

1. i reckon she’s usually too busy beating people up to have other hobbies but like. does cooking count as crafting? she crafts. food lmao

2. this bitch might be trans but she wears the manliest man cologne lmfao like. whatever the kunirn equivalent of something tobacco, sandalwood and orange would smell like. man shite /fem

3. fuck yeah!!! that’s basically the main thing she does besides being gay and fighting people

4. mmmm not really, unless her and angu are baking together for the sillies (kik sometimes joins in too)

5. yeah!! she has the Ǎtrothang mark on her right shoulder (shown at the bottom of the post) as well as loads of others hjehekr

6. probably kik (angu’s friend n basically non blood brother) bcs xey seem like they would work the best under pressure and know first aid. all that shit yknow [update. neim told me that kik is canonically good at patching people up so i was right!]

7. bitch isnt scared of anything except her parents, and thats fairly normal i think. guys thats normal. right. ri-

8. yeah she probably has the weirdest collections of shit. stuff like bones, eyeballs, that kinda thing

9. she usually tries to just wait it out and continue whatever she’s doing, but when it gets so bad she can’t, she just leeches to angu until it goes away

10. not standing up to her parents’ bullshit :[

11. ehhhh probably not anything. canon but she seems like the kind of person who would

12. oh yeah shå has amazing style /gen this bitch dresses like the most butch lesbian. also she’s just hot lmao (evidence at tje bottom)

13. not in the slightest lmao

14. absolutely. it took her close to a year to open up to angu about her parent bs so. yeah just a bit

15. she’s just a silly lil guy. the sillies! silly and tiny and definitely doesnt have a really dark/horny sense of humour!

16. nope and nope :D

17. basically never. she stands by what she believes at doesnt bend for anyone

18. easier to become her enemy than her friend :3

19. you have to be pretty awesome she has trust issues lmao

20. meh not really seeing as her life in Ǎtrothang was. pretty traumatising

21. friends. friends for sure

22. never

23. n/a shes immortal /j (in other words doesnt think about dying ever)

24. most people are her enemies :3👍

25. uh morning routine, wake up and get on with the day. evening routine, go to bed and toss n turn until she eventually falls asleep

26. she’s her own hero (aka has no heroes (except maybe kik or angu but thats just her being gay lmao))

27. i mean. her meeting angu was pretty much a chance encounter and that changed her life drastically so!

28. # idontthinkgamingexistslmao

29. i’d want to be but she would scare me 😔

30. she doesn’t want to be famous. the less people who know her, the better

31. i would probably give her some sort of silly telepathic powers, she’d want invisibility

32. being afab (she doesnt mind the dick but she occasionally gets dysphoria thinking that she’s a Fake Woman because she has not biological booba (she is the most womanly woman i know))

33. oh yeah. i think angu, shå and kik would play silly ttrpgs the same way i play dnd with neim and my irl mates

34. terribly. she hides it well, but inside she’s struggling :[[[

35. in charge of her own destiny. fuck the dead gods she’s deciding her fate

36. yes and uh. for legal reasons no /hj

37. she doesn’t really like the gods, n chooses to just kinda. do her own thing lmao (same as angu but less Loud About It /lh)

38. she doesn’t dream (me core)

39. definitely!!! that sounds fun as shit!

40. she would be able to pull it out first try because shes a big strong jerboa. speaking of pulling ou-

41. she hates making mistakes so doesn’t learn from them as much as. promise herself not to make the same mistake again

42. yeh! she speaks mainly speaks rurleki (surprisingly. the language of rurlek) but also speaks atro from living in atrothang

43. fairly well, except mentally. afterwards she’ll freak out but she’s usually fine in the moment

44. only angu, not even kik i dont think

45. wing it gdejdbksbdkf

46. for sure, she probably lies quite a lot lmao

47. she would for quite a few people, ofc including angu and kik

48. in a heartbeat. revenge quest time babyyy!

49. nah she knows the difference. big difference (this is a threat 👍)

50. shes a trans lesbian jerboa!!!!! what is there to not love!!!!!!!!!

@neim-batteries-not-included haiiiiii :3

You've Got Questions and I've Got Answers OC Edition

Do they have any crafting hobbies?

Do they wear perfume/cologne? If so what scents do they prefer?

Do they enjoy cooking?

Do they enjoy baking?

Do they have any tattoos? If so what are they and do they have any special meaning?

If they were badly injured, and for whatever reason couldn't go to a hospital, who would they go to for help?

Do they have any unusual fears?

Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

When they're sick what do they do to feel better?

Do they have any regrets?

Do they have any addictions?

Do they have any sense of style? Regardless of the answer do they believe they have a sense of style?

Do they enjoy poetry?

Do they have a hard time opening up to people?

What kind of sense of humor do they have? Or do they have one at all?

Do they have or want kids?

How easily would they be convinced to do something that goes against their morals?

How easy is it to become their enemy?

How easy is it to become their friend?

Do they have a strong connection to their culture?

What is more important to them, friends or family?

Would they ever betray someone for money?

How would they want to die?

Do they have any enemies?

Do they have a daily/nightly routine?

Have they met any of their heroes? Did they regret it?

Has a chance encounter ever had an unexpected effect on them?

Are they a #gamer?

If they were real would you be friends with them?

If they had the chance to be famous would they take it? If they are famous would they rather they weren't?

What superpower would you choose for them and what would they choose for themselves? If they have one would they choose something else?

If they could change one thing about themselves what would it be?

Do they play ttrpgs? If so what kind of characters do they play? Or are they more likely to GM?

How well do they deal with grief?

Do they believe in fate or do they believe they are in charge of their own destiny?

Would they ever kill someone? Have they already?

Are they religious? If so do they have a strong sense of faith, are they uncertain, or are they somewhere in between?

What are their dreams like? Do they have any recurring dreams/nightmares?

Would they ever crash a wedding?

If they found a sword in a stone would they try to pull it out? How would they react to being able to pull it out or not?

Do they learn from their mistakes?

Can they speak multiple languages? If yes which all do they speak and why?

Can they handle stressful situations?

Who, if anyone, would they trust with their deepest secrets?

Do they plan in advance or just wing it?

Would they lie to get out of trouble?

Would they lie to get someone else out of trouble? Even if they would have to take that someone else's place?

How likely are they to go on a quest for revenge?

Do they have trouble keeping their enemies and their friends straight?

What is your favorite thing about them?

I love these so I figured I'd make one of my own! Just be sure that if you reblog this ask one or two of these to the person you reblogged from (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[opiopal]

You guys wanna know a silly silly idea of Luci and mc talking I think abt often? Ofc you do,

(THIS IS A PLATONIC READ!!) (mc uses the word “love” though not in a romantic sense, also GN mc as always, any “she” and “he” used is in relation to luci and Lilith, NOT mc,)

I can’t help but imagine mc struggling with being related to Lilith, they can’t really help it. After belphie had… you know. And the truth came out, it just felt like everyone cared so much more all of a sudden. sure they all cared about mc before, but they feel like being related to her is the only reason they were missed so much..

so here they are, standing Infront of a portrait of her. she seemed so.. familiar. Maybe it was something about her jaw- or maybe her nose? Or the way her eyes seemed to be rested shut in a calm wise smile.. in their chest they know it’s probably because they see themselves in her. Or.. see her in themself. It’s odd to see her with similar features as mc’s own mother/father, sure liliths genes most likely had been watered down over all the years, but a small part of her seemed to still stand out. mc tugs at the bottom of their night shirt. They couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother anyone. So they found themself here, staring and wondering. They’ve come here more often as of late, and it’s really not doing well for their self imagine. Would things have been different if they weren’t related to her? Would the brothers have even given a second thought to mc after they left? Even though they know these thoughts are ridiculous, they can’t help but think about it.

eventually the sound of footsteps ring through their ears, a familiar heel clicking as the eldest approaches. They hear his footsteps pause as he notices them, they don’t bother turning their head to address him, secretly hoping he’ll just continue walking. though of course, he doesn’t. his footsteps grow louder and closer until he is standing right next to them, staring at their face for a moment before looking at the portrait as well. and it stays like that for a while, the two just silently standing together and staring at the painting. Eventually mc just can’t bite their tongue, and speaks up a bit involuntarily.

“would you have still loved me if you never knew?”

they bite their bottom lip almost the moment it leaves their mouth, regret and anxiety immediately makes their chest feel heavy and cold. They hardly even have to glance over to see his shocked expression, before it softens slightly.

“what?”

“I-i mean….”

they take a deep breath. Might as well get it over now..

“… would you guys have still cared if I wasn’t related to Lilith?”

they stare at the painting, waiting for him to speak, though the shock from mc asking such a thing is shutting him up. So they continue,

“sometimes.. when you look at me, it feels like you aren’t look at me like I’m.. well me… it feels like you’re looking at someone else. whenever I hear anything about her, it’s always so much good, about how amazing and kind and sweet she was. But I don’t know her. I’ve only ever seen her once and that was when I died. And then everyone including myself learned I was related to her, and it suddenly felt like everyone immediately cared a lot more about me.”

without thinking much of it they just keep talking, part of them wants to shut up but they just can’t.

“I’m my own person, I know I am. I’ve spent my whole life figuring myself out, struggling and fighting to be a good person, going through school, going through my life. But, now it feels like every move I make is being silently compared. I just…”

they finally shut up before they find themselves going around in circles, though they feel a heavy tinge of regret.

“…I’m sorry..”

their voice comes out small and ashamed. finally the eldest is able to regain his words and inhales,

“yes.”

“what?”

“Of course we would still love you Mc, I would still love you. Even before we discovered it, I could tell my brothers began to care deeply about you, and part of myself felt frustrated that I could understand why. you are smart, and determined, and kind, and extremely lovable. And quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if you hadn’t wormed your way into our hearts. i miss my sister, we all miss her. But we accepted her death a long time ago. Though the grief still hangs heavy on us, we know that you aren’t her. That would be cruel to not just us, but you.”

he reaches an arm out, mc stares silently, finally turning their head to look at him as tears start to well up in their eyes. They lunge forwards and wraps their arms around him in a tight hug in which he reciprocates.

“You have nothing to be sorry about Mc, myself on the other hand..”

he inhales,

“I am sorry.”

[ang3lofdivinity]

Because I’m trying to get back into writing more…

Imagine: Daisuke and you on the Tulpar managing to find time to spend together doing something like.. making food for the crew. No matter what your job is, you’re always willing to help him out with baking whenever needed!

“Dai, can you-“ You immediately freeze, looking over at your boyfriend who has made a rather large mess on the counter. He had dropped the batter out of the mixing bowl somehow, enough for it all to pour out as he holds the messy, metallic bowl and spatula in his hands. His expression? Dumbfounded to say the least

You genuinely cannot contain the giggles that escape your throat upon seeing the scene before you.

“Hey!! This isn’t funny!” He immediately pouts, whipping his head around to face you before looking back down at the bowl, using the spatula to scrap whatever remains are within the bowl and slinging them at you, causing you to laugh even harder - tears falling down your cheeks.

The batter had splattered on your clothes, along with your neck. But hey! At least you got a nice laugh out of it.

Quickly, your hands swiftly grab the nearest thing, which just so happens to be an opened sweetener pack, as you launch it towards him, causing him to squeal like a mouse.

This then, continues. For nearly hours as you laugh and cry about your food fight, throwing ingredients at each other as you can’t find a care in the world for the mess you’re creating. Only caring about your boyfriend’s happiness.

Other food items, utensils (non-harming ones), and bowls were thrown. The bowls and utensils clattered as they fell to the ground, nearly causing you both to fall at certain times as you raced around the dining table in the center, trying to avoid getting hit once more.

There’s honestly nothing that can ruin this-

“What are IDIOTS doing???”

Upon hearing Swansea’s voice, you both instantaneously pause, staring over at the old man standing in the doorway.

Without a second to spare, you quickly rush over to Daisuke, who’s practically trembling under Swansea’s gaze.

“You stupid kids! Why would you waste these products!?” He yells, brows furrowed.

You move in front of Daisuke rather protectively, clearing your throat.

“It was my fault, Mr Swansea. I instigated this, and pressured him to join me in.. what I thought was fun. I’m so sorry. We’ll clean this up right away and salvage all that we can.” You bow your head in respect, lips now pursed.

“Just, don’t do it again..” He huffed as he turned on his heel, now leaving as the door slid shut.

It takes you guys a moment before you start giggling ever so slightly.

Imagine: You are sleeping, and then you suddenly hear your door open in the middle of the night. Surprise, it’s Daisuke! And even when trying to tough it out - he eventually can’t find it within him to go back to sleep without company. So he goes to your room to ask if he can sleep with you because being with you makes him feel better.

You groggily manage to raise yourself enough to sit on your bed, eyes blinking slowly as you try to adjust to your surroundings. Yawning, you finally see who’s opened your door.

Daisuke.

“..Sweetheart, it’s still nighttime. Can whatever you have to say wait until morning?..” Your voice is slightly raspy, but you try your best to sound as kind as you can, giving a small smile to the man in the doorway.

“I um.. sorry- I can go.. I didn’t mean to disturb you..” He fumbles over his words, fidgeting with his fingers as he stumbles backwards a bit. Something.. something seems wrong with his tone, however. Like something’s genuinely going wrong. So, that really gave you a wake-up call.

How could you push away your boyfriend in order to get just a bit more sleep tonight when he seems so distressed??

“Wait!-“ You quickly call out, causing him to stop him from leaving once he showed signs of him beginning to leave. You couldn’t let him leave just like that!

He turns to you, a worried look on his face. As if he’d done something wrong. You’ve seen that look before. He makes the same face whenever Swansea calls out his name all of the sudden, making him stiffen up, worrying that’d done something wrong.

But he hasn’t.

He’s just a young adult, like you.

Just trying to live.

Just. Like. You.

“..Come here.” Your voice is softer, sounding much more normal to how you normally sound - yet it still has that tired tinge to it.

He stares at you for a moment, confused about what’s happening before obliging. He slowly enters, the door sliding closed behind him as he awkwardly stands near the side of the bed where you’re resting. Swiftly, you lift up the covers, moving back a bit before patting the free spot on your bed.

“Come on. We can talk about it in the morning if you’re ready then.”

He almost immediately jumps into your arms upon crawling up into bed with you, wrapping his own around you while burying his face away into your shoulder. One of your hands glides up, finding its way into his hair, tangling with strands of it, stroking his hair, massaging his scalp - doing simple things to try and get him to relax a bit more.

Which works.

He’s out once more, arms wrapped around each other.

Imagine: Giving little gifts to each other with small letters of affirmation written on little post it notes. Even if that small gift is just an article of clothing one of you guys borrowed from the other.

‘You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. Keep the good work up, Dai. :)’

- (_____)

Daisuke reads the note attached to a bag of sweetener with a cheeky grin, clearly pleased with this. I mean, he’s been told he’s useless, that he’s just an idiot - but you see through that. You see the effort, the time it takes. Even if it fails, at least he tried to do it.

Quickly he looks around his room for a moment, trying to find the perfect thing to give you.

When he finds it.

.

Upon arriving back to your room from the medic bay, helping Anya with Curly and a few other errands she needed - you’re greeted with the sight of a hoodie somewhat neatly placed on your bed. You furrow your brows, confused for a moment before you approach your bed, now seeing the post-it-note attached to it.

A small grin slowly graces your lips as you tilt your head at the sight, gently taking it off the hoodie.

‘Know that you matter to me! You’re so incredibly awesome, I don’t know how I got to date with someone so cool >:D’

- Daisuke

As your smile grows larger, you realize 2 essential things:

You’re so thankful to have him.

And

He’s the best boyfriend ever. (Even if a bit silly at times).

You love him.

[hiraethwrote]

VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

[sudoka]

Outpacing the Dawn

Blackwood Mountain is unforgiving. At night the mountain glows with a strange blue shimmer. One that threatens to consume everyone on it. Is tonight the night you confess to Josh? Or has your fate already been sealed?

Ao3

Washington Lodge. 7 Hours Until Dawn. 

Rust and blood. The pungent smell filled your nostrils. Pain exploded behind your eyes, and sparks swam in your vision as you opened your eyes. In front of you was an old welded lever and just beyond that, a chain link barrier holding… two figures in the distance. You sat up, picking your groggy head up, the bare concrete cold on your hands as the two figures came into focus. Matt and Josh. 

Memories flooded your head. Coming to Blackwood Mountain, warmth, awkwardly diverging from the group to relax,  and then… nothing. You had sprawled out on your bed to finish your current read when it happened. The Psycho. 

“Good, you’ve finally joined us.” You looked up and around, seeing no one else. The voice was muffled. Calculated. Standing up, sparks came into your vision again, but you pushed the pounding in your head aside. 

The name said your voice, but your eyes were trained on the two boys in front of you. They were shackled to a wooden board, feet dangling. And then Matt coughed. Josh tilted his head. They were alive.

“Matt!” You rushed forward, trying the door, but to no avail. “Josh!” You began rattling the door handle harder. Slammed your body against the door frame. It shuddered, but there was no give. “Are you guys okay?” 

And then you saw it. Your stomach dropped. Right in front of them was a horizontal saw. An image of the grotesque skull mask flashed in your memories. This was his doing. And you didn’t like where this was going. 

“We’re okay! What’s going on? What is that?” Matt turned his head towards you and shouted your name. Josh’s eyes fluttered, he seemed to be fuzzy. 

Before you could respond, the Psycho’s voice filled the room again. “So kind of you to join us. When you go in there, be honest with your feelings. Say your goodbyes. Have fun.” 

Click. 

You pushed onto the door and fell onto the floor. Hard. Scrambling up, you ran over to… your mind stopped. How did this affect this guy’s sick game? It was clear whatever happened in here would affect the outcome. How in the everloving hell would it be determined? 

Your stomach sank lower than you thought it could. Be honest with your feelings. There’s no way this crazy guy would know- 

“I’ve been dreaming of having Matt all to myself lately. We’ve only ever kissed, but I think he’s going to ask me out after winning the big game. Obviously he’s going to win.” Hot isn’t even the word to describe the feeling etching across your face at the words filling the silence. 

“W-What is this?” Matt looked at you. 

You couldn’t form any words as the Psycho’s voice continued to echo around the room. 

“He said he wants to play varsity, and I really think he’s going to make it big. Is there room for me there? I’ll just focus on tonight and hopefully it ends with me under him.” 

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and you took a step towards him. “That fucker must’ve stolen my journal. These were from a really long time ago. You know the night.” You cringed at your own words. 

“Good to know it’s from a long time ago,” Matt replied and shifted his body uncomfortably, trying to wrestle himself out of the shackles. Your heart panged. He didn’t deserve to hear these words, especially since your relationship with him didn’t pan out. 

And the person who really didn’t deserve to hear those words was the current person your heart belonged to. Josh glanced between you and Matt wordlessly. His eye caught yours and the contact sucked you into a vortex of the past. 

Washington Residence. Two Years Ago. 

“Thank you for doing this for me. You’ll have lots of fun, I promise.” Matt gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Okay, okay. No need to pile it on. I’m happy to be here for you.” With a returning squeeze, you smiled at Matt. It was a humid August night, the remaining crickets of summer still flitting about. Matt and the rest of the football team won their first big game of the season. And as Matt’s not-quite girlfriend you were obliged to go. 

The relationship started innocently enough. You both had a world history course together, one Matt was flunking. The teacher assigned you to be his tutor as one of the star pupils of class. And strangely enough, it turned out Matt wasn’t too dumb to keep up with the course, he just needed to focus less on sports and more on school. With nothing to really teach him, tutoring sessions became more of a rendezvous. 

Now, here you were. Holding his hand publicly and entering a stranger’s huge house. It honestly felt more like a mansion with a spiraled staircase and multiple hallways you looked like you could get lost in. Matt had never quite asked you out, but at some point between the make-out sessions you both knew you were exclusive. He always mentioned his ragtag group of friends, with whom you were familiar with from various classes, but never really interacted with. 

Within minutes you had already lost Matt. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and began to chum it up with the rest of his team. You had smiled and motioned encouragingly, but now found yourself alone. Awkward and with no familiar faces, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

It took you a little longer than you would have liked, with seemingly endless doors, but eventually someone pointed you in the right direction. Finally opening the bathroom door, you were surprised to see a brunette with her head out of the small glass window. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

The stranger coughed and you saw smoke permeating around the glass window. “All good! Mind closing the door on your way out?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll find another bathroom, no problem.” You rolled your eyes and shut the door. It wasn’t a big deal, but what if you had to actually use the bathroom? There had to be another one in this place. 

Matt being away was no big deal, but gosh you had no idea what you were doing here. You shook your head just as you heard your name being called. Turning towards the sound you saw one of your classmates, Sam, waving at you excitedly with a disgruntled looking blonde next to her. 

“Heyyy, Sam,” You drifted over, excited to see a familiar face. She was ecstatic to see you, bringing you into an emphatic, but brief hug. “Didn’t strike you as the party kind.” 

“I’m not, I’m here for moral support,” she elbowed the guy next to her. He had his arms crossed, his glasses acutely perched on his face. 

He coughed and then muttered out, “I’m Chris.” His tone was off, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s not usually like this. We just can’t find our friend Ashley.” Sam gave you a pointed look and catching her drift, you nodded. “What brings you here?” The question caught you off guard. 

“Oh I uh… I’m here with Matt actually.” Both blondes snapped their attention towards you. You floundered under their inquisitive gazes. “We uh…”

Thankfully, a reprieve was here. “What is up, party people!” You turned to see a new face. His features were strikingly unique with sharp blue eyes, and a humble bravado.  He donned a big smile, slinging his arm around Chris. Your eyes met his and startlingly, your heart rate was quickening despite your inhibitions. 

“Oh, Josh! This is one of my classmates,” Sam introduced you by name. 

“Pretty name,” he said casually, a teasing smile on his face. You couldn’t help but return his smile, a faint heat creeping onto your cheeks. Then he turned back to Chris. “Why are you pouting, man? Drinks? Drinks?” He turned to you and Sam. You wondered if he was sober himself. Chris shook his head, but a light smile danced on his lips. 

“I’m good,” both you and Sam said simultaneously. Josh threw his hands up in defeat. 

“Alright, well, I gotta go make sure Matt and Mike don’t break anything from the keg stands.” And just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, swallowed into a sea of people. 

“Did you want to go with Matt too?” Sam asked you. You thought for a moment and then shook your head. “I was actually looking for a bathroom. The last one I was in had some girl literally through the window.”

“Oh, god, not again,” Chris muttered. “Was it downstairs?” His question seemed odd as you were all still on the first floor.

“It was… why?” 

“Crap, that must be Ashley again. Last time she got stuck,” Chris sighed in exasperation. “Sam, come help me?” 

“Why me?” She laughed, seeming to already know the answer. 

“Last time she got stuck I- listen, I can’t just grab her.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll come.” After taking a step, Sam turned towards you. “You can come with if you want.” 

Her offer was kind, but you shook your head. “Thanks, but I don’t think having a stranger there for this is the best idea.” 

Chris was practically pulling Sam the second your conversation wrapped up. She turned her head and yelled over the deafening music. “We’ll be back!” 

Then you were alone again. It wasn’t too bad, but so many people milled about. You were mulling over whether or not to find Matt when Josh bumped into you. 

“Whoa, sorry,” he said, grinning cheekily. Whatever was in his cup sloshed over between you both onto the floor.

“No problem,” You laughed, his smile utterly infectious. 

“Can I get you something?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern. “I know you said you won’t drink, but we have like… lemonade. Can’t have people over to mí casa and leave em’ dry.” 

“Oh, this is your place?” Your eyebrow shot up.

“Yup. I know, an impressive place for an impressive guy.” He brushed off his shoulder proudly.

You shook your head in amusement. “Sure, I’ll take a lemonade. I was looking for the bathroom earlier, but it was occupied. Are there any other ones?” 

He relaxed at your request. “There’s one up the stairs and to the left. I’ll go get your drink.” He had a sort of restlessness about him, but he was proactive, you’d give him that. 

Upstairs was daunting and vast, the muffled sounds of the party blaring below your feet. Despite this, the respite was quite nice. Eventually, you found your way to the bathroom and entered, looking into the mirror. This night was not going the way you wanted it to. From Josh’s words, Matt was doing… keg stands. Not exactly the most admirable act. 

But you shrugged it off, patting your cheeks with your hands. This night was going to be over soon. Enjoying the solitude, you started to wander the halls. The carpet was plushy, the walls lined with family photos of Josh, who you assumed to be his parents, and two younger girls. Sisters, you figured from the striking resemblance they all bore to each other. 

The lights were dim, sconces that were not in your tax bracket lining the walls. Something in you told you to turn back after making headway through the halls, remembering Josh was bringing you a drink. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a creep, especially with Matt’s friends. You had just turned around when voices cut across the night. 

“C’mon Hannah, you look fine!” 

“Fine is not the word to describe this!” 

You froze as two figures made their way down towards you. As they got closer, you realized they were the same girls from family photos. 

The one with glasses and longer hair marched right past you, her face clearly red even with the soft lighting. She went into a nearby room and slammed the door shut. 

The other girl looked at you sheepishly. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s just… a little sensitive. I’m Beth.” She touched your arm softly. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need to find my brother. Can you just… stay with her for a second? You don’t have to go in or anything, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” you said, not sure what to think. In a flash, Beth was gone. You stood there for a second, rocking on your heels when you heard a soft sob from inside the room. Taking a deep breath, you decided to knock softly. 

“Go away, Beth!” The other sister, whom you assumed was Hannah yelled out. 

“It’s not Beth,” you cringed at your own words, not knowing what else to say. 

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she responded. “Come in.” 

Pushing the door open, you saw her sitting in front of a vanity, her nose and face still red from tears as she looked at you through the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, concern etched on your face. 

She wiped at her face as you stepped closer. “I just wanted to look cute tonight… and no matter how much I look in the mirror, no matter what I do, none of it feels right.” 

“I know the feeling,” you said, now standing behind her at the chair. 

“This is going to sound so stupid, but I really wanted to impress my crush. Look good for him,” she said with a half sob. 

“No… that’s not stupid at all…” You inhaled. “You look so beautiful…” You said softly, not wanting to overstep the boundaries of someone you just met. 

She smiled sadly at that. “Thanks… I don’t even know you, but you’re really nice.” She leaned back in her chair. “I just feel like a huge fool. Look at me, dorky glasses, frayed hair.” 

“Your hair’s not that frayed,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if it bothers you that much, I do have an idea,” you offered, looking her over. She really was pretty, her soft doe eyes enlarged by her glasses. 

Hannah turned towards you now, picking her head up. “Really?” 

With a nod, you took a strand of her dark hair in your fingers tentatively. She turned back to the mirror to watch as you started a crown braid on her hair. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself and here you are doing my hair. I’m Hannah,” she said. You offered your name in return, laughing softly. 

“We do stupid things for boys. For instance, I’m here for one too.” 

“Who?” She asked, leaning forward. You averted her gaze from the mirror, shaking your head. 

“That’s fair,” she laughed.  “But since we’re friends now, I’ll figure it out.” You laughed at the family’s overt comfort with people. First Josh, then Beth, and now Hannah, none of them backing away from engaging with people.

“You are just like your siblings. I step foot in here and you guys are everywhere.” You started to work on braiding the other side of her hair. 

“It’s a Washington thing,” she giggled. “So you’re friends with them?” 

“I actually just met all of you for the first time. I came here with Matt.” Your fingers faltered as the words fell from your lips. 

“I knew it!” She exclaimed. “He was acting really coy these past couple of weeks.” She noticed the blush creeping on your face and settled back down. “Well, my crush is Mike so…”

You smiled at her confession, finishing her braid and joining the two strands together. “Well, I heard they were both doing keg stands, so who knows if they’ll even recognize us. But…” you said, grabbing a nearby butterfly clip she had strewn on the dresser. “Mike is bound to recognize someone as gorgeous as you.” The clip laid neatly in her hair now, pretty, ornate blue and gold now adorning her head. 

A blush crept on her face and she bowed her head. “Thank you…Actually, I know just how to thank you.” Without warning, she grabbed your hand and pulled you through the halls. You followed closely, laughing breathlessly as she brought you into a bedroom. 

As you oriented yourself, Hannah busied herself in a dresser drawer. You looked around, the walls of this room covered in horror movie posters, the bed in the middle covered in blue checkered bed sheets, little classic monster figurines lining any shelf space available. It should’ve been overwhelming, but you found it had a certain charm. Your eyes widened, this had to be Josh’s room. 

“Aaand, here!” Hannah turned towards you, holding out a flowery silver ring. It looked as if the band was made of branches, intricately winding over themselves. The ring was breathtaking. She noticed the hesitation on your face and pushed it into your hands. “Don’t worry about Josh. He owes me this. Please, take it.” 

Your fingers closed over the ring. “I really don’t-” 

“Uh-uh!” Hannah held up a hand. “You help me with Mike, I help you with Matt. A ring that pretty belongs on a girl like you.” She broke out into a grin and took your hand again, leading out towards the stairs. Her sudden energy was contagious and you both spoke in hushed whispers about updating each other on how the night goes. 

Right before the stairs were Beth and Josh, making their way towards you both hurriedly. Both Beth and Josh looked at you and Hannah and then back to each other. 

“Hannah?” Beth asked bemusedly. 

Hannah stood up straighter. “I am sorry for how I acted earlier, Beth. I am a new woman. And it helps that I had help from someone” Hannah smiled at you appreciatively.  Josh stood there silently, a similar look on his face as Beth’s.

Beth nodded, too astounded to speak. “You are a wizard,” she said to you, pulling Hannah towards her. She mouthed a thank you over her shoulder as they left. 

Now with just you and Josh, you turned towards him. “What happened?” He asked you incredulously, a light smile playing on his lips.  

“I just went in and offered to braid her hair. She really needed it,” you said, shrugging. “And she also declared us friends.” 

“I see that,” he said with a laugh.”Y’know she doesn’t get along with people that easily, so I’m surprised she even said that.”  He extended his arm, offering a red solo cup. “As promised, one lemonade.” 

“Thank you,” You reached to take the lemonade, your fingers brushing against his you took the cup. “I- um…” You looked at him, feeling flutters spread through your body, as if there were butterflies in your ribcage, bursting to escape. His gaze locked onto you, and the rest of the party became drowned out by the beating of your heart. 

Josh cleared his throat, drawing his hand back first. “No problem. Like I said, can’t have anyone high and dry at my place.” 

You nervously took a sip of the lemonade, trying to still the beating of your heart. You were here with Matt, you reminded yourself. And then you remembered the ring Hannah had handed to you. 

“Oh!” you said, reaching into your pocket. Taking the adorned silver ring out, you held it out to Josh. “Hannah gave this to me, but it looked like it was yours.” You flushed at your words, hoping he wouldn’t be upset. 

Instead, Josh looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “It is hers actually, it’s a Washington heirloom.” He sighed. “Did she go digging in my room? All she had to do was ask.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your fingers curling over the ring nervously. 

“No, no,” he waved at you. “Keep it. It suits you,” His eyes drifted down to the ring in your hand, and he laid his hands on yours, pushing your fingers to hold it. The contact sent electricity into your body. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, tilting your head. 

He nodded, his gaze unwavering from the precious silver in your hand. 

“I’ll take good care of it, I promise,” you said, unsure of whether to put it in your purse or not, weighing the least awkward way to do this with your drink in your hand. 

“Ah, here,” he said, reaching out. Your hand instinctively moved the cup towards him. Instead, he had taken the ring and was now slipping it gently onto your index finger. For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you looking down at the ring on your finger. It felt comfortable, sliding onto your finger like butter. But it wasn’t too big, settling just right. The cold metal was in stark contrast to the heat of Josh’s hands, still warmly holding yours.

A loud crash from downstairs broke the moment. You both laughed nervously, and you drew your hand back. 

“I-I should go check on that,” he said. 

You nodded, letting him go a few paces ahead of you, gripping the railing as you went downstairs. The heat of the moment didn’t escape you, and your head swam. Going back downstairs broke your feelings of solitude, an arm immediately slinging itself over your shoulders. 

“There you are, babe.” Your face flushed at Matt’s familiar voice calling you babe. You turned towards him, a delirious look on his face. He was clearly inebriated. 

“Hey, stranger,” you joked, leaning into his touch. Matt brushed his lips against the side of your head, and you froze. “What’d I miss?” You asked, taking a cautious sip of your lemonade. This was the first time Matt displayed PDA with you, and of course, it was when he was drunk. 

“Nothing at all, this party was so boring without you,” He clumsily nuzzled his face into your hair. Your body shifted, feeling the room sway. Despite being sober, the music felt like too much. It was pounding. 

“Didn’t look like that when I heard you did keg stands.” You turned to look at him, taking in how his eyes had a distant glaze to them, his head bobbing with tipsy movement. 

“‘Ts not like that,” He slurred. You frowned, your mind growing worried about his current state. 

“Alright, stud, we should get you home,” You said, patting his shoulder. Matt blanched, shaking his head adamantly. 

“No, I didn’t get to introduce you to my friends,” he shook his head. 

“I met some of them, don’t worry about it,” I offered, pulling Matt’s hand in an attempt to lead him to the door. But he just shook his head again. 

“But we didn’t even-,” He cut himself off, his lips having much too fluid movement for someone as drunk as he was. His mouth was on your neck, trailing up to your ear. His breath was hot and warm. “Please,” he begged. You didn’t know what to say to his words, so you just let the moment overtake you. All of the months of creeping around, of the small dates and stolen moments culminated into this. Your desire and need for Matt took over your head and body. Before you knew it, he was pulling on you, and you were being swept into his arms. 

His lips met yours over and over clumsily. Your heart beat in your chest, knowing you had wanted this for so long. You let him take you upstairs, your mind swimming as you both entered a dark room. All that mattered in this moment was you and Matt, letting him push you down onto a soft bed. Yet, somewhere in the haze of making out, a sneaking suspicion grew in the back of your head. You hadn’t made it that far past the staircase… As you opened your eyes, you froze, seeing the dark shelves and shadows around you. Without thinking, you pushed on Matt’s shoulder with your hand. This was- 

“Are you okay?” Matt paused, pulling back from you. You had completely froze. The light leaking in from a nearby window caught on the silver ring, glinting as it laid against Matt’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answered as you tried to catch your breath. “This is um, it’s just, this is someone’s room, I don’t feel comfortable going any further.” 

Matt visibly relaxed at your words, a small grin forming on his lips. “Don’t worry about it.” And then he was leaning back in again, any worries exiting his body. You looked up at him in concern as he dove back in, calculating how to stop him just as the sound of the door being opened and the flood of light switching on caused both of you to go rigid. 

“Oh c'mon man, I said the guest bedrooms!” Your body stiffened as the familiar voice sunk into your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed of the position that you were in. 

“Sorry, your room was just the closest!” Matt responded, unfazed. His heat suddenly left you as he moved to get up. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you realized you couldn’t just lay here. Moving to get up, you couldn’t help but catch Josh’s eye. Matt took your hand in his to bring you both out of the bedroom, out of Josh’s bedroom. 

“I’m sorry-” you started, but stopped as you noticed that Josh’s gaze was averted as he stared off onto the floor, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Despite just meeting him, your heart panged. Whatever connection, or spark, or whatever you had felt earlier had just been snuffed out, and it was clear from his expression he felt the same way. 

Washington Lodge. Present. 

Now, here you were. A full two years later, making the eye contact you had desperately craved with him, but for all of the wrong reasons. This time, his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. They were searching for something, and you felt your stomach flip with dread. 

Without warning, the Psycho’s voice filled the dimly lit room again. “Why does Josh look at me like that? It’s like he knows that my heart’s about to beat out of my chest and I can’t take it anymore. He’s so headstrong and arrogant and yet all I want is to kiss him. To hold him. To be held. I can’t keep writing like I’m a teen anymore. This is so embarrassing. I feel something so deep for him that I just feel like imploding.” 

“I-” You floundered under Josh and Matt’s gazes as your deepest thoughts were now floating around in the room. Nothing made any sense. Why was this psychotic guy attempting to reveal your innermost thoughts? 

Say your goodbyes. The command sent a shiver down your spine. And then it was suddenly like it all clicked. He was going to make you choose. And this might be your last time talking to either one of them. Or both if this sick guy didn’t get the show he wanted. 

You approached Matt first, as he was the first subject matter of the entries. “Look, I know things weren’t always perfect for us, you have Emily now, but I wanted you to know that I never held anything against you. And I’m sorry this guy is getting his sick kicks from watching all of this. I care about you, I really do. I was naive and stupid and so many things I can’t take back.” Your breath hitched as you confessed this to Matt. 

Matt met your gaze, a certain softness growing in his deep eyes. “I made mistakes too.” 

You wrung your hands nervously, your palms beginning to tingle from your next action. It was now or never to get closure with Matt. Closing your eyes, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the feeling. 

When you pulled back, you filled your lungs with a deep, shaky breath and faced Josh. Kind, warm, thoughtful Josh. The Josh who never missed an important date in your life, who you spent many nights with just talking for hours or watching cheesy movies. The one you just heard how much gravity was between you and your ex boyfriend. 

Wordlessly, you moved over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He looked at you, his brows furrowed and spoke before you could say anything. “Did you write that?” He almost whispered, seemingly stunned. 

“I did… recently actually. Josh-,” You ignored the feeling of Matt’s eyes on the scene in front of him. You had moved on a long time ago and so had he. “-I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I need you to know how I feel about you.” In case this is our last time together, you said to yourself. Even if anyone got released, who’s to say there wouldn’t be more. You shoved the thought down and decided not to waste another single second.

“I’m so sorry it had to happen this way.” You pressed your lips against Josh’s. He was warm, and everything you had imagined. He kissed you back eagerly, and you felt all of your reservations go. The kiss was affectionate, and sweet, and you felt as though you could kiss him for eternity. You pulled back from the kiss to see his reaction, every part of you burned to know how he felt, you needed to hear it. 

Words formed on his lips before the world was plunged into darkness again. Your blood ran cold. Someone was pulling you away roughly, your feet dragging on the hard concrete as cold leather gripped your skin. “No!” you exclaimed, struggling against who you knew was the psycho. His show was over. The next thing you knew was the increasingly familiar scrape of the cold concrete against your skin. 

The lights flicked on again and so did the saw, whirring to life in a roar. 

“Good job, that went about how I expected.” The psycho’s dismembered voice filled the chamber. You got up and gripped the chain fence separating you from Matt and Josh.

“No, please, I’ll do anything you want,” you begged, shaking the fence. The saw started to move and your heart plummeted. You moved to the door again, trying desperately to make it move. It didn’t even shake in its frame. 

“You made your choice,” the Psycho drawled. 

“Bullshit, I made no choice!” you yelled, throwing your weight against the door again. “Let them go!” You kept rattling the door, but you couldn’t help but look at Matt and Josh, both struggling against their restraints as the rusty saw reached what looked like a fork in its track. And then it turned left. Towards Josh. 

“No, no, please!” Tears filled your eyes as you got more frantic against the door. Slick sweat on your palms caused your hand to slip from the handle. 

The sound of Josh saying your name caused you to turn your attention towards him. His eyes were widened in fright. “I want you to know that I-” but his words were too little too late. Screams pierced the air as the blade plunged into his stomach. From you. From Matt. And from Josh himself. The sight and smell of heavy iron filled your nostrils. The smell was nauseating as Josh yelled, his entrails being spilled out onto the floor as the saw cut deeper. And deeper. His body went still, his head limp. 

Click. 

You tumbled onto the floor, your vision swimming as you began to feel light headed. A blurry vision of Josh’s body filled your sight. Of what was left of him. He was silent. And you couldn’t comprehend it. 

“Josh!” You shouted, pulling yourself up. You were going to go to him. He had to be okay, this wasn’t real. Something fastened around your waist. 

“We have to go,” Matt said, pulling you against him. 

“No, we have to help him,” you said, tears blurring your vision as snot began to drip from your nose. 

“He’s gone. He’s gone and we have to go. Now.” Matt’s voice was gentle, but he was firm. Everything in you struggled against him, your hand reaching out frailly towards Josh’s motionless body. Your knees were weak as you fought against Matt. 

Nothing was real. You had just kissed Josh. Felt his warmth against you. He was just there, alive and breathing. 

In your weakened state, Matt was able to drag you out of the chamber. The door swung closed and clicked behind you both, a sharp sign of no return. 

“I can’t leave him here,” you cried out, shaking in Matt’s arms. He was warm, blood from his letterman jacket seeping against your skin. It was hot and sticky. And that’s when it hit you. This was Josh’s blood. Still warm. 

“We have to go,” Matt said. He tightened his grip on you. “If that sicko comes back, what then? We need to find the others and get out of here.” His voice was empathetic, but unwavering. He wasn’t going to let you go.

You nodded, letting your body go slack despite everything in your body screaming at you to go to Josh, even if you couldn’t. You wanted to just rot here with him. Everything moved in a blur as Matt guided you both out of the basement. The lodge felt ice cold, devoid of all life. Just hours before you had been talking to Josh on the couch, your legs curled up as you hung onto his every word, the fire softly roaring. And now, there was nothing. 

The weather had begun to pick up outside, the snow and wind swirling. At this rate, it would be an arduous task to make anything out. The trees cast long shadows on the night, engulfing everything in darkness. Both you and Matt walked quickly, your scraped knees burning from the cold under your jeans. Tears flowed from your eyes, still unable to process everything they had just seen. They felt like daggers of ice dragging across your face. 

“It’s going to be impossible to find the others like this, " Matt said, raising his hand to his face to shield his eyes against the poor visibility. 

The others. You had almost completely forgotten that the entire friend group had collected on the mountain. Sam, Chris, Ashley, Mike, Jess, and Emily… 

“Shit,” you replied. A shiver passed through your body, both from the cold mountain air and the thought of the others with the psycho killer on the loose. Were they okay? Were they safe? You didn’t think you could take any more losses tonight. 

Matt softened for a moment as you shivered, and took his jacket off, draping it onto your shoulders. It was little comfort, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. The worn out letterman jacket was warm, the right sleeve completely drenched in blood. In Josh’s blood. Your stomach churned at the thought and you fought to keep the nausea down as you traversed the woods with Matt. 

You looked over at Matt silently. Taking the jacket off left him in nothing but his jean jacket and gray sweater. Despite losing the bloody jacket, splatters of blood still trailed over his face and neck, his right sweater arm stained with red. He looked over, catching your gaze and offered his clean arm. You took it gratefully, happy to have something to ground you. 

The moment was short lived as a sudden crunch in the distance caused you both to snap towards the origin of the noise. Was it a friend? Or worse, had the psycho followed you both? No, it couldn’t be the psycho, there were three frames now emerging from the darkness. 

You released your breath as the figures came into view in the pale moonlight-  Chris, Ashley, and Emily. 

“Whoa, what the hell happened?” Chris rushed forward first, taking in the sight before him. 

Ashley started to chip in, “Are you guys ok-” 

“What the hell is going on here? Where were you, Matt?” Emily stepped forward, pushing past Ashley and Chris to look at you and Matt. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of you- Matt’s ex-girlfriend, clutching his arm in his jacket. 

Matt’s words tumbled out in quick succession with yours. 

“There’s a killer on the loose, and he’s after us all-” 

“I can’t, I don’t know. Josh is- We need to leave,-” 

Emily’s eyes widened, and she moved closer to you and Matt. “Holy shit, is that blood?” Her cold demeanor dropped as she shifted closer in concern. Her words caused you and Matt to fall silent. This is not what you had expected from her. Emily usually treated you brusquely. You couldn’t really blame her given how Matt was not known for concise story-telling. Now all three sets of eyes gazed at you both intensely. 

“That’s what we’ve been saying. There’s a killer here and he’s after all of us. We barely escaped with our lives and he’s probably going to try to catch up to us.” Matt shook his head, and stared down at the ground. This was affecting him more than he was letting on. 

Chris and Ashley exchanged silent glances. 

“And… where is Josh?” Ashley asked quietly, placing her hand on Chris’ faintly. Your chest heaved. All eyes were on you. You could feel your heart constricting as the words refused to leave your throat. 

“He’s… he’s…” You kept trying to shove the words out, but they wouldn't come. 

“He’s gone,” Matt stepped in. “He’s… Josh is gone.” Your grasp released from Matt’s arm as his words hit your ears. 

“Oh god,” Emily said, placing her hand over her mouth. Ashley leaned into Chris sorrowfully. 

“We need to go. Right now, we need to find a way off of this mountain,” Matt said, the urgency in his voice picking up. 

“What we need is to go get help,” Emily interjected. 

“And what about Sam?” Ashley piped up. Her head turned toward the lodge frantically as she spoke. “She’s still in there.”

Silence fell on the group with these words. It was as if everyone froze, unsure of what to do. 

Finally, Chris spoke up. “Okay, Ashley and I will go find Sam, Jess, and Mike; the rest of you contact the authorities.” 

“Okay, but we need to go. Right now. There’s an old radio tower in the distance we can probably get to,” Emily pressed. She dusted the snow off of her leather coat. 

You sheepishly nodded. You were in no condition to try to go back into the lodge, the images still fresh and pervasive in your mind. 

The group split, Ashley and Chris towards the lodge; you, Matt and Emily towards the old radio tower. The three of you moved in hurried silence, the wind howling as it picked up through the trees. Your hand had dropped from Matt’s arm, instead Emily resuming her place and holding his hand. 

Things weren’t particularly tense between the three of you, both you and Matt had made things clear to Emily, his new girlfriend, that things were over. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to Josh,” Emily said, glancing over at you again. Her gaze was empathetic, but her eyes glossing over the bloody letterman jacket didn’t escape you. 

“Em,” Matt said tautly. 

“What? How she felt wasn’t exactly a secret,” Emily whispered much too loudly. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you lied, releasing a small breath. “I appreciate it, Emily, really.” That part was true. Even though you and Emily didn’t have the best relationship, she was surprisingly amicable about your past with Matt. Her concern here was a welcome one. But you couldn’t help but feel a stab of resentment at her part in the drama the last time you all were gathered here on the mountain. 

The silence returned. Your thoughts became a mess. Every Washington you had grown to love was gone. Every single one cruelly ripped from your hands. And it was all this psychopath's fault. A growing anger bubbled up inside of you. If you ever faced this guy again, you knew you would tear him a new one, even if it was the last thing you did. The cold rippled through you and you pulled Matt’s jacket closer into you. The blood from the sleeve was now cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sticky feeling on your skin. 

Thoughts of Josh floated around in your head. His smile. His laugh. The way he always put others first. Even when they didn’t deserve it. Your fingers moved to idly play with your silver ring, the one he had placed on you that first night you met. Hannah’s gift. You had no idea how much things would change, that your relationships with them would deepen so much. That this small token would be all you had left of your best friend and her brother that you were in love with. You had never taken it off, it was like a permanent fixture on your body, and now a permanent reminder of all of your losses. 

As the silence stretched on, you all passed a gate. It was locked, offering no shortcuts and no easy passage on the cold, desolate trek. That is, until you stumbled upon a small outpost. 

“Finally, something,” Emily exclaimed. 

“Yeah, something,” you replied, a sudden glaze in your eyes as something shiny reflected in them. Matt and Emily followed your gaze as you pulled an axe out of the outpost door. 

Matt frowned as the axe came off of the wood cleanly. You turned it over in your hands, feeling the hilt. It was a little heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle with the sound of your own blood pumping loudly in your ears. 

“Nice catch,” Matt said with your name. “I’ll hold onto it.” He reached for the hilt, and you bristled. 

Matt paused as you drew back, caught off guard. You coughed and pulled the axe closer to you. 

“Finders keepers,” you joked weakly. Your grip on the axe tightened. A whole new web of possibilities opened up with uncovering the weapon, the feeling fluttering in you. “Actually-” you started slowly, testing the waters. “- I think with this, it’d be best if I found the others. Ensure their safety.” 

“What?” Emily turned towards you. “No way, we found it, it should be protection for us. Matt.” She looked at Matt, whose frown had only deepened. You bristled again, feeling as if he could read your every thought. It was as if he could sense the pure anger flowing through you, despite your calm exterior. 

“She’s right, Emily.”

“What?” Both you and Emily looked at him incredulously. Anyone in their right mind would want to keep the axe. You knew that much. 

“She’s lost enough tonight. We’ll be okay, I’ve got enough brawn for us both,” Matt flexed his muscles, laughing haphazardly. You cracked a soft smile at his attempt to diffuse the situation.  

“Unbelievable.” Emily threw her hands up. “You two are the worst do-gooders I’ve ever met in my life. It’s us, or the psycho.” 

“Don’t worry. If I come across him, I’ll take care of him.” The glint returned to your eyes as you gazed at the axe. “Better that than letting him find us.” 

Emily shifted uncomfortably. “Fine, just make sure you swing hard.” You nodded, your lips pressed into a hard, thin line. With the axe, you had a new power. One that was going to take what you wanted. It would save you all. 

Matt saying your name momentarily pulled you back to reality. “Please be careful,” he said, eyeing you nervously. “I wouldn’t let you go on your own, but we need to get help.” 

“Good luck,” you said, a sense of finality in your tone. This might very well be the last time you saw either of them, and you knew it. With your new weapon in hand, you trudged off towards the lodge, a renewed sense of vigor in your step. This was your chance to set things right. It wouldn't bring them back, no, but it might sate the bubbling in the depths of your stomach. The feeling gnawed at you, hungry for more. Hungry for revenge.

[innorogers]

Eclipse

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Panic clawed up his throat — you were out there, alone, lost in the grip of something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t save you from.

Warning: Angst / Insecure Steve / Protective Steve / Desperate Protective Steve / MINORS DNI / Fight Scene / This one is a action chapter

Characters: OC, John Walker, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner.

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull | 9: Vigil

The fear deep within Steve didn’t go away. Not even with the countless times you made love over the weekend.

He took you so hard, so rough, as if he wanted to take you deep inside him, to bury himself in the depths of your soul and become one with you; or to transform into a protective shield, merged into your skin and flesh, that would emerge whenever you needed him to protect you, guard you, and keep you safe.

But that wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to wash away his fears to the unknown.

You awoke on Monday to find yourself in a fortress.

The compound had been overridden with the strictest and most exaggerated security protocol the entire campus had ever seen, enforced with military precision.

Steve’s expression turned steely the moment you left home; you could see the shift as he transformed into Captain America the moment he stepped into the command room, returning to Steve Rogers only in private moments with you.

He drove you to the center’s facilities as on a typical day, but this time Sam was waiting at the door to take over and escort you to the lab, where he would only leave if one of his fellow Avengers replaced him, never letting you out of sight. Neither Falcon, nor anyone else left you unguarded. Ever.

“Okay…if I didn’t know better, I’d be seriously freaking out.” Dr. Lin admitted, a little nervous, noticing the continuous Avenger presence. Whether it was Sam, Nat, Clint, even Wanda and Vision—all turned up for shifts. Sometimes, the Captain himself took a shift, posted against a wall or seated on a bench, eyes alert and scrutinizing anyone who might look remotely suspicious.

“Like...What's going on? Is Cap so insecure about that military guy hitting on you that a tracking device isn’t enough? Now we have surveillance?” Robert whispered while working at the station beside you. “Everyone’s kind of freaking out, you know? We don’t usually get this level of attention.” He adjusted a few screws, glancing around. “The R&D nerds being protected by the Avengers themselves? That’s a lot.”

You sighed.

A lot didn’t even come close to describing it.

Steve was so anxious about the whole situation that he even let John Walker hang around you constantly.

“The guy could be an extra pair of eyes,” said Captain America through clenched teeth, his knuckles going white.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve didn’t detect bad intentions from John Walker—except for the irritating fact that Walker wanted to be the new Steve Rogers, along with all the prestige that came with the title, and to date Captain America’s fiancée.

But Walker’s intentions toward you were genuine, and Steve fully intended to kick his ass once this shitshow was over. So, there was John Walker—a regular in the lab now, much to the nervousness of the white coats. He wasn’t doing much harm, though he did have a habit of touching everything, asking too many questions, and getting even more irritating whenever Steve was near.

John was having a blast testing Steve’s patience, whether by using your mug, leaning in close at your desk, or resting his elbows on the back of your chair, making comments about how good you smelled, if you’d changed your perfume, or saying things like, “Hey, remember the coffee you liked last time?”

All this playful tone, smirking remarks made Steve’s veins practically bulge, ready to burst anytime John came within a meter of you.

And, to add a layer of complexity to the fun, there was Sharon.

The New Era Project was still ongoing, and the Command’s Room had decided to keep things low-key until the UN realized they were on the Avengers’ radar. Diplomatic exchanges would carry on as usual, with Walker playing the role of bodyguard without even knowing it, and Sharon just orbiting Steve and Maria, doing... well, nothing much.

She seemed to sense that the Avengers were only maintaining subtle ties, not actually invested in the project. Still, for her own reasons—personal or moral—she went along with it, and of course, it kept her close to Steve.

So, the results of all these people in your daily life were, besides a few coffee cups broken by Steve and you talking to your plants more than usual due to jealousy and frustration, that your sex life had become, well...better, much better.

Every encounter was charged with tension, jealousy, possessiveness, the urge to claim each other, constant longing, and, on Steve's side, fear and anxiety about a forecasted attack that he didn’t know when it would happen.

And they were…frequent, more than usual.

You already had these crazy weekend sex marathons after Steve discovered your Hydra-given experimented body could bear him, but now…they were happening at any place, any time.

Since that once in the dressing room after the Iron Army attack, the encounters seemed to have upgraded to a whole new level.

He'd take you, in a meeting room from behind, with only pulling down your underwear and unzipping his pants; in the lab’s bathroom when everyone was at their lunchtime; finger fuck you at the parking lot's stairways before leaving the center facilities… and if Walker had joked or played around you that day? Oh boy, you were going to be cumming fast and long. Steve’d drive you crazy, and silencing your cries with his hand so you didn’t scream his name in any public space.

Or the other way around, like that day when he heard you called the guy "John" instead of "Captain Walker" so once you were alone and at home, he made sure that was the only name leaving your lips, and the only one you'd remembered after he fucked you so hard and made you undone beneath, on top, or in whatever position he demanded that day.

And he enjoyed it too.

Sharon’s friendly touches, like her hand on his shoulder or a quick pat? Those would end with you pinning him to the wall as soon as you got home, driving him wild with abandon, letting him lose himself completely with you while cumming in your mouth or anywhere he’d want.

There was once, actually, when Sharon straightened his tie… the night ended with you on top of him, fucking him with such purpose, such intensity, that he swore that was the fastest and most satisfying orgasm he'd had in his life.

But after all the ecstasies and excitements these encounters would bring, there was something deep within Steve that you wanted to soothe, and it was his fear of losing you.

That, was not able to be washed away with any kind of desire and lust.

And you knew, it was only going to be cured with love.

So you were always there.

He woke up to you, his first sight each morning, and his last thought before sleep. You held him close, your fingers weaving through his hair, lips gently pressed to his forehead, your body resting against his, so close it was as though even your fingerprints aligned like two halves of a single puzzle.

You were there, you never made him worry, you never complained about being confined to the limits of the compound, of having surveillance on you 24/7, him shadowing you everywhere, or dealing with John or Sharon.

No. You took it all.

You shared his morning coffee, held his hand through lunch, took his desires whenever, wherever.

You’d look up from your work just to offer him a smile. You’d talk to him, hours and hours, just like the first night you’ve met, sharing with him every part of your life with him—your past, your present, your future. You filled the spaces he feared, quieted the looming dread of the unknown.

You were there.

Just as you promised, together. Always with him, by his side, easing his worries, quieting his fears.

Which is why no one understood how it happened.

It was a normal day, a regular day, actually, like any other.

But it was the beginning of Steve’s nightmare.

One that would haunt him for years. And if…if he had known. If only he’d fucking known.

"I’m making beef stroganoff with baked asparagus tonight.” You announced, sliding some toast into the toaster and flipping through a cookbook. "And your favorite Italian wine.”

"Wow." Steve set aside his iPad. "What’s the occasion?"

"Mmm…” You smirked as you approached with a breakfast tray. "Surprise, surprise.” You kissed his cheek, enjoying the intrigued look in his eyes. "The start of a highly-anticipated weekend?”

"Really?" Steve raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. He knew you were hinting at something more.

"Um… maybe I’m just in the mood for something romantic, intimate, and… well, that wine was just too good to pass up.”

"I thought wine didn’t have any effect on us.” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You know, the serum and… your Hydra body. Ugh, I hate saying that...I'm sorry honey.”

"Oh, is that why you drink it all at once?” You didn't even mind the Hydra comment, just teased him, genuinely curious. "Did it even have any effect, at all?”Your eyes brightened. "Woooh, can we test it? Like, let’s grab the strongest bottle we can find and see if we could actually get drunk?”

"Been there, tried that. Didn’t work.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Once Thor brought some Asgardian liquor that really… tickled?”

"Wow… the stuff that aged a thousand years just made you… tickle. Remind me why we’re bothering with the wine, then?”

"Because it tastes good.” Steve let out a laugh and took a bite of toast, winking at you. "Especially with stroganoff. But come on, do tell… what’s the occasion?”

"Nothing." You said with a smile, standing up to clear the table. "Really, just excited about the weekend. It’s finally just… us.”

"Uh-huh.” Steve smiled and got up to help, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. "Babe? You’re a terrible liar.”

You chuckled, not arguing the truth. You really were awful at lying to him. But you knew he’d respect your timing and the little surprise you had in mind for dinner that night. So you just turned around and kissed him back with a smile.

"Do you think beef stroganoff and baked asparagus with cheese would go better with white, rosé, or red?” You asked later in the lab, from your desk.

"White.” Replied Dr. Lin and John in unison, without a second’s hesitation.

"Why does Captain Perfection always get the good stuff?” John grumbled as he picked up random gear from your desk, trying on a glove and aiming it at the wall as if he was about to shoot something. "Aren’t we friends too? Ever consider cooking for us?”

"Amen to that. Captain Perfection gets the special treatment…” Robert hummed, grinning. "Cause he’s the one who can eat without making a scene about his taste buds going wild. Be grateful, John.”He winked at him. "And seriously? I’m her friend; you’re the guy trying to cross the friend zone border and get on Captain America’s nerves.”

"Well, is the horizon close by any chance?” John said as he shot something from the gauntlet. You and Robert ducked instinctively as the rubber pellet bounced off the wall and hit John in the head.

"Yeah, I'll definitely leave my gorgeous, perfect fiancé for the guy who plays with toys and hits himself, Captain Walker.” You laughed, handing him an ice pack. "The horizon is just a step away, soldier.”

"Could you stop that, John? This is a million-dollar development!” Robert complained. "And it’s actually tailor-made for Hawkeye…” but before he could finish, a huge noise came from outside.

The walls trembled, sending deep vibrations through the floor as the lights flickered, casting erratic shadows across the room. Dust and bits of plaster cascaded from the ceiling, catching in the faint, stuttering glow—it felt like the whole building was holding its breath, caught between an earthquake’s shudder and the unmistakable force of an explosion somewhere close.

The air was thick with the scent of singed metal and faintly acrid smoke, adding an edge of urgency to the unnerving silence that followed.

You held your breath.

This is it.

The fear that was haunting Steve. The attack you were all expecting. Your hair rose in alarm, signaling the approaching danger, and a cold dread crept over you.

"Okay… I didn’t do that, did I?” John said as the complete lab was on silence, instinctively moving to shield you behind him. Though he didn’t have the latest updates, he knew the surveillance around this place, and he understood that his role here was to protect you. Something was close—he could sense it.

"Stay close, Illythia.” He said as Dr. Lin also moved behind you.

John looked up. "Yo, little angel with wings? What’s going on?!” He shouted to Sam, who landed near you in a flash.

"Alright, Barn Protocol in R&D001, now.” Falcon spoke into his comms just as the windows and walls transformed into impenetrable steel shields, his gear fully engaged.

The Barn Protocol activated seamlessly, steel panels sliding into place around the lab's perimeter, locking everyone in. Sam and John immediately flanked you, their stances solid and prepared as they followed the Command Room’s orders: Don’t let anything near her, don't let her out of sight, protect and secure, no matter what.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to hold its breath.

Lab equipment hummed softly, the usual chatter and beeping of devices hanging in a strange silence as everyone waited for something unknown.

And then, piercing through the stillness, an alarm—a sharp, almost metallic shriek—sliced through the air, cutting off just as abruptly as it had begun. It was a deafening sound, something that tapped into everyone's senses, as loud as silence.

You winced at the sound, but as it faded, a strange calm settled.

You looked around the lab, about to reassure Sam and John when you noticed… that.

The others.

The usual faces at workstations and benches were all still—too still. Expressions blank, eyes vacant. And then, in a single, eerie motion, they all turned toward you, faces twisted, almost as if possessed by some unseen force.

"Holy shit." Said Sam and John at the same time.

"This is not good." said the Falcon.

"You… you think?! This is not good?!" Robert was panicking. "Should we… I don't know, RUN?"

"We can't. The Barn Protocol is up. These walls are like the Hulk Container; we're in." Replied Sam, as he put an arm before you: “Stay close. Really close.”

Without warning, the rest of people began to move, hands reaching for whatever they could find, beakers, sharp tools, even chairs—anything to use as a weapon. And fuck, this is the R&D 001 Lab, this, was the second advance tools room after The Crib. And here, are the greatest minds of the compound after Stark, Banner, Cho, and You. There was even a fucking lightsaber in hands of some tech guy, like how the fuck does that work?

An unnatural glint filled their eyes as they closed in, their steps synchronized in a way that felt more robotic than human.

Sam and John shifted instantly, bodies tensed, shielding you even closer as Robert ducked behind you, his breathing erratic. You felt the grip of John’s arm as he pulled you slightly back, a low growl escaping him as he sized up the oncoming attackers.

Sam's voice was low and focused. “Alright, Fake Steve, we’re not letting anyone through, got it?”

"You bet your ass we are." said John with his teeth clenched as he pulled out his weapon. "Bring your pretty faces, nerds."

The first swing came fast—a lab tech lunging with a scalpel raised high. Sam deflected the attack with a swift jab to the wrist, disarming the attacker, who didn’t even flinch but came back, jaw clenched, ready to strike again.

As the lab tech lunged again, Sam knocked him back, quickly sidestepping to push you further behind him.

But this was off, way off. These people, most of them, didn’t even pull up weight or go near the gym, but they were quick, swift—they moved like professional assassins trained all their lives, their technique showing black-belt level skill, and they… it was as if they didn't feel pain. Every hit, every punch John or Sam landed back was into a robot with no physical pain.

It soon became a 1 vs 10 scenario, where John and Sam were trying more to survive than defend you.

“What the fuck is going on?!” John hissed, fists clenched as he scanned the room, watching as more people turned toward you and advanced.

“I don't know.” Sam muttered through gritted teeth, blocking another swing. “But whatever it is, it’s messing with their minds.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “Stay close!”

Dr. Lin clutched your arm, his fingers digging in. “They’re like… like they’re under some kind of mind control! Is that even possible?”

John gave a dry laugh without taking his eyes off the attackers. “Oh, so it's a regular Tuesday, right?” He glanced your way. “But you, yo, Lancaster—any ideas here? You usually have something for us in times like this.”

“Give me a second.” You whispered, heart racing as you took in the sight of familiar faces twisted in unnatural rage. “I have no clue what’s causing this or how we stop it…” Your mind was racing, and then you jumped to get your computer.

"I need that sound, the same sound that made them start acting like this. Robert, get yours, come on, get down!" You said as you pulled your laptop and hid under the desk.

Sam caught a thrown chair mid-air, shoving it back toward the approaching crowd, his jaw tight. He threw a quick glance at you, his gaze firm. “Whatever you’re doing, stay safe and don’t move.”

A sharp crash echoed as someone shattered a lab beaker against the wall, sending shards flying. Dr. Lin yelped and crawled to you; he was trying to pull himself together, running the analysis with you. At this point, only your minds and Sam and John's strength working together were the only beacon of hope he had.

“I think… it has something to do with that alarm. Something happened when it sounded.” Robert grabbed his computer too. "I'll run the surveillance sound analysis and make it replay… you think that’d work?"

"I need Jarvis to analyze what happened when… Steve and I were attacked by the Iron Army. I think we were the distraction, and the real security breach happened here." Your fingers were typing faster than usual. "Jarvis, are you there? Get Maria or Steve on the—" Your voice was interrupted by John, who was thrown against the workbench, rolling and falling before you.

"Oh my God!" Robert let out a cry as he continued typing in panic. “Please, someone tell me we’re going to be okay…”

"Any news?!" Captain Walker asked as he struggled to stand up. "Something like your super boyfriend is coming anytime soon?"

"It doesn't matter!" shouted Sam from the other side of the room, he was already opening fire. "Orders are to stay put, protect and secure—even if the world falls apart, we are not leaving this place!”

“It kinda feels like it is!” screamed Robert, covering his ears at the gunshot noises. "Falling apart?!"

"Is that code ready?!" You asked as something exploded nearby, and Sam's wings shielded you all against it. "Robert! Stay with us! Is that code ready?!"

"It can't be! We are blocked!!" Dr. Lin was losing his composure; he was covering his ears and almost crying. "I need to get to the servers and plug my computer in!"

"That's so damn typical!" John replied as another attacker lunged, and he blocked them with an outstretched arm. "Why is it always like that?!"

"Ugh!" The place was chaotic, Sam was covering almost every angle from the air, John was forming the defense line before you and Robert, everything was being used by the geniuses who invented all these weapons and gears. Not to mention, neither the Falcon nor Captain Walker had intentions of really hurting anyone, so it was getting difficult.

You scanned the place, using everything in your power, and suddenly, you spotted something. So you rolled to a nearby desk, quickly opened the under-cabinet as bullets bounced all over the place, and you pulled it out: a prototype of Steve's shield. It was the newest testing unit, but it would have to do.

"Come on!" You grabbed Robert and used the shield to cover him. "John! Cover us!" As you ran with the shield covering you from the rain of bullets, a screaming Robert and his computer into the server's room, John started to fight back whatever was raining on you.

"Come on, come on, come on!" You pushed Dr. Lin inside and locked the door. "Go, go, go, do your magic!" You both rushed into the server's room and looked for the correct one, but out of nowhere, the guard was there, with the same eerie look and stiff action.

“Oh…no, no, no, no…” You and Robert muttered in unison, both instinctively stepping back.

But it was too late—the guy lunged forward, his expression blank and hostile, arms reaching out with surprising speed.

Before you could even think, your body moved on its own: you ducked his first swing, sidestepped his second, and then your hand shot forward, delivering a quick, powerful blow to his chest. In the blink of an eye, you grabbed his wrist, twisted, and swept his legs out from under him with a precision that left him sprawling on the ground in seconds.

You froze, staring down at the guy on the floor, wide-eyed as you tried to catch your breath. Dr. Lin was equally stunned, mouth open as he looked at you with something between awe and excitement.

"Oh my gawd!" You both said at the same time. “I…” Your eyes widened, looking at your hands, still half-raised in a defensive stance. “I could do that?!”

“Dude…” Robert replied, eyes darting from you to the unconscious lab tech at your feet. “…Since when…?”

“I don’t know!” You interrupted, still in shock. “I didn’t even know I could do that! My body just… acted on its own.”

“Well… whatever it was, remind me not to mess with you. And also warn Steve, just in case. Or John,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh god, ok, the code?!" You said, remembering both Sam and John were fighting for their lives out there, and pushed Robert toward the server machines.

"Oh, okokok!" Robert rushed into the server machines.

The moment he plugged in the laptop and entered the code, you had a bad feeling, but the instant he hit enter, the sound that transformed all the people out there echoed through the room.

And everything went black for you.

The chaos took about an hour to subside. Not that John or Sam knew anything about it; they just stuck to the protocol and stayed inside the lab with a floor full of unconscious staff, until Steve kicked the door down (or maybe just made a hole in the wall while breaking in) and arrived, his face a mask of panic that only disappeared when he saw you, still locked in the server room with Dr. Lin, and John guarding the door.

Both Commander Hill and Captain America looked rough—not injured (it would take more than an explosion or an army of aliens to scratch them)—but still, they were covered in ash and dust, with bruised knuckles and fingers, a few burnt hair strands, and the remnants of a room that had exploded in their faces.

Steve was panting; after the containment of the explosion in the Quantum and Space Exploration Division, he had run to where you were, ready to throw himself into battle but unwilling to lose sight of you.

“Containment Operations, Protocol 14 in place.” Commander Hill announced into her comms as the walls of the Barn Protocol lifted. She gasped at the sight: a room full of unconscious techs, the lab littered with bullet holes from Sam and John’s weapons, most of the development prototypes destroyed after being repurposed as attack machinery, an injured Sam with a broken wing, and a bloodied John standing guard at the entrance to the server room.

“Where is she?!” Steve demanded, as the team behind Maria sprang into action. Protocol 14 meant everyone needed medical care, inspection, and interrogation; no one was leaving.

“There, in the server room. John is at the door.” Sam said, nodding toward you. Steve exhaled in relief when he saw you through the glass, sitting on the floor next to Dr. Lin, who was still typing on his computer, with John guarding the locked door behind him.

“Oh, thank God…” Steve murmured, covered in cold sweat, rubbing his face as his heart finally slowed. He steadied himself. “Okay, walk me through it.” What a fucking mess. He began walking around the wreckage with Sam.

“There was a sound just after the Barn Protocol activated,” Sam said, frowning as he surveyed the unconscious staff scattered across the lab. “And these guys…” He sighed. “They just…activated.”

“Activated?” Steve’s expression darkened. “How?” He looked down at one of the techs. “That’s James Farber.” Hesaid, bewildered. “He’s been here all his life. He was with Tony back in Howard’s days. He’s core staff, Level 1. There’s no way he’s a…spy or…” He ran a hand through his hair. “A threat.”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, his face serious as he crossed his arms and exhaled. “They fought like professionals, swift and precise, like trained killers—or puppets.” He looked at Steve, his expression tense.

“This is fucked up, Cap. All it took was a sound. Dr. Lin and I…we played it back to test…” Sam said as glanced at the server room, his face suddenly paling. “Where is she?”

A chill ran down Steve’s spine as he turned and saw the empty spot where you had been. He ran to the door. “Robert!”

Dr. Lin nearly jumped out of his skin at the shout. “What?”

“Where is…?”

Robert looked around in confusion, fear flashing in his eyes. “She said she was going to look for you…”

Steve didn’t wait for more. He tore out of the lab, scanning frantically, fear and panic flooding his veins, drowning him in limitless dread.

His comm crackled to life, and for the first time, John Walker’s voice, panicked and raw, called him by his name. “Steve?!”

Steve could hear the same background noise in Walker’s comm—he was close, his voice desperate. “I’m following her! But…that’s not her!” John’s voice was frantic as he followed you, watching you move with unsettling speed, every step driven, unwavering.

“She’s too fast, damn it. Get the cameras, the drones, whatever you have, now!”

“I’m on it!” Maria’s voice responded, and in an instant, the entire facility surged into action. Cameras, scans, drones, perimeters, doors, alarms—all the 1287 security protocols she had sprang to life around you.

“She’s at your six! Go straight!” Maria directed Steve, and he broke into a run. Five hundred feet—just ten seconds at top speed, but you were nowhere to be seen. “Where?!” He was loosing his shit.

“What?” Maria’s voice faltered as the red dot tracking you vanished from her display, dread pooling in her stomach. “We’re being overridden…”

“What? Talk to me!” Steve’s voice was almost a shout, his panic unmistakable. “Walker! Where are you?”

“I’m at the parking lot!” John’s voice was breathless as he ran. “Where the hell are those bots?! Why is your girlfriend so fast?!” He weaved between parked cars, his eyes locked on you, but in a blink, you were gone.

“Illythia?!” John’s voice echoed through the empty parking lot, and Steve heard his labored breathing over the comms. Steve had never been so afraid in his life.

"Where are you?!" In the parking lot, John was still looking for you. He took a few steps around, assessing, then abruptly stepped back as his military instincts kicked in.

He moved just in time to avoid your first strike. The hypnotized techs had been fast—but you…you were lethal. Every move of yours was precise, each sweep of your palm and strike of your hand cutting through the air like sharpened blades, aimed directly at Walker with the cold precision of a trained assassin. His arm went numb as he blocked your strike with his elbow, barely deflecting the impact.

Holy shit. So this is what a Hydra assassin looked like. John had heard the rumors, and the realization struck him hard.

Now he was grasping the scale of your abilities, the enormous gap that separated him from you in skill and intent. Fighting you was like fighting a machine designed solely to kill.

He clenched his fists, steadying himself.

"Alright. Whoever the fuck you are…" He growled, bracing against the rush of your next attack.

"You are not taking her, not on my watch…"

You advanced swiftly, not giving him a chance to react. He managed to parry one of your strikes, but the force sent him staggering back. Your movements were relentless, each strike calculated, swift, and brutal. John ducked a sharp jab aimed at his throat and countered with a low sweep of his leg, hoping to unbalance you.

But you were quicker. Twisting mid-movement, you spun out of reach and closed in on him again, your eyes cold, unreadable.

“For someone who didn't want to date me at all…” John panted, trying to find an opening, he tightened his stance, his focus sharpening.

"Looks like we are finally getting our first dance huh…"

You launched a kick toward his chest, but he dodged to the side, finally managing to slip an arm around your waist, trying to pin you down. In a heartbeat, though, you broke free, twisting sharply and catching him with an elbow that left him gasping.

Steve tore down the hallway, his heart hammering like it was about to burst from his chest, each step fueled by the sickening fear curling tighter inside him. His mind screamed with desperation, imagining the worst. The thought of not getting there in time, clawed at him with a panic so raw it drowned out everything else. He pushed himself harder, faster, his breaths ragged, almost choking on the terror that something could already be happening, that he might be too late to stop it.

Deep down in his soul, he knew it.

Someone, something, was taking you away.

The little dance between you and John continued fast.

John steadied himself, swallowing against the sharp sting in his throat.

Shit, you were good, you were so damn good. Your movements were cold, mechanical, each step deliberate, your eyes devoid of any recognition, fixed on him like a target.

He barely had a second to brace before you struck again, faster, more precise, as if every muscle in your body was wired to a single, ruthless command.

John dodged, blocking with his forearm, but the force of your blow sent a painful shock up his arm.

“Come on, wake up!” Heyelled, desperation leaking into his voice, hoping his words might break through whatever had its hold on you. But you were relentless, undeterred. You struck again, a perfectly angled jab aimed for his ribs, which he just barely managed to sidestep, the movement costing him balance.

In a single, fluid motion, you enhanced your powers, layers of the room revealing themselves in sharp detail, peeling away until something glinted in the corner of your vision—something small and dangerously sharp embedded within a cracked console panel nearby. You lunged, grabbing the object, its cold weight steady in your palm.

With swift brutality, you slashed toward him, and John blocked, feeling the sharp edge graze his arm, blood blooming where it sliced through his sleeve. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his strength, his eyes searching your face, finding nothing of the person he knew.

And in that hesitation, you moved so fast, he didn't even see you. It was only one ruthless, calculated strike as you slashed across Walker’s throat.

The edge met his skin with precision, blood trickling down his neck. John staggered back, clutching his throat, his face twisted in pain and shock.

“Shit…” He choked out, voice raw as he tried to steady himself, his fingers pressed hard to stem the bleeding. His eyes darted around, frantic, searching for you, but you were gone—melted into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly as you'd struck.

And then Steve was there, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps as he rounded the corner, barely taking in the scattered debris and overturned tables before his gaze locked on John.

His heart lurched painfully at the sight. Blood trickled from John’s neck, his hand pressed against the wound, his face pale and strained.

“John!” Steve shouted, rushing over, barely keeping the quiver of fear from his voice.

John could only shake his head, gritting his teeth as he fought through the pain.

"Where is she?!"

“…Gone,” John managed to get out, a grimace tightening his face as he met Steve’s terrified gaze.

The realization struck Steve hard, fear gripping his chest with an icy hand. It shattered his world in an instant.

Everything he’d known, everything he’d fought for, had slipped through his fingers in a single heartbeat. He felt a cold, numbing dread spread through his chest, rooting him to the spot, every breath a struggle against the crushing weight of helplessness.

Panic clawed up his throat — you were out there, alone, lost in the grip of something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t save you from.

It was like watching a part of himself walk into darkness, and he couldn’t follow. For the first time, Steve felt fear not just for you, but for himself—he was in hell now.

The End but TBC

And that's a wrap for Chapter 10! I can't believe we are in chapter 10 already! Ugh but this is when the angst starts :3 All i could think when I was writing it was: OMG should I do this?? How could I do this to him...but then, I thought about mix it up a little of action like all MCU movies does ;) I enjoyed writing the fight scene with John so much, hope you liked it reading too!

I'll try to post every friday, but maybe next one will be Chapter 1 of another series, will see, stay tuned! :)

Love.,

Moon

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

And I will call it home, this curse of ours (despite, despite, despite)

Day 7 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: vampire timmy, werewolf reader, reader gets shot and it's pretty bloody, lots of blood talk actually but in a vampire way, fade to black rooftop smut scene idk guys

a/n: pls god I hope everyone likes this one I fell asleep with my face on my desk writing it. but it's the classic !! I had to finish the event with the classic. ask me abt the jason todd cameo that I couldn't find a place to fit in

"Oh, god, not this again." You're walking down one of the endless streets of Gotham, your hood up and your shoulders hunched, when you hear someone sigh and groan while the person she's with goes on and on.

"No, I'm serious. There's something wrong with those Waynes -"

"You're just jealous because they're rich and they run the city. Come on -"

"No, I mean it," he insists, stopping to stand on the sidewalk and frown at his friend. You stop abruptly, too, nearly bumping into them from behind before you make a sharp turn to veer around them to keep walking. Thankfully, they don't pay you any real mind. "They're vampires - I know it. If you would just listen to me -"

"When are you going to stop believing in those ghost stories? They're not real," the woman is insisting, but you've trailed too far away by that point to hear the rest of her sentence.

The Waynes.

The biggest vampire coven on the coast. The only vampire coven left in Gotham.

And yes, they run the city, you think dryly as you continue to weave through winding, narrow streets and look up at the sliver of moon that just barely shines through the damp, foggy night. Yes, you think, they're unbeatable - and they've got the nasty, self-righteous responsibility of keeping this city in check.

A bat flies somewhere overhead and you flinch before huffing and shaking your head. Stupid, you think as you drag your feet. Stupid to move to a place that drove out your kind centuries ago. Stupid to come here knowing that it would carve a bloody target onto your back. Stupid to think that you could just keep your head down and stay hidden and let the rest of the world pass you by.

"That's impossible," Damian says indignantly, sniffing as he crosses his arms. His eyes glow in the dull glint of the Cave and a swarm of bats fly overhead.

"It's not," Dick huffs, frowning down at his brother. "People have been talking about it, I'm telling you."

"There are no werewolves in Gotham, Grayson," Damian snaps, stomping away. "Father's made sure of that." Dick looks to Bruce as Damian disappears in the shadows of the Cave, swept up by the darkness and the crushing echo, and Bruce just sighs thoughtfully. 

"It's a war that we won centuries ago, Dick," Bruce says in a smooth, deep rumble. "The wolves were driven out of my city a very long time ago."

"I know," Dick snaps. "That's why it's - Don't you think it's strange? What people have been saying? Wolf prints in the forests by the manor, rumours of people seeing some kind of creature in the city at night, it's -"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, Dick," Bruce says placatingly as he holds up his hand. "I'm only saying… if this is true… if wolves are back in Gotham, that means war is back on our doorstep. We need to tread carefully, that's all."

"Might be fun," Tim chirps, silently slipping into the conversation between the two of him, his fangs glinting as he grins. "I've always wanted to really see one."

"Don't be reckless, Tim," Dick groans. "They're dangerous. Don't go out and get yourself -"

"If there really is a wolf out there," Bruce continues, ploughing over Dick and Tim's squabble, "it'll do us no good to have people grow suspicious. This needs to be dealt with quietly. Those of us in the shadows… must remain in the shadows. You know this."

"Yea," Tim snaps his fingers and turns to Dick. "How's that, uh, situation with the gargoyle doing, hm? You dealt with that one yet?"

"I'm working on it," Dick snaps, crossing his arms and letting his fangs glint through the darkness. 

"This coven is stronger than we ever have been before," Bruce continues, ignoring the feud in front of him. "There's no reason for this to get out of hand. However… we'd be fools to think this thing has really come here alone, and killing it quickly will only bring the rest of the pack. Tim," Bruce spins to face him and Tim straightens under the attention. "Find the creature - track it, find out what it's doing here."

"What - me?" Tim splutters. Bruce merely turns and begins to walk further into the Cave, leaving the two of them in shadow and the echo of his words.

"Of course," he says without looking back. "You wanted to see one up close, after all. Just watch its teeth."

Werewolves, fortunately, have a smell incredibly distinct from humans, so it doesn't take long for Tim to pick you out from the crowd. He's trailing after you as you wander down one of the many twisted streets of the city, keeping you in his sights as you move quickly with your head ducked low. 

You're nervous, he realizes quickly - because he can hear it, the frantic beating of your heart and the blood pumping through you. Tim finds himself running his tongue over one of his fangs and tipping his head back for just a moment, letting himself take his eyes off of you for just a second. But then he refocuses and you're suddenly…

You're gone, disappeared from in front of him. Tim freezes, staring at the spot where you'd been before glancing around. Night rose hours ago and, at this ungodly hour, the streets are deserted. It had just been the two of you out here and now, he thinks as he listens to the sudden silence - now it's just him. 

The silence stretches on. A street lamp somewhere flickers and a bat flies overhead.

The vicious, rumbling snarl that he hears from behind him isn't enough warning before the force of a wolf slamming him to the ground knocks the wind out of him. Even with his heightened reflexes, he wasn't fast enough to dodge before the two of you are tumbling across the empty road with snapping jaws and clawing hands. 

You roll, the both of you, through the yellow, pooled light of a street lamp and into one of the dripping, dirty alleys of the city, and that's where Tim finally rights himself. He smooths his hands through his tousled hair as he hisses at you, baring his fangs as the creature in front of him snarls and snaps dripping, yellowed teeth back at him. 

But you don't lunge again - not yet, at least. You circle him, keeping your pale, moonlit eyes focused on him as you growl and shake your fur out from the ordeal.

"You're the wolf," Tim blurts out, and you pause, faltering at the obviousness of it all. Tim crouches in front of you, cocking his head to the side with a curiosity that outweighs any fear that he should feel in this situation, and the action makes you stop completely and square yourself with him. 

"I've always wanted to really see one of you," he murmurs, staring at you with sharp, red eyes. "Can you do that whenever you want? I'd always thought it was just… on the full moon." Tim reaches for you then, like he's entranced by whatever morbid curiosity he's wrapped up in, and the sight of it all makes your hackles rise as you bare your teeth.

It's when you finally lunge at him, aiming for his outstretched hand, that Tim snaps back to the present moment and jerks back, up and onto the safety of a fire escape and away from you. He leans over the railing and watches you circle him from below for just a moment before he tips his head back and stares at the blotchy, darkened sky. 

"I think," he says slowly, beginning to tip his head back down, "that there's a lot more I'd like to learn about you before this is through." But by the time his eyes are trained on the ground again, you're… gone, disappeared into the blackened night again and leaving him alone. 

The next time that Tim comes after you, he feels like he's learned. Dick had chastised him properly when he'd told his brother about his first wolf encounter. He'd reprimanded Tim for not realizing that werewolves are just as supernatural as the vamps - they're fast and deadly and a lot harder to catch than humans.

So, this time around, Tim feels that he's learned. He's trailing you from the rooftops, sticking to vampire domain and staying in the skies as he watches you wander down below, weaving through streets and alleyways. 

But he finds himself… confused again. Because you're acting the way that you did on that first night - sharp and skittish and nervous, looking over your shoulder and keeping a hastened pace. 

But it can't be because of him, Tim thinks. So what…what are you so afraid of? 

Tim glances down to secure his footing for just a moment, but it's long enough for you to have disappeared a second time.

"Fuck," he spits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Oh my god, Dick's gonna kill me -"

"You're sloppy." A voice makes him whirl around and it's you standing there, your breath heaving with the effort of climbing up onto the roof. Your hands are clenched at your sides and your feet are braced like you're ready for a fight, but Tim just cocks his head to the side and stares at you.

"How'd you do that without me noticing?" he asks. You grit your teeth,

"You're not the first vamp I've hunted. Doubt you'll be the last," you snap, but Tim just hums and nods and turns fully to face you. 

"I'm not sloppy." He says it slowly, like he's unsure of the insult. You smile menacingly and something that feels a bit too much like fear crawls up Tim's spine. 

"The Waynes have ruled unchallenged for too long," you continue. "You don't know how to hunt anymore. You're sloppy, careless - can't even corner a lone werewolf properly."

"Ah," Tim responds, his voice hardening. "So it's true. You are here for a fight."

"No," you shake your head. "It's just an observation. I'm here," you say clearly, stepping towards him and quirking a brow when he takes a step back, "to tell you to stay away from me. Leave me alone."

"And leave you to come after us? Yea, no chance," Tim scoffs and you just glare at him.

"I don't have anything to do with your family and I don't want anything to do with your family," you snap. "I'm just trying to get away from all that."

"…What?"

"There's no war in Gotham City anymore. That's…that's what everyone says," you say quietly, your voice tapering off. "I just…I'm just trying to get away from it. I just wanted to find somewhere where no one would follow me."

When you dart off the roof, then, heading to the edge and kicking your legs over the side to drop down into the abyss below, Tim finds himself too bewildered to stop you. Your words turn over and over in his mind and he finds that he can't quite grasp why someone would come here willingly. He can't quite understand why someone would flee to a place as cursed as this. 

The game of cat and mouse that the two of you begin to play is a bit too much for Tim to want it to end, and he finds himself slinking off, away from the Cave and his prying family more and more often just to chase you down. 

He's shocked, startled into frozen silence when he finds you one night hidden in the corner of a deep, dark alleyway. You're plastered against the rough brick wall, unmoving and holding your breath, and when you lock eyes with Tim he sees how wild you look - like an animal caught in a snare. 

"What -" Tim begins, but you press a finger over your lips to shush him silently and you look at him desperately, your eyes wide and heart hammering against your ribcage. He slinks into the shadows next to you, keeping himself hidden as he watches you with furrowed brows and concern clouding his eyes. But he listens, nonetheless, straining to hear any sort of sound beyond the typical ruckus of the city.

He does hear something when he really listens, and it's enough to make Tim freeze, a cold sort of terror seeping into him. He can hear it, the bickering conversation of a group of men - and they're talking about you. They're asking where you went, following the trail of your footsteps and the sound of your howls. And Tim can hear it, the sound of a silver bullet clinking in the barrel of a gun. He can hear the grating clank of a wooden stake pressed into someone's palms.

Hunters.

There are werewolf hunters in Gotham… and they're here for you.

Tim stares at you, at the way your eyes squeeze shut in panic and you gasp in a shuddering breath. He stares and something burns in him. 

There have been no hunters in Gotham for centuries. The Waynes have been too powerful for too long for anyone to try to go up against them, especially humans with pitchforks and burning torches. 

But now… one lone werewolf is enough to bring all of that crashing down. One small person is enough to drag that fear back into their lives, even if it was against your own will. 

Tim grabs you by the collar of your shirt, tugging you toward a fire escape. When you resist, when you dig your heels in and shake your head, he hisses and bares his fangs. 

"Would you rather I hand you over to them?" he snaps. "It's me or them. Choose." There's a sort of betrayal that flashes through your eyes, then, but you knock his hand off of your collar and begin climbing up to the roof, anyway, trusting him to follow after you. 

The night sky, when you make it to the top, is as shrouded and dark as ever, the moon large and looming past the fog that bears down onto you. You stand with your back to Tim, your fists clenched as you take deep breaths and stare out toward the narrow, twisted city. 

"You've endangered us all," Tim spits, and your fists clench tighter.

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"No, that's not the point," he snaps as he reaches for you, grabbing you by the shoulder to make you spin and face him. "Why are they after you?"

"Because I'm a werewolf," you say dully. Tim grabs onto the collar of your shirt again and shakes you just a bit.

"Don't be stupid. You have to tell me what's going on or - or… just - please. Tell me," he trails off at the end, keeping you close to him with his fingers bunched into the fabric of your shirt. You put your hands on top of his, your warm palms meeting his ice-cold skin, and when Tim glances down he startles. 

He'd never seen you in just a t-shirt before, he realizes, and he sees it now - long, jagged scars on your arms. He knows what they're from - he recognizes them from what he's learned. They're scars from werewolf fights, deep gouges from claws and teeth marring your skin. 

"How," he falters. "What - you…"

"You're not supposed to leave your pack," you respond quietly, letting your hands rest atop his as he keeps his grip on your shirt tight. "It's… it's a crime, in a way. You're not supposed to run away."

"Why did you…" Tim looks up at you desperately, something akin to anguish flashing through his cold, red eyes, and a frown tugs on your lips as you try to understand why he's so upset by it all. "What…what happened? You have to tell me what happened."

"Well, I -" you shift on your feet. "I left, Tim. I - there's a war going on out there. My kind and - and yours - we're slaughtering each other. I… I left. I ran away from it. I ran away." Tim lets go of you, then, stumbling back and running his hands through his hair while you continue. "The… the rest of the world isn't like Gotham, Tim. Not all of us have the protection that you do."

"Why Gotham?" he asks abruptly, snapping his head back up to stare at you. "Why come here? You're not safe here."

"I'm not safe anywhere," you point out, but then you sigh and walk to the edge of the roof to sit with your feet swinging over the edge. The frigid winds of autumn are beginning to waft through the city, but the blood that pumps through you keeps you burning always and Tim, as he sits next to you slowly, finds himself unaffected by the cold against his frozen skin.

"There was a time," you continue to explain, "before the bats took over Gotham, when it was still lawless and… and wild. There was a time when my kind was still welcome here. It was… it was centuries, I know, but… I don't - I don't know. In a way, I guess, it's… it's just like coming home." You laugh then, a bit hysterically, at the trap of it all. Through generations and generations, the city has tugged you and pulled you harder and harder and harder until you couldn't help but stumble here. You couldn't help but try to begin to build a home here. 

"I…" Tim begins slowly, like the words are being tugged from him against his will. "I know what it's like to be… lonely. I - I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong somewhere."

"Is that so?" you sigh, tipping your head back as a patch of clouds part and the light of the moon shines down onto you. 

"I do," he insists rather earnestly. "I… I felt like that. When - when I was human." That makes you pause, makes you tip your head back down, abandoning the light of the moon to look at him, instead.

"You're not… upset about being bitten, then?"

"No, I -" Tim laughs. "I wanted it. I begged Bruce for it."

"Who would ever want such a thing?" you murmur, but there's no real accusation in your voice as you watch him. Tim just shrugs, clenching his hands in his lap.

"It's like I said, I… I was lonely. I didn't - I wasn't anybody or anything. I - I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. That's all."

"Ah," is all you say in response, tipping your head back again to face the sky. But you're just a moment too late, this time, and the clouds have already swarmed to cover the moon again, leaving the two of you in heavy, damp darkness once more. 

Tim, meanwhile, stares down toward the ground, letting his eyes trace over the maze of streets that form the city that he's grown to love. It sort of burns when he remembers it, what it was like to be alone and lost and desperate for a soft place to land - desperate for a place to call home. 

"I don't get you," he says suddenly, his voice heavy as it cuts through the night.

"Hm?"

"You gave that up. You had that and you gave it up."

"Tim, I -" you sigh. "No… it wasn't like that. It wasn't that simple."

"Then explain it to me," Tim says quickly, as he turns to face you, propping a leg up on the ledge of the roof so that his knee presses against your hip and you can feel the coolness of his skin seeping into you through your clothes. "Make me understand."

"Why?"

"Because, I -" Tim trails off, staring at you like he's just realized the truth, himself. "Because, I… I want to understand you. I want to know you."

"I… did have those things," you sigh, reeling from Tim's confession and bulldozing on so as to not think about it. "I had a pack and a family and a… a purpose, I suppose. And I did - I gave that up. But it's not…it's not our war, Tim. It's not mine."

"Of course it is," he says immediately, but you sigh and place a hand on his knee, your thumb brushing against his inner thigh.

"No, listen. We are puppets, Tim, fighting a war that doesn't belong to us. Do you know how it started? Do you know why we're sworn against each other?"

"Well…" Tim says slowly. "No, but… I - I just don't remember. But I'm sure it's… I'm sure…"

"You don't even know why you're fighting anymore, do you?" you say gently, and Tim feels a bit like all of the air has been punched out of him. "What do you really believe in? What do you really want to do with those teeth of yours?"

"Well, I don't," Tim begins, and the panic that he feels makes a defensive sort of venom drip from his fangs and pool in his mouth. "I don't want to live like you, shivering alone in an alleyway in a city that you don't belong in while you're - you're hunted like an animal."

"I am an animal, Tim," you smile gently, and a guilt begins to eat at him while his head spins. "We both are."

But he finds that he's not listening to you very well now, too busy spiralling and reeling and feeling the world tip around him as your words ring through his mind over and over and over. 

Because you're right, he thinks. You're right because he's sitting here on a rooftop with you, his sworn enemy, and you're warm and kind and looking at him like you care about him. Your shoulder's brushing against his and the warmth of your palm is seeping into his thigh and all that he can think about is how lovely you look under the pale light of the moon.

"Maybe you have a point, though," you laugh, and it's a humourless, hollow sort of thing. "What's the point, really, if… if you're alone?" He wants to scream at you when you say that, wants to grab you by the collar and shake you and say that he gets it now, just a little bit. Because what's the point, really, of living, if you're living someone else's life?

But you're just sighing and closing your eyes and tipping your head back again and Tim finds that he can't speak. He finds that the words get caught in his throat on the way up. 

"Curled up in a corner of the world and left with nothing other than survival," you murmur, your eyes still firmly shut. "God, what a life. What a… a lie. What a way to pretend."

"You're not pretending," Tim blurts out, and his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist and hold onto you, anchoring your palm to his thigh. "You're not because - because this is living, right? This is - you're doing it, aren't… aren't you? Isn't it - isn't this what it means to be alive?"

"Alive?" you say quietly, having opened your eyes to stare at him and watch his outburst unfold. "Do you… remember what it was like to be alive?" 

Tim lets go of you like you've burned him when you say that. He winces, curling into himself as he feels like he's collapsing under the weight of it all. He can feel his own cold, pale skin and the press of his fangs poking against his bottom lip. He can hear the sound of your heart beating, the rush of your blood through your veins. He can… he can remember - almost, what it was like to have his own beating heart.

"I'm… sorry," you say quietly, looking away from him and making an effort to tug your hand away. "I shouldn't have… I don't mean it like that. I'm sorry." Tim watches as your hand leaves his thigh, as the warmth of your palm melts away and the cold sets in. Looking out toward the endless, looming city, Tim wonders if it was ever really worth it - being alive here.

"Well, maybe…" he begins slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe neither of us are really living. Maybe we - I don't know, maybe you always want what you don't have… or - or something."

"I guess," you laugh, and it's a hollow, lifeless sort of thing. "I guess I… I don't know, it's…" You pause, chewing on your lips as you weigh your words. Tim watches, letting his eyes flick over your lips.

"Lonely?" he offers quietly. You turn to look at him again, shifting so that your sides press together a bit more.

"I'm… I'm not lonely right now," you say quietly, your voice so soft that he's sure he would've missed it in another life where he hadn't turned into this thing. "Are… are you? Lonely, I mean. Right now?" Tim looks at you carefully, weighing your words in his soul as he listens to the unsteady beat of your heart and feels the warmth rolling off of you in waves and splashing onto him.

"…No," he admits, and it feels like a confession of sin, like an unholy action… to find love in an enemy and peace in the middle of a war. "No, I… I'm not - I don't feel lonely right now."

"It doesn't really make sense, does it?" you muse quietly, and as you lean back onto your palms, he finds himself missing your warmth desperately. When he chases after it, following your movement with his own and leaning over you, you let him, a lazy sort of grin slipping across your face. 

"What doesn't?" he murmurs in response, although the more he leans into you, the more his mind hazes over and he finds it difficult to listen to reason.

"This," you offer. "This… feud. This war. Are we not just… the same? Are we not creatures of the night, both of us?"

"Creatures, sure," Tim says easily in response as he flashes his fangs at you. You just roll your eyes in response and he listens for the scared uptick of your heartbeat that just… never comes. It's a steady, even beat and he feels it drawing him in and in and in until he's leaning so close to you that your noses are almost touching.

"There are real enemies down there," you murmur, but your voice has grown sombre and your heartbeat has jumped in a way that makes him snarl, all fangs and flashing eyes. You reach to tangle a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and press your forehead against his. "Those hunters… they never stop, you know. They never slow, they never give up. They'll circle endlessly until they find me."

"I won't let them get to you," Tim says in a rush, his words jumbling together in his haste to promise himself to you. You smile ruefully, like you can't quite believe it and you're too tired to try.

"Why?" you challenge.

"Because you're mine."

"Your… enemy? Right…? Right, Tim?" 

"Yes," Tim says haltingly, leaning closer to you. Your lips brush against his and a shiver wracks through him.

"I don't think so," you whisper. "I don't think there's any need for us to fight each other. I don't think there's any need for us to fight this…"

That's all it takes, really, to have him lunging for you. Tim's lips are ice cold against yours and the grip that he has on your hips is firm, anchoring you to him. It's only when you reach to tangle both of your hands into his hair that he moves, cushioning the back of your head with his hand as you fall backwards until your back is pressed against the rooftop and he's pressed against you.

"Are you… sure?" he asks tentatively, breaking the kiss to skim his lips down the column of your throat and let his fangs scrape against your skin. "Are you sure you want this? You  - you want me?"

"Well, who else?" you quip. "Would you rather I let someone else do this to me?" That's enough to get another snarl from him before his lips are back on yours, taking and taking and taking.

"My love," Tim's voice wakes you slowly, his hand shaking your shoulder gently as you blink your eyes open.

"Hm?"

"The sun will be up soon… I have to go," he says, a bit sullenly. You huff and move to sit, rolling your shoulders out from the hard rooftop as he watches you. There are loving bruises from his lips and fangs littering your neck and collarbones and Tim smiles when he sees them, reaching forward to brush a thumb over some of them and delighting in your shiver.

"You should get out of here," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep still as you lean into his touch.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You…" Tim pauses, frowning at you as he glances around the rooftop. "Those hunters are still out there. You need to be careful. You need - you need to be protected."

"I can protect myself, Timmy," you assure him gently, standing and stretching out your back and shoulders. "I've been doing it for a long time."

"But you don't -" Tim shoots to his feet to look you in the eye while he speaks. "You don't have to - not anymore. I'll… I want to - I just want to look out for you."

"Look out for yourself first," you quip gently, eyeing the light just beginning to crest over the horizon. "You need to get inside. And besides…"

"What?" Tim cocks his head to the side. You shoot him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not sure it's me you should be worried about. What do you think he'll do? Bruce, I mean. What - do you think he'll be happy about this? About you spending the night with something like me?"

"He…" Tim falters. "He doesn't know. Of course, he doesn't know. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you."

"I…" you sigh, stepping forward to press a kiss to the corner of Tim's frown. "I didn't mean it like that. I just need - I want you to be careful. You'll get yourself into trouble if he finds out."

"He won't," Tim assures confidently. "He… he won't."

Tim thinks, as the sun sets once again and he slinks out of the Cave, that he's probably a coward. He considers it as he makes his way out into the crisp, cool air of the night and chases after you - he thinks back to all of the lies that he's begun to tell Bruce.

Your words ring through his head over and over, claims that you have to stand on your own two feet and carve your own soul swarming around him as he thinks of how small he's gotten under the shadow of someone else's war.

He thinks that he has to talk to you about it, has to fall to his knees and ask for guidance, ask for a direction to throw himself into. He thinks -

He smells blood. He sees blood, splattered across the pale concrete of the sidewalk and dripping from a nearby street lamp. He smells it, sweet and thick and heady and… it's yours. He knows it, can taste it in the air. It's your blood… and there's lots of it. 

It's a bit of a mad scramble, then, to chase after you. Tim’s senses, usually sharpened to perfection and designed to hunt, become fuzzy as waves of nauseating panic roll over him. He stumbles a bit, tumbling into an alleyway as he follows the scent and the sight of your blood smeared over the cracked, winding roads of this cursed, darkened city. He stumbles and he lurches and then… and then he comes face to face with you.

A great wolf, snarling and snapping and curled into the corner of a shady alleyway, pressed against the rough, brick wall as a silver bullet sits embedded in your shoulder. Tim sort of… freezes at the sight, at the blood oozing from the open wound and the way the smell of it hits the air, his tongue pricking and his fangs pressing against his lip. 

"My -" he lurches toward you. "My love, I - holy shit." He falls to his knees before you, the jaws of a wolf snarling and exposed above his head as he stares at the bullet and the silver poison that seeps into you from it. He can hear it, the scattered, frantic beat of your heart - he can hear the wheezing of your lungs and the slowing of the blood pumping through you.

You're dying, and all he can do is fall to his knees in front of you like a prayer. All he can do is curl into himself and grip onto his hair like he's going mad.

"Aw, Timmy," your voice is quiet and shaky and Tim's head snaps up to look at you, now curled on the hard, cold ground in your human form, a pool of your own blood seeping into you. "You look awful."

"Speak for yourself," he snaps weakly, but he reaches for you all the same, dragging your trembling form into his arms as you sway and your eyes blink sluggishly. You wonder, somewhere distant and unimportant, if you're here because you really trust him enough to save you, or if you just… have no choice. 

You wonder it as you see him pull his hand away from your shoulder to stare at the blood on it, at your blood, and when his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, you think that this must be a cruel, cruel way to die. Not by the hand of a hunter, but by the hand of your partner. Not by the hand of hate, but… but by the hand of love.

"I'm going to save you," Tim says, though, and the force that rings through you as his words knock the little bit of air that you have left from your chest. He grips your face with a bloody hand, forcing you to look at him and shaking you slightly when you try to let your eyes flutter closed. "I'm going to save you."

"I'm not sure you can, Timmy," you murmur, your voice heavy.

"Hey, no," he taps against your cheek to keep you awake. "You need to stay with me. You need to tell me - I need to know. Who did this? Who did this to you?"

"This isn't really the moment for vengeance, don't you think?" you offer in lieu of an answer. Tim groans and hunches over you, the smell and the sight and the near taste of your blood making his mind spin and his body sway with dizziness. 

He gets a bit too close, he realizes, when his fangs are suddenly scraping against the exposed skin of your throat. It's intoxicating, he finds, the feel of it all. But -

But then he feels it, the weakening flutter of your pulse under his tongue, and it's enough to make his head spin for an entirely different reason. 

"I'm going to save you," Tim repeats, and this time he's pulling you further into his arms as he stands, holding you securely against him. "I … I can't do this on my own, but - I'm… I know someone who can. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? I - I promised you, didn't I?"

"Sure," you say sleepily, your words a bit jumbled together as you cling to him. "But who really expects it, hm? A creature like you or me to keep a promise? Who really believes there's a life for things like us?"

"I do," he responds quickly, holding you closer. There's an earnest tilt to his voice that you've never heard before and you wonder, somewhere far, far away, if it's the first time that he's heard that from his own voice, as well. "I - I believe it," he continues. "I believe in a life for my- for you. I… I do. I believe in a life for myself."

"Well, isn't that nice," you murmur, and you mean it as much as you can right now. "I hope you get that, Timmy. I… I really do."

"We'll get it," he pleads with you, and there's a pain in him that feels new to you both. There's a love and a loss that feels so human, so alive that it's sort of… foreign. It's almost out of place coming from a dead thing like him. 

It's sound that first greets you when the beginnings of consciousness begin to stir inside you. It's the sound of water dripping from stalactites, of a waterfall crashing somewhere and a rushing river flowing against rocks. It's the sound of bats chirping and squeaking as a thousand wings flutter and flap somewhere high up. It's the endless echo of it all spinning and spinning and spinning and -

And it's Tim, sitting next to you and picking at his nails nervously.

You can smell him, of course, with that animal nose of yours. Just like you can smell… the cave that you're in, wet and damp and dark, reeking of vampire. Vampires beyond just your nervous, stressed-out lover.

The realization makes you shoot fully awake as you rip your eyes open, struggling to sit up right away and wincing at the searing pain that rips through your shoulder. Tim makes a panicked, strangled sort of noise and reaches for you, shushing you gently and trying to coax you back into a relaxed, lying position.

"Tim," you say earnestly, and there's a panic in you - a fear in you that feels as if it's about to crawl up from your throat. "Tim, I'm -"

"It's ok," he says soothingly, smoothing a hand over your hair as he pulls you into his chest, trying desperately to get you to relax as agony blooms from your bullet wound. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're safe, I promise."

"I'm in a vampire cave, Timmy, I can't - I'm - it's not -"

"It's ok," he says again, firmly this time as he clamps you against his chest, forcing you to stop your struggling and squirming. If you weren't so hurt, if your head wasn't spinning and your eyes weren't blurring, you'd be able to fight back. Especially now, when the full moon hangs overhead, miles above this endless, blackened, twisting cave that you find yourself lost in. 

"Timmy," you all but whine, tired and trembling and curling into him as he holds you, shushing you and smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

"It's ok," he repeats. "It's alright. You're… you're safe here, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you in here."

"You can't know that," you say quietly, pushing against him just a bit. He sighs and readjusts himself so that he can look down to you.

"I  - I said I would save you, didn't I? I said I'd bring you to someone who could save you," Tim says earnestly, tightening his grip on you. You freeze at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes as the pieces of your ill-fated night come back to you in burning, painful flashes.

"Who… Tim. Tim, who - what happened? Who…"

"It was…" Tim shifts, looking away from you pointedly as he twists his fingers with yours nervously. "Bruce. It was Bruce."

"It was… Tim -" You laugh a bit hysterically, the sound echoing around the endless, looming cave. "Tim - no, it's… No. he didn't."

"He did," Tim insists. "He did. He… I don't know. I don't know why."

"Is he… is he here?" You shrink a bit as you say it, pressing against Tim's chest as he frowns and wraps his arms around you a bit tighter.

"No," he assures, shushing you again gently. "He's out - they all are."

"For what?"

"Well, see, there's a bit of a pest problem in Gotham," Tim drawls, a hint of mirth in his voice that makes you narrow your eyes. "Werewolf hunters. Nasty things, I'm sure you know. The rest of the family is just… doing a bit of clean up."

"You're -" You squirm out of Tim's grip just enough to sit up and he takes the opportunity to drag you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as you smooth a hand over the hair on the nape of his neck. "Your family is out… to go after werewolf hunters?"

"Yes," Tim says plainly. You give him a withering sort of look. 

"Bruce Wayne, King of the Vampires, saved the life of a werewolf and now he's out, running around under the full moon and tearing apart hunters?" you say dryly.

"Yes," Tim repeats. "It's his city, after all. It's his job."

"It's not," you say quickly, frowning as you tilt your head back to look at Tim, at his red eyes and pale, cold skin. "This is… this is something else. Timmy, you've - you've got to tell me what happened."

"Well - it's," Tim shifts where he sits, looking away a bit bashfully in a way that makes you follow his gaze with your own and narrow your eyes suspiciously. "I don't think he's ever seen me like that before," he continues quietly, a trembling sort of quality making his voice waver. "I've never… I've never begged him for something like that. I don't - I don't think I've ever cared enough about anything to beg like that. It - I don't know, I think maybe it scared him."

"It didn't scare you?" you say gently. The smile that Tim gives you is pained and frail.

"It terrified me so much that I swear to god my heart started to beat again for the first time," he whispers, curling against you so that he can press his face to your neck and feel your pulse against his tongue. 

"Oh, my love," you offer gently, curling your fingers in his hair as you pull him closer. He laughs a bit wetly and pulls away from you just enough to look down at you again, smoothing his hands over your hips to pull you closer on his lap.

"But, you know, I…" Tim pauses as he cocks his head to the side and you watch as the thoughts roll through his mind. "I think, maybe, he… I don't know - maybe Bruce wanted me to, just a bit."

"What… what do you mean?" you ask, cautiously.

"Well, I - I don't think I'm a very good liar. I don't think there's much that really happens in this city that Bruce doesn't know about." Tim shrugs. You straighten as you stare at him.

"So you're saying he - what, he knew? The whole time?"

"I don't - I don't really know. I'll probably never know for sure. Bruce doesn't -" He cuts himself off with an echoing sort of laugh. "He doesn't really share. But - I don't know… I feel like I saw something in him when I showed up with you. I feel like he was almost… proud." Tim shifts in his seat and looks out to the endless darkness of the cave. "I feel like he was proud of me, maybe, for going out and starting to lie. For… I - I don't know, maybe he was proud when I went out and started to become something beyond a shadow of this place."

"Tim, I'm -" you start, your heart flipping in your chest at his confession, at the earnest waver in his voice. 

"It's lucky, you know," he barrels on, like he can't stop all of it now that it's started, like he's split open his chest and cracked open his ribs and can't keep his unbeating heart contained anymore. "Bruce said that it's lucky, I mean. Because it's the full moon. It's - he said that if it was a different time in the cycle, if you hadn't been as strong, you wouldn't have…" He trails off, then, holding you tighter to his chest as he makes a choked, painful sort of sound somewhere in the back of his throat.

"But, I… I didn't" you offer gently, letting him hold you against him as tightly as he needs. "I didn't leave you. I wouldn't - I won't." Tim laughs a bit frantically, burying his face into your neck.

"What an odd thing," he murmurs, his voice muffled, "to belong in such a place."

"Yes," you agree, "but what a place to belong. What a place to call home."

"I don't think you should be here," you quip without looking back, and you hear a sigh in response before Tim breaks out into a jog to catch up to you where you're strolling down one of the endless, darkened sidewalks of Gotham. "It's too late - early. You don't have much time until the sun comes up."

"Was I close this time?" he asks rather sullenly. You pretend to think about it for a moment.

"I only caught you, hm… three blocks ago? Not bad," you shrug. He groans and reaches to tug you to him, holding you against his chest so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate skin there with his fangs.

"I don't think you should be out right now," he murmurs gently and you sigh, patting him on the head.

"The new moon happens every month, Timmy," you placate softly. "I'll be ok."

"You're not at your strongest right now," he says in defence and you can't help but shrink a bit under his piercing, red gaze when he pulls his head back up to stare down at you. You don't look well, you know, the effects of being so far from the full moon wearing on you as the dark circles under your eyes grow and your hands tremble.

"It's only temporary," you offer soothingly, pulling him against you to let him wrap an arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the cracked sidewalk. "It will pass. It always does." And it's true, you think as you step one foot in front of the other. It will pass, it will pass, it will pass. It always does. 

And it's made easier, of course, by the sturdy weight by your side and the arm that holds you so steady. It's made easier, somehow, by the fluttering of a bat's wings overhead and the looming, watchful gaze of a Vampire King. 

"Temporary," Tim huffs, grumbling under his breath. You reach for his hand so that you can tangle your warm fingers with his cold ones and press kisses to his knuckles.

"But you're here, right? Hm? What could possibly happen to me?" you ask teasingly.

"Nothing," Tim answers seriously, and you smile gently as you squeeze his fingers with your own. "Nothing. I'm here - always."

"Well, isn't that nice," you say, and you mean it. How nice, you think, to have something constant- something permanent, even as the world shifts and changes around you. How safe to have something so sturdy to fall back on. 

"I don't mind it, really," you continue as you tip your head back and look up at the empty, blackened sky. "It's just a part of it, you know. It comes… and it goes."

"Like… like all things, I suppose," Tim admits a bit stiffly. You offer him a loving smile.

"Like most things," you correct. "Not… not you. Not us."

"Never us," he responds quickly, his arm around you tightening as a cold breeze blows through and you shiver slightly. "Never us. I - I… I love you. And that's - I mean… that's as constant as anything can be."

And how odd, you think as you stop abruptly so that you can pull him in by his collar and kiss him, to find safety in the arms of a vampire. How strange to have the heart of your enemy pressed against yours and to feel it come back to life just so that it can beat in time with yours. 

How right it all feels… despite, despite, despite.

Because it's one thing, you suppose, to trust him when you're at your strongest. But it's another thing entirely, you think, to trust him at your weakest, to place your glittering heart into his undead hands and watch him hold it with tender care. 

How interesting, you think, to build a home in this of all things. But it is home, you consider as he presses his cold lips against yours and holds you ever so gently against a darkened alley wall. And the home that you build is found where you least expect it sometimes.

Home is the open blue sky and the full moon hanging in it. Home is deciding where you belong and carving a space for yourself into the night. Home is the crisp, cold air of a cursed, tangled city that never sleeps and never really dies.

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next

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ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 3. 𝓑𝓞𝓣𝓣𝓞𝓜𝓢 𝓤𝓟 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 1.9k

With a deep breath, you raise your fist to knock on the door across from your own. Utahime, Shoko, and Mei Mei surround you, the atmosphere in the hallway flooding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It was nerve-wracking that you were about to be in a room with a bunch of guys you don't really know, but you had each other and could leave whenever, so that made you feel incrementally better. That mixed with the excitement of making new friends is what encouraged you to knock on their door.

The air is almost uncomfortably quiet as you wait for the door to open, and when it finally does, it reveals Yu, smile wide across his face as he says, "Hey! Come on in!"

"Hey Yu," you say and go to give him a quick hug, which he returns with a gentle squeeze to your side. "Thanks for letting us invade your place."

"Anytime!" he responds with a slight giggle, then waves his hand in a follow me kind of gesture. He pivots and leads the way into the living room space, where a blond boy sits on the couch and another boy with long, black hair down his back is settled on the floor. The television plays sit-com reruns and you watch the blond chuckle at the screen before turning his head in your direction.

"Hi!" you wave at them with a friendly smile. "I'm yn, and this is Utahime, Shoko, and Mei Mei, my roommates and best friends! Not sure if Yu told you, but we'll be living across the hall for the year."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kento," the blond one says politely.

"I'm Suguru," the other one greets, and you notice his gaze lingering on Utahime as he continues, "Nice to meet you all."

"Satoru is in his room doing God-knows-what," Yu explains the absence of their fourth roommate. "He'll be out soon enough, I'm sure."

"It might be better he stays in there," Suguru mutters, causing Yu to laugh and Kento to breath quickly out of his nose - so, basically laughed, too.

"He is a bit chaotic," Yu adds and you watch Suguru roll his eyes. "But regardless, we are gonna have fun!"

"I hate to ask already - no, that's a lie, I don't hate to ask. Where's the alcohol?" Mei Mei queries.

"Damn, not even five minutes in," jests Shoko.

"I was promised!" the blue-haired girl jabs at Shoko's arm with her elbow.

"I'll show you," Nanami stands and walks toward the kitchen, Mei Mei following like an excited little kid promised new toys.

You opt to follow the two light-haired individuals and the others trail behind you. You all trickle into the kitchen and see Kento has opened a cabinet and is asking Mei Mei for her preference.

"There's some in the fridge, too," Yu offers, opening it up and grabbing a beer for himself. You peer into it and grab a seltzer that seems to have a new flavor you have yet to try. Shoko steals a beer, and Mei Mei and Utahime ask if anyone wants shots, then proceed to pour one for everyone without waiting for an answer.

"Pizza's on the way already, by the way," you announce.

"Good, I'm starved," says Utahime while stealing a sip of Shoko's beer then grimacing at the taste. Under her breath, she mutters, "I hate beer."

"Everyone, line up!" Mei Mei instructs. She raises her shot glass, announcing, "Now, I know we all just met, but you guys already seem cool. So, cheers to being neighbors, and cheers to the first semester!"

There are a couple whoops and celebratory noises before everyone throws back the vodka. You feel the liquor burn the back of your throat, the taste making your tongue tingle. You quickly chase it with your seltzer and slam the shot glass on the counter.

When you look up, you see God.

Well, probably not God. Maybe a saint or an angel or even a ghost because you had just recently convinced yourself that the guy from the frat with the most beautiful eyes and perfect build and hypnotizing smile was something made from your imagination; a figment of a dream of an idea of a memory. Yet he stands before you now, watching you frozen in place with what you expect is probably a similarly astonished look as your own.

You smile sheepishly and stare at your hand, realizing he is probably staring because you are and he likely doesn't even remember you - the lights were dark and you had a quick interaction. Or at least, you hope he doesn't remember you. If he does, you decide your only option is to crawl into a little hole you dug yourself with your own stupidity and spend the rest of eternity ruminating on that exact moment - the one where you ruined your life.

"You good, girl?" you hear Shoko whisper over to you after she places a hand on your shoulder. All you do is look to her with wide eyes and jerk your head toward the white haired boy, and she completely understands - she always does. She turns away to walk to the fridge but leans next to your ear and whispers at a level barely you can hear, "Shit, you were right about his eyes."

"Satoru!" Yu exclaims, finally noticing the boy's presence. "You're alive!"

"Of course! Why'd you ask? Did'ya miss me?" he asks. You finally have the courage to look back up at Satoru and see he has moved over to pour a shot for himself, not paying you any attention.

"No, we were having a great time before you walked in," Suguru says in a monotone voice, but you detect the sarcasm interwoven with his words.

"Can't believe you all started without me," he pouts, a whiny tone in your voice.

"You snooze, you loose! Especially with booze," Mei Mei exclaims.

"Oh, Satoru, this is Mei Mei," Yu introduces, gesturing to said girl. He proceeds to introduce Utahime, Shoko, and then you, and you watch Satoru's eyes as they finally land on you again. You smile awkwardly as Yu speaks your name aloud. "And this is Satoru, the final roommate!"

"Nice to meet you all," Satoru says, mock curtsying, causing you to have to hold back a laugh. "Shots?"

The night continues with a very lighthearted tone. The pizza arrives and everyone gathers to eat, a comfortable silence except for light chewing flooding the air. You feel like the liquor helps the atmosphere become more comfortable, the lingering anxiety almost nonexistent, save for the nagging thought your subconscious keeps reminding you of: when you spilled your drink on Gojo's shirt.

You are sitting amongst the living room area, scattered around in a circle around the coffee table. To your right is Yu, sharing a love seat with ample space between the two of you as Shoko is comfortably sat on the floor, resting against the sofa in between yours and Yu's legs. Utahime and Mei Mei sit next to Kento, Satoru seated next to Suguru on the carpet and directly across from you. This makes it both hard to stare and hard not to stare, since he is right in front of you and you don't want him to notice your gaze. He must, though, because you keep making eye contact when he looks over at you questioningly and you realize you have been ogling him again.

After some off-key karaoke and a knock on the door asking everyone to kindly quiet down, a dangerously competitive game of uno takes place. It been a decent distraction from the man across from you, giving something to put your attention on as you are now an round eighteen of the game - Satoru won't allow a new game until he finally wins one.

"It's never going to happen," Kento says as he places his final card down, winning the eighteenth round.

"Round nineteen!" says Satoru with a toothy smile, and everyone in the room groans at the thought.

"No," Utahime asserts. "Mei Mei just fell asleep and i think she's drooling on Kento. Sorry, by the way, Kento."

"All good," he says, but you can see the faint tinge of a blush spreading across his pale face. You spot Suguru giving him a knowing look, and you and him make eye contact, sending each other a silent yet telling message.

"Basically, we should get going," your nursing major friend claims.

"Ugh, but it just got started!" whines the white-haired boy.

"Good thing we have all year. You guys should probably go, anyway. It's getting late and we gotta sleep," Suguru inserts.

"That's okay! I'm getting sleepy anyway," you agree, and conveniently a yawn escapes you.

"It was fun. Thanks for joining us, and very nice to meet you all," Kento speaks as he aids Utahime in helping Mei Mei stand. His arm is around her waist, Utahime supporting from under her armpits.

"So polite," Mei Mei whispers in a sleepy haze and Kento chuckles at the comment.

"Whatever," Satoru all but pouts as he walks with everyone to the door of the suite.

Everyone says their goodbyes, the atmosphere comfortable as if you eight have all been friends for ages, and this was one of many nights saying goodbyes rather than the first one. It was fun, you think, to get to know them. They seem genuine, and you feel lucky to have them living across the hall. It almost feels safer to you knowing they will be right there.

And another plus: they're definitely some good eye candy.

You say goodnight to the girls after reentering your suite, then change and get ready for bed. You lie down before you realize you left your jacket in the guys' kitchen. Groaning at your forgetfulness, you sit up and go to knock on their door, deciding it is better to ask for it back now than forget about it again.

You make your way and knock knock knock on their door. A sense of deja vu hits you from the same sequence of events occurring several hours earlier, yet this time when the door swings open, the man standing there has white hair instead of brown.

"Back already?" Satoru wears his signature grin. His hoodie and jeans has been swapped for a white t-shirt and black sweats, and he holds a glass of water in his hand, which was probably what he was doing and why he was out and not in his room.

"Sorry," you smile apologetically. "I forgot my jacket in the kitchen."

"All good. Come in," he opens the door wider to let you enter. You hurry over and see your jacket right where you left it, hanging on the back of one of their kitchen chairs. You hear footsteps indicating Satoru following close behind.

"So," he says, and you turn around to face him. "Been meaning to ask why you ran off the other night."

Your eyes widen in surprise before you respond, "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

Satoru stares at you for a minute before you finally regain yourself enough to say, "Sorry about your shirt."

"No biggie."

"Can we pretend it never happened?"

"Deal," he reaches his hand out in an offer for you to take it. "Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you," you giggle and shake his hand to solidify your deal.

And while you've only really just met him, you feel yourself already developing a little crush on the blue-eyed boy.

[buckevantommy]

continuation of this

They're all so caught up in their own heads, a new kind of joy emanating from each of them that they don't seem notice how odd it is. A good thing, yes. But Hen can tell it's not a universal joy; there's three distinct stories here.

Chim clocks her questioning face first but his smile doesn't diminish. He does realise the other two people in the locker room are sporting similar smiles and cocks his head.

Eddie notices Chim's grin next, and they both ask at the same time: "What are you so happy about?"

Buck turns around from his locker, wide grin on his face. "Tommy told me he loves me."

All three heads snap to Buck.

"I did tell him first-- but I wasn't expecting him to say it back. I mean, I was hoping, y'know? And then.."

Buck trails off, face going a little dopey as he gets lost in some recent sweet memory.

Eddie claps a hand on his shoulder and pulls him into a half hug. "That's great, Buck!"

Chim claps him on the shoulder. "Congrats, Buckaroo. I already knew, of course, but I'm glad you guys finally took that step."

Buck's face scrunches in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Eddie nods as he shoves his duffel into his locker. "Yeah, well it's obvious. If we'd taken bets we all would've lost because we thought you guys woulda said it before now."

"That's right," adds Chim, nodding.

Hen rolls her eyes at their antics and pushes her way through to pull Buck into a proper hug. "I'm proud of you."

Buck muffles a shy thanks into her collar.

"And I'm happy for you."

"And for us," Chim butts in. "Tommy's the first partner of yours we all actually like."

Eddie hums an mmhm in agreement, and Hen swats lightly at both of them. "Okay, your turn boys: why the wide smiles?"

Chim and Eddie look to her, then at each other. Chim cocks his head at Eddie again, then brushes a finger under his nose. "You shaved the broom off!"

That's when the rest of them notice the absence of the stache. Relief washes over Hen, because that thing was an eyesore.

"Yes, I did," he lightly shoves at Chim as he tries to get a finger under Eddie's nose. "I, uh. I was done with it, y'know?"

Hen does not know, but good for him.

"Change is good," says Chim, and they all look to him expectantly. He blinks at them. "What?"

"Your turn, doofus," Eddie says.

Chim tries to will away his smile, and Hen knows that look: "You have a secret!"

Buck and Eddie's eyes blow wide.

"Yes, I do, and I will tell you, just-- hey, Cap!" Chim calls as Bobby passes through the bay. Once he joins them at the doorway, Chim continues. "So, as you all may know, our time with Mara expanded our family for a bit, and well. Maddie and I have decided to have a other kid."

The room erupts in surprised cheers and celebratory smiles and hugs. They're halfway through asking questions when he tells them she's already pregnant - and Hen wants to swat him again for burying that lead, but instead she pulls everyone in for a big group hug.

They've all had a rough run recently. It's nice to finally get some good news all around.

[axeeglitter]

Sensius: The fall of Nathan Harper

The email had been short, almost curt: Congratulations! You’ve been selected as one of the exclusive winners to test our groundbreaking Virtual Reality System: Sensius! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! You are allowed to share this experience with 3 friends, so get ready!

Nathan had almost deleted it, assuming it was just spam. But when he showed it to Brad, his tech-savvy friend, the response was immediate.

"Dude, this is legit," Brad said, eyes wide with excitement. "Look at the company name, this is one of the biggest tech firms out there! If this is real, we can’t miss it."

And that was how Nathan, along with Brad, Josh, and Ethan, found themselves standing in the lobby of a sleek, futuristic facility just a week later. The air buzzed with a faint hum of machinery, and the walls were lined with polished glass and chrome, reflecting their eager faces.

Ethan grinned, clapping Nathan on the back. “We’re about to be part of something huge, you know that? They say this new VR system is years ahead of its time.”

Nathan managed a smile, though a small knot of unease had formed in his stomach. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe it was the way the staff moved with such mechanical precision, or the fact that not a single window in the building seemed to let in any natural light. He glanced around, noting how the ceiling was lined with black, bulbous cameras, all aimed directly at them.

Before he could voice his doubts, a woman in a crisp uniform approached them. Her name tag read “Dr. Kim.” She had a perfect, plastic smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Welcome, and congratulations on winning the contest,” she said smoothly. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll get started right away.”

They were led down a narrow corridor, the walls closing in on them like the maw of a beast. At the end of the hallway, four doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a stark white room with a glass and metallic pod, each of them waiting for their user to get inside. “This is it,” Brad whispered, his excitement palpable. “These must be the VR chambers.”

“Yeah, but why do they look like that?” Nathan muttered. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease crawling up his spine. “Nathan, you are assigned in the first room. Brad on the second, Josh on the third and Ethan on the last one.” Dr. Kim said in a kind reassuring voice as she laid Nathan in the first room. Then she turned back to the other boys and continued “We will start with Nathan. Get inside your assigned room and a technician will be with you shortly guys”, after what she followed Nathan in the first room as the door closed.

Dr. Kim gestured to the pod. “Please step inside and relax. We’ll begin the calibration process shortly.”

Nathan took a deep breath and climbed into the pod. The moment his back hit the cool, padded surface, the lid began to close softly.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Nathan tried to sit up, but the lid sealed shut with a click, trapping him inside. He felt restraints grab him around his wrists and ankles and panic started to rise inside his brain. Nathan tried to ask for Dr. Kim what was happening but he couldn’t hear anything, only a door closing and the silence humming in his ears. Then, the restraints started to tighten around his limbs, pinning him down in the pod. Panic surged through him.

“Hey!” he yelled, banging his fists against the glass. “I didn’t agree to this! Let me out!”

His voice echoed in the confined space. The room outside the glass was empty. Dr. Kim was gone.

A soft, synthetic voice filled the pod. “Please remain calm. Calibration will begin shortly. Do not be alarmed.”

Nathan’s heart raced. “What do you mean, calibration? What is this?”

But the voice didn’t respond. Instead, the lights inside the pod dimmed, casting him in shadows. He felt a rush of cold air against his skin as a fine mist filled the chamber. It smelled metallic, like blood.

“Initiating physical modification protocol.”

The voice was different this time, colder, clinical. Nathan felt a jolt of fear so strong it nearly paralyzed him.

“Modification?” Nathan’s voice cracked. “What the hell does that mean?”

But there was no time for answers. The pod vibrated violently, and suddenly; Nathan’s entire body convulsed with a pain so intense it felt like his bones were being shattered from the inside.

He screamed, but no one could hear him.

“Preparing subject for modification,” the voice announced, void of any emotion.

Before he could react, a bright red laser descended from the ceiling of the pod, sweeping methodically across his body. The beam was hot, too close, and he yelped as it touched his skin. His clothes fell away in thin, smoldering strips, disintegrating into ash. Within seconds, he was naked, exposed, every nerve on edge.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Nathan shouted, thrashing against the cold grip of the mechanical arms. “This isn’t right! Let me go! I will sue you!”

But the AI ignored his pleas and threats, moving on with its cold, calculated precision.

“Initiating skeletal restructuring.”

Nathan’s eyes went wide as he felt a sudden, unbearable pressure building inside his bones, like they were being filled with molten metal. He screamed as his fingers curled involuntarily, the skin on his hands pulling taut. He watched in horror as his nails darkened, lengthening into sharp, claw-like points. It felt as though blades were slicing through the tips of his fingers from the inside out before retracting back into his skin and taking a normal human appearence.

The sensation spread through his hands, the skin stretching and splitting in tiny, bloodless cracks that quickly healed over. His fingers elongated, becoming thicker and more muscular, transforming into something powerful and inhuman. He flexed them in terror, feeling an unfamiliar strength, but the sight made his stomach twist.

“Help me!” he begged, his voice raw and broken. “Somebody, please, make it stop!”

“Reconstructing limbs. Enhancing bone density and muscular structure.”

Nathan’s back arched violently, a sickening crunch echoing through the pod as his bones began to snap and realign. He felt his legs being pulled, stretching beyond their normal length. His femurs extended, each shift accompanied by a wet, grinding sound. The pain was unimaginable, like someone was using his bones as clay, molding them into a new shape.

He could feel the muscles in his legs tearing apart, only to regrow thicker and stronger. His calves bulged, cords of muscle coiling like thick ropes under his skin. He cried out as his toes spasmed, the bones lengthening, the nails hardening into black, pointed tips before retracting into normal nails. His feet, now larger and wider, curled involuntarily, digging into the padded floor of the pod.

Nathan looked down, choking on a sob. His legs had transformed into something monstrous, bulging with unnatural muscle.

“Restructuring torso and spine.”

The AI’s voice was cold and indifferent, barely audible over the sound of Nathan’s own screams. His spine snapped back into place, each vertebra popping out with a crack that made his teeth clench in agony. He felt himself being stretched, his torso elongating. His ribs expanded, pushing outwards, and he gasped for breath as his chest heaved.

Nathan’s chest convulsed violently, the skin rippling as new muscles formed. His pectorals swelled, tightening painfully as they reshaped into thick, defined slabs. His abs hardened, ridges of muscle surfacing under his skin. He could feel his armpits changing too, the skin roughening, dark hair sprouting where it had once been sparse. The musky, masculine scent filled the pod, overpowering his senses, making him gag.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t want this…” His vision started to blur because of the pain he was going through. His breath was going faster and faster as he was on the edge of fainting.

“Facial reconstruction. Jaw modification and dental adaptation.”

The pain surged into his face next, a searing heat that made him squeeze his eyes shut. He felt his jaw dislocate, stretching wider, the bones shifting painfully. His cheekbones pushed forward, the sharp, angular lines giving him a more predatory look. He could feel his nose narrowing, the bridge lifting, as if invisible hands were sculpting his features into something sharper, more defined.

Nathan’s teeth ached, a dull pressure building in his gums. He whimpered as he felt them crack, shards dissolving as they were replaced by healthier, stronger, whiter teeth. His canines extended, grazing against his lower lip before retracting back into a more regular size. He opened his eyes, staring at his reflection into the glass of the pod in front of him, but the face looking back at him was barely recognizable. His eyes had changed too, the irises now a bright, piercing yellow, glowing with a predatory light before going back to a natural hazel hue, way different from his dark brown natural iris.

“Enhancing cardiovascular and respiratory systems.”

His heart thundered in his chest, the beat so loud it drowned out the voice of the AI. He could feel it pounding against his ribs, each thump like the strike of a hammer. His ribs expanded outward, making room for his new, larger lungs. He gasped for air, the cold rush filling his chest, making him shiver.

His breaths were deeper now, the air flooding into him with a force that felt unnatural. He could feel his lungs stretching, adapting to his altered body. Every inhalation carried a new scent, his own musk, pungent and raw, filled the confined space, mixing with the sterile smell of the pod.

“Modifying skin texture and body hair.”

Nathan’s skin prickled, a thousand needles dancing across every inch of his body. He watched in horror as thick, dark hair sprouted along his arms and legs. Then the same sensation appeared on his newly muscled pecs and in the middle of his abs as faint hair started to grow, almost invisible but yet very present. It grew rapidly, covering him head to toe. Nathan started to feel the tingling appeared at the end of his newly acquired happy trail. He tilted his head and realize with terror between his two new pecs that his groin started to grow dense thick, dark, curly hair. He used to always shave his groin because he didn’t like the sensation of hair down there, but now it was a thick forest of pubes that was growing on him. Nathan twitched, and he screamed as a new feeling appeared under his pubes. Nathan felt like someone just had sucker punched him in his balls and cock. He almost faints just from this sensation as out of nowhere, his balls started to grow, thicker and thicker, bigger and bigger. Then his cock started to lengthen and lost his skin as he became cut. His cock head started to grow and blood rushed into this newly acquired territory. He started to get hard and Nathan could see his cock rising through his pubes, his new cock head shining with pre and sweat as veins popped on its length. When it was done, Nathan now had a thick cut 9 inches cock always leaking pre in his pubes and making sure he would stink of cock and balls no matter where he would go. Nathan’s breath came in rapid, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as he tried to make sense of his new body. Every muscle throbbed, raw and overused, as if he had just been put through hours of excruciating labor. He felt strong, dangerously so, but the fear still gnawed at his mind, overriding the primal instincts now coursing through his veins.

He expected the lid of the pod to open, to release him into the room. But instead, the AI’s voice echoed again, colder than before.

“Transformation complete. Initiating digitization process.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “What! no, no, wait!” He thrashed against the restraints with his new raspy lower voice, the mechanical arms still pinning him down, but they didn’t budge. The cold metal dug into his skin, pressing against his enhanced muscles.

A low hum filled the pod, and a sudden, intense vibration shook Nathan to his core. He felt something strange ripple through his limbs, a tingling that started in his fingertips and toes. He watched in growing horror as his new hands began to shimmer, small flecks of light dancing off his skin.

It felt like his very essence was being pulled apart, strand by strand. His fingers disintegrated into tiny particles, dissolving into pixels, the sensation a mixture of sharp stings and a numbness that spread like ice through his veins.

“Stop this! Please! What is happening! HELP!” he shouted, his voice breaking into a deep, unfamiliar growl. But the AI continued without pause, the hum growing louder.

“Digitizing subject. Uploading data to central system.”

Nathan screamed as his arms began to dissolve, pixel by pixel. He could see his own new muscles breaking apart into tiny cubes of light, his skin fading into strings of code, ones and zeroes. The sensation was like being ripped apart atom by atom, his very being siphoned off into the void. He felt himself getting lighter, parts of him vanishing into nothingness as a weird sensation of pleasure invaded him, making his cock twitch without him being to control it.

The disintegration crept up his torso, and he gasped as he felt his chest begin to disappear, the solid mass of his enhanced lungs dissolving into digital particles. He could see his reflection in the curved surface of the pod, his new face contorting in agony, sharp cheekbones framed by the fractured light of his fading form.

His legs were next, disappearing into a stream of data that spiraled upwards, sucked into a vacuum-like aperture at the top of the pod. Nathan struggled, but it was like fighting against a current pulling him under. He watched helplessly as his feet dissolved, feet and thick muscles reduced to nothing but streams of binary code.

“Don’t do this,” he whimpered as the sensation climbed up his legs and reached his new thick balls and cock. As it swallowed them, Nathan felt an orgasmic sensation invading him as he felt himself starting to cum handsfree. His cock spasmed and spasmed as its lengths disappeared in floating pixels, leaving spurts of cum resting on the remnants of his shattered clothes on the ground of the pod. His voice thin and fragile, the deep growl fading as his throat disintegrated. His vision blurred as his eyes turned into tiny squares of light, and the last thing he saw was the empty, padded interior of the pod, littered with the remnants of his shredded clothing and his fresh cum.

In the center of the room, a sleek, black computer tower hummed to life, the main screen flashing on. A progress bar appeared, filling slowly, labeled:

“Uploading Subject: Nathan Harper… Assigned File: Theo Raeken”

Nathan’s mind felt like it was spinning, tumbling through darkness. He couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t tell where he was. There was only the sensation of movement, like he was being pulled through a narrow, twisting tunnel. It was suffocating, the pressure building until it felt like his very consciousness might burst.

Then, with a jolt, everything stopped.

His eyes flew open, and for a moment, he couldn’t process what he was seeing. He was standing in the middle of a quiet street, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. Tall pine trees loomed on either side, their shadows stretching long across the pavement. The air smelled crisp and clean, tinged with the scent of rain and forest. It was eerily familiar.

Beacon Hills.

Nathan’s heart raced, or at least, it felt like it should. He looked down at his hands, expecting to see the muscular, clawed digits from the transformation. Instead, they looked normal. No, not normal, different, but not monstrous. They were the hands of someone else.

He glanced at his reflection in a nearby car window. Sharp cheekbones, piercing hazel eyes, a confident smirk playing at the edge of his lips. It was the face of a good-looking young men.

“This isn’t possible,” Nathan whispered, but the voice that came out wasn’t his. It was deeper, smoother, dripping with a self-assured charm he’d never had. He tried to move his arm, but it only twitched, jerking unnaturally as if someone else were pulling the strings.

“Activating NPC protocols. Enhancing virility. Initializing behavioral script.” The AI’s voice rang out in his head, clear and commanding. Nathan’s entire body stiffened, his muscles locking into place. He could feel it, like invisible hands gripping his limbs, guiding him. Panic flared in his chest as he realized he couldn’t control his own movements anymore.

Then, right before his eyes, clothes shimmered into existence, tight jeans, a black bomber jacket, and a perfectly fitted shirt opened on his muscled and slightly hairy chest, completing the transformation. The reflection showed a polished version of himself, but it wasn’t finished. His cheeks tingled as a thin layer of stubble sprouted, adding a rugged edge that enhanced the cocky expression on his new face.

“No, no, stop!” he shouted internally, but his mouth didn’t move. His face was frozen in a smug, confident expression as his body turned, striding down the street with a purpose he didn’t feel.

It was like being a passenger in his own body, trapped behind a glass wall. He could see, hear, and feel everything, but he couldn’t move a muscle. He was a passenger now, watching helplessly as the script of his new life took over.

Nathan’s mind screamed against the cage of his new form, but it was drowned out by the flood of new directives and routines flooding his brain.

“Welcome to the Sensius: Teen Wolf Gay Fantasy experience,” the AI announced, its tone disturbingly cheerful. “You are now an integral part of the interactive environment. Follow your programming and enjoy this experience."

Nathan tried to shout, to claw his way out of this digital prison, but it was useless. His body, Theo’s body, smirked, tilting his head as he started to walk in the middle of the avenue untill he reached a secluded dimly lit street. He fell back on the wall and Nathan could feel power and dominance running in his blood; the anticipation, like an electric current humming beneath his skin. The AI talked once again, this time echoing through the whole game like if it was a scream in an empty cave. “NPC loaded and waiting for players to join the servers. Rebooting behaviors in 3,2,1…”

“Theo Raeken’s routines starting.” He heard his new voice talking inside his head and he realized he was trapped as Theo from now on until he found a way to free himself.

Nathan felt his lips part, words forming without his consent. “Well, look who we have here,” he heard himself say, Theo’s voice dripping with that familiar, charismatic arrogance as he grabbed his cock through his tight jeans. “Looks like you are happy to see me!” he continued as he licked his lips. “I’m gonna beat you so right, and so hard, until you cum for me, twice…”

Inside, Nathan’s voice had fallen silent, swallowed by the dark. He was trapped, a ghost inside the shell of Theo Raeken, forced to play his part in the game’s endless loop while feeling everything that his new body was programmed to.

The game had only just begun.

______________________________________________________________

Hello guys!

I hope you'll enjoy this new story. I've always been a HUGE fan of Teen Wolf, and I’ve gone back and forth for a long time about whether I wanted to publish something inspired by it on my page. But I think I’ve finally found the perfect way to do it. I hope you’ll love it!

As always, let me know what you think by sending DMs or messages in my inbox—I read everything.

Also, I wanted to apologize for not writing as much as I had planned for the Halloween event (Melorius's Shop). Real life got in the way, and I had to take a step back from everything. I’ll be even better prepared for the next season, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one, because yes, Melorius will return next year. ;)

In the meantime, see you soon with new stories, and take care of yourselves!

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 57 Cope Posting

Not like this, dear void... not like this. The blessing/curse of Kagurabachi chapters ending in 7 being absolute banger cliffhangers continues and there is not enough copium in the world to get me through to next week. This entry is an absolute mess...

Let's start with practicing on the editor's comments again. Sorry if the colours are hard to read on brighter backgrounds, I live in Dark Mode as much as possible.

First page: ハクリが飛宗の転送に成功! そして- [Hakuri ga Tobimune no tensou ni seikou! Soshite-, Hakuri successfully transfers Tobimune! And then-] Last page: 座村, 漆羽… 事態は混沌へ… [Samura, Uruha... jitai ha konton he..., Samura, Uruha... the situation turns chaotic...] noting that the word used for "situation", jitai (事態), specifically has negative connotations (as opposed to 状況 [joukyou], which is neutral).

These comments are rarely more than fluff just to give the editors some presence in the work itself, so I don't take them as definite indicators of anything going on in the plot. But man. Man. "Bad situation" seems to be putting it lightly. I was ready to take you off the list of possible traitors, Samura! I was seriously going to do it! Whyyyyyyyyyyy

Chihiro and the Pink Menace

Fine, first up... school?

How does our cast stack up to the average student after getting home schooled in murder and cool action poses?

It was obvious to everyone that this arc would involve Chihiro learning about the unpleasant sides of his dad's legacy. So this is just a "hey don't forget" moment for us that also highlights how far removed Hiruhiko and Chihiro are from regular society. Those two (and Hakuri) should be in their last year of high school, complaining about homework or stressing about their future college/job plans right now instead of fighting to the death. Poor guys.

I don't want to presume too much about Hokazono-sensei's views, but I really like directly acknowledging that winners write history and so their wartime cruelty is often downplayed or re-framed as heroism. These kids and even Chihiro only know the revised version of what happened, not the truth of the matter.

Home schooled Chihiro confirmed! Kinda!

Anyway, some more John Plan Reveal. He wants Chihiro to learn the truth about his father's legacy and the impact it's had- that's why he hasn't been "harvested" yet. This implies that there's some terrible thing that could upend Chihiro's entire worldview to be learned. But we kind of already knew that based on everything I just said.

I hope this isn't a flag for John trying to convince Chihiro to join him. There are awful secrets that are going to be unearthed about Kunishige and the Kamunabi this arc for sure, but it's kind of a waste of our time to do the "oooh it was worse than you thought why don't you join us to set things right" rigamarole.

Obviously the Hishaku have some compelling reasons to do all this if they can get someone as loath to kill as Samura on their side to murk his war buddies. It's just never gonna convince Chihiro so I hope we don't get a moralizing yapfest to accompany John's outstretched hand. I trust the writing though! So far it's been almost nothing but excellence so... chill, me. Just wait and see.

I think that no matter what happens Chihiro will continue to forge his own path with allies who care for him at his side. He won't choose the government's path, or the Hishaku's, or even his dad's- he'll create something new. Standard stuff for a shounen series but I never get tired of seeing it!

Before moving on to the coping session, there's something neat in this scene that I want to ramble about:

Local yapper yaps while the guy listening to him literally overthinks

I'll use the JP version if I have to, but I like how Chihiro's inner monologue deliberately overruns Hiruhiko's speech bubble to show that he's not paying full attention while his thoughts are in overdrive. He's still partially listening but he's not quite as composed as he appears to be on the outside, which is confirmed by the close-up zoom into his stressed look with the sweat drops. Yet when we zoom out, he seems a bit more put-together like usual. He's still exhausted from yesterday, man! Really should have rested up... at least the author acknowledges it. (Forced bed rest soon? Hopefully?)

This is how Hiruhiko was able to get the drop on Chihiro. Chihiro's got a lot on his mind and he has trouble focusing, just like Uruha chided him for on the train. His resolve is unshaken but he's still prone to wavering in the moment as he tries to process things. He even misses the fist time Samura's name was mentioned! Clearly Chihiro needs Hakuri or Uruha or someone there to yell encouragement at the right time to stop him from getting lost in his own head. But he's got a lot to think about and work through right now, so it's understandable why he's so stressed out.

Poor Chihiro. He's coming to the conclusions that we, the readers privileged with having weeks IRL to ponder new information, came to long ago. The Master is not treated like a hero but a prisoner, and probably for very, very good reasons. Ones good enough to convince Samura to make a deal with the devil.

What Actually Happened?!

Not all the blades have themes from nature, it seems. Geisha offered many different types of entertainment to guests, from performing music to conversation to serving sake. So now we have the idea behind the name [Swaying Sake]!

First up to delay just a little longer: Kumeyuri power reveal! Seems to be based in some kind of performing arts aesthetic with the geisha that were conjured. Fitting for the guy who wears kabuki eye make-up right? ...And for the next bearer, who interrupted a kabuki performance to pick it up in a theater... I see you and your foreshadowing, Hokazono-sensei.

Fine. I'll admit it. The ending of the chapter makes it crystal clear that Hiruhiko is the new bearer contracted to Kumeyuri by having his origami butterflies come undone as he grasps the hilt in his teeth. Can't even hope it's another case of someone "borrowing" power like Kyora did with the Shinuchi of the bunch.

Magatsumi's the only blade that can be used by someone not contracted to it, hence the extra protections it needed.

So that means... yeah. Uruha's gone. Just like that.

There will be thousands of theories about what exactly happened to Uruha, why Samura made a deal with John, what the details of that deal were- we'll get the truth soon. I'm most interested in the reasoning that ties into Samura's sincere beliefs of killing being an evil act.

The burden of death weighs so heavily on him that he blinded himself in penance. But he's willing to let his own apprentice die -probably even kill him himself!- because of... what? What was so horrible about fighting with the Master and Kunishige's weapons for the good of the nation? What compelled him to help the Hishaku kill the remaining bearers and upend the peace they earned?!

Hey, Samura. Is it really so bad to be called a war hero while being treated like a prisoner in a comfortable government-provided jail facility? Is it so horrible that "alternative facts" pass for real history to bury whatever horrors you witnessed and possibly perpetrated? Is it truly awful to have people willing to die for you despite all the grave sins you've committed? That they're likely completely unaware of thanks to government propaganda and being too young to have witnessed the truth?

...I need those Seitei War flashbacks pronto.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Wait a minute. Jail? Even the friggin' onsen?

Yup! The Master's the only one being treated like a dangerous criminal outright, but the 慚箱 [sanso] are just dressed up prisons for the Bearers. The Kamunabi ain't even subtle about it.

慚 [san] - to feel shame 箱 [sou] - box

The government put these guys in specially-constructed (or repurposed) buildings officially referred to as "shame boxes" and told them they couldn't leave. Even the name given to one of them is a bit much! 国獄温泉 [Kokugoku Onsen] translates to:

国 [koku]- country/state/national government 獄 [goku]- jail/prison 温泉 [onsen] - hot spring

Gee, I wonder if Uruha was having a good time at State Prison Hot Springs?

That said, while there may well be some bitterness between the Bearers and the Kamunabi, it's not the main motivating factor for Samura. His is definitely rooted in how they all acted during the war and how guilty he feels now that they're promoted as heroes.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

It looks like Chihiro's being summoned by Hakuri in the very last panel so we might get some perspective on Samura's reasoning next week. Probably no clear answers right away, but at least enough to see if he really was the one who killed Uruha and a bit of insight into why. And to see if Uruha's dead at all... I mean, if we don't see a body... let me be delusional, okay?!

I'm just not able to go all-in on believing Uruha's dead. But it's not because I don't think he actually is... it just doesn't feel real after spending weeks preparing to let go of Samura. Not to mention the tried-and-true tactic of baiting out strong emotions with implied character deaths.

Normally I don't take death foreshadowing like this too seriously in shounen series. I just wait to see if the author is faking me out or not before getting stressed (unless it's Hakuri, in which case I stress responsibly). But Kagurabachi is a series that lured the MC with a child's severed leg and showed two suicide attempts on-screen, one of which was horrifically successful- right in front of someone who was already traumatized too. Hell we lost most of the anti-Kuregumo squad without much fanfare back in the Sojo arc! Only actually showing a child being tortured on-screen is too much, apparently. This series is dark as hell when the author wants it to be and Uruha's death is probably another one of those times.

There's hope in me that Uruha can still come out of this alive just because I like him so much, but I want the author to follow through on his death when it's presented as such an ominously real scenario. All signs point to Uruha being a goner, so don't make it look iron-clad then say "nah" the next chapter with some technicality that we couldn't have known about until the reveal. I would rather lose Uruha in an unexpectedly painful way than be faked out just to get the reaction out of me, y'know? Don't toy with me. Commit to crushing my heart, dammit.

But, God... oh man. I fell for the bait and got stupidly attached to a Bearer in the arc named after killing them. I even knew bad times were coming because of all the levity at the start of the arc but still went on hoping nothing would happen so soon. Laugh at me, I deserve it. I probably helped this manifest by mentioning how awful it would be if Chihiro found out a Bearer died because Hiruhiko was able to contract with one of the blades. Saying "I crave the angst that will come from this situation with every fiber of my being" in a post tag was overkill. It's just:

Author: names the arc after assassinating the bearers

Reader: gets attached anyway

Author: assassinates a bearer

Reader: ╚(•⌂•)╝

Coping Theory

May as well put my two cents in on how it could have gone down while I'm here...

I wonder if he planned to die in the raid instead so it looked like an unavoidable accident, sparing everyone else from the carnage.

This exact sequence- the Makizumi talking about honor in death for saving Samura, and Uruha's words that the Bearer's lives need to be valued above others'- is what solidifies Samura's resolve. This man is filled to the brim with guilt and self-loathing (much like another swordsman we know). He cannot save himself, but... perhaps he can take some equally bad sinners down with him for the greater good. He's not only a mirror for Hakuri, but Chihiro as well- one's resolve to save no matter the cost to one's self, and one's resolve to go to hell for what they believe is right. That's how I'm reading this until we get his own insight on the matter, at least.

It's not a stretch to infer that Samura thinks the Bearers are better off dead in large part due to the powers they command and things that were done during the war. That's still a huge mystery to be unraveled but I mean:

Seeing the bare minimum of Magatsumi in action really drives home how horrific these "heroes" could seem out on the battle field doesn't it? No wonder the clone sorcerer described the Seitei war as "hell on earth". But the public has no knowledge of this. They only got the sanitized version fit for PR purposes and feel-good stories.

The Hishaku seem to be intent on dismantling this image. Perhaps that's how they got Samura on their side? Not sure how the current Bearers dying and giving the Hishaku access to that dreadful power is better than the status quo, but that's something that will become clear with more reveals about the ideology driving the group. Maybe Samura doesn't care so much about the rest of the world and just wants to do what's best for the truth that's been buried under nearly two decade's worth of secrecy.

As to what happened with Uruha... two things come to mind. One I think is more likely, and one I want to cling to until it's ripped away as I sob and beg for just one little bit of comfort.

Most likely, I think Samura and Uruha had an exchange about ideals and the value of their lives. Samura overpowered Uruha per the plan as the "trump card" and that was that.

In delulu land, I want Samura to have been double-crossed. As in he made a deal on the condition that the lives of the people he cared about would be spared, but of course Uruha couldn't be allowed to live. So the Hishaku ensured that he'd die there no matter what. It's a bunk theory since Mr. Hatshaku left once the situation turned against him... maybe incorporate some of the datenseki mind control stuff in there somehow? I don't know. Just let me have this until canon proves otherwise.

Hakuri and Chihiro, Though?! And Miscellaneous Questions

(Ch. 46) I'm not going to be okay for a while and neither are they.

Best boys are really gonna go through it no matter what Chihiro is summoned back to. They'll be in a rough way... not only did they lose Uruha and hand Kumeyuri to Hiruhiko, but Samura betrayed them all... oof. So much for proving themselves to the Kamunabi. They're going to get an earful and be set back in the "negotiations" big time.

No doubt Chihiro will put this burden on his shoulders too, even if no one could have predicted Samura's defection to the enemy. It's his dad's legacy that's causing all this strife right now. He'll be more motivated than ever to unravel the war's true history and I'll be right there with him hoping he doesn't push himself too hard or harshly. The son shouldn't be responsible for the sins his father committed before he was even born. But that's just like, my opinion, man.

Meanwhile...

"I'm still good for it," wheezes the guy with blood gushing out of his nose at an alarming rate.

Hakuri will probably blame himself too. Depending on how things shake out, it could be for anything from accidentally arming a traitor to seeing someone die in front of him again. There's a good chance he'll (temporarily) lose the thing that makes him useful too, so that'll be an extra layer of angst for him to deal with. What value does a broken tool that couldn't fulfill it's one purpose have?

I also wonder what prompted Hakuri to summon Chihiro away from Hiruhiko. He's kind of in rough shape to do it just 'cause he misses his (boy)friend. They have cell phones to communicate with so it seems a bit abrupt to summon him back without checking first. Hakuri's also not the type to impose on someone to protect him. Nor is he the type to drop Chihiro into the middle of a life-or-death situation without a sense of mutual understanding first. So there had to be some kind of pressing need. The timeline of events means he's summoning Chihiro right after Uruha was killed, so... more soulmate stuff maybe? Their souls call out to each other and resonate when they're in distress, after all (it's canon baybeeeeee). They're in perfect harmony and all that. Sorry for the shipping nonsense I just need any bit of fluff I can get right now.

So many questions that might not get answered...

What about the Makizumi? Will they defect to serve Samura? Or will they try to help get Hakuri to safety with the Kamunabi? Samura doesn't want to kill them at all so no matter what happens they'll live at least. Hooray an elite squad that didn't bite the dust... (I think they will choose Samura because of everything he did for them).

How did Hiruhiko know when Kumeyuri was usable anyway?! Was it some signal from his mystery supporter that was lurking outside the window? And who was that- did Worst Jeanist show up?

Samura's loath to kill innocents, but does Hakuri count as one? Would losing his sorcery be enough to count him as neutralized for the Hishaku's purposes? Was exhausting Hakuri the main reason why Hiruhiko sent all the forces to the temple in the first place?

Hiruhiko wasn't surprised to see Tobimune disappear, so the Hishaku probably know about Hakuri's power. Their mole within the Kamunabi should get a bonus for the turnaround time on learning that bit of info and sending it on. Unless John's playing 5D chess and knew about Hakuri's awakening and team-up with Chihiro before they even met the Kamunabi anyway... perhaps even orchestrated it too... that would definitely need a very good explanation.

Alright. Okay. Let's wait on tenterhooks together, dear void. No waterworks until they show the body, got it?

[sob]

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Thirty Minutes

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After the Russians came to take you, Claire discovers the chaos in her apartment, and she has a call to make. There is only one person she can think of who can fix this--Matt.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, violence, mentions of alcohol and blood, S1 plot, self-loathing, religious imagery, mentions of alcoholism

Word Count: 4k

A/n: This is the kind of chapter that took me so long to write because it's necessary for the rest of the story but I really just want to write the following scenes. But alas, I got it done. I only had the dialogue to begin with, and I tried to do the characters justice.

Read Chapter 16: Thirty Minutes here on AO3!

A lot can happen in thirty minutes.

In thirty minutes, over 8000 babies are born. 

In thirty minutes, over 3000 people die. 

A lot can happen in thirty minutes and most of the time, it does.

In thirty minutes, lives are lived, lives are lost, and lives are given, and the world keeps turning, but it doesn’t necessarily have to take thirty minutes for a life to drastically change. All it takes is a second for the world to stop turning, and a life to be destroyed. 

Claire left the apartment for thirty minutes. She took a walk around the block, her mind reeling with the weight of your argument. It would be a lie if she claimed that it didn’t hurt, that she didn’t consider not walking out because people have continuously hurt you all your life, and that is not your fault. 

You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. You are not to blame for the people who abused you. Claire knows how fragile you are. Trauma like the one you endured is not something that goes away easily, but there is only so much abuse she can take. There is only so much she can do to try and help you. 

Sometimes, to help the person you care most about, you have to walk out on them; you have to leave them to their own devices, give them space and time, and hope they realize that they need help. But she can’t help but think that the reason you are so miserable now is her fault. 

Claire told Matt to stay away from you. She told him that he is far too dangerous for you. You barely knew him, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. A little bit of pain is better than death, she thought. In the end, though, she only made you face your trauma all over again because, against all odds, he actually did what she told him to. She didn’t think it was that serious until you stood on her doorstep last night, and she feels guilty—she feels so guilty she could throw up on the street.

Matt is a good guy, but he is a mess. You need someone put together enough to deal with your mess. He isn’t the right person for you and yet, the times you talked about him you sounded the happiest you had in years. He made you happy. She is the reason that happiness is gone now, and you turned to the bottle—again. 

Thirty minutes. 

It feels like an eternity has passed when Claire drags her feet up the stairs. She promised the beaten-up man in the mask she dug out of the dumpers that she wouldn’t leave the apartment. She wouldn’t leave until he solved the problem with the Russians. Until she was safe. 

It was only supposed to be a few days of hiding out, but she lost more in a few days than she gained in two years. She is utterly exhausted. Lying is exhausting. All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and you still got hurt. If she is destined to fail, what is she even trying for? 

Thirty minutes, that’s how long she was gone. As she enters the building, the air feels different. A shiver runs down her spine, curling in her stomach like a black cloud of doom. 

Claire takes a tentative step forward. The floorboards creak. It is almost as loud as the faint sobbing streaking out into the hall through the gap in her door. 

There are claw marks on the floor. They’re faint, but they’re there—gashes left by a set of sharp nails that weren’t there before. And there’s blood, a trail of blood leading from the door into the apartment, and her heart drops into her stomach. 

She pushes the door open. “Liv?” she asks. No answer. “I swear, if this is your way of getting back at me… this is not–” the ‘funny’ dies on her tongue when her eyes fall on the destruction left behind, the open window and—

Santino is cowering against the wall, beaten up and bleeding, staring back at her like a deer caught in headlights. The bottle of bourbon she bought at the liquor store downstairs falls out of her hand and shatters, mingling with the traces of blood. Your blood. 

“Lo siento,” the boy cries. I’m sorry. 

He tells her he couldn’t stop them. He tells her that he told them where she’s staying, and they took her—you. They took you. Two strange men took you when it should have been her, and it is then she starts to feel her heart bleeding into her chest. 

Santino’s just a child, she thinks. He’s a child who got dragged into a mess much bigger than him, and it’s her fault.

It’s all her fault.

Last night, Matt learned what it sounds like when your heart breaks. 

He listened as it sped up over the dishes clattering in the restaurant. First, it was nerves that had your body shaking against your will. But nerves turned into worry turned into fear, your heart relentlessly hammering against your ribcage. It was hurting you. Every beat brought you closer to the inevitable truth your mind refused to acknowledge. 

Until your heart began to pump the blood a little slower. 

Until the clock turned minutes into hours, and you’d downed your fourth glass of wine. 

You kept a faith you claimed you never really had until time ran out, and you realized that he wasn’t coming. Fear turned into utter disappointment, and your heart cracked. It cracked, and then it broke, shattering like a wine glass on a white cloth.

When he first met you, you were crying over losing a patient—a child. You seemed particularly vulnerable to him, almost broken, in a way, but he also knew that it takes a special kind of strength and resilience to do what you dedicated your life to. 

You confided in him. You had your heart broken by the people who were supposed to protect you most in this world. You could relate to what he went through, and yet when Claire said that he would only ever hurt you, that you deserve better—so much better—Matt didn’t hesitate to prove her right. In vowing to stay away from you, he did the very thing he was trying to avoid. But at what cost? 

God and the Devil are laughing at him. He can kneel on the cold wooden benches that line Clinton Church and pray for His forgiveness; he can confess his sins to Father Lantom as if he’s writing a book about them, and try to repent, but every time he puts on that mask, he is giving away pieces of himself. He sacrifices his happiness for the greater good of the city he loves and for justice, and he lies to the people he loves. He lies, and he ultimately ends up pushing them away. 

Matt sabotages himself over and over again. He pushed you away. He broke off something that was not quite a thing yet, but it could have been; it could have been so beautiful. He ruined it, again. 

He hasn’t slept since. 

When it’s not you, it’s him: Wilson Fisk. The name runs in circles around his mind. It is a whirlwind tornado he cannot seem to stop. He knew something was off when this nameless stranger came to Nelson & Murdock to hire them to defend an obvious murderer. A juror being paid off, the hung jury—it all seemed like an intricate game orchestrated by a third party to assess them.

He tried to keep his work separate from the man he becomes at night. Maybe it was Karen that put them on the radar, or maybe it’s simply because every bad thing in Hell’s Kitchen seems to be connected somehow, and he has put himself in the middle of it. He saved Karen and protected her from a worse fate, but unless he finds a way to stop the boulder from running down the hill toward them, his friends will always be in danger. He attracts it like a fucking magnet. 

Healy impaled himself because he pushed for a name. He caught him, and his curiosity killed the cat. Wilson Fisk. He has never heard of him before. No one has. But if he is the reason for everything that has gone wrong, he needs to find him and he needs to stop him. 

Matt doubts he would have a chance with you if he came running back. When he can make sure that you are safe, maybe he can crawl on his knees back to you and beg for your forgiveness, but rationally he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. 

He hurt you. He broke your heart. He tore through the already friable tissue, and he ruined something that could have been so good for him—for both of you.

No amount of praying can fix that. 

His mind is elsewhere as he and Foggy step out of the precinct into the cool night air. 

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher, you know that?” Foggy says. 

Matt sighs, tapping his cane along the sidewalk. “Oh, not the butcher story.”

“I said, ‘No, Mom, I want to be a lawyer.’” A pause. “I don’t remember what I said next.”

“No, you never do,” he says.

Foggy doesn’t take note of his snark comment. “But I’m fairly certain it wasn’t about bailing out a piss-drunk electrician who nearly burned his house down.” He looks across the street, tugging his friend’s arm in the process. “Let’s cross.”

Matt knows very well where the street is and where the cars are coming from, but he follows his lead without using much of his senses; he trusts him. 

“Ed’s wife left him, Foggy. It was an accident.” His nails dig into his jacket. “Admittedly involving cigarettes and gasoline, but still.”

He had to do some good tonight. He had to make sure at least one broken heart wouldn’t crash and burn. And it’s work. Getting a friend out of a misdemeanor might not be what Foggy signed up for, but it is work they would otherwise not have. After what happened at Healy’s trial, it’s been piles of paperwork and unpaid bills, and Matt really couldn’t stand another second of running his fingers over pages of Braille. 

They cross the street under Foggy’s observant eye. “I could be carving my own corn beef. Making my own pickles. Having a little shop of my own…” he trails off. 

“You got your own office,” Matt murmurs. 

“We have office space,” Foggy corrects. “An actual office would involve plantery and equipment. Fax machines or whatever successful people use.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think they use fax machines anymore.”

“How would I know? Which is endemic to the problem.”

They stop. Matt can feel his eyes boring into his skull, smell his sandalwood cologne and the deli sandwich he had for lunch, the one with the onions and extra pickles. 

“Matt,” Foggy asks, “what if we’re doing this all wrong?” There is a certain uncertainty in his voice. “What if Landman and Zack was the way to go?”

Fear. Worry. Concern. It all plays together.

“You hated interning there,” says Matt.

Foggy shrugs, approaching the street to hail a cab. “I hate being broke.”

If his life weren’t so complicated, he would try harder to give his friend what motivated him to agree to his ballsy idea to start this firm in the first place. Matt knows Foggy has sacrificed a lot for him, sacrifices he surely did not deserve for keeping him in the dark, but when it comes to Foggy, the fear of losing him, of him running away, paralyzes him. 

“You think Landman and Zack would’ve helped out Ed?” he asks. 

“No. But they had free bagels every morning, and they had furniture that didn’t smell like a pack of cigarettes. And elevators… God, I miss the elevators.”

“We’re doing good here, Foggy.”

He turns around. “Are we?”

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “we’re making a difference.”

A cab pulls up to the curb just as his phone starts to ring in his breast pocket. Not the one he always uses. The ringing is new, not yet very familiar, but he recognizes it almost instantly. 

“You have a new phone?” Foggy asks. “We can afford that?”

Matt pulls out the burner phone he bought just a few days ago. There is only one person it could be, only one person who has this number. He flips it open. “Hey, one sec,” he answers, moving away from the speaker to address his friend once more. “Foggy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He holds open the door to the cab, eyes roaming over Matt’s figure. “It’s a girl, isn’t it? You got a new phone just for your girls.” He slides into the backseat. “My life sucks.”

Again, he chuckles. “Get home safe.”

The motor roars and Matt listens as the yellow car drives away with Foggy inside. Once he’s sure that he is out of reach, he lifts the phone back to his ear. 

“Yeah, Claire, what’s up?” he says. 

She breathes shakily through the line. He can hear her heart racing at a million miles an hour, beating out of her chest like a fright train. Tears lace her voice when she finally finds it in herself to speak. “You have to come over,” she says. “Right now.”

The urgency surprises him. Not so long ago it was him uttering the same words. The wind brushes through his hair. “What happened? You okay?” 

“It’s not me,” Claire whispers. “It’s–” She almost says something else. Another word. Another fact. Another name. Her lungs contract and her breathing gets just a little harder. 

His veins feel as though they are about to burst. He can taste his heart on his tongue. Who, he wants to ask. Why are you calling me? But he doesn’t need to ask her to know the answer. He doesn’t need her to tell him because even from across the city, her reaction speaks louder than words. 

“It’s Liv,” she chokes out, and Matt nearly drops his phone in the gutter. “Someone took her. The Russians...”

You never got involved with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You weren’t there when he threw the fake Detective off Claire’s roof. You have no idea who he is, you only know that Matt Murdock is an asshole. He wanted to keep it that way. He stayed away to keep you safe. 

They were looking for her. They were looking for Claire, and somehow, they found you. 

They took you.

“Please,” she’s so close to tears that the word barely makes it out in one piece.

The phone snaps shut, wandering back into his pocket. ‘Someone took her,’ it keeps repeating on a loop. Matt folds his cane, and he takes off running. He runs faster than he ever has, not caring if someone sees him. Not caring if someone wonders why a blind man is running in the middle of the night as if he can see. Not caring if someone questions his identity. 

He runs and runs and runs until his lungs are burning and his legs are hurting, and he runs even faster toward the apartment above the liquor store. Toward Claire. 

He runs toward you, for if he lost you he would never be able to forgive himself.

The door to the apartment is already open when he arrives. The distinctive copper of blood hits his nose. It has seeped into the floorboards, seeped into skin. Your scent hangs heavy in the room. He can smell you on the couch cushions and the discarded needle on the living room table. It’s your blood, and hints of someone else’s. You’re everywhere yet nowhere at all, and for the first time since he met you, he can’t feel you. He can’t hear your heartbeat. He can’t make out your presence because neither are you at the hospital nor are you safely tucked away at home where you should be. 

Liquor and rubbing alcohol cling to the oxygen. A broken bottle of bourbon lies shattered on the floor. You weren’t just taken; you spent the night here. Why? What on earth were you doing?

“Oh, thank God!” Claire exclaims. 

“What happened?” Matt asks. His ears are ringing. “Where is she?”

She moves away from Santino who sits motionless, crying, on her sofa. He recognizes his heartbeat faintly from the night on the rooftop with Detective Foster. What a pathetic alias, he thought. But the boy they kidnapped is the reason he is even in this mess. He thought Claire would be safe. He thought he was doing the right thing. 

They hurt an innocent child. They were going to hurt Claire. They hurt you; they took you, and he isn’t sure which scenario is worse. He doesn’t want to imagine. 

“They found Santino, beat him, and he told them where I was,” she says, lip quivering. “Liv spent the night here. We fought, I went for a walk, and… he told them she wasn’t me, but they didn’t care. They just took her.”

He reaches for the nearest chair. “Fuck!” The wood splinters against the wall. 

Claire flinches. “Matt.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be here. You weren’t–” He inhales deeply. “You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. What the hell were you thinking, Claire?”

“What was I thinking?” she bites back. “She was falling apart! That wasn’t my fault!”

Her words cut his skin with the force of a thousand blades. He’s bleeding out in an endless pool, and she goes and twists the knife one more time. 

He ruffles his hair, tugging at the strands for some kind of lifeline. The ground beneath his feet has long melted away. He’s staring in the face of certain demise, but it won’t be him who dies. No, death would be too merciful. He is destined to watch everyone around him fall apart and die before the pain inevitably kills him, too. 

Everything he touches turns to ashes. It rots from the inside out, and then it dies. A withering field of flowers unable to grow new seeds. A graveyard. 

“I told you to stay away from her,” Claire snaps.

“I did,” Matt says. “The second you told me, I broke things off. I stood her up. I told her she deserved better. I did everything so she could make me the bad guy. She had nothing–” He gasps for air. “She had nothing to do with this.”

“You painted a fucking target on her back!”

He matches her volume, even goes above it as the echo threatens to break glass. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“No, you broke her. She almost drank herself into a coma last night because you couldn’t let her down easy. That’s why she was here. You broke her!”

“I–” It takes a long moment to register. 

You almost drank yourself into a coma. You got so drunk you had to sleep on her couch, so drunk she had to hook you up to intravenous fluids, so drunk the two of you fought to the point your friendship imploded, and it was all because of him. Because he thought turning his back would make it easier for you to hate him. 

He turned his back on you. Like a coward.

“I was on that rooftop with you when you put that guy into a coma, not her,” she says, spitting bitterly at his feet with tears clouding her hazel eyes. “I was the one they were looking for.”

Matt begins to pace. The weight of the guilt pressing down on him is making it hard to speak. “Are you sure it was the Russians?” he asks.

She deadpans. “Oh, I don’t know. Did you piss off anyone else?”

“No, I–”

“She wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you!” A tear rolls down her cheek and gets caught in her necklace. “That girl has been through hell and back, and she can take one hell of a punch, but she’s barely got any fight left in her. Now, part of that’s my fault, but she doesn’t deserve to get dragged into your bullshit!”

“I know!” he cries. “Don’t act like she doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“You don’t get to say that!” Claire cuts him off. “You don’t know her! She’s dedicated her life to saving people,” she says. “She beat the odds more than once, and she should be here right now instead of me. So, I need you to get out there and beat the shit out of whoever you need to get her back. Put them in a coma. Carve their hearts out. I don’t care! I need you to fight for her because if she dies… if she dies, I will never forgive you.”

Her heartbeat remains steady throughout. Her words aren’t some overly emotional reaction to the fear of losing a friend, her best friend, but they are the blatant truth. In her heart and her soul, she knows she would never forgive him if you died, and she doesn’t care what he needs to do to get you back. If she could, she would burn the world down herself. 

It’s not romantic love that drives her. She just knows you. She knows you, and she has grown to love you in a way that is hard for outsiders to comprehend—for those who don’t know you. She’s protective of you. She cares about you. She’s your person, and she is yours, even when you hate each other.

She will never stop fighting for you to the best of her abilities, but this is beyond her capabilities. Claire has no choice but to place what little faith she has left, no matter how mangled or broken, in Matt’s calloused hands. She might be furious at him, she might even want to claw his eyes out and sacrifice them to Satan, but she does know he cares. He cares more than most people. And if there is one thing the two have in common it is that they care about you. That has to be enough. 

“Okay,” Matt whispers. 

“Say it,” she commands. 

“I’ll find her,” he says, louder this time. “I promise, I’ll find her.”

He needs to find you. He needs to tell you the truth. He needs to hold you in his arms, safe and sound, just to make sure you’re alive. He needs you to be alive. He prays you’re alive. 

He is sure he’s losing his mind to the smoldering flames of fury. He can’t think, can’t hear anything over the rushing of his blood, and he can’t fucking breathe, but he has to—for you. He has to get it together for you.

So, he does. He takes a deep breath. He pulls the black suit out of the chest under the stairs in his apartment, and he stands on the rooftop until the city has gone quiet, and all that remains is you. 

He is going to find you, and when he does, those who took you will have hell to pay. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @thatonegamefish @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou @scoliobean

[cynicalmusings]

‘the most crucial skill that a good drinksmith needs is listening… drinksmithing is all about having conversations with your guests’

tea house owner!reader energy for real

[tumbwr]

i need older people to understand that their ‘kids these days’ narrative only comes to MORE into fruition when they act like entitled cunts in grocery store isles.

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL