#he doesn’t live too far from either place but he could definitely pass for a mancunian with that accent 🤩

[modernmanblues]

i know we only talk on the phone every now and then but, yesterday we had some time to speak over the phone and i don’t know if this is just me but i’m starting to think that he has more of a manchester rather than a liverpool accent.

[colonelkaboom]

LINGERING SWEETNESS

❥ First time wearing his clothes

Xavier・Zayne・Sylus・Rafayel

✎ AN: Visiting Caleb in Skyhaven as you try to rebuild the relationship you once had. This is the first time you're wearing his clothes since you were reunited, making it feel like a new experience for both of you. Reader is MC, but he calls you Pip-squeak.  Word count: 1.8 k Disclaimer: I cannot guarantee these are 100% compatible with the story and lore, I don’t have all cards and my memory only stretches so far.

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❥ Caleb: Visiting Caleb in Skyhaven still made you feel a bit uneasy. He used to be your everything. Then you were forced to spend several months relearning how to live, without him holding your hand. Having him back in your life was unbelievably amazing, but so much had happened whilst you were apart and you had to get to know eachother again. 

There were times when it felt like nothing had happened and you were still the same two people who grew up together in the Bloomshore District. As if the explosion never happened and he never became Colonel Caleb. 

There was no doubt in either of your minds when you agreed to work on your relationship, despite the fact that you both now had secrets that could not be revealed in their entirety. You had never ever kept secrets from Caleb, but now there were certain things, certain people, he couldn’t know about. 

Caleb had made you dinner and the evening had been one of the nice ones where it feels like you were never apart. You were craving something sweet and had begged Caleb to make cupcakes with you. It really didn’t take much begging, he never could say no to you. 

“Pass me the eggs, Pips?” Caleb asked, although it came out more like a demand. You did as you were told and he got to cracking them into the bowl. As he stepped away to throw away the shells you took his place and got to work with the hand mixer. 

You spend the next few minutes mixing the batter diligently whilst Caleb gets started on the clean up. The batter finally has the perfect consistency and you turn the mixer off.

“Hey Caleb, do you want to lick the whisk?” You call out, thinking he was still busy tidying up. As you turn to look for him, still holding the hand mixer, you find yourself poking the chocolate covered appliance into his hard torso. Your mouth hangs open in surprise as you stare at the large brown stain in the middle of his chest. Setting the mixer down on the counter you quickly get ready to apologize, as this was truly an accident. 

Caleb gives you no opportunity to do so as he reaches behind you dipping his finger in the batter and smearing it on your cheek. Clearly proud of himself he looks down on you with a cocky smile plastered across his face. Needing to reclaim control of the interaction you try to quickly plan your next move. You swiftly grab the hem of his shirt and lean in to lick the batter from the fabric. Hm, odd choice… You definitely should have given this some more thought. 

“Pip-squeak!” He shrieks as he tries to back away. He doesn’t get too far though and finds himself trapped between you and the island counter. His hands fly into the air as if he’s afraid to touch you. You lick away most of the batter but as you’re about to pull away you turn your cheek taking extra care to wipe his counterattack into the fabric.

A mischievous chuckle escapes your lips when you back away to admire your masterpiece. 

“Satisfied?” The playful annoyance radiates off him, making you shiver. This is definitely not over. 

“You know, now that you have made it so very clear that you’re an adult, I might not go as easy on you as I did when we were kids.” He takes a few steps forward and suddenly you are the one who is trapped against the counters. You knew that if it came down to physical strength alone, you'd surely lose. To ensure you emerge victorious from this, preying on Caleb’s weaknesses is essential. 

You quickly duck away and escape your confinement. But it doesn’t take long before he has both your wrists pinned behind your back holding you close with only one hand. The cold metal grasp makes you wince. His free hand reaches back into the batter and two fingers appear before your face dripping with sweetness.

“Ready to yield, soldier?” The firm voice of the Colonel sends shivers down your spine as you wriggle in his grasp. Your gaze closely watching the threatening fingers taunting your face.

“Caleb, you’re hurting me.” You whimper. Current mission, prey on his weakness; you.

“Your arm… Ugh… It’s gripping my wrists t-too t-tightly.” Hopefully the additional sniffles you added were enough to make it sound convincing. His grip quickly softens and you’re able to retract your hands quick enough to catch him off guard. The once very threatening batter covered hand is your new target. You quickly grab it, twisting him into the same hold he had just reluctantly released you from. 

Unfortunately the process is not as graceful as you had intended it to be. As you begin to turn him around, the struggle causes both your limbs to flail awkwardly unsure of what moves to pull to reclaim the upper hand. You don’t even know who caused it, but you both tumble to the floor. He lands on his stomach with you on top. You still clutch his wrist and it is now pinned between his back and your chest. The worst part is that one of you somehow nudged the bowl and it also came crashing down, coating you in sticky batter. 

“Truce?” You whisper as your whole body tenses. You can feel the batter trickling down your arms and you know it’s gotten in your hair.

“What? Why? You’ve got the upper hand, Pips, this is not the time to back down.” He sounds stern and clearly disappointed.

“What is that feeling on my arm..?” A heavy sigh escapes him and you’re fairly certain he already knows the answer. You release his wrist and begin awkwardly removing yourself from his body. 

“Oh, Pip-squeak…” He stands back up and tilts his head as he takes in the state of you. The discomfort on your face tugs at his heartstrings. You stare at the mess you’ve made of his kitchen and you feel… Happy… A small smile dares to reveal itself as you look up at Caleb. His brows furrowed as he let out a confused chuckle. You never cease to amaze him. 

“Alright Cupcake, straight to the bathroom before you drip even more chocolate on my floors.” You can’t help but snicker at your newly acquired nickname. Hopefully it’s only temporary though, you’re not ready to let go of Pip-squeak. 

“Could you get me some clean clothes, Caleb?”

“Yes, yes! Please move, you’re drippin’ everywhere.” You raise your arms in defeat before disappearing into the bathroom. 

This felt like the longest shower ever. Getting the sticky batter out of your hair seemed nearly impossible and you couldn’t exactly ask Caleb for help. Could you? A loud knock on the door disrupts your inner monologue but you have no time to respond before you hear a voice. 

“I’m not peeking, just bringing you some clothes. I’ll leave ‘em on the counter. You need anything?”

You contemplate asking him for help, but decide against it. It would be wrong.

“No, thank you!” Hopefully he heard you. Your voice felt feeble against the sounds of water on tile. 

“Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” The soft sound of a door closing lets you know you are alone once more. 

After emerging from the shower you find yourself puzzled by the garments on the counter. These aren’t mine… You see one item you recognize as a lacey pair of red panties stare back at you. Hm, I must have accidentally left them here the last time I visited… You sigh and begin to slip into Caleb’s chosen attire. The feeling of his clothes on your body brought a familiar comfort. A comfort you had not felt in way too long. It felt different now, not bad, just different. The grey sweatpants were far too long and your attempt to fold them up using the elastic hem was only semi successful. A dark purple crewneck lay gently on your shoulders whilst softly cascading down your arms. You could tell it was clean, but his scent still lingered on the fabric. My Caleb… 

Returning to the living room you are met by the sweet scent of chocolate cupcakes. The trail of batter you left behind was long gone and Caleb was relaxing on the couch with a book. He had cleaned himself up, exchanging his messy shirt for a clean one. 

“I look ridiculous.” You say catching his attention. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he takes you in admiring seeing you in his clothes once more. It was a sight for sore eyes. A sight he had desperately missed.

“You do not look ridiculous, you look very cute.” He smiled reassuringly. 

You slump down next to him on the couch placing your legs in his lap as you lean back. He gently strokes your ankles through the sweatpants whilst returning his focus to the book he had kept himself busy with.

“How did you have time to remake the batter?” You ask, referring to the sweet smell of baked goods filling the room.

“Oh, I didn’t, there was enough left in the bowl for two small cupcakes.” He keeps his gaze fixed on the book. His tender hands keep moving on your legs like it comes as easily to him as breathing. 

You silently play with the hem of your sweater before moving your fingers to tug at the collar. Subconsciously you lift it over your mouth and nose breathing in the lingering scent of Caleb.

“Whatchu doin’ over there, Pips?” Caught in the act. He puts his book away and leans down over your legs staring into your eyes from across the couch. The mischievous grin adorning his face tells you he definitely wants an answer. 

“No rush. Take your time to come up with a reason.” He smirks, never breaking eye contact. You remain quiet feeling your heart beat faster against your chest for every second you don’t respond.

With a deep breath you finally muster up the courage to say something. “I’ve missed you, Caleb.”

His eyes soften and the tension fades away. He looks at you with such longing. Like he hasn’t seen you for years and you finally returned to him. 

“I’ve missed you too, Pip-squeak.”

You both remain quiet as you take in every detail of each other. Eyes, Lips, Freckles. You want his image imprinted directly into your brain stem so it can never leave you. He can never leave you. Not again.

A sudden ding is heard from the kitchen but none of you react. Did you unknowingly enter a staring contest? Regardless of whatever reason you had for staring, neither of you wanted to be the first to look away.

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✎ AN: Hm, I wonder if those panties were in fact left behind on accident, or if there is another reason explaining why they might have been in his possession... English is not my first language, so I hope you'll cut me some slack.

⋆ Read more ⋆ Masterlist ⋆

- Colonel Kaboom

[xxsabitoxx]

Two is Better Than One [Teaser]

Geto Suguru x AFAB Reader x Gojo Satoru

Warning: the full version of this story will contain multiple smut scenes, naturally the completed story and official post will have a proper set of warnings!

A/N: full fic to come! This does not count for my 15k special btw so you’ll see a plethora of Sato/Sugu content soon :)

Your fingers curled around the ends of his hair, black and silky. “So, are we going to finally discuss the obvious?” You teased your boyfriend softly, watching as he turned his head against the pillow to look at you. “Now?” he hummed, his face was just starting to return to its normal color, his chest had returned to an even pace of breathing. “Yes, now. No better time than now actually, Suguru.” You rolled onto your stomach, smirking as his eyes trailed to where your breasts squished into the mattress before his gaze returned to yours. “You’re never satisfied, my love.” he laughs softly, hand reaching out to smooth your hair, his eyes lingering on the bruises he left on your neck for a moment. “I suppose we can discuss the situation.” You smiled, happy that he had so easily given in because you had been itching to discuss a particular someone. 

“He’s getting more reckless with his advances.” You hummed softly, fingers reaching out to toy with a lock of his hair again. “I saw. He’s getting antsy, doesn’t know what to do with himself quite yet.” Suguru mimics you, humming softly as he finishes his sentence. “I can’t say I particularly blame him, I wouldn’t know what to do in his situation either.” The situation was the fact that Gojo Satoru very clearly harbored feelings for the both of you. It was honestly the opposite of the reaction that you had prepared for, you expected him to hold some sort of grudge over the fact that you had “stolen” his best friend. Even though you, Suguru, Satoru and Shoko had been close friends since your first year at Jujutsu Tech. 

“He’s used to getting his way, but this time he doesn’t know how to advance because he cares about both of us too much.” Suguru’s eyes closed, mulling over the possibilities.

“You don’t think he’s confused, right?” You chuckled, Satoru had always had a plethora of women essentially at his disposal, men too. Though as long as you have known him, you’ve always known him to turn men down. “No, he’s definitely not confused, more so he’s conflicted. I assume it is because he tends to come to me for advice on these things but… the issue at hand is me… us.” He finishes with a chuckle, one eye peeking open when he feels you shift closer. “And he can’t go to Shoko because she’d just call me up while he’s telling her these things and repeat them back.” You laughed at your friend’s habit of not being much help in the secrecy department, she figured the best solution was to face these things head on. 

“Precisely, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place… you and me.” 

“So what are we going to do then? To ease the torment of our beloved friend.” You spoke dramatically, legs tangling with him under the sheets. You only felt comfortable sleeping naked if he was close to you, a smile tugging at your lips as his arm instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you close. “Well there are a couple things we could do but none of them really ease his torment.” Suguru chuckled, as much as he loved Satoru, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to mess with him. Call him cruel but it lived for it, same with you. He always came off so sweet and polite but the moment he knew you were his, the sadistic side he tried to hide always came out. “Oh so you want to fuck with him for a bit before…” you paused “... We still need to figure out what the end goal of this is, Suguru.” You lifted your head from its spot on his chest. 

“Here’s the deal, my love. I give you permission to flirt with him, toy with him, see how far he’ll let you go before his guilty conscience creeps up on him and he questions your loyalty to me.” Suguru started, hand resting on the top of your head so you would place it against his chest again. “From there, it really depends on what Satoru does… I don’t feel all that comfortable welcoming him into our relationship if he lets you do these things with no hesitation. It shows me that he’s only lusting after you and the idea of ‘us’... nothing more.” You hum, seeing where Suguru is taking this. “If he stops you, shows discomfort in your advances and all that stuff… he passes. It shows that there is more respect and love in his advances than just lust.” 

“So you want me to play the part of an unfaithful whore?” you deadpan, head shaking with the way Suguru’s chest bounced with laughter. “No, we won’t let his potential uncertainty hang in the air for too long, my love. You can be upfront with him, tell him I gave you the green light to do these things.” You thought over everything he said, finding it to be easy and complicated all at once. Flirting wasn’t exactly your forte but you understood why Suguru wanted you to be the one to do it rather than him. Flirting only came easily to you when it was with Suguru, when it came to Satoru you liked to tease him rather than flirt. Though some people tend to view those as the same thing… Satoru being one of them. “So, if we get lucky and things advance further…” 

“Then you bring him back to our home, I’ll be waiting for you both, and we can carry on from there.” You swallow dryly at Suguru’s implications, head lifting to look back up at him. There was a brief moment of understanding, one that pulled a humorless huff of laughter from his lips as he recognized the look in your eyes. “You truly are never satisfied.” He commented softly, cock already twitching to life as you devoured him with one single stare. “It’s impossible to remain satisfied when I’m with you, you could give me everything and I would still crave more.” You’re pushing yourself upwards, pushing the sheets back until he’s fully exposed to your hungry gaze. “You could go for a third round, right?” You’re shameless as you straddle his waist. 

[variousxreader]

I DUNNO IF THIS WAS THE RIGHT INBOX OR NOT AAAAA

CAPTAIN KOBY HEADCANONS MY BELOVED

(Haven’t watched that far into One Piece, I’m at like episode 500 so sorry if these are ooc at all)

General

- Doesn’t like coffee, no matter how much sugar or creamer he puts in it’s always not quite right or to his liking, he’s the same way with some teas.

- Keeps a pocket sketchbook or some sort of small notebook hand, sketches or writes about things he sees or thinks about.

- Favorite animal would be otters, I feel like he would see them frequently while sailing and overall likes them for their smarts, such as using rocks to open shells. Though, he absolutely adores how they hold hands or hold their kin while they sleep or float to not get lost.

- Morning person, definitely. Almost always the first one up and awake, walking around and already doing things while everyone else is still in bed.

- While he has grown up and became stronger, he’s still an easy crier. He gets emotional over things and while he can shove down the need to cry, he finds some place private to let his emotions go. He doesn’t like it when people see him cry publically, he feels like that wouldn’t make him “strong” to anyone anymore, especially with everything he has to go through.

- Struggles with anxiety, and I mean this man is brimming with it. His habit of overthinking can lead him to peril, while he has been scolded for “not doing anything and risking lives” due to it, some of his decisions after that could seem reckless, as he wouldn’t even give a second thought to the first thing that comes to mind.

- Definitely sleeps hugging a pillow, cannot sleep without hugging or holding something.

- Personal headcanon (I don’t know if we ever learn about his family or not) I think that while yes he truly did mistake the Alvida pirate’s boat for a fishing boat, he really was trying to sail away for good that day. People in his life would always tell him that he cries too easily or was too skittish about literally everything, overall bringing him down for years of his life. Yes, it was ok when he was younger, but while this behavior continued, people yelled at him more about how he needed to “not be such a crybaby” and not be so afraid of everything. Even now, he has issues dealing with people yelling or raising their voice at him.

- Another personal headcanon, this fella is so trans masc coded to me. When he found Luffy he was scared at first of course, some random ass stranger popped out of a barrel. But what really sold him is that Luffy didn’t question him at all about how he sounded or looked different, but to be quite frank, Luffy doesn’t seem like the type of person to bring that up anyway. Yes, Luffy saved him and he’s happy about that, but he also saw how he was? How he actually wanted to be? AND inspired his dreams?? The boost of confidence he got from that still fuels him to this day as a captain, that’s why he still looks back to that day, the first day someone saw him for who he actually was and didn’t question him. Still questions to this day if he’s valid or even passing for that matter, but that memory always helps him with dysphoria.

S/O

- Loves spooning, he doesn’t care if he's big or little spoon, he’s perfectly content either being held or him holding you. Though, he does have the habit of being mostly big spoon since he wants to protect you and keep you safe.

- His love language would definitely be quality time, especially with how long he has to be gone for sometimes. When he comes back after whatever duties he had, all he wants to do is spend some time with you doing whatever. Could be something as little as just sitting and holding each other in silence, or something more like going shopping or on a date. Though, his favorite thing to do would probably be being able to snuggle up with the person he cares the most about and rest without having to worry.

- Love hugging his s/o from behind and resting his head on their back or shoulder, depending on his height.

- This man is all green flags, will absolutely pamper his s/o if they’re feeling under the weather and sooth them if they’re not feeling 100%.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes btw :3€

AAAAA GOD TIER HEADCANONS!!!! I love them all!!!!!!

Don't you worry, im crawling through Impel Down, dreading 482 and what comes after 🙃 Ace girl things™️

But AAAAA no SADS JUST KOBY

This man has abused golden retriever energy, like rescued and bounced back and is the healthiest boy now.

He is a literal cinnamon roll!!!!!

God he'd cry over every animal he sees because its so cute. Like "S/O! Look!!!!! At them!!! Can we adopt them?!" Its so hard to say no

I loveeeeeeee the idea of him falling for a Pirate. Man is so upset about it too at first, like he is so in denial about it. Till a silly fanfic esq situation gets them alone and he can't deny the attraction, physical and emotional anymore?! Chefs kiss the drama!

I also love the idea for Trans masc Koby, that Garp is just like Luffy in his acceptance, like hes so confused as to why people would be upset that Koby identifies as a man. "You say you're a man so you're a man. " simple as that.

Also, forehead kisses on his scar!!!!!

Steal his bandana to tie up your own hair, the mans heart nearly stops and he clutches his chest.

Also i love the idea of his S/O trolling Alvida in subtle ways. As petty revenge on Koby's behalf. Like just any chance they get, they fuck with her. Steals her hat or something just goofy shit that you know would drive the unhinged woman mad.

Koby would 10/10 write little love poems in that notepad/ sketch book for his s/o or crush. Not that he'd be brave enough to share. He could be convinced. Lol

Hes a precious little Peony

[the-hermit-reversed]

Chapter 2: The Winter Dance

Trigger shut his locker after grabbing the hefty history book for his next class. His thoughts honed on the test that he was going to be taking later that afternoon in 6th period English. Which meant he was not expecting to see Max’s face waiting for him with his iconic sly smirk. In a more mythological age Max could have been some fox-trickster god with that look. Obviously startled, Trigger exclaimed “Jesus! Max! How long were you there?” Max’s expression shifted to a stern, almost pastorally demeanor, “You see, child, I was always with you. Something something son of God.” Both shared a laugh. Max continued in an energetic manner “Sooo, who are you taking to the dance?” Confused, Trigger raised an eyebrow in response. “You know! The winter dance! It's right around the corner!” Right, the winter dance. Trigger forgot about that. He thought that it was later this month, but in truth it was only a week from now. “Oh that, I hadn’t thought about who I would ask.” Trigger lied through his teeth. He had thought about it for quite some time. Years actually. “Come on man! There must be someone!” Max elbowed him gently, teasingly. Trigger felt himself starting to flush. Damn it. Max was too good at this. “Ah! There it is! You have been thinking about asking someone! You must tell me! Is it Mary? Maybe Grace? Ooh wait, no let me think.” Max paused to think, giving Trigger a moment to collect his thoughts. Maybe he could play with Max on this. Trigger had all the cards in his hand. Trigger smirked “you caught me. I have been thinking, but just have not asked them yet.” Max’s eyes lit up. “Ha! Them! So there are more than one! Ooh you sly ladykiller!” Trigger rolled his eyes containing his amusement. “I’ll also give you a hint. You have not said their name yet either.” Max pondered on this for some time as they navigated through the hallways. “Anna must be one of them. She’s totally into you. I’ve seen the eyes she makes at you in class.” Trigger twisted his head towards Max “Wait, what? The exchange student from France? You must be joking. She thinks I am weird.” “That’s how the French show that they're interested in you dude!” Trigger huffed exhaustively. “Max, just because your uncle has been to Europe doesn’t make him a trustworthy source of how Europeans act.” Max shriveled his face into a pout. “You are honestly not making this an easy guess.” The light from a nearby window briefly caught Max’s strawberry blonde hair in the sun. Time slowed down for Trigger. Oh, how much he wished could have had a camera to capture the image. “Well, maybe next time. I’ll let you play again on ‘Guess who is going with Trigger to the dance’” Trigger made quotation motions with his fingers, then threw a peace sign. “See you after lunch!”

The English test was brutal. Hard to focus with the stress of social life dwelling in parts of Trigger’s mind where the definitions of literary terms and correct uses of a semi-colon were supposed to be. He would at least pass the test but might have lost a few points. Trigger and Max did not live too far from each other, so they often would walk home together from school. Trigger waiting at some of the picnic tables out front for Max. Soon enough he emerged from the crowd trying to leave the school. Max had continued his guessing, but still did not manage to nail one down. “Trigger! I’ve got it! One of them is Lorrain!” Lorrain was someone Trigger genuinely thought about asking to the dance if only to get people off his back about not going to the dance alone. Much like himself, Lorrain was a bit of a weirdo. She once in elementary had run through the school with a pair of muddy overalls, making a massive mess of the place. Appearing wounded, Trigger sighed “Well you got one of them. Your prize is the achievement of beating my game.” Max devilishly smiled “I have one of them, meaning I am starting to lock on to your type, eh? The others will be so easy to figure out.” Trigger rolled his eyes. Max had gone through most of the girls his grade in this blind version of guess who, so there were not many more that Trigger could feint. “Wait, are the others in the grades above us?” Max asked inquisitively. He motioned with one hand like he was holding a pipe. Sherlock Holmes style. For whatever reason that movie series was his favorite even though Max had never touched any of the books. Trigger thought for a moment. There was that goth who was just ahead of him by a year. Still way out of Trigger’s league, but she was cute. At least she might not ask any questions about Hermit’s true intentions going to the dance with her. “Oh no, that would be too scandalous.” Max returned to his thinking. “Who else… Who else is as weird as Lorrain. Or you for that matter.” Trigger shoved Max playfully “Hey! I am not that weird!” “You admit it! You are at least a little weird!” Max shoved back playfully. Trigger smiled and then stepped out in front of Max. Locked eyes and in his most commanding tone “So now you have gotten answers out of me, it is my turn. Who are you going to take?” Max appeared surprised but then blushed. “N-no one.” Trigger raised an accusatory eyebrow. “Alright, alright. So I asked Hailey but she’s not going. Then I gave Grace a shot, but she was already going with Henry. I did ask Anna.” Trigger’s eyes shifted to surprise. “And did she say if she wanted to go?” “She said and I quote: ‘I’ll go with you when the US beats France in football’” Both of them paused to think that over. Trigger eventually broke the silence. “I don’t know how good your chances are.” In frustration, Max covered his face letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, man. I’d rather not go to my first winter dance alone.” Trigger could hear the frustration in his voice alone. “Hey, wait” Trigger stopped walking “why don’t we both go alone? Surely there will be a few others going alone. I’ll even be your wingman since I am such a ‘ladykiller’” Max revealed his face, shocked. “That’s brilliant Trigger! I could almost kiss you!” Trigger tried to keep a blush from overtaking his face. Max continued his scheming “That way we might be able to dance with the broken hearted and lonely girls. Maybe even get more than one dance in with them!” Trigger cringed slightly. He understood how puberty had made Max a little “girl crazy”. If only he was as “boy crazy” as some of these girls Max said were for Trigger. The two resumed down the sidewalk to their respective homes.

The night of the dance came up. Trigger tried his best to dress nicely. He got some gray slacks from a thrift store, an old hand me down white button up shirt, and a purple tie. With some help from his father, we managed to clean up nicely. Used some gel to hold his hair back away from his face. Since he was going to be Max’s wingman, he waited at the entrance of the dance with some other hopeful half of couples who also were waiting. Trigger partially wished the reason was the same for him, but all he hoped for at this rate was a nice night with a friend. Trigger saw Max’s mom drive up in her Ford pickup and stepped out Max. Dressed in black slacks, white button up shirt, red vest, and a similarly colored tie. His curly hair was wrangled up a little. To put it lightly, he looked amazing. Trigger waved towards him “Hey Max! Where did you get the clothes? They look great!” Max glanced down as he approached the Trigger “Oh this? Mom took me to JCPenny. Said I needed to look sharp for the dance.” Trigger could not disagree but did not say it out loud. “Well, let’s get inside. I have some wingman-ing to start doing.”

(Part 1 of 3)

[iasmelaion]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

tagged by @firstelevens

tagging @pairofraggedclaws, @pineapplecrushface, @lugarn, @technicallyverycowboy, but no pressure! (also, wow, truly do not remember ANYONE's tumblr usernames without the little icon photos there to prompt me, damn. that took way longer than it should have /o\ )

Thank you for tagging me @firstelevens because it is providing me with the extra bit of motivation I need to finish up this ridiculous silly fic that started as a comment fic but that I just kept noodling away at because I didn't feel like working on anything else, lol. The prompt for this, for the record, was "vampire bucky au" and this is...not at all that, lol. These are, alas, the things that happen when you give me a prompt.

It's entirely Sam's fault that Bucky's first thought on realizing he’s been captured by vampires is: well, these guys aren't part of the big three. His second thought is: if vampires have been a thing all this time and no one fucking told me, I'm going to be so pissed. What the fuck else is real? Fairies? Wolfmen? Goddamn Sasquatch??

Ugh, if he survives, Bucky is never going to live this down. In his defense, how the fuck was he supposed to fight against fog. Bucky had been minding his own business, headed back to his apartment after acquiring some late-night take out, and he’d had about a second to think, that’s weird, it wasn’t foggy out earlier and then, when the fog did not move in fog-like ways, well, that’s not fog, but it doesn’t smell like any kind of gas either and then the damned vampires had coalesced out of the fog and surrounded him before he could run. 

“What the fuck are you?” he’d asked, baffled and pissed, and one of them had smiled, showing off some pretty gnarly and pointy teeth.

“We are vampires, of course.”

Then Bucky had felt the chill of fog behind him and a prick in his neck, and passed out, only to wake up on a plane.  

At least the vampires are polite. No one has tortured him so far, or even sucked his blood, and whatever they’ve drugged him with, it’s honestly kind of pleasant once he wakes up properly. He feels floaty and hazy and not particularly interested in breaking his bonds, not that he has any escape options other than jumping out of the plane, and anyway, this plane is even nicer than Zemo’s plane. Like, sure, his hands and feet are bound at the wrists and ankles, but he’s on a really comfy leather seat, and they’ve given him some water.

Also, and most importantly, the vampires don't appear to be especially tech-savvy. While he can’t feel his phone in his pocket anymore, no one has noticed Bucky twist the tip of his vibranium pinky, one of his panic button options, and one no one ever thinks to look for or prevent because it involves a motion that’s not physically possible in a flesh and blood pinky, not without breaking it, and definitely not independently. God bless Shuri’s cleverness in coming up with that one. Anyway, if Bucky’s got even a scrap of luck left, Sam is already on his trail. 

Though, fuck, it's not like Sam's gonna be prepared for vampires, what with them not being one of the big three and all. Bucky will have to gather what intel he can. Since they haven’t gagged him, he figures he might as well ask some woozy but totally reasonable questions.

“So…do you know Dracula?” he asks the vampire sitting across from him.

He doesn’t look much like a vampire at the moment, just an average white guy, apart from the eerie golden shade of his eyes.

“No,” says the vampire, lip curling slightly in what might be disgust, showing off the tip of a too-pointy canine.

“Do you, uh, want my blood?” Bucky asks. “A lot of people want my blood on account of how I’m a science experiment.”

The vampire blinks at him and frowns. “We do not want your blood.” Bucky tries and fails to place his accent. Dutch, maybe? Something European.

“Are you HYDRA?” asks Bucky. 

There’s no ostentatious squid-related branding or gloating about recovering the asset, so he doesn’t think so, but he figures he should ask.

The vampire wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, no,” he says. “We aren’t Nazis.”

“What do you want with me then?”

“We will not harm you. My master will speak with you soon,” says the vampire, and oh, that doesn’t bode well. “Sleep now,” continues the vampire, and Bucky wants to protest, but vampires have magic powers or what the fuck ever, he guesses, because he does in fact sleep.

It’s honestly kind of the best night of sleep he’s had in a while, so he’s in a pretty good mood for someone who’s been captured by vampires when he wakes up to being gently pulled out of a plush SUV and into the courtyard of—a castle? Bucky tries to crane his head up and around to get a feel for where the hell he is, but all he sees are starry skies and a lot of gray stone before he’s inexorably guided inside. While he’s no longer tied up or woozy, the vampires’ grip on him might as well be vibranium. He makes a tentative attempt to break free, just to gauge what it would take to escape, and is not encouraged by the results. He could do it, he thinks, but it would hurt. 

"Could we maybe talk about this?" tries Bucky, because it's what Sam would do, probably. "Do you have any demands, or am I in for yet another round of being experimented on or something? Because I'm not really into that. The third time is not the charm."

The vampires holding him are silent, and drag him down plushly carpeted, well-lit wide hallways into—what the fuck, is this a literal throne room?—where someone tall and pale and dark-haired is sprawled in the opulent seat at the other end of the room, at the far end of a long wooden table. The man looks familiar, and Bucky's about to start low-key panicking about this being more HYDRA bullshit, no matter what the vampire on the plane had said. Like, fuck, are HYDRA vampires now? Have they always been allied with vampires? He tries to make out what’s on the tapestries draped all over the walls, but then he gets closer and—

"Great Uncle Yakov?!" Bucky blurts out.

Because that man’s face is familiar—familiar as in family. They have the same damn dimple in their chin.

"James! It is wonderful to see you again!" says his surprisingly alive—undead? unalive?—great uncle, beaming in a way that shows off his pointy white canines.

[achaotichuman]

You have indulged me for days, my liege. Allow me to entertain you this once.

In the beginning, Tamlin and Lucien rely on each other. However, this freedom is short-lived. With Feyre returning to save them, Tamlin is forced to hide his feelings for everyone he cares about, including Lucien who is almost killed merely to pry the name of the woman who claims to love him. Since then, Tamlin has been as distant from Lucien as he is from Feyre.

Also, I do not believe Amarantha handed Rhysand’s duties to Tamlin easily. She might expect to break him and make him grovel for all the centuries he “strung her along”, especially when she has the perfect bait to do so. She wouldn’t hurt Tamlin, but everyone around him. Even forcing him to punish his only friend is a means to draw emotions out of him.

Nonetheless, she makes passes at him during the days and evenings, enough to leave Tamlin wary at night. To be fair, he is imprisoned too, however luxurious the room is. Perhaps he lies awake, waiting for word that Feyre’s mortal body has succumbed after the night’s torture.

Amarantha sits him by her during meals while she discusses her plans to punish the courts or extend her rule to the mortal lands, knowing his stance on tyranny. Some days, she talks about their inevitable union on the day Feyre finally fails. When none of this cracks Tamlin’s mask, she goes as far as strategising her next task in front of him. Naturally, she wouldn’t carry it out.

On the other hand, we have Rhysand. He seems like the type of man who would gloat about his. . .experiences. Given that his “plan” is to enrage Tamlin by sexually assaulting Feyre, he does exactly that during the days — recounting what he did to her and what she “enjoyed” doing to him. He is the worse tormentor than Amarantha, I believe.

I wonder about Lucien as well. He is confined away from Tamlin — his friend and the only other from Spring we know of — and possibly somewhere close to Autumn residents. Torturing him without having to exert too much thought or effort. His brothers gladly do it on behalf of Amarantha, since they had been waiting to find him without Tamlin’s protection. They have a woman to taunt him with as well. Beron definitely is the kind of man to do so.

But, of course, these are plausible scenarios if only the author had an ounce of creativity to make her characters suffer without using sexual torment as a crutch. All of Tamlin’s rage and Lucien’s fears have a place, yet no one shall know, since Feyre’s (read as Rhysand’s) truth is the only one that matters.

Silent trauma is profound, and it’s not acknowledged as much as it deserves in this series (like in the case of Nesta). I believe Tamlin’s time Under the Mountain will be of this kind, easier to dismiss and ignore. It doesn’t leave visible scars, the torture is not for everyone to witness, yet it breaks his mind, heart, and soul. It’s not sympathetically violent as emptying his stomach in the middle of the night or struggling to catch his breath, but destructive to himself and his loved ones —manifesting in his outbursts and uncontrollable beast. Had he been physically hurt the way Rhysand or Feyre were for eyes to watch, his pain would be glorified too.

I actually really really like this take anon. I especially like how in your interpretation, Tamlin's suffering is psychological torture, rather than anything physical. It adds a layer of complexity and suffering I hadn't considered before, and connects better to how he deals with his trauma and what it manifests as, that being the outbursts and taking Beast form whenever he felt the need to be protective of either his loved ones or himself.

I would very much like to see a fic like this, especially since Prythian is a medieval setting, you could make it so there is less knowledge on how a person is affected by psychological torture and abuse, in fact it more than likely is practically unknown because it is not, as you said, glorified or visible to others. A story exploring Tamlin and these complexities and the scars of this type of sinister abuse would be very intriguing.

Thank you very much for the ramble anon!! I enjoyed it very much!!!!

[zelphin124]

LCB-3 -> Canto 1: Chapter 12

Time to go away from the party, yipee! Masterpost Chapter 11 <--> Chapter 13

~o0o~

The generator was the dullest Jekyll had ever seen. M Corp was well known for their engineering and talent with machines, but this particular object in the center of this floor plan was duller than Jekyll’s will to live. It was a simple gray box with a gray hatch as a door, similarly designed to the light buttons she’d seen around the floor. From what she could tell, there was no button on top. Its color did not clash well with the red interior of the disciplinary floor, telling the doctor that it did not belong there. It was likely a machine brought inside by the demon syndicate. 

There was a small panel on the side Jatayu was facing earlier that day. Jekyll gently rested her hand on its hatch and opened it quietly, doing her best to not alert anyone of her presence. She didn’t want to talk to anyone; the goal was to get out of this hell as fast as possible. 

There were many cut wires on the other side of the panel. Most of them hung low, but some flew around, sparking whatever energy they had left out of them. There was only one intact wire, and it extended from the north side to the south, plugged into an outlet that read ‘C9’. Three of the letters were glowing, indicating that they were on. Although Jekyll wasn’t correct about her assumption of the room being similar to a chessboard, it definitely was a labeled grid of sorts. 

I3, E2, and C9 are done. Hyde glanced around the lights in the large room. B6 won’t be hard to turn on, and all we need is wherever H is. 

To Jekyll’s left, she could spot Mallo curled up on the floor, incredibly hurt. Mark was also close by, facing the figure of the mermaid just a step away from Mallo. Did… Did Mallo get free? Did Mark help her? 

She thought she was dreaming, but Jekyll spotted a similar silhouette to that of Lenore’s out in the shadows. Huh. Perhaps she and Pen traded places… 

Jatayu wasn’t too far off from the others, either. He walked in the darkness, pressing a few buttons. After the click, a series of childlike laughter filled the air, and hissing noises zoomed passed Jekyll as Jatayu threw the bombs at the mermaid figure, flying past everyone with great ease. 

The button next to Mallo and in front of Jekyll suddenly sprouted out spider-like legs made of metal from the slits Jekyll had observed earlier. It picked itself up and giggled, walking out of sight. 

What the hell are these things? Hyde narrowed her eyes. 

Jekyll shook her head and plugged the cord into the H column. Doesn’t matter at the moment. 

Hyde nodded and started counting the grid spaces on the floor. She laughed to herself, a sense of pride. Lenore should be next to the H button. Ask her to press it, and we can get out of here. 

We are using her, aren’t we? 

Yes, now call out to her. 

“Lenore!” Jekyll called out, hoping her voice would reach her coworker. “Can you look for a GRAY button and press it? Be sure that it is gray and not yellow!” 

Lenore’s silhouette stood still, turning toward Jekyll. There was a nod from her shadow. “Sure.” 

Jekyll glanced around again before giving further instructions. “It should be near the east wall!” 

“I don’t have a compass on me!” Lenore retorted in a harsher tone than usual. There was a quick breath, and her voice became calm again. “But I can decipher it is in the unlit area.” 

“Gage where the other lights are in the room and try to guess based on proximity,” Jekyll suggested. Surely, that makes sense…

Lenore’s shadow disappeared only for a moment. There was a soft click, and the cord in the generator-powered on, shooting electricity through its veins. The light lit up a good circle of the room, providing light to almost all the room. 

The mermaid came into view again, its broken-hearted eyes shaking in its pupils. There were also a few demon syndicate members, confused as ever about where they were. 

Lenore also came into view. She stared at the demon syndicate for a hot minute. He stared back at her, before scowling at her and spitting at her shoes. She did not take his action lightly and lunged for him. 

Jekyll would’ve watched if her attention wasn’t forced onto Mallo who picked up a box in front of her and pressed the top button. The boxes’ legs came out, giggling as they started to sizzle. Mallo grunted as she walked in between Mark and Lenore before chucking the bomb at the mermaid and syndicate’s location. 

The throw must’ve torn at her ligaments because as Mallo tried to reach for another bomb, she fell flat on her face. She grunted, her face turning red from embarrassment as she snapped at Mark, slowly getting back up on her feet. “Why did you run away?” 

“It’s not my problem,” Mark replied. 

“It is!” She glared at the mermaid and back at the prisoner. “It is our problem!”

“I’m going back to Dante to change my identity,” Mark started walking towards where Dante was last left, not giving Mallo the time of day. “You can’t beat the Piscine Mermaid with maracas.” 

Mallo struggled to her knees, staring at the button in front of her. “Can you at least throw the bombs at it?” 

“If I have the time.” 

“What do you mean if you have the time?!” Mallo snapped, finally standing. Something changed in her eyes; she didn’t look at Mark with full hatred anymore. However, the situation was still frustrating to her. “Just shout at Dante–” she stopped, facing south. “Dante! Change Mark’s ID! He’s running from a fight! I also need my ID switched and healed!” 

There was a pause as everyone–including the mermaid–stared south. There was a faint reply of ticking. “Which IDs?” 

“Use my extraction ticket! I need R Corp!” Mark barked. 

“I think I did pull that a bit ago, okay!” 

Mallo patted her chest to clear her throat before yelling as well. “I need a ranged weapon in my ID!” 

In a few seconds, Jekyll watched as Mark transformed into what she thought was a R Corp ID, and Mallo into one she did recognize: LCCB manager. 

The doctor watched as Mark immediately sprang into action. He hauled the bomb in front of Mallo over his shoulder, pressing its button firmly and flinging it toward the mermaid. Everyone else stood around as they watched the bomb hiss through the air, landing in the same grid square as the mermaid. 

There was a loud, low, resounding screech. All the buttons that were not thrown sprouted legs and started collecting behind the generator. They clicked their metal spider legs across the floor, paying no mind to any of the people or monsters they passed. One of the bombs got unlucky enough to be shot by Mark, sitting in place behind the mermaid as it laughed. 

Mark didn’t waste any time waiting for his party to take action. With his high speed, he lunged toward the mermaid, implanting his knee into the ground before firing multiple rounds of gunshots at its face. He stood, taking out two knives from his thigh gear, and stuck it into the mermaids' skin. 

The bullets and knives did real damage to the abnormality, but the materials faded into its skin, and it forced the creature to cry. She whimpered over her voice. “I thought… you loved me… I loved you… Why don’t you love me?” 

Mark��s only reply was a look of pure joy on his face. 

Hah… no wonder his relationship with Chesh didn’t work out… Hyde scoffed. Look at the way he scoffs at another’s pain. 

Jekyll narrowed her eyes. It’s an abnormality. It deserves to be punished. 

I doubt all of them are bad, Hyde shrugged. They could’ve been put to good use, somehow. The ones we’ve met are just… really clingy. 

Mallo adjusted the gun in her hands, clocking it with prepared bullets before she turned to Jatayu. “Can you change into a ranged ID?” It was more of a demand than a suggestion. “So we can shoot this thing; I have an idea.” 

Jatayu turned slowly toward Mallo after a long stare in Dante’s direction. Perhaps he was checking to see if the manager was okay. He nodded towards the former employee. “I’m all ears.” 

“Let’s shoot the abnormality when we are out of its range,” Mallo gestured to her gun, pointing it at the mermaid who was distracted by Mark. 

Jatayu nodded, changing into his G Corp ID. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he smirked. “Do you think this will do?” 

Wait… we can change our own IDs at will? Jekyll stood dumbfounded, staring at Jatayu. How did he do that? 

…We could always try. Later, though. 

Mallo wasn’t impressed. “Is it ranged?” 

Jatayu outstretched his arm, aiming for the brokenhearted mermaid. “You tell me.” 

His arm shot forth two attacks of some type of energy Jekyll couldn’t describe. They blasted through the air with a static sound before burning the abnormalities’ skin. The creature shrank back, its eyes becoming dark. 

What the hell did the party do to break its spirit? Jekyll raised an eyebrow. What did I miss? 

It doesn’t matter, Hyde snapped her fingers. Let’s get out of here while we can. They got this fight in the bag. 

Jekyll shut the panel of the generator gently and turned north, her footsteps echoing softly on the red floor. 

“Jekyll! Hyde!” 

Jekyll flinched as she heard Mallo call out her name. Oh, no…

What does this selfish brat want now? Hyde narrowed her eyes. Ignore her–

Jekyll had already turned to face Mallo, staring at her with the most blank, stoic expression she could muster despite her inner turmoil. 

“I have an idea,” the woman took a step closer. “Do you have an ID that is a long-range weapon? Can you switch to it?” 

Jekyll glanced to the floor. “I do,” she replied softly. “The LCCB manager–” 

But we are not changing into it, right? Hyde’s voice was low and threatening. You need me to get out of here. 

“Dante! Switch Jekyll into the LCCB manager ID!” 

Jekyll stared up in fright, her arms outstretched to say no. Wait! I didn’t agree–

Dante’s faint voice could be heard amongst his faint flames in the distance. “On it!”

Jekyll clasped her hands over her mouth, feeling her clothes immediately shift into ones so familiar yet foreign to her. Her paintbrush shifted into a gun, and her mind became more at ease. 

Hyde, I’m so sorry–

There was nothing but a lingering feeling of disapproval as Hyde was flung into the back of the mind, forced to stay silent. 

Jekyll peeked behind the generator, spotting the mermaid. She zoned out as Mallo went over the plan again. Having already heard it, Jekyll adjusted the scope on her firearm before firing two bullets: one at the mermaid, and one at the bombs. The bullet sank into the mermaid’s skull, and the bullet flew straight into the slit of the bomb with careful precision. 

The bombs exploded immediately after her shot. They damaged Mallo, Lenore, the demon syndicates, and the mermaid. The light around them was almost blinding, and the stench of ash and fire fueled the air, making it difficult for Jekyll to breathe. 

The mermaid cried out in pain with an eerie screech before diving back into the floor like it was water. She disappeared from sight, but the water portals on the wall returned. It was about to soar across the grid once more. 

Lenore grunted as she got up from the explosion before walking up to the demon syndicates and conversing with them. By the looks of it, they agreed not to fight each other and focus on the mermaid first. 

Jekyll bit her tongue. Oh, so when others converse with the enemy it’s totally fine–

A certain drive filled Jekyll, and an aggravating light radiated from the pack attached to her ID back. Her eyes filled with terror as the water portals targeted her. Anxiety wrapped around her heart and neck, seizing control of her hyperventilation. She had gained too much aggro, and the mermaid was forced to target her. 

Mallo! Mallo what have you done?! She glanced around in a panic, calculating quickly what she had to do to survive. You sentenced me to death with this ID! 

The first portal summoned the mermaid, and it came flying at her with great speed. Jekyll barely managed to leap out of the way, coughing up the water that soaked her and almost drowned her on the spot. She scrambled to her feet, placing her gun on her back and running behind the generator. 

The second portal went off, splashing Jekyll from head to toe behind her. She barely stood her ground as she discovered all of the bomb buttons surrounding a box with a green button on top of it. The bombs! Perhaps I can survive this! 

As she hastily pressed the green buttons, all of the smaller bomb boxes attached themselves inside the green button box, collecting each other into one container. Jekyll tapped her foot anxiously, hoping the hissing sound would come before the next portal activated. 

Nothing happened. The box simply spun around, revealing itself to be a tool abnormality, and gifting Jekyll with an EGO and an EGO gift. 

That… Jekyll sighed, picking up the objects and equipping them. That wasn’t what I needed right now! She glanced at the portals still targeting her. I needed you to explode, not gift me! How is this going to help me?!

More shots of guns went off on the other side of the generator. She could hear Lenore and Mark arguing. 

“You idiot! What are you doing?!” Lenore shouted. “We have a bigger fish to fry, literally!” 

“It is unwise to associate with the enemy!” Mark retorted.

“Dante! Can we not have a truce with the enemy for now as we deal with the abnormality?!” 

Dante and Lenore continued to converse, but Jekyll did not have time to listen into the conversation. She dove into a separate grid with all her force, barely avoiding another mermaid swipe. Anything in its path was drenched and destroyed, planting and growing fear in Jekyll’s heart. 

Hyde, where are you when I need you?! Why did I have to be in THIS ID?!

If Jekyll knew her kit well enough from the ID memories, she knew the aggro wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. It was designed to be targeted first and deal damage first in human combat, not when facing an abnormality. 

The radio on Jekyll’s ID rang, vibrating on her chest. “Ugh Jekyll it’s me, Mallo…” Mallo drew out her words, apparently annoyed to talk to her. “Dante is telling me to tell you to stay safe or whatever, ugh… bye.” 

Jekyll’s hands shook as she took her eyes off the water portals on the walls and onto her walkie-talkie. She unclipped it from her chest strap and stared at it in her hands. She… she really doesn’t want to talk to me… Jekyll held back a few tears. Hyde… Hyde was right… She pressed a button on the radio to automatically reply before taking off, avoiding yet another close attack from the mermaid that came flying towards her. 

She rolled across the floor, going under the mermaid’s big waves. She coughed up water and wiped her face before stumbling on her feet, and taking off to the other side of the room. The abnormalities' strikes only lasted two seconds before they reached the other side, which didn’t give Jekyll proper time to plan a counterattack. She panicked, and the only thing that came to mind was to flee and get out of the room. Although that was her original plan, Jekyll felt more justified in doing so. 

The mermaid was careful to target Jekyll each time; she barely dodged each one, getting drenched in the waves in the aftermath of each attack. Her heart pounded as she ran, struggling to breathe and see. She wondered if she would make it to the other side alive, or if the mermaid would kill her before she could. Her vision became blurred and her eyes burned from the water splashing against them. The mermaid zoomed in front of her, almost knocking her off her feet as the water forced her to the floor again. Jekyll coughed, clenching her chest, Her feet ached from all the twists and turns. I’m so close!

More shots can be heard behind her, causing Jekyll’s head to spin. The radio in her hand beeped as Mallo spoke again. “Bullets are ineffective, proceed with caution,” the robotic voice echoed. 

Gee, you think?! Jekyll scoffed before ducking again, avoiding yet another strike from the mermaid. Jekyll felt her sanity drop as she continued to make her way to the unlocked door. Everything in her body ached, and she shivered from the cold as she lost feeling in her hands. 

Another portal formed behind Jekyll. She stumbled to the floor and glanced behind her, scrambling to move out of the way. However, her side ached and she threw up into a heap of coughs, her eyes widening as the portal swished back and forth, indicating that the mermaid was about to fly from it. 

Jekyll closed her eyes and counted to four, embracing for impact. However, nothing came. She opened her eyes slowly, struggling to stand on her feet as she glanced down the grid line to the portal. 

Jatayu was in the way of her and the mermaid. He was in his base ID, and one of his tanfas was on the floor. His free hand rested on his chest… no, it was in his chest. He reached into himself and pulled out what looked like to be a mechanical heart. It glowed bright blue as it hung from artificial blood vessels still hooked into Jatayu’s body. He crushed his heart with his hands, slamming the remains into the ground. As he did so, a large, blue barrier surrounded him, blocking the mermaid’s path. The life drained from Jatayu’s face as the mermaid emerged from the portal, slamming into the blue force field at full force. It was as if the abnormality had run into an indestructible wall. It cowered back in pain, crying before it plunged into the metal floor again, it and its water portals disappearing. 

Jatayu fell to the ground, limp over his broken heart, hanging onto life by a thin thread. 

“Jatayu!” Jekyll clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to find the energy to run over to him. 

Mallo got to him first, and Jekyll was too far away. Jekyll could see Mallo talking into the LCCB manager walkie talkie. “No need to shout, Jekyll. Uhh, Jatayu took his heart out? Can he do that? He made a shield with it too, is that normal?” 

Jekyll stopped in her tracks, seeing her comrade on the floor. She took shallow breaths and felt as if she would pass out. Why did he do that? Why?!

“Look, Dante will heal him. It’ll be fine, okay?” Mallo voiced into the radio, her head turned to Jekyll’s direction. 

Jekyll glanced around the generator the best she could from her perspective. The demon syndicates looked around the room, trying to find the mermaid. When they didn’t, they turned on Jekyll’s comrades, running towards Mallo and the unconscious Jatayu. 

It’ll… It’ll be fine… Jekyll took slow steps back, glancing around. They… they got this… 

Her steps led her until she was in front of the mechanical door once more. All the lights were lit up, and the door was ready to be open, the mechanism no longer prohibiting entrance. Jekyll ran into it with her back before she turned around. Now’s the time to get out of here… She stammered in her own thoughts, guilt replacing her worry. They don’t care… remember? They don’t care about me… They can do this without me… That’s what they’ve been saying this whole time. 

It bothered Jekyll that she had to convince herself to move forward. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder back at the fallen Jatayu. Is he going to be okay? 

The doctor’s radio went off again. “Do you know how to put a mechanical heart back in, Jekyll?” 

Jekyll couldn’t leave Mallo hanging with a question like that. Everything in her resisted replying as the mere thought of talking to Mallo repulsed her. I hate that I want to help you when you only lied to me… “It’s mechanical right?” She turned on her radio and spoke as calmly as she could. “Have you tried putting it inside of the body?” 

She knew that hearts needed CPR to help pump the blood inside them, but those were for biological hearts. Beyond that, she had no knowledge of mechanical hearts. Why is she asking me? I thought Dante was going to help. 

The radio cut out, giving a scraped piece of what Mallo said. “...Off his hands… and kill… him? I don’t know.” 

…What? Jekyll paused before radioing back. “It’s mechanical… does it need to be charged?” 

“I’m just gonna put it in,” the radio turned off. There was a moment of silence. 

Jekyll sighed and eyed the door, staring at the seeping blue gas. Thankfully, she didn’t have as much showing skin so it couldn’t itch. However, it still made it difficult to breathe. Is the next room full of this stuff? 

The radio turned back on. “I got Jatayu up,” Mallo sighed in relief. “He’s slowly recovering and Dante is winding the clock back.” 

Oh. Jekyll sighed. So, they truly didn’t need me. “Roger, I’m close to the next door.” 

There was a loud silence. “...Why are you at the next door?” Mallo’s voice carried demand and disappointment at the same time. “We need to clear a way for Dante! Also, may I remind you, that Jatayu JUST TOOK HIS HEART OUT!” 

Jekyll turned down the volume of the walkie-talkie, wincing as Mallo yelled into it. But, you took care of the issue without me. You don’t need me there. 

“Come back here, NOW, Jekyll,” Mallo demanded, her voice fueled with a wave of fiery anger. “Now! That is an order!” 

Jekyll clenched her fists around her gun and radio. Anger boiled inside of her. Where were you when I was about to be murdered by the mermaid? You sentenced me to death with this ID, Mallo. You have no love in your heart, why should I show you mine? 

A familiar sense of pride built up inside her; a pride that did not belong to her directly. Jekyll could feel emotions that Hyde usually felt, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She decided to try and blow off the order by giving an excuse. “Dante instructed me to get to the next door,” she lied. “So I continued onward.” 

“No, Dante told you to stay safe!” Mallo saw right through her lies like a bullet and shot the bullseye. “That’s what I told you, but now I’m ordering you to come back here and protect Jatayu now!” 

No. A deep-planted rage fueled inside Jekyll, one that spun out of her control. Turn it off. 

Jekyll was taken aback, her eyes widening. Hyde?! She turned the radio off, feeling overly compliant to the voice that supposedly wasn’t supposed to be there. Are you there? 

There was no reply. The anger subsided the moment she obeyed.

Jekyll took a moment to process what happened before filling her actions with determination. I must move quickly… I don’t have much time before she comes after me. Her hands rested on the split of the door. I have to get the golden bough and get out of here… Leaving them behind, because… She bit her tongue again, her fingers clenching. They didn’t come to my aid. Like Hyde said… Like Hyde has shown me before, people like them are not worth my time of day. I should not protect them when they are a threat to me. 

Jekyll swung the large red door open. The blue fog filled her face and covered her surroundings, making her invisible to any outside onlooker. She coughed and waved her hand around, taking a step into the next room and leaving her party behind. 

As she stepped into the next room, the environment around her changed. According to her observations, she was no longer in a lobotomy corporation facility. All she could see was a simple plain covered in blue fog. The environment was filled with a deep aura of regret which was felt with each breath she took. The place was dark, and there was an eerie but faint smell of fire. The blue gas was everywhere, covering visible objects, unlike the shadows in the previous room. 

Slightly northeast of Jekyll flew a large, blue butterfly. It was covered in various eyes across its wings, and it stared at Jekyll with its intense antennas. It shared many shades of blue across its features, and it was as if its eyes read Jekyll’s soul like a book. 

Jekyll tried to crouch in the gas, trying to hide from its many gazes. When it followed her movements, she sighed and stood up, figuring it was no use to hide if it already spotted her. She glanced around to see a few demon syndicates amid the fog, whilst one of them ran north with a shiny object in his grasp. It was a faint, golden glow, but it wasn’t so bright that it blinded Jekyll. It resonated with her, called to her, and begged her to come close. Despite never seeing one before, Jekyll immediately knew what it was. The golden bough… 

The demon syndicate ran toward the north wall where a bunch of stairs led upward. He took off up them with great speed, leaving Jekyll and the other syndicate members alone with the abnormality. Jekyll adjusted her gun and started walking towards the stairs, but stopped as the abnormality slowly approached her. 

“Uh… Hi…” Jekyll backed up, trying to make her movements unpredictable. “...Blink twice if you can understand me.” 

“I do not need your incompetent and incompatible ways of communication.” The butterfly sneered in a cocky, stuck-up voice. “Co-co-co,” it laughed in a mocking tone as its gaze intensified, making Jekyll feel as if she was being turned inside out and read like a book. “You have a lot you wish to share, don’t you?” 

Nope, that’s suspicious, I am not dealing with that! Jekyll crouched again, gently moving to her left. Hyde! I need you right now! I need your help! I need to get out of here! 

She froze for a second, watching the butterfly get closer. She searched her mind for any information before a light bulb went off in her head. The IDs… Jatayu changed IDs all on his own, surely there’s a way to do it… Do I have a fast ID that can get me out of here? 

The fog surrounding Jekyll made it difficult for her to breathe. She coughed; it felt as if her pain and struggle to breathe made the butterfly move faster toward her. Hyde… she sighed. I know you can hear me… you have a stronger mind than I do. Take control, change my ID, I permit you! Please, help me–

Jekyll felt a chain wrap around her chain of thought. Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt the weight of the LCCB manager pack lifted off her back. Her clothes became more sleek and agile, and her gun transformed into a large, red katana. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and she felt her tongue disappear. 

Jekyll was thrown into the back of the mind, unable to speak as Hyde surfaced. Hyde glanced around and quickly analyzed the situation and the ID she transformed into. Huh. Shi ID. Perfect. She cracked her neck, getting used to not having a tongue. Dangit, why can’t I speak? What– oh. The memories of this ID flooded back to her, and she recalled how the current equipped ID lost her tongue. …Well, at least we know we can change IDs on the spot with enough willpower and fear, right Jekyll? 

No one answered her. 

A tinge of pain filled Hyde’s heart. Unlike the other ID from Nagul Und Hammer, this one felt as if it missed Jekyll in her world. Hyde sighed, adjusting her agile sword, and started to walk around the abnormality at a slow speed. It’s close… I can feel it… 

The butterfly waited a few more seconds before it fluttered its wings and flung right at Hyde, preparing for an attack. 

But Hyde was faster. She had gained great haste with her new abilities. She dodged the attack with ease and dashed through the fog towards the north stairs. Nothing but dust and a flash of red light was left in her previous path. She quickly stepped onto the first step, having crossed the entire room with incredible ease. She adjusted the mask over her face as she glanced back, eyeing the abnormality. 

The multi-eyed butterfly only laughed at her. “Co-co-co…” It muttered gently as it flapped onto the ground. If it had a mouth to grin, it would have. 

The golden bough was up ahead; the syndicate member was not far away from her. Hyde raised her middle finger to the abnormality, flipping it off before she dashed up the stairs. Her eyes were locked on the target ahead. It’s right there, the golden bough is so close, then we can leave this company… 

Guilt could not find a place to claim in Hyde’s mind. She felt no remorse for leaving her party behind; the thought didn’t even pass her consideration. Her feet effortlessly flew up the stairs, gaining ground on her target with great haste. She was a Section 3 assassin after all; nothing would put her between her and her prey. 

The stairs went up high until Hyde reached the surface. Despite the previous experience in the Q Corp Backstreets, Hyde found herself on top of a grassy plateau with a bright sun shining down upon her. The day was at its highest peak. The sun gleamed down on the beautiful meadow before her, and a gentle breeze tangled Hyde’s long hair. 

The demon syndicate member continued to run, having spotted Hyde chasing him. He cried out in fright and panted from exhaustion, clutching the glowing object in his hands. He looked back at Hyde, fear glistening in his silver eyes. His dirty-blonde hair bounced up and down in curls as his foot hit the ground, trying to find a direction to run. He was trying to get away and hide the object in his hands, but the golden glow on his face told the painter exactly what it was. He picked the direction of the cliff at the end of the plateau, running towards it. 

Hesitation was not a word Hyde knew. She charged at her target, her sword drawn as she caught up to him with great speed and accuracy, slicing his back. 

The sky darkened. As the demon syndicate cried out in pain and fell forward on the object he was holding, the sun started to hide behind an object that grew bigger by the second. She was more than fast enough to catch her target, however, she only had a few split seconds to book it out of the approaching threat from above. 

The sun dimmed before it disappeared, and the object blocking the sun became bigger; it was a large spire falling down to where she stood. The shadow of it covered her face, making it difficult to assess which direction she should run in. The air rumbled and the ground shook. 

Aw f–

Hyde didn’t have time to react as the spire came crashing down on her, crushing her ribs as she was flung back from the impact. The demon syndicate man and the object he was holding were crushed under the weight of the spire in front of Hyde. It loomed like a large tower, and the shockwave of its descent sent Hyde flying back into the base of the tree. 

Hyde coughed in pain, rolling on her side. She barely survived the freak accident, the incident having zapped at least eighty percent of her health. The meadow was gone; it turned into a grand monument to climb. Dust filled the air as the landscape and sky became dark. The sun looked like it had come down from the sky and rested on top of the spire. As Hyde grunted in pain, she heard a booming voice that shook every fiber of her being. 

“I’M BACK!” 

[undertheopensky]

Wildlife 1

Whumptober Day 3: Solitary Confinement

Characters: Blue Link

Read on Ao3!

-----

It’s the stillness that wakes him.

Blue’s gotten used to sleeping through a certain amount of background noise. He lives with his brothers. Noise is just a fact of life, from Red falling down the stairs when half-asleep, Green banging around rearranging the living room every week, and Vio tripping over the newly-arranged furniture when he goes to make tea at two in the morning. Never mind when someone’s working in the forge; that’s just about loud enough to wake the dead, and if one of them’s in there then all of them are in and out, handling coke, pulling wire, using the second anvil, or running water so no one passes out in the summer heat.

So when Blue draws close to consciousness and hears nothing - no gentle murmur of conversation, no rattling of plates and cups - it jolts him to full awareness.

He’s - outside. He was definitely not outside last night. He’s also no longer in his bed, instead picking himself up from grass and dirt and staring at the trees towering overhead in mute confusion.

The fuck happened? And why the fuck didn’t he wake up for it?

“Guys?” he calls, and is immediately weirded out by the way his voice is swallowed up by the empty greenery. “Red, Green? Vio? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t hear anything in response, which is fine. He doesn’t need the others for whatever the fuck this is. Even if he’d really prefer not to be in his pyjamas.

It’s whatever.

He’d also kind of like a weapon. Blue glances around the forest floor with a dawning frown - it’s strange there’s no fallen branches. No dead leaves, even, though it’s not fall back home and from the lack of a nip in the air it’s not here either, but like, trees are always losing a few leaves here and there. This place is almost unnaturally clean. There’s some shrubs and some saplings in that open area to the left; if he can’t find something he’ll make one.

Blue’s hand goes to the knife he’d be wearing at his belt if he wasn’t in his goddamn nightclothes.

Whatever. He’ll cope.

After using his whole body weight to break off a suitably-sized stick, and beating it against a nearby rock until most of the offshoots are broken off, Blue chooses a direction at random and sets off. The trees here are so thick there’s no way to determine landmarks. It’s like the Minish Woods, too dense to see the sky or more than ten feet away, but it can’t be like that forever. He’ll find a sparse patch, or maybe a tree he can climb, and find something. And in the meantime, he can try to forage. It feels like late spring, so probably not much fruit around, but Red ensured that everyone knew a few things they could gather in any season.

That kind of knowledge only works locally, though, and Blue is carefully not letting himself wonder just how far away he’s been transported. He is not used to seeing this many needle-y evergreens. Cone trees? He knows the seeds are in cones so they’re probably called cone trees, and most of the seeds are edible if he can find them. Some of them also have edible needles, too, and he squints at the nearest one trying to remember the difference between a spruce and a pine.

Blue’s pretty sure the difference isn’t fatal, at least.

He snaps off a tip from a low-hanging branch, sniffs it, then shrugs and pops it in his mouth.

He immediately spits it back out, spitting frantically in an attempt to get the taste out, too.

“This tastes like paint stripper!” he complains to the air, and belatedly remembers Red telling them that while technically edible, pine needles were the worst of the bunch and to go for spruce instead. “Ugh.”

Okay, so this is probably a pine tree. Good to know. He takes a close squint at the branch, wondering how the fuck it’s any different to every other nearby tree. “Red said the cones are always easy to tell apart,” Blue mutters to himself, and glances fruitlessly around for lumps of brown amongst the green. “Guess it really is the wrong season. But… needles. There was something about the actual needles.”

He picks another bunch and looks them over. They’re long, and spiky, like two flat pieces glued together at right angles, three of them all bundled together on a short wooden stem.

“Okay, I guess. Let’s find something to compare this to.”

He just hopes he’s right in that it’s a pine tree and the next attempt won’t taste even worse.

Blue investigates the nearest shrubs on his way past and finds only a single mouseberry bush, which is a long way from ideal. The fruit doesn’t taste of much, and they always upset his stomach if he eats more than a handful. It’s something, at least, even this early in the season. And hey, these trees look different to that first stand of them. The needles all grow straight off the branch, for one thing, and they’re more solid than spiky.

Blue bites down on a branch tip from this new tree and makes a face. Sharp, not altogether pleasant, but closer to an underripe lemon than wood stripper. He’ll take it over starving, but Golden Three, that’s awful. Blue seriously hopes there’s other shit to eat in this weird-ass forest.

He keeps going on his chosen heading, passing more spruce trees (reluctantly picking tips along the way) and another mouseberry bush, until he meets a white stone wall.

Blue squints at it in confusion. It’s too smooth to be a natural cliff face, too consistent to be hand-hewn - it’s also the first real barrier he’s found to his straight-line progress, the first true landmark he’s found. He just wishes it wasn’t so fucking weird. His fingers should catch on fine irregularities, or glide across truly polished stone. This is just… flat.

Squinting skywards - useless, because the trees grow thickly all the way up to the edge which is also hella weird - Blue turns deliberately to the left, so his sword hand is free, and starts following the cliff face, dodging trunks as he goes.

It’s not long after that that he comes to another landmark, this one a small creek flowing from a crack in the wall.

“The hell?” Blue squints at it. The crack is… not large enough for the kind of current he can see, which is bizarre. He sticks his hand in it to check the depth - fuck it’s freezing - no deeper than mid-forearm and a sandy bottom. The water’s crystal clear and it’s fucking with his perception a bit; where’s the algae that should be drifting in the shallows, the trailing braids of water plants? Tadpoles, minnows, fish? What’s wrong with the water, for there to be no life in it?

Where’s any of the animals? This whole time, the forest has been eerily silent except for Blue’s own footsteps. No small scurrying things, no birds flitting overhead. There’s not even any wind.

Shaking his arm to get some of the water off, Blue looks back at the strange, white wall that blocked his progress. Keep following the wall, or start following the creek?

The creek is - slightly - more likely to lead him to a village. People need water, after all.

It’s intuition alone that makes him hop the coursing water, put his hand back on the damn wall, and keep going.

Whenever he passes a probably-a-spruce-tree Blue snaps off the soft green branch tips he can reach, holding up the hem of his sleep shirt to gather them in. Stupidly, it makes him wish he’d worn his cap to bed. Then at least he’d have a handy carrying basket for this shit without the awkwardness of wearing it at the same time.

There’s still not much by way of berry shrubs, unfortunately. Blue’s been checking as he goes, moving away from the wall to hunt for potential forage where he can, always keeping the flash of white within eyeshot so he doesn’t lose his heading. He still wants to make progress.

The silence is getting to him, though.

If he were with the others, there’d be sound. Red chattering about the bird he’d seen, or the baker’s new baby, or how the town minish were expanding the dwelling in the post office. Green singing to himself, or constructing new and terrible jokes to inflict on unsuspecting people. Even Vio likes to talk, sometimes, picking good-natured fights with Blue, or teasing Red. All of it to the endless cadence of forge hammers and hissing bellows.

Instead, Blue’s alone, only his own footsteps and breathing and heartbeat to keep him company.

Blue’s not like Vio. He doesn’t get overwhelmed by lots of noise and need long hours spent in relative quiet to recover. He likes a bit of peace and quiet, because when you have three brothers you take what you can get. He just doesn’t need it.

And this much quiet is deeply, deeply unsettling.

It also makes it hard to ignore the ache in his gut. Blue has a routine, dammit. Wake up, start the day’s tea, get food on the table before any of the others make it down the stairs and attempt to cook. Today he woke up alone in a creepy forest, and instead of breakfast, he’s busy trying to work out where the fuck he is with only pieces of tree to snack on.

He chews another one, grumbling to himself. Stupid trees. Stupid plants. Stupid berries, not being around when he needs them -

Is that another wall?

It is indeed another wall, which joins the first at perfect right angles and no visible seam, like it’s all of one piece. Blue hates it so much.

He doesn’t like the feeling of being herded. He doesn’t like that he can’t see the sky. He hates that there’s been no trees with branches low enough to climb, no rock formations to get a higher viewpoint with, that all he can do is keep following the fucking wall.

“This is bullshit,” he hisses under his breath with a scowl.

It’s been hours. He’s tired and hungry and all he’s found is more fucking trees and more fucking walls —

The burn in his eyes startles him badly. He’s not Red. He doesn’t just cry at the drop of a hat, over stupid shit like not knowing where he is or where the others are, or the shaky pressure blanketing his lungs. What the fuck.

“Okay,” he tells himself, “okay. We need a break.” Red would for sure have been whining for one by now. He should - pace himself. Sit down and eat something. Hell, he doesn’t even known how long he’s been walking for. It’s not like he can mark the path of the sun without a view of the sky.

Blue makes himself sit down on the nearest tree root. Pretends his sniffling is just checking the smell of the stupid spruce tips. Eats a few, grimacing at the sharp-sour taste, and considers the mouseberries he’d collected.

He’s thirsty, is the problem. Spruce needles don’t have much water, and even if the creek isn’t poisoned to hell he’s got no way to carry it. As long as he doesn’t eat too many - they’re better than nothing, right?

The juice from each small fruit feels inadequate. He’d never been fond of the taste, even before discovering they don’t agree with him. Blue eats a carefully-counted ten of the small grey-purple berries, then resolutely folds the rest back in his shirt.

(He’s still thirsty. Still hungry. Still feels like something is weighing him down by his chest.)

“Time to go,” he says to no one, and when his heart gives an uncomfortable throb he ignores it. There’s another stand of stupid spruce trees he can scavenge off of.

He doesn’t know how long he spends like that - following the wall, foraging for food, squinting uselessly into the thick forest like that’ll make things make more sense. There’s more ground cover here, small leafy things and ground-hugging shrubs that make it even more difficult to see anything at a distance. With any luck, some of it will wind up being edible. Blue’s not in the mood to investigate, though. It’s been - hours, surely, by now. And yet the light overhead hasn’t shifted at all. If he’d woken up mid-morning then by now the sun should be dropping, turning the air golden and making shadows stretch out across the ground. Instead, it feels - like it hasn’t changed at all. Still the cool white light of a waking sun.

It’s almost like - dungeon lighting. Too consistent, and run on magic, instead of the movements of the heavens.

“Same thing,” Blue mutters to himself.

It’s a cold shock when Vio doesn’t snarl at him for it. Unconsciously, he’d been expecting resistance; a playful argument about where magic comes from. The lack of it feels like - missing not just the iron but the anvil entirely. At least there’s no hammer to drop on his own foot, here. He huffs, scrubs his hands up and down his arms to settle the prickling there, and keeps going.

Then, all at once, everything goes dark.

Blue yelps.

It’s not just the suddenness - it’s the completeness of the loss of light. Even on the darkest of new moons the stars should be enough to dust solid outlines silver. Here? Fuck all. He can’t see his hands, he can’t see his feet, he can’t see the ground, he can’t see the protrusion that catches his foot -

Hard-rough-scraping meets his face. Blue flails back, nearly losing his balance, before he gets a hand on the tree and the world steadies.

Well, he’s definitely not going anywhere else today.

-----

Morning dawns just as abruptly as night had fallen. Blue knows this because he’s awake when it happens.

He’d slept badly. Golden Three, he’s out of practice at sleeping on hard ground. Without even a bedroll to cushion him he’d been in and out of restless sleep more times than he could count, before sudden, blazing light speared through the canopy and he gave up. Might as well get something done, since further sleep was a wash.

Light restored, he’s able to look himself over.

A few scrapes and bruises from his unfortunate meeting with his new best friend tree in the dark, nothing serious. He’s also not sore from wandering around all day, which is interesting. He’s been barefoot the whole time, shouldn’t they be killing him?

When he checks, though, there’s not so much as a scratch, just dirt and grass stains. He supposes, when he thinks back, that the forest floor is just as empty of rocks and sticks to cut his feet on as it is leaf litter and handy fallen branches.

That’s still weird.

His stomach chooses now to complain loudly about yesterday’s meagre fare. The cramping makes Blue grimace. He’s got to find more food than just spruce needles and mouseberries, or it’s going to be a very lean time for him until he makes it home. Yesterday he’d been too tightly wound to stop and check every likely-looking plant, but he’d earmarked a few thick patches that aren’t too far back. He’ll check those, in hopes of a decent meal, before continuing his wall-expedition.

He eats some of his small store - after gathering it again, he’d dropped it from his shirt when dark had fallen - and heads out.

The first patch is all woody stuff, not as inviting as it had looked from a distance. The second is more promising.

Blue checks the fluffy leaves carefully. Yeah, this one’s okay - the tubers are a touch bitter, but they’re not toxic, and definitely safer than the mouseberries. Using his stick to break the hard crust of earth, he starts digging.

The dirt, like everything else in this awful place, is weird. Small, perfectly smooth particles, all the same size, with no pockets of sand or rotting root system or small burrowing insects. The closest comparison he has is clay, but there’s no way he’d be able to break through heat-dried clay without better tools. This stuff gives way beneath his bare hands.

A small, pale swelling emerges from the weird dirt, maybe the size of his thumb.

Blue wiggles his fingers deeper.

Finally, he thinks he’s got most of the roots free. Blue grabs the plant by the thick stem just below the ground-line, and pulls.

In a shower of dust, the root mass comes free, a fist-sized bundle of pale tubers dangling from his hand.

He grins to himself. It’s not much, but it’s something.

As he walks he scrubs the dirt off with hands and sleeves, and any clean tubers go straight in his mouth. They’re actually not bad raw. A little gritty, which Blue’s not thinking about too hard. Definitely more pleasant than the spruce tips. And he’s seeing more plants with the same leaves, some large, most much smaller, so there’s a supply of food for at least a little while.

It’s as his stomach is finally starting to settle that he spots the break in the trees and his heart goes cold.

Blue runs the last few yards, losing some of the damn spruce tips when he hurdles a root. There’s another fucking wall, the same perfect stone, the same seamless join. That makes three walls forming a horseshoe shape, blocking him in.

He drops any pretence of pacing himself. Blue can move much faster when he’s not scouting for food, watching for danger. And this is suddenly much more important than watching for animals that he knows by now just aren’t there. He finds the other end of the creek - again, vanishing into a crack too small for its volume - and not far beyond it, another corner. Another wall. But there’s still a chance, just a little further, lungs burning heart aching eyes gone blurry with the wind -

Water burbles cheerfully out of a crack in the clean white stone, and Blue knows for sure he’s back where he started.

He’s boxed in. There’s no way out.

-----

Another night of terrible sleep has Blue waking feeling like a horse sat on him.

It’s not just the body aches, though those are definitely a thing after days of sleeping on the ground. He just feels flat. Beyond tired and into the misty grey indifference of ‘I could lie here all day and wouldn’t even feel better after’.

(He’s trapped. There’s no way out of this silent, unnatural forest. There’s no way out.)

(He’s going to die here.)

“No, you’re not,” he tells himself. “Come on. Get up. Food time. Let’s do this.”

The days after his discovery are a bit blurry. Blue had spent a lot of time roaming the forest and looking for a tree he could climb or some other vantage point, pacing the walls looking for weak points, even braving the damn creek to see if the cracks the water poured through could be widened. So far, he’s found nothing.

Finally, Blue drags himself into a sit. He squints through the cold light - so bright, he just woke up damn it - and tries to muster the energy to make it the rest of the way up. “Come on,” he says, trying to emulate Green, “the sooner you get up, the sooner you can find food, and - I don’t fucking know. Try climbing the stupid pine trees again. C’mon, you’ve got shit to do, don’t just sit here all day. Move.” He ignores the pang - it’s not Green, he knows it’s not Green, but it’s the only thing that’s been keeping him moving, sometimes. Pretending his brothers are just out of view, laughing at his attempts to wake himself up.

He’d slept pretty close to the stream last night. Maybe some cold water to the face will get him going.

Blue’s not paying attention as he heads for the sound of water rushing over rocks. Most of the stream bed is sand, but there’s this one patch where many tumbled stones gather in a bend, and the sound is soothing, if nothing else. He blinks sleepily as it comes into view. Light reflecting off the rippling surface gives the illusion there’s things moving underneath. He ignores it, kneeling by the edge to splash his face -

Silver flashes, spraying water in an unexpected arc.

- and Blue tumbles backwards, screeching invectives at every goddess he knows as he falls on his ass.

For a few seconds he sits there, wide-eyed and honestly thinking the loneliness was making him hallucinate. Blue flinches when another fishtail visibly splashes out of the water.

“Din, Farore and Nayru,” he mutters, suppressing a shudder. He’d been convinced the river was dead, somehow. Poisoned, maybe. It took him two days to get desperate enough to even risk drinking it.

After he gets over the instinctive revulsion, Blue finds himself kneeling on the bank eyeing the fish darting past.

They look normal. Through the flash of light-on-water and silvery scales, he’s pretty sure he’s looking at trout. Right colour, right shape, no weird tentacles or slimy growths. Just… fish. Decent sized, too.

Goddesses, he’s so hungry.

But they’re still the only living things in the water. There’s no algae, no tadpoles in the shallows, no stringy water plants being tugged about in the current. What are the trout eating? And, considering the fact that he still hasn’t seen a single worm or insect, what the fuck is he meant to use for bait?

Apparently the trout are also hungry, because the shoddy hook he baits with a bit of tuber attracts a customer within ten minutes.

Blue yanks - the hook breaks - but the fish is already on the bank, flopping uselessly on the grass until Blue kills it.

Then he sits and stares.

Fish. After days on a diet of tubers, leafy greens, and spruce needles, he’s almost hungry enough to eat it raw. The thought of the slimy texture turns his stomach, though, and he can almost hear Vio reciting a list of diseases contracted only from eating raw meat.

Problem is, he has no fire.

The ‘weather’ here has been warm and rainless. There’s been no need for it, unless he wanted to fucking see at night, and he’s been too exhausted to consider the difficulties of gathering fuel in a place with no deadwood, and getting a spark with no flint and no metal. It’d be easier with one of the others. Red, especially, can get a fire going almost magically fast even when all he has is sticks. Blue can do it. But goddesses, he really misses his brothers.

“Red, really wish you were here right now.”

Blue sniffles, and scrubs away the not-tears, and goes hunting for kindling.

-----

Read Part 2 here!

[landofzero-archive]

Battle on the Sugoroku Board - The Die Has Been Cast 6

(Location: “Battle on the Sugoroku Board” program set)

Rinne: Gyahahahahaha♪ Get outta my way, I’m heading through! The troublemaker of the idol industry, Rinne Amagi is passing through~!

Anyone who’s got a problem with that, show yourselves to me! I have no intention of losing by leaving things up to chance!

Stop hiding and come on out! It’s much more fun to try your luck with dice than to stay hidden♪

Yuuta: (Uwah, he’s too easy to understand.

He said rinne-senpai would be a good bullet shield, but I don’t think there’s many people who’d want to fight if he’s that brazen about it.

Since Rinne-senpai has a strong reputation for gambling, maybe people think he’s lucky?

There’s rumors that if he rolls the dice, he’ll definitely get a good result—

Honestly, though, that’s impossible.

In reality, at Starmony Dorms he often says “I lost big time~!” and asks for food from those around him.

A person who makes gambler-like bets, with big stakes and big results.

It’s just the worst…… I absolutely don’t want to become like that.

…… And while I was thinking about that, he already ran so far away!

Now that he’s standing out like that, I have to follow behind.)

Rinne: ………

Yuuta: (Huh, he suddenly stopped?)

Rinne: I know you’re there, Yuta. It’s pretty obvious that you’re following me♪

Yuuta: Eh, when did you notice……!?

Rinne: Unfortunately for you, I have a good sense of intuition.

I lived in the countryside for a long time, so it’s like second nature to me. In a less populated place like this, you can hear everyone’s footsteps, y’know?

If you’re gonna follow me, you’re gonna have to stick with me. That would be more interesting♪

Yuuta: …… Don’t wanna.

Or rather, Rinne-senpai. Let me ask you, why are you walking around like you’re purposely trying to tell me where you are?

If you do that, you won’t be able to win the game

Rinne: Winning the game, huh~? No, that’s just a bonus, right?

The key to success on a variety show is how interesting the footage is. Am I wrong?

Yuuta: …… Well, that is true, but…

Even if we lose the game, as long as we win overall, that’s fine. That kind of behavior is possible since 2wink’s done the same thing.

But that’s also behavior that gets criticized.

If you just want to make a living in the entertainment world, then maybe you should just play the role of a clown and keep your head down.

But, I’ve decided not to do too much of that kind of thing.

Rinne: Hmm……

You know what kind of life you’ll choose, Yuta.

That kind of idea isn’t bad either. So this time I’ll respect your ideas and fight a little more seriously♪

Yuuta: No, I don’t really care about that kind of thing. I’ll just do things my way.

By the way, there’s a building over there. And there’s someone there who isn’t an idol—

Are they maybe a cast member participating in “Battle on the Sugoroku Board?”

Rinne: Looks like it. It looks like a store with mysterious products lined up.

I don’t have a single bit of gold, but should we go? Even if it doesn’t help, it’ll still be good info to bring back to Hebi-chan.

Yuuta: Surely, if they sell support items, it’ll probably make the fight easier.

Let’s check it out for a moment. I don’t want to go all the way over there together, but it’s not a big enough deal that we have to split up.

Rinne: Gyahaha. Don’t be shy, Yuta~♪

Yuuta: I’m not being shy!

Shopkeeper: Welcome. Would you like to buy something?

Yuuta: Hmmhmm. “Reroll Card” is sold for 100G.

The ��Substitute Doll”(1) that’s valid if you lose once costs 300G…… There’s quite a few support items.

Rinne: Check it out. In addition to game items, there’s also snacks and vending machines. It really feels like a store.

Yuuta: …… Don’t stick your hand under the vending machine while saying that kind of stuff. 

Rinne: I’ve heard that places like this are known for having coins just lying around.

We’re broke. If I just had some coins, we could buy all sorts of things—

Oh– there it is! A coin with 100G written on it!

Yuuta: That’s……

Well, should we buy a “Reroll Card” then? It’s not very strong, but it’d be good insurance if we had one—

Rinne: Puhaah, that soda really hit the spot~♪

Yuuta: What are you doin?! You did not just buy juice with the money you picked up, did you!?

Rinne: My bad, my bad, are you thirsty? If you don’t mind sharing a drink with me, take it!

Yuuta: That’s not what I meant! You aren’t planning ahead at all!

Ahh, that precious 100G was used for juice……

I seriously don’t get it! Why would you do something so selfish, you idiot!

Rinne:  So, so shallow, Yuta! Don’t you know they say “you can’t fight on an empty stomach”?

Recording is a long process, so picking up supplies at the store will give you an advantage in the second half. —It makes sense♪

Yuuta: Why are you talking like a strategist!? Because you just ignored the strategy!?

Aaah, I guess I’m back to being broke again. Even though I’m at the store~……

Shopkeeper: If you really want money, why don’t you ask to run an errand for me?

Yuuta: Eh?

Shopkeeper: The reward is 300G. I’d like you to deliver the products from that building over there to my house.

Yuuta: Let’s go let’s go! With 300G, we can buy a “Substitute Doll” and the vice prez’s strategy’ll go well……!

“We’ll” prove to you that we’re not as weak as we used to be. On behalf of Aniki.

TL Notes:

This is a Pokémon reference. There's a reoccurring item called the substitute doll, summoned when a pokémon uses the move substitute.

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[horizon-verizon]

Important quotes:

[...] One that hasn’t been suggested, as far as I can tell, is sincere philosophical opposition. A Blackfyre victory is not only a victory for Daemon, but a massive cultural push toward this Prom King of the Seven Kingdoms “better man” ideology. It’s not hard to imagine why Brynden Rivers would want to oppose that. If the just and peaceable King Daeron II, with the might of the Iron Throne behind him, can be overthrown because he doesn’t fit the masculine ideal, what place will there be for someone whose deviation from this ideal is literally all over his face?  If hostility toward the Rhoynar proves this potent a motivation to warfare, what’s next? The Dornish at least keep the Andal faith, which is no small thing; who’s to say that this new regime won’t want a new enemy to rally people against and decide that those weirdo tree-worshippers are a convenient target? I don’t think his motivations were predominantly about principle or self-preservation, but at the same time, if you were in his shoes, wouldn’t you fight tooth and nail to resist that?

................

Bloodraven is a bastard in an era where bastardy is a social flash point, he is a warg in a world of disappearing magic, he is an albino in a world where divergence from a physical ideal is treated as a moral failing. At some point, covering (as I hypothesized that Daeron may) or trying to kick down the door into Normalcy (as Daemon and Bittersteel definitely do) becomes corrosive, self-destructive, utterly exhausting. There is nobody else like Bloodraven, and he lives like somebody who knows it.

................

Archery is thought to be below knights, supposedly because it isn’t considered to bring too much glory. As a skill, it’s literally worth less in their world[...] The more cynical explanation for this cultural attitude is that it’s bluntly classist: people can make pretty effective bows and arrows and even learn to use them on their own, they allow people to be valuable in battle even if they can’t afford expensive armor and well-kept horses, and once those same people leave the battlefield they can also use those bows and arrows to feed themselves. Brute strength is less important, which means maleness and able-bodiedness are nowhere near as much of an advantage as they are in more “honorable” fights. And what does Bloodraven use to strike down foes? A weirwood bow. Foreshadowing things to come, yes, but I suspect the character made this choice precisely because of its symbolism.

................

But the main issue is, look how much of this is scapegoating and outright dehumanization, and how little of it is based on actual events. “He killed his half-brother and nephews on the battlefield" - fair enough, if stripped of the context of Daemon’s kinslaying intent, but then - “and then he made the plague happen and killed the half-brother he was fighting for! Oh, and Baelor Breakspear, who hundreds of reputable sources saw someone else kill! Oh, yes, and somehow he did this overly-complicated magical feticide but still GOT CAUGHT doing it even though he is magical and all-powerful! Also LOOK AT HIS GROSS FACE!” As long as he lives under his own name, he’s going to be demonized. What he looks like is sufficient ammunition against him; if he starts hiding his appearance, he outs himself as a sorcerer, because the way he looked before is very memorable. This exists in dialogue with the social bias that lumps him in with his mortal enemies.

................

What’s especially impressive and engaging and above all unusual about this character is that he could, if he wants, cover more effectively than anyone else. He could disappear into the libraries with Aerys; he could either pretend not to have his affinity with ravens or choose to be one full-time. He can pass himself off as a Plumm – or for that matter, probably the Lannister or Tyrell of his choice – or any other person whose skin and hair and eye(s) don’t draw attention. His shape-shifting abilities could be read as a metaphor for the ability to cover, which is learned so well by stigmatized people. But as Melisandre tells us, glamours take a toll. Even with the means to do it, he refuses to crouch defensively and use his abilities to coddle other people’s biases and deny his own identity. He inhabits his own skin, and he throws people by forcing them to meet him on his terms. If people construe your existence as offensive, then the best defense is to give offense. This is radically different from the “wear it like armor” attitude Tyrion Lannister tries to take. Armor is defensive. Armor, like glamors, is something that you put on when necessary but is dead weight to carry when not. Bloodraven wears his difference like a set of brass knuckles. You might resent him for refusing to play by the established rules – but you’ll watch your mouth or lose some teeth.

................

When someone who is outside of society is above it and okay with it, then there’s no need to challenge ourselves on what alienation might be doing to them; when they don’t care about the system, they don’t threaten our perspective on how it’s organized. Bloodraven, though, is always playing toward some long game or another, and he always uses the most powerful tools he can get his hands on to do it. He is not a devotee of chaos. He is about order, bare and unflinching -and he stands in starkly visible contrast to what most people assume their social order to be.

................

Better Men: Bias and Bastardy in the Blackfyre Rebellion, Part 3

I tried to keep this post from turning into a general deep dive into Lord Bloodraven, the biggest greatest of bastards and the newest of my favorite characters. Given the subject matter of this series of posts and what we know about the character so far, there’s a lot to explore. I’ve tried to limit this one to the character’s relationship to his own difference and how that influences his thinking.

White as bone were the skin and hair of Brynden Rivers, and his eye - he had only the one, the other having been lost to his half brother Bittersteel at the Battle of Redgrass Field - was red as blood. On cheek and neck he bore the winestain birthmark that had given him his name. (TMK)

In some ways, the Lord Hand is a fairly straightforward exploration of the concept of stigma. His face bears a literal mark, which defines his social identity to a point where he’s publicly named for it - a name referencing an animal, no less.

Straightforward,perhaps,but far from simple.This is a complicated subject, inhabited by a very complicated character.

Keep reading

[lykaonimagines]

Come Home - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4,233

Description: Sherlock had sent Y/N away shortly after Mary’s death in hopes of protecting her... and preventing her from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. Now that she’s back and has all the details, she’s not sure their relationship can survive it. 

Other Things: Hurt comfort. Angsty but there’s a happy ending. Timeline-wise The Final Problem doesn’t exist, this takes place shortly after the hug in The Lying Detective. Sherlock’s close enough to his mother to talk about feelings.

Warnings: Mentions prior drug use. Overall mentions/references the events of The Lying Detective and things Sherlock did in there (drug use, near overdose, setting himself up to be killed, etc). Breakup. Some swearing. 

Y/N’s fingers flex on the door as she takes a deep breath and finally pushes it open. Dragging the suitcase behind her, she carefully heads up the steps to the landing. Leaving the suitcase there, she clenches her fists tightly and turns to the open door of the flat she’s lived in for years. 

Taking a few steps into the room, she freezes as she finally sees Sherlock sitting in his usual chair. His eyes meet hers hopefully, but drop to the cup of tea in his hands as she feels a scowl pass across her face. 

Looking over his face, her throat tightens as each new detail hits her. Scruff. He never let his facial hair grow beyond when he’s been… so it’s definitely true then. A black eye, the blood vessels in the same eye burst. 

“Have you anything to say?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

“You’ve not brought your luggage in,” he states quietly, his gaze going toward the door briefly. 

“I’m not sure I’m staying,” she snaps.

“This is your home. Where would you go?”

“Is it Sherlock? Is it my home?” She asks as she crosses her arms. “Because my last memory of this place was you sending me away.”

A frown pulls at his lips, “I wasn’t kicking you out of our home, I needed to send you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t have to be involved. You still live here, and we’re still together.”

“I’m honestly not sure about either of those things anymore. You sent me away giving me no real explanation, then ignored my every attempt to contact you.”

“I was trying to protect you from-” he begins before being quickly cut off. 

“From you trying to kill yourself of drug overdose? Or was it the part where you baited a serial killer to murder you? One of those things?” She blinks at the hot tears crowding her eyes. “I’ve talked to John, I know what’s happened since I’ve been gone. So don’t even try to lie.“

“I… wasn’t going to lie to you,” he says softly, getting to his feet. 

“No! Don’t come near me!” She yells and backs further away from him. “You sent me away to follow the most idiotic plan you’ve ever come up with. Broke your promise to me about never touching that shit again. And I find out you were weeks at most from your body just shutting down due to it.”

“I had to-”

“No you didn’t! Maybe John just needed time? Maybe he needed more therapy. He agrees with me that he thinks the entire plan was insane. I’m glad you two have mended all that, and that he’s getting the help he needs and moving forward. But what if he hadn’t made it in time Sherlock? What if he didn’t go along with it? Then what? I was supposed to come home and find you dead of an overdose or get a call that you were killed while in the hospital?”

“There was very little chance he wouldn’t have come,” Sherlock insists trying to take a step closer as she takes another away. 

“You promised me!” She shouts as the tears finally drip down her cheeks. “No more drugs and no crazy life risking crap. You promised. I told you I couldn’t do this if you continued on like that. I asked you to tell me honestly if it was something you could do before I got too deep. Now here we are, you’ve broken both of them, lied to me, sent me away and ignored me for months, and I’m far too deep to just say it’s just some differences we can’t get past and just be friends. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“I’ve hurt you,” he says slowly. 

“Excellent deduction, just figured that out did you?” She growls, turning her head away from him. 

“Please try to understand,” he takes another step toward her. 

“What is there to understand? You didn’t attempt to understand how I would have felt about any of this, why do I have to try to understand your view on it?”

Before he can give a response, she sticks her hand up to silence him. “I don’t even know why I came back here. Maybe I was hoping you’d try to fix this somehow. I should have just stayed where I was.”

Turning back toward the door, she steps out onto the landing and grabs her suitcase. Without turning back she shouts over her shoulder, “I’m done Sherlock. This is done.”

“I- your belongings?” Sherlock asks helplessly from the doorway. 

“John already said he’d box them up and send them to me when I get a new place. Goodbye,” she tugs the suitcase down the stairs as quickly as she can, pulling it out the doorway and slamming the door behind her. 

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she angrily stomps a few blocks away before sinking onto a bench defeated. 

Where could she even go for now? Nearly everyone she knows in the city is connected to her through Sherlock. John has a baby, and Sherlock will surely be going over there. 

Scrolling through her contacts, she pauses as she sees one in particular. Mummy Holmes as she’d put herself in there. His parents home… seems inappropriate but what choice does she have? He rarely visits them as is. He wouldn’t happen upon her there like he would at John’s. And she did always tell her she could come to her for help. 

Swallowing her pride, she taps the contact and holds it to her ear, gnawing at her bottom lip as it rings. 

“Y/N darling! It’s so good to hear from you!” The warm familiar voice greats her and eases the tension in her slightly. 

“Hello, how are you?” She asks weakly and sniffles, quickly wiping her nose with a tissue from her pocket. 

The line stays silent for a moment, “Y/N, are you alright?” 

“I… No. I’m not,” she says swallowing thickly. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” Mrs. Holmes asks concernedly. 

“Sherlock and I broke up,” she admits, the words burning on her tongue. “And I understand completely if based on that information alone the answer is no, but I… I have nowhere to go and-”

“You can come here, there will be a train at 3 and we will pick you up from the station,” she says firmly. “Or I can phone Mycroft and have him send a car to you. You can absolutely stay here dear.” 

“I can take the train,” she responds softly, relief washing over her. “I don’t want to trouble your family more than I already am.” 

“I assure you that you aren’t troubling us at all,” Mrs. Holmes says quickly. “Now you get a move on and get to that train. I’ll have a nice warm dinner waiting for us when we get back. We’ll see you soon!”

Hanging the phone up, Y/N stands up and grasps her suitcase and heads toward the train station with a renewed sense of determination.

-

The first few weeks at the Holmes’ Estate go by relatively quickly. Mrs. Holmes doing her best to make Y/N comfortable, and eventually pulling the whole story from her about the breakup. 

Staying in Sherlock’s childhood room however wasn’t the easiest part of the whole ordeal. Being surrounded by all the little things that made him, well, him. Made even harder by the daily phone calls by the man himself. 

Just one call a day at exactly 8PM. Each time she would watch it ring, his contact photo enlarged on the screen seeming to taunt her. A simple photo of the two of them, him behind her with his chin on her shoulder and one of his relaxed genuine smiles. 

And at the end of the rings each time, he’d leave a voicemail. Sixteen voicemails sitting in the inbox staring back at her each time she unlocked her phone. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to them. 

Now the seventeenth voicemail popped up on her screen shortly after the contact picture disappears, the sinking feeling in her deepening. She needed to figure out something. What she’s going to do, where she’s going to go. She couldn’t stay at his parents’ home forever. 

Walking out into the family room, she freezes as Mrs. Holmes’ voice carries to her, “Sherlock, honey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

The woman in question looks up to see her, and gestures her over. 

Y/N looks away for a moment, then finally gives in and walks over to take a seat next to her on the couch. 

Mrs. Holmes quickly puts the call on speaker and sets it in between them. 

“Mummy I don’t know what to do anymore,” Sherlock’s voice comes from the device sounding defeated and clearly upset. “She won’t answer my calls, she hasn’t responded to my texts, I’ve no clue where she’s gone and Mycroft refuses to help.”

“Dear, she may just not want to speak to you. You can’t force her to talk if she doesn’t want to.”

The line stays silent for a moment before Y/N’s eyes widen at the sound of a sniffle. “I can’t give up. I know I’ve hurt her, I know I was wrong. I know this is all my fault. But I just… can’t. I don’t know what to say or do to fix it, but I want to. I need her. I need to try.”

“You can’t always fix it when you hurt someone Sherlock, there is only so much people can handle or will deal with,” she says gently. 

“I know,” he responds miserably. “I know I have probably ruined it. I don’t know how to accept that fact. Clearly I know it, but it won’t actually process as fact. Every time I think of it my brain goes frantic and tries to think of some way to stop it from being true.”

Y/N points toward the mute button on the phone quickly, making eye contact with Mrs. Holmes, “Darling give me one moment, your father just stepped in.” 

Tapping the mute she looks back up at Y/N expectantly. 

“Can… can you maybe invite him over here?” She asks hesitantly. 

“Are you sure?” She asks asks, seemingly searching Y/N’s eyes. “Once he knows you are here, he may keep coming by trying to talk.” 

Looking down at the couch, she grabs onto the fabric and takes a deep breath, “I love him… I don’t want to be apart from him. That’s one of the reasons I was so hurt. And that he seemed to not think he’d actually done anything wrong. But he sounds remorseful now… maybe…”

Mrs. Holmes reaches over and squeezes her hand tightly, “I’ll invite him, if you decide you can’t face him once he’s here you can just stay in the room until he leaves.”

Y/N nods firmly as watches as she unmutes the call, “Sherlock honey, come visit us in the morning tomorrow. It will do you some good to get out of that flat for a bit, and you know we always want to see you.”

“I… that may be a good idea,” he says slowly and shuffles on the other end of the phone.

“Why don’t you take the train at 8 and we’ll pick you up from the station?”

“Ok,” he agrees easily. “I will see you tomorrow then. Good night.” 

As she ends the call, Mrs. Holmes wraps an arm tight around Y/N’s shoulders and presses a kiss to her head. “Everything is going to be alright dear.” 

-

Fidgeting in front of the mirror, Y/N looks over her reflection for perhaps the hundredth time since she heard the car return to the house. 

Was she ready for this? The question burning in her mind as she went around in circles each time she glanced at the door. 

Placing her hand on the handle, she quietly twists it open and takes a step out into the hallway. His voice carries to her immediately, and she pushes herself toward the kitchen with all the determination she can manage. 

Leaning against the doorway, she looks him over as he talks to his parents with his back angled toward her. 

From his profile it’s obvious he still hasn’t shaved, his facial hair longer than when she last saw him. The black eye nearly gone, but his features sunken in. His hair un-styled and barely brushed hangs dully against his skin. And he appears to be wearing an old t-shirt and baggy jeans she wasn’t even aware he owned.

“Drink your tea before it goes cold,” his mother scolds as she gestures toward the cup in front of him and pushes a plate of biscuits across the table before briefly glancing up at Y/N with a reassuring smile. 

“Good morning Sherlock,” Y/N says after a moment, watching as his entire frame tenses then whips around to face her, a biscuit halfway in his mouth that tumbles out to the floor.

His eyes widen and he stumbles to his feet quickly, taking a step toward her cautiously before rapidly closing the distance between them and throwing his arms around her. Her cheek presses hard into his chest as his arms tighten around her shoulders and he buries his face in her hair.

Her own arms wrap around his waist and she rubs his back soothingly. His body trembles against hers, his breathing sounding labored against her ear.

“You’re here,” his states, his voice muffled from her hair. 

“I am,” she agrees, and tries to pull back to see his face. But his arms quickly tighten and pull her back in. 

“I don’t want to let go of you,” he admits softly. “I thought I would never see you again.” 

“That had been the initial plan.”

His breath catches in his throat and he makes a garbled sound before pulling her body completely flush to his own. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, I know how badly I’ve ruined this.” 

“Do you?” She asks as she gently runs her fingertips along his spine. 

“I’ve lied to you, I’ve left you out, I sent you away, I broke my promises. I was using again, I didn’t consider what you would have felt if it went wrong. I didn’t even consider how you would feel with it working out. I just expected you to be fine with it even though I hurt you,” he says miserably, his breath warm against her head. “I’ve done everything wrong and I have no right to ask it of you, but I need you, please.” 

She runs her hand slowly up his back and neck until she reaches his hair, twirling her fingers in the curls she finds there and smiles slightly at the almost purr-like sound he makes at the contact. “I need you to look at me and say it.” 

His hold on her slowly loosens, letting his hands go to her shoulders as he takes a step back and her hands move down to his hips. 

His eyes meet hers, the redness and irritation from the tears he tries to quickly wipe away on his shirt is obvious but she doesn’t mention it. 

“I’m sorry, I have royally screwed up, I’m an idiot to have risked us without a thought,” he states as his grip on her shoulders tightens. “I could make promises again, but I know they mean little after what I’ve done. All I can say is I love you, and I need you in my life. I won’t push you away, I’m going to work on letting you in. I won’t use again, for anything. Recreational or case.”

“And?” She presses quietly. 

“And I won’t be as reckless with my life. It’s not just my own anymore. We built a life together and I have no right to carelessly put it at risk.”

Lifting her hand from his hip, she reaches up to cup his cheek. Smiling at him gently as he nuzzles into her palm, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you,” he says firmly, pulling her in closer once again. “Please come home.”

Reaching her other hand up, she grabs ahold of the fabric just below the collar of his shirt and yanks his face down closer to her. “I’ll come home,” she whispers against his lips before pressing them together. 

His lips press nearly bruisingly back, his lips moving in a quiet desperation on her own as his arms slip around her waist. As their lips part, a shuttered breath he lets out ghosts over her lips and his body slowly relaxes into her. 

“Perhaps you should both come have your tea and give yourselves a chance to relax into this?” Mrs. Holmes voice makes them jump as they remember their audience of two.

“Good point,” Y/N responds sheepishly, slowly pulling back from Sherlock. “I’ll just grab myself a cup.” 

Sherlock nods reluctantly, brushing against Y/N briefly as he walks back to his seat at the table. 

Heading to the table herself, she steps toward her usual chair before feeling a pair of arm wrap around her midsection and swiftly tug her back into Sherlock’s lap. “I could sit in my own seat you realize right?”

“Mm, a physical possibility yes,” he mumbles and grabs a biscuit from the tray and brings it to her lips. “However, until moments ago I still thought I’d never hold you again. Therefore for my own health and well-being, you should stay where you are.”

Taking a bite of the biscuit, she shrugs gently and leans back against his chest, “If it’s a matter of medical well-being then I suppose I must.” 

“Good,” he responds quietly as she looks up at his flushed cheeks. His eyes looking across the table at his mother’s warm gaze on them, his father’s arm across her shoulders with a similar smile. 

“I, for one, am very glad you two are working this out. You both seem so distressed apart,” Mrs. Holmes says as she reaches across the table to pat Sherlock’s hand. “And I certainly didn’t want to lose Y/N from the family.”

Sherlock nods in agreement, looking back down at Y/N briefly, “Is this where you’ve been this entire time?”

“Yes, I really didn’t know where to go. I feel safe here, and they graciously let me stay despite the situation. I was here while deciding what exactly I was going to do.”

“You can always come here dear,” Mr. Holmes says with a gentle smile. “You are part of the family, even if our son seemingly does everything to make you want to leave it.”

“Alright fair, I deserve that,” Sherlock responds with a physical cringe. “Where had you intended on going after here?” 

“I was talking with a friend out of the country, had put some thought into moving in with her. I have actually applied for jobs there already,” she says with a shrug.

“Offers you will turn down to return home I would presume?” He asks in an even tone, but his eyes betray a moment of panic. 

“I said I’d come home, I’ll come home,” she reassures him and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’ve been in the guest room here?”

“I put her in your old room,” Mrs. Holmes says with a bit of a smug smile. “I may have hoped it would possibly… inspire a reconciliation.” 

“Sneaky,” Y/N laughs and reaches for her tea. “It did have me missing him even more. There’s something so inherently Sherlock about the room. Including rolling over in the middle of the night and stretching out, only to brush against a piece of paper with soil quality test results on it.” 

Sherlock stays quiet at that, his eyes gently searching her as she turns back to his parents and continues the conversation. 

Twenty minutes go by with his relative silence in their conversation before his head whips toward his parents, “Would it be alright if we stayed here for the day and night?”

“Of course,” his mother responds immediately. “We can have dinner all together tonight. I’ll even invite your brother. A nice family dinner would do us all some good.”

“If you must invite him,” Sherlock rolls his eyes but gives her a tight smile before adjusting his hold on Y/N.

Sweeping her up as he gets to his feet, he carries her bridal style from the room as he announces they’re going up to take a short rest. 

“And if I’m not tired?” She teases. 

“You are. You were up all night thinking about how this would go,” he answers. “You were nervous.”

Pushing his old bedroom door open with his shoulder, he walks through the door to set her on the bed and turns to shut the door behind them. 

He quickly sets to pulling his shoes off then gets on the bed to crawl around her to lay down and press his back flush with the wall, “Joining me?”

Laying back, she grabs the blankets and pulls them over the two of them, sliding in closer until his hand lays on her hip and guides her even closer. 

Plopping her head on the pillow beside his, her eyes start roaming over him once again, “Now then, where did this outfit come from? I’ve never seen you in this.” 

“Under the rest of my clothes. I… have mainly stayed in my bed clothes lately. I didn’t have the motivation for a suit today. I look rather awful don’t I?” He asks with a frown. 

“You look… very worn down at the moment,” she admits reaching out to run her thumb along the dark circle under one of his eyes. “You also still haven’t shaved.” 

“I haven’t used since the day in the morgue,” he says in response to her silent question. 

“You’ve just decided you like facial hair?” She asks with a raised brow, hand slipping down to run along the hair on his jaw.

“Hardly,” he rolls his eyes and leans into her touch. 

“What have you been doing the last seventeen days then?” 

“Staying in bed. In my mind palace. Going between trying to think of any way to change your mind and trying to accept that you were done with me. John came over a few times, forced me to eat, and packed your things. They’re sitting in boxes stacked against the wall. Started unpacking one of them one night, putting your clothes back in the drawer, convinced that if I just…” he trails off into silence and his eyes shut tightly. 

“Convinced that what?”

“That if I just put everything back, that I’d wake up and you’d be there. That you’d change your mind when you saw all your things still in place, realize you wanted to be at home with me. I put them all back after a day, to not cause further problems for John.”

“Well we can put it all back together this time, hopefully permanently back in place yeah?” She offers and lays her free hand on his chest. 

His eyes blink open as his own hand covers hers to move it to the left side of his chest, “If you go again, please just take it with you. I clearly can not handle it well, look at me Y/N.” 

“Something so darkly romantic from the one who always said sentiment was a defect on the losing side,” she teases lightly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Mhm, still is,” he states, his eyes drifting down to her lips for a moment. “I’m an absolute mess riddled with sentiment for you. I’m losing that battle, and it’s far too late to correct it. I’m in too deep, and I’ll drown without you there. And frankly, I don’t give a damn as long as you stay with me until my time comes.” 

“And that time better be a long ways away, I’m agreeing to this under the condition I’m going to be waking up next to an old man Sherlock in thirty, forty years.”

A small smile spreads across his lips and he exhales deeply, “Just the fact you want that is enough for me.” 

“Lift your head would you?” He says, shifting his arm under her as she does, pulling her in until she rests her head on his shoulder. “More comfortable?” 

“Mmm,” she mumbles, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” he admits, settling his chin on her head and cradling her with his other arm. “Get some sleep love.”

“You too,” she replies as she feels his hold on her tighten. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Will you?” He asks, clearing his throat roughly to cover up the crack in his voice. 

“I will. And if you’re serious about everything you’ve said, I’ll be there every time you wake up.”

“I will hold you to that,” he says softly, turning his head to bury his face in her hair. “I will see you in a few hours then, messy hair and all.”

A giggle erupts from her throat before she can stop it, and she snuggles in closer to his chest, “Messy hair and all then.”

----

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[elysianslove]

oh boy idk if you’ve ever talked about this before (i’m new to the blog, and you’re so very talented!!! you make my dumb horny heart just 🦋🦋) BUT what are your thoughts on which of the haikyuu boys are best/worst at being edged? like who’s begging and crying after 20 minutes and who’s able to hold out for hoouurrs before getting just a touch whiny. i. need to know. for science 🤲🏼

thank you so much!!! welcome to the blog my love 🥺 but omg. thoughts. so many. 

HAIKYUU BOYS THAT CAN HANDLE EDGING 

matsukawa issei; he’s purely holding out this long out of spite. as if he has something to prove, which he very much does. he’s barely bucking up into you, trying his best to hold his pants and his hisses from how borderline painful this is, but you can see how tense he is. his abs keep spasming, his biceps flexing as he fists the sheets. he keeps his legs spread for you though, lets you suck at his cock, fondle his balls, stroke at the base and squeeze at the tip with your much smaller hand. he lasts a good an hour and 10 minutes. honestly, genuinely impressive. he won’t let you get off easy though, good luck with that. 

oikawa tōru; originally, i’d think he’d be so bad at this, but honestly, oikawa’s orgasm control is so impressive? even when he’s fucking you, he’s lowkey edging himself because he always holds off until you cum. so letting you edge him isn’t too much of a problem. he definitely cries and begs like a bitch, but he lasts, oh he lasts. approximately 35 ish minutes. definitely cums without warning and without permission, and you can’t decide whether he did it on purpose to piss you off or because he genuinely couldn’t continue. it’s okay, just overstimulate him till he’s crying all over again. tōru’s a very pretty crier, after all <3

kita shinsuke; oh my god, the best boy. he’d last days if you asked him to. he’ll be quietly, as quietly as he can, panting and whining and groaning, silent tears streaming down his face every time you pull away from his cock. every time he bucks his hips up, it’s followed by a trail of “sorry, sorry, m’sorry,” that it’s just so adorable. has you cooing at him, soothingly rubbing at his thigh and murmuring that it’s okay, that he’s doing so good. he lasts around 45 minutes, but when he cums, he promises to do better next time, to last longer. anything for you <3 

sugawara kōshi; this fucking masochist. he likes it. he likes the pain. probably was the one to suggest it to you. he sits between your spread legs, back pressed to your chest with your hand stroking his dick from behind. you stroke at him until he’s so close and pull away, watching as his cock bobs desperately, and he moans for it. he’s so vocal about it, begging and pleading, but when you go to ask him if he wants to cum yet, he tells you, “no, no, i can— more, more.” he lasts 2 whole hours. it’s like, kind of scary. he does pass out after and actually scare, but he gets up a minute later with a cheeky smile like, “again?”

miya atsumu; like oikawa, he will cry and sob so fucking much, and he’ll make such a mess, but god, does he last. atsumu thrives off of praise, and having you tell him how good he’s doing for you, such a good boy, atsumu, all for me? has him drooling for it. both him, and his cock. he’ll get a little dumb halfway, almost just letting you use him, but he does whine a lot, crying and pleading for you to let him cum, but it’s all bark and no bite. it barely has anything to it. i firmly believe he’d be one of top, lasting around an hour and 30 minutes, just because atsumu gets so lost in everything, including giving up control. 

kuroo tetsurō; another one to last mainly out of spite. he wants to prove to you it’s not much, it’s not that bad, it’s easy work. you quickly make him eat his words by the third time you pull away, and it just dawns on him that he’s the one that put himself in this position in the first place. it’s no one’s fault but his own, and because he doesn’t wanna seem like a coward, backing out so quick, he lasts at least 30 minutes, and gets through it without begging, only spitting out curses and panting and groaning deeply. 

akaashi keiji; sweet boy keiji definitely lasts, all for you. he’s not too vocal either, just light curses to himself, muffled moans, broken, bitten down sobs. he genuinely does love to let you have your fun with him, because submitting to you is just so satisfying. and i can see akaashi loving edging so much because of how good the orgasm that eventually comes is. like the moment you give him permission to, he’s seeing stars, and it’s why he lasts as long as he does, why he tries to push for longer. he lasts a good 45 minutes, and he’s been trying to beat that record for a while now. don’t worry, he will. 

sakusa kiyoomi; is so fucked out, so far gone, to the point that you don’t even think he’s in control of his own body anymore. even if you told him to cum, he wouldn’t. he’s so deep in this headspace of being under your control it’s incredible. it’s mesmerizing. he looks so pretty, cock so red and wet and hard as ever, painfully so, against his pale skin, twitching and bobbing and begging for attention. he lasts 40 minutes. it’s the most gorgeous 40 minutes of both your lives. 

asahi azumane; so good! such a good boy!!! doesn’t last so long, but definitely tries his best for you. it’s some 20 or so minutes in that he cums, but he immediately starts chanting out apologies, begging for you to forgive him, to give him another chance. he continues to try until he can last so long, but it’s the fact that he’s willing to that has your heart soaring and your body heating up. 

HAIKYUU BOYS THAT CANNOT, WHATSOEVER, HANDLE EDGING

bokuto kōtarō; baby boy is crying 10 minutes in. he can’t handle it. if you tie him up, he’ll rip through them, flip you over, and fuck into you till he’s filling you up. he won’t even try. he watched a porn video where a person lasted an hour and thought, oh must be worth it, and asked you to try it on him. just. it’s just not for him. he prefers the pain of overstimulation over edging, forever. 

iwaizumi hajime; please he lasts like 2 minutes. he just hates it so much. on him, at least. he can edge you for hours, and he’d the most satisfied man on earth. but sit between his legs and tease him by sucking at his cock, only to pull away just as he’s about to cum? somebody clearly has a death wish <3 but do bring it up and ask to try it! he still won’t last lol. but make him last. watch him cry. make iwaizumi hajime cry. make him. it’s beautiful. 

kageyama tobio; mannnn kageyama can cum untouched, hands free, if you really tried. grind down against him for a minute and he’s cumming in his pants for you. he has no concept of orgasm control whatsoever, and if you tried it on him he’d just get angry at you??? like fine no sex for u tf. he lasts a good 5 minutes, so good for him or whatever. 

kozume kenma; he wants to last. he wants to. but you have him crying, sobbing, 20 minutes in, and he just unintentionally spills down your throat without warning. of course, you’d felt the twitch of his cock, but you’d wanted to see where his head was at exactly. after he came, he felt so humiliated, but he still forced eye contact with you and went, “do it again. i’ll last an hour this time.” like ok no problem for me :) 

ushijima wakatoshi; doesn’t realize he’s being edged, and when you pull away just as he’s about to cum he sits up and stares at you with a deadpan face like, “that was not very nice of you.” he just. finds it boring honestly. he doesn’t want to drag something out like that for so long. he indulges you, sure, but for like 3 minutes, before he’s like alright time to fuck you. 

hinata shōyō; hinata’s just way too overexcited. he really does put his mind to it, but i think he gets too in his head about it that he just ends up cumming right away. but it’s a ruined orgasm, cause you pull away just as he’s cumming, so it’s so not satisfying, but for some reason, hinata loved it? so yeah, lasts 0 seconds, but discovers new kink! 

HAIKYUU BOYS THAT CAN, BUT JUST DON’T WANT TO

suna rintarō; oh he most definitely can. you cannot convince me he wouldn’t be able to. as much as suna is lazy, he’s just as impatient, and he can barely handle how foreplay seems to drag on forever. he wants to be inside you, and he wants to be inside you now. it’s ridiculous. if he could though, he’d last a good hour probably. he just really doesn’t want to. 

daichi sawamura; could 100% do it if he really put his mind to it, but just. why? what’s the point of not orgasming? he just doesn’t get it </3 you can try to convince him by making him do it on you, but chances are he’s gonna realize how much he loves to do it to you only. daichi’s so possessive it’s crazy, and he gets this mischievous glint in his eye whenever he realizes how good something makes you feel, especially if it’s pain. he is a dangerous man. 

miya osamu; most definitely would be able to last hours, but again, he just doesn’t want to. it’s also not one of those situations where he prefers overstimulation either. like osamu’s plenty kinky, sure, but those two aren’t what cross his mind when you say, “let’s change things up a bit.” it’s not that he gets bored of it either. he just. doesn’t wanna do it. like he can spend time making you feel good, and vice versa, with way more different things. and he seems like a very in the moment guy, like choking you in the moment or making you squirt. yk :) 

satori tendō; oh tendō loves edging, just on you. he never really gives you a chance to ever try to with him, honestly. he just loves, loves, loves to edge you, but not because he wants to purposefully hurt you, but rather to praise you, to tell you how good you are for him, to make you feel so good when he finally lets you cum. if you were to edge him, he’d honestly probably last over two hours. like not even exaggerating, he probably would. but no, you’re more fun! 

[lebenspurpur]

headcannons that just make sense

|Michael|

⇝ Michael loves children. He wouldn't want any himself but he enjoys watching them since Michael loves their natural lively imagination.

⇝ He loves candy, especially gummies and candy corn.

⇝ Michael enjoys reading. He is a quiet person and very intelligent. Reading is one of his favorite hobbies to gain knowledge.

⇝ Michael definitely broke through the floor in the old Myer's house before.

⇝ Michael likes cats, surprisingly. He doesn't understand the idea of pets but cats are so independent and quiet. He tries to copy their moves a lot.

⇝ This man literally doesn't have an ounce of social intelligence. Small talk with him would be so uncomfortable and awkward. He doesn't know how it works.

|Vincent|

⇝ Vincent is stronger than Bo.

⇝ He secretly despises the mask. His mom technically made it for him to make Vincent understand that he looks like a freak. He wishes he'd be more confident and could live without it.

⇝ Vincent loves Bo with all his heart even if he's a narcissistic asshole.

⇝ Vincent is scared for Lester a lot. Since he's younger Vincent wants to protect him.

⇝ Vincent wants to learn an instrument. Piano would be his favorite but violins are a close second place.

⇝ Vincent secretly adores being with both of his brothers, even if one bullies him and the other one reeks.

⇝ Vincent doesn't like his father. They never had a close relationship.

⇝ The things Vincent has done for the aesthetic of them... God..

|Bo|

⇝ Bo would actually sacrifice himself for both of his brothers.

⇝ He feels bad about treating Vincent like he does but his pride is too big for him to apologize.

⇝ Bo doesn't actually know how to repair cars but he's learning.

⇝ Bo wishes he could draw like Vincent.

⇝ He is very lonely sometimes, alcohol is his best friend in these times. He's high-key alcoholic.

⇝ Bo was the child in elementary school that brought a knife to class.

⇝ He had a teacher that realized his abuse and subsequent aggression. She protected him and he saw her like a mother.

⇝ Bo sometimes wants to leave Ambrose and just discover what lays beyond his beloved America.

|Lester|

⇝ Lester loves Halloween, he makes the twins go trick or treating with him. Since nobody opens the door (what a surprise), he buys candy himself and places filled bowls all over town.

⇝ Lester has a very close relationship with Vincent. He stands up for him when Bo gets too harsh.

⇝ As a child he used to sleep in Vincent's bed when he had a nightmare.

⇝ Lester believes in true love which is absolutely adorable.

⇝ Lester has had emotional deep talks with his dog, Jonesy.

⇝ Lester was the child that actually loved his parents, he misses them a lot.

⇝ He used to run to the forest and looked for fairies and goblins as a child.

⇝ Lester likes to watch Vincent draw, it calms him when he's stressed.

|Otis|

⇝ Otis would never tell them but he loves his adoptive family, the Firefly family, so much.

⇝ He's sure that if they hadn't found him he'd be dead by now. Either because of drugs or suicide.

⇝ Otis secretly wants a dog.

⇝ He is very intelligent and if he tries he can actually be impressive when it comes to stating his opinions and beliefs.

⇝ Otis daydreams daily how his life would've worked out if he was "normal".

⇝ He overthinks his actions a lot. He doesn't feel bad about them but he analyzes the mistakes so they won't happen again.

|Baby|

⇝ Baby has had days where she just laid in bed and cried. She isn't always as happy as everyone believes.

⇝ Baby was very insecure about her body as a teenager. The other girls bullied her which led to quickly decreasing confidence.

⇝ Baby is very glad to have Otis as a brother, he's her ultimate idol.

⇝ Baby is scared by horror movies. She's not squeamish but she gets scared easily, especially when the subject's demons or supernatural horror.

⇝ Baby fell in love with a girl in her school once. Unfortunately it was a bully of hers.

⇝ Baby forced Otis multiple times to go and buy pads for her.

|Billy|

⇝ Billy is a little geek and we all know it.

⇝ Definitely a gamer though back in his time, video games just started developing.

⇝ Billy has comfort characters without knowing what that means.

⇝ He has thought about making out with Stu before.

⇝ Billy is a very emotional person even if he doesn't show it in public. The only one who has seen the emotional side is Stu.

⇝ Billy wants to dress more alternative but that'd ruin his "perfect disguise". He'd love some leather boots and dark eyeliner.

|Stu|

⇝ Stu is sure that he's bisexual though he hasn't outed himself yet. His closet is made out of glass let's not lie here.

⇝ Stu is actually a very empathetic character which is why Billy loves him so much.

⇝ Stu loves everything that involves rollercoasters, he's an adrenaline junkie.

⇝ He either has ADHD or ADD.

⇝ He is actually pretty tolerant with a lot of stuff. He'd definitely wear nail paint and a skirt, sure. He's all against toxic masculinity.

⇝ His room is so fucking messy.

|Brahms|

⇝ Brahms has porn magazines hidden in the walls.

⇝ Brahms really likes gardening. He's a huge fan of planting his own stuff.

⇝ He is terrified of wild animals. This man is literally scared of wolves even though that's the last thing that'd attack him.

⇝ Brahms doesn't like fire all that much. He usually sits far away from it.

⇝ If he had a camera he'd totally take creepy stalker pictures through the walls.

⇝ He knows how to cook, surprisingly. Though he himself lives off of toast and tea.

⇝ He isn't stupid but his intelligence mainly bases on literature. He couldn't solve a simple equation yet he knows "Romeo and Juliet" like he wrote it.

⇝ Brahms hates sports. Especially running. He will throw himself on the ground after two minutes and whine.

|Josef|

⇝ Josef either lives vegan or vegetarian.

⇝ He wishes he had a pet. He'd love a cat or a dog.

⇝ Josef actually loved his parents even if they didn't have a close relationship. They passed away which is why he has so much money.

⇝ Bisexual king. I mean come on, he wanted to seduce Aaron as well as Sara.

⇝ He knows a lot about healthy eating. Fresh vegetables as well as fruit are a must in his house.

⇝ He doesn't actually have a house, he rents apartments or tiny houses for a few months and then leaves again.

⇝ He wanted to study medicine when he was a teenager. His grades were good enough as well.

|Thomas|

⇝ Thomas loves animals a lot. He wishes he wouldn't have to slaughter them sometimes but at the time he didn't have a choice.

⇝ While he despises school he loves gaining knowledge. If it wasn't for the bullies he'd gone back to school.

⇝ He hums lullabies to himself while he works.

⇝ He has thought about killing Hoyt yet he knows that he isn't allowed to kill family.

⇝ Tommy never had the chance to understand what's so wrong about cannibalism. He kind of gets it though.

⇝ Thomas has a huge artisanal intelligence. He can craft very well, as well as repair things.

⇝ He makes little dolls and toys when he's not busy.

⇝ He too wishes he had a pet with fur so he could pet it.

⇝ He has stamina like an ox. Thomas is probably able to run for hours.

[sukirichi]

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one  ✘  two  ✘  three 

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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[retvenkos]

hope in the jar | k.b.

Six of Crows - Kaz Brekker x Reader, slight fluff, slight angst requested

tw: gunshot wound, medical stitches, mention of gun violence,  mentions of blood, slightly ooc kaz because have you tried to write him softly?

word count: 1.4k

prompt: “I don’t trust anyone… but you’re not just anyone.”

A/N: 1) this doesn’t seem to take place at any given point in canon but i want wylan and matthias to be there, sue me, and 2) do i know that there is no greek mythology is the grishaverse? yes. does that stop me from mentioning pandora’s box? no.

summary: Kaz Brekker is far from just being anyone. And maybe, so are you.

"You're quiet." Wylan bumped your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

There was a particular kind of calm that descended after a shootout. When pistols stopped smoking and adrenaline had left the bloodstream, the cool weight of evening fell back on your shoulders and managed to settle differently. For Jesper, it meant more jokes than usual. For Inej, more prayer. For Nina, it meant more grumbling, and for Matthias, more smiles. You weren't always sure what it meant for you, but tonight, it meant pensivity.

The walk back to the Slat was victorious. The streets of Ketterdam were empty and unusually quiet, thanks to Wylan's affinity toward bombs and blowing half of the cobblestones right off the street. The tranquility wasn't typical, but somehow, it was comforting. Perhaps even invigorating. How often did Ketterdam fall silent? Especially for canal rats like you?

Maybe if you still had a slow trickle of adrenaline, you would have commemorated the moment - maybe by getting waffles? But it was late, and after taking a bullet to the side after getting a little too close to the enemy, the only thing you wanted was to wash all of the grime off of your face and fall asleep. Maybe you'd celebrate after a good night's rest - Saints providing that such a thing existed in the Barrel.

"Am I quiet? Or are you slowly going deaf from all of your 'science experiments?'"

Wylan flushed a little. Even after all this time, he was so easy to tease. What made it even funnier was that he always managed some witty comeback or another, all while his cheeks were a shocking 'embarrassment pink.' Wylan opened his mouth to speak—

"Definitely quiet!" Jesper called from in front of you, one of his arms slung around Inej's shoulder, the other twirling a pistol.

Wylan let out a scoff of admiration, and you mumbled under your breath - something about Jesper being an irritating, smart mouthed idiot.

"What was that, (Y/n)?"

"You're annoying, Jesper!"

"Well, I'm glad something can make you lively again." Jesper turned his head to toss you a wink, and you rolled your eyes.

Wylan bumped your shoulders together, again, careful not to jostle you too much. "You're not quiet now. Just seething."

"Just tired," you corrected, passing the redhead a lazy smile.

"Admitting that is admitting weakness."

Kaz walked behind you and the rest of the group, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. You turned around and walked backward so you could face him.

To anyone else walking the street, the Bastard of the Barrel was just more brooding than usual - his tone curter, his eyes sharper, the lines on his face deeper than they had the right to be. To you, though, Kaz was tired. His leg was stiff from the fight, giving him more trouble than usual, and his jaw was set in a rigid line as to not give away his weakness.

The Slat wasn't too far, now, but even after getting inside, there would be stairs to climb, and a hell of a lot of them were so worn down, they might buckle at any given weight. 

It would be a rough night; it already had been.

You just sighed. "Admitting that is trust."

Kaz held your gaze. For a long moment, you couldn't figure what he was thinking. Kaz Brekker was always considering something, and after a while, you had gotten good at knowing just what he was thinking, when. 

But not this time. Kaz was a sphinx to you during that baited moment - inexplicable, an enigma. What made it worse was that it was deliberate.

Kaz raised his eyebrows and looked down at his cane, hitting the ground with more force than before.

"We're all tired."

The night was filled with the quiet once more, but with every step you took toward the Slat, the low din of unruly jeers and shouts filled your brain like cotton on a wound.

✧ *:･ﾟ

You sat on the floor of your room, a bowl of water before you, a haphazard pile of medical supplies to your left. Nina had told you that she wasn't a Healer when she began to seal your wound earlier, and you had said you didn't want to waste time while still exposed on the streets - by all accounts, Nina did a decent job with the three or so minutes you allowed her. But Saints, someone should have told you to stuff your pride and let Nina work on you just a bit longer. Maybe then you wouldn't be sitting on the floor of your room, stitching up a wound with supplies you nicked from Muzzen.

You had just finished your stitches (you still needed to thank Inej for teaching you how) when you heard Kaz walking up the steps.

You wrapped up your wound as best you could. You were pushing down your shirt when you heard him speak.

"I wouldn't trust just anyone in the Dregs."

You washed your hands clean as best you could and sent Kaz a wayward glance, noting how he stood in your doorway - as though he wasn't quite sure if he belonged.

"I've been in Ketterdam too long—" You grabbed a towel and wiped your face, trying to rid yourself of the dirt and grime. You turned back to Kaz "—I don't trust anyone."

He nodded as though agreeing with your judgment. But it was too quick - too relenting. He turned to go.

"But you're not just anyone, Kaz."

The Bastard of the Barrel froze. It seemed to you that his grip on his cane tightened. Perhaps it was a side effect from the blood loss or maybe even a fast-acting infection from that suture needle, but it felt like something sucked all the air out of the room.

You turned to face him properly.

"C'mon, we've both known it for longer than we care to admit. I'm doing us a mercy - putting it to rest."

Silence, still. If the Slat were up in flames, you doubted you would have noticed. There was nothing else here - it was just you, Kaz, and the space that lay between.

You eased your legs out in front of you, putting your arms out behind you and leaning on your palms. The floor was cool - like the night had been, earlier, when you were talking away from a gunfight. The world was somehow smaller,  then - like you had held it in your grasp. 

Kaz was still half turned, but you could see his profile, and once again, his thoughts were under lock and key. 

"You can either take it or leave it, Kaz. But whatever you decide to choose, know that you chose it."

He spoke sooner than you expected. "You're not just anyone, either."

Your mouth went dry. You weren't sure what you had been expecting or even hoping. Hope was still trapped inside Pandora's jar, and even the barest inkling of it could have destroyed your whole world. Hope belonged to the innocent and the pious, and you hadn't been either in a long time. You weren't sure what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

And for some reason, you could fathom how Kaz Brekker could have ever said such a thing and meant it.

Maybe Kaz didn't think you heard him, because he affirmed it, turning to you. "You're not just anyone, (Y/n)."

"Not just another soldier in your ranks?"

"Not anymore."

You wanted to laugh, but it came out as more of a breath. You settled for a lopsided smile instead. "That's practically a proposal, coming from you."

"If I could offer you more, I would."

You looked at Kaz as he stood in the doorway. He was exhausted and beaten at his own game, but there was nothing but sincerity and truth swimming in his eyes, nothing but honestly dripping from every syllable. Had you ever seen Kaz the way he was, now? To take his own words, he was admitting a weakness. Earnestness was a defect in the Barrel. Vulnerability was a sin.

"It's not much," you conceded. You moved your outstretched leg so that you could tap his shoe - toe to toe. Kaz watched the slow movement carefully, but never pulled away. "But for now, it's good enough."

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