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unearthly-doting · 5 months ago

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Heyyyy could you possibly do

Finding their soulmate: creepypasta edition

any creepypasta characters you want (including Jeff the killer & Homicidal Liu pls 🙏)

finding their soulmate: creepypasta edition.

notes: crying i miss my colored text :( i got another two soulmate posts coming ur way soon guys bc that's in high demand it seems so!! also im on my tablet writing all of this and tumblr mobile sucks so if there's any mistakes blame them not me. anyways send requests for things if u want. love u all !

includes: jeff the killer, homicidal liu, eyeless jack, nina the killer, the bloody painter, and ticci toby.

warnings: not proofread and written while i was super tired so, yandere content, mdni, inconsistent length, reader injury in jeff and toby's parts, stalking, mild poly content in liu's part bc he and sully r a package deal here, kidnapping, breaking and entering, murder, this is all actually pretty tame, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior. i think that's all??

JEFF THE KILLER — didn't have a soulmate. He didn't have any soulmark, there was no name on his wrist or a string around his finger. The universe had destined him to be alone, it seems. When he was younger, this had been crushing. Why did his brother get to have a soulmate but he didn't? What was so different about him that he didn't deserve a destined love?

Though, after he became the man he is today, Jeff found that he didn't care about soulmates. He probably would've killed his soulmate, if he had one. If anything, he found himself developing a burning hatred at the very concept of soulmates.

Everyone had always played it out to be something wonderful, something people were lucky to have. But he's seen otherwise. He's killed soulmates who have turned on each other just to try and save their own life. It's all a bunch of romanticized bullshit.

And he thinks you're a dumbass for believing that your soulmate would be a good person. Jeff doesn't understand why he hasn't killed you yet, you're just some nobody that he for some reason enjoyed the company of. Maybe it's because you never try changing him. Or maybe it's boredom, who knows.

But he hates when you talk about your soulmate that you've yet to meet. You speak as if you're already in love, and it leaves this suffocating feeling in his chest each time. It didn't feel like anger or annoyance, but he was too prideful to label it as jealousy. Why would he be jealous?

Why do you want to meet your soulmate so badly anyway? You have him. He may not be your soulmate, but does it really matter? You better really hope this man never realizes he's in love with you because you're actually fucked if he does, like…

The moment he comes to terms with his feelings for you, you're never meeting your soulmate. He's crossing out their name on your wrist with his knife and replacing it with his own. You wanted to meet your soulmate so badly, so there. Now he's your soulmate. His name is forever carved on your skin, after all.

He may even force you to carve your name into his arm as well to further solidify the whole ‘soulmate’ thing you so desperately craved. You're stuck with him now, like it or not. No amount of screaming and crying will change what's happened.

Jeff doesn't understand why you're so upset. You wanted this. You were practically begging him for it, always telling him your dream life with the one you're destined with. Seriously, you should've expected this from him.

But it's okay, he'll be the soulmate that you've always wanted.

He'll stay by your side. He'll kill anyone who dares to even think about you. You said so yourself, you don't need anyone so long as you have your soulmate.

Really, he's just giving you what you want. Though he won't lie, he can't help but feel a sick and twisted pleasure at having you depend on him. He likes having you around, even if it's with your mouth taped shut to keep you quiet.

Maybe this soulmate thing isn't as bad as he thought it was.

HOMICIDAL LIU — had always dreamed of meeting his soulmate when he was younger. Something about soulmates always fascinated him, and he absolutely loved hearing stories of soulmates meeting and falling in love.

He learned from a pretty young age that whoever his soulmate was, he shared scars with them. This was something he discovered when he felt a stinging sensation on his arm one day and he could see the scar manifest on his skin. He had been so fascinated by it, and even excitedly showed it off to his parents and Jeff as if it were some sort of reward.

Though, after nearly dying at the hand of his little brother, Liu had become… terrified at the thought of meeting his soulmate. He knew that you shared his scars now. You probably got weird looks from people on the street because of them, right?

And it must've been a horrific experience, waking up in the middle of the night to blinding pain all over your face and neck and arms, unable to stop the scars from forming, not knowing what was happening. You probably hated him. He wouldn't blame you if he did.

But when Liu met you, there was no way he'd be able to let you go. At first, he had just seen you in passing, He knew you were his soulmate the moment he laid eyes on you because you weren't even trying to hide the scars you had. You wore them proudly. He had followed you home that night, just to make sure you were safe.

He felt bad about it, but he couldn't help but come back the next day. His mother must be yelling at him from her grave, scolding him for stalking his soulmate instead of just talking to them like a normal person. A simple mistake on his end (aka Sully literally forced the man in front of you) led to the two of you actually meeting.

You had been so concerned, asking him if he were okay. It had been years since he sustained these injuries, but you still asked. You had always wanted to ask, ever since that night. Your pain was dull in comparison to what he must've gone through, and Liu nearly cried experiencing your kindness because he simply did not deserve it.

Liu tries really hard to have a normal relationship with you, he really does, but he's so utterly paranoid about your safety almost constantly when he's away from you. It makes him sick to his stomach imagining the danger you could potentially find yourself in without him around to keep you safe.

It didn't help that Sully only amplified these thoughts and good lord, how would you react to meeting Sully? Liu had always been very careful making sure that he never fronted when you were around, but Sully was starting to become ansty, eager to meet you.

When Liu wasn't hunting Jeff, he was with you. Sometimes you knew, but most of the time, you didn't. Stalking you was second nature at this point, and he doubts it's something he'll ever stop doing. Besides, it's not like he's hurting anyone by stalking the person he loves. Is it completely wrong and a violation of privacy and respect? Yes. Does he feel guilty? Absolutely. Will he stop? No chance. This is for your safety, after all.

Sully thinks he's a fucking fool behaving this way all for one person just because you're his soulmate (which he also thinks is dumb, by the way.) but then he actually meets you for the first time. You had immediately clocked in on the fact that he wasn't Liu, even though Sully prides himself on mimicking the man fairly well. Looks like you have two soulmates now! Yay!

Unfortunately for you, Sully is a lot more direct than Liu. Liu keeps his possessive thoughts to himself whilst Sully makes it very clear that you belonged to them. Liu's affection was hesitant, scared that he may hurt you if he's too eager. Sully's affection was almost suffocating, the way he'd cling to you and refuse to let go.

And if you ever decide that being with them is too much, trust me when I say they will go to great lengths to keep you with them. Liu isn't above locking you away somewhere if it means keeping you safe, and Sully won't hesitate to kill someone just to keep you in check.

Liu just wants to keep you safe. You can't protect yourself, so let him do it for you.

EYELESS JACK — was confused by the blackened, withered string connected to his pinkie. He knew what soulmates were, though he's not sure why the remnant of one was still tied to him. After his… changes… he shouldn't have a soulmate at all, not even the remnants of one.

Even the smallest string around his finger meant the bond was still there. It made no sense, it defied nature itself just by existing. He didn't understand, but he couldn't deny that he was curious. Whoever was on the other side of this string was destined to be with him, how could he not be curious?

It took time, but Jack had plenty to spare. He followed the string as best he could. The poor thing was so fragile, the smallest tug could tear the bond apart. He's not sure what he'll do when he finds the one he has a fragile bond with, to be honest. Soulmates aren't really… useful, to him. His only driving force is survival. Food. Nothing else is important.

Yet this was, oddly enough. There was just something deep inside of him telling him that he needed to find his soulmate.

And when he found the end of his string, it was connected to you. Now, Jack has no memory of who he was before becoming a flesh-eating demon. He was human once, he thinks, so maybe that's why there's something so familiar about you. A long forgotten part of himself was craving you.

And you? You were utterly horrified to find someone that resembles your missing best friend in your home one night. This was Jack, and yet… he wasn't. You didn't know this man. You didn't want to know this man. But he didn't care. Jack was dead set on having you.

He wouldn't leave you alone. He showed up every single night just to watch you. It was unnerving. To you, it felt like he was waiting for the right time to strike. You were waiting for him to kill you, to devour your soul or whatever.

To him, he was protecting you.

You were his mate. That's what he recognized you as. And as your mate, it was his duty to protect you. He didn't see his behavior as odd. To him, he was just providing for you. He saw no harm in breaking into your home every night to make sure you were safe.

Jack may not understand fully why he's attached to you like this, but he can make an educated guess. It's clear that you knew him. Or, you did, at least. You look at him as if you're looking at a ghost. Clearly, you were someone he's always been attached to. Though, it seems his demonic traits have amplified that attachment.

He won't hesitate to hunt you down if you try running away.

There's nowhere you can go where he won't find you. He'll follow you to the ends of the earth, if he must.

Jack doesn't need you to love him back. Hell, he doesn't need you to like him. He just needs you, in any way he can have you. His entire being aches when he's not with you.

So here you are, stuck with the creature. You're haunted by him, really. And, to be honest, you're not sure if you wanted him to leave.

NINA THE KILLER — wrote literal fanfic on how she wanted her first meeting with her soulmate to go. All she ever wanted was for someone to love her, so when she learned that the inner voice that all of her thoughts was in belonged to her soulmate, she was utterly ecstatic!

This was the only thing in life that mattered to her. Nothing else was important. Everyone in her life thought she was strange, how obsessed she was over someone she hasn't even met.

But if they could hear your voice, they'd understand. Whenever she needed comfort, she would just think random thoughts so she could hear your voice.

And when she finally meets you, it's like something out of a fairytale. To her, at least. She had just broken into your home to kill you, but when you begged for your life, it was like everything clicked.

She looked at you as if you were everything she could ever need, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

Nina had no plans of letting you go now that she finally had you. One moment, you're in your home, and then the next, you're waking up in a cabin deep in the forest, decorated to seem like a cozy home.

She acted as if she hadn't kidnapped you. In her mind, you two were pretty much married already. You're her soulmate, after all! That's better than marriage in her eyes. And if you don't play along with her, she won't hesitate to remind you just exactly what she could do to you.

Not that she would ever actually hurt you!

No, Nina could never do that. You're the only thing that has kept her sane all these years. Your voice is the only thing that keeps her going these days.

You just gotta understand that Nina can't live without you. She'd never hurt you, but she's not above scaring you into compliance if it means you'll play along with her fantasies.

But if you ignore the fact that she kidnapped you and is holding you hostage in a cabin so deep in the woods that your chance of escape is slim to none, she's actually probably the best soulmate you could ever ask for. When you actually play along with her, that is.

She doesn't force too much affection on you. If she wants to cuddle you, she will, like it or not. But she never takes it any further than that. She respects your boundaries in her own sick and twisted way.

There's no escaping her love now that she finally has you. She'll drown you in it until it's all you'll want.

THE BLOODY PAINTER — had no real interest in meeting his soulmate, even if it meant his world lacked color. The lack of color in his world didn't deter from his passion for art, and he didn't need to see color to create a masterpiece. If anything, the black and white world he lived in seemed to fit him perfectly.

Sure, he had a few passing thoughts on what his soulmate might be like, but it's nothing he ever really entertained. And if he ever met his soulmate, he sincerely doubts he'd want any real connection with them. Rather, he doubts they'd want anything to with him.

So imagine his surprise when he bumps into you one day and color suddenly bursts into his world. It's dizzying, for the both of you, but all Helen can focus on is the red you were wearing.

Red is a beautiful color on you.

It's an awkward start to your relationship, mostly because it was so sudden. Neither of you really knew what to do, and in the beginning, it honestly seemed as if you two just weren't meant to be. But somehow, it seemed to work out.

Helen really didn't want you finding out about his whole serial killer thing. He wanted a normal relationship with you. Something that would separate him from the whole ‘Bloody Painter’ title the media had given him.

He could spend hours just drawing you. You invade his every thought most days, and he can draw you from memory. He has numerous sketchbooks just filled to the brim with drawings of you. And almost all of them feature the color red in some way.

Art was his main way of expressing his love to you. His expression was always apathetic and his words never felt like enough to him, so what better way to show his love than by painting you masterpieces? Almost every piece of art he made these days were dedicated to you. Even his murders.

It was only a matter of time before you learned about his side hobby, unfortunately. You were smart, something he loved very dearly about you. He's not sure when you started to suspect him of being a killer, but he knew you were starting to become wary of him. Whenever the news talked about a recent murder, he could always feel the way your gaze drifted over to him, even if for a moment.

To be honest, he didn't see any reason to confirm nor deny your suspensions. He was curious to see whether you'd stay with him or if you'd try to leave the longer you suspected him. Not that he'd let you, of course. Helen couldn't lose you, you were his muse. If he lost you, how could he ever create art?

Helen would only do something if you tried telling someone about your suspicions. Maybe your friend or family member was a detective, but whoever you try telling is going to end up a bloodied corpse in front of you, your boyfriend standing over their corpse with a look of mild disgust.

Their blood smearing onto your skin when Helen gently cups your cheeks, telling you how careless you had been, how you left him with no choice but to kill that person. You were freaked out by the entire situation, but Helen wouldn't let you go.

Red truly is a beautiful color on you.

TICCI TOBY — genuinely had no idea he had a soulmate, simply because he couldn't feel pain. Truth be told, he didn't even know what soulmates were until he was already a proxy. Kate had been kind enough to explain it to him, when he questioned the mark on her neck.

It was a concept that he found interesting because the idea of meeting someone who would finally understand him was too good to pass up. At the same time, he couldn't help but think it to be bullshit. Toby had always been disillusioned to love, even if he couldn't quite remember why. It just seemed too good to be true.

He wasn't even sure if he had a soulmate, truth be told. He didn't have any marks on him as far as he could tell, and there were no words or names or anything like that. He just assumed he was one of the rare few that didn't have a soulmate.

But then he met you.

You, the newest proxy. Fresh meat, dazed and confused and in need of training. He was like you once, years ago. He trained himself, too stubborn to listen to anyone else. Because of that, Slender always made him train any new proxy it brought. It annoyed him beyond belief, but he didn't have much of a choice.

There was something strange about you. He's not quite sure what it was, but he found it strangely difficult to look away from you for too long. There was just… something drawing him to you. He only understood why when he cut himself on his hand when he retrieved one of his hatchets he had you throwing.

You had gasped. It was a pained one, so of course he had to check you for injuries. When he found the cut on your hand, you had pointed out the fact that he had a similar one on his own. It was… weird, truthfully. And maybe he was being dumb, or whatever, but Toby couldn't help but wonder if… were you his soulmate?

The very thought was enough to drag his hatchet across his arm, watching as the very same cut he had given himself tore into your skin as well. It had left him speechless, to say the least. He felt conflicted in so many ways, and to be honest, he avoided you in the beginning. He had nobody for the longest time, and now he suddenly has a soulmate? It was just a bit much for him, and he needed the space.

But trust that once he's accepted that he has someone in his life now, you're stuck with him. Toby isn't a physical person, so you don't have to worry about him actually sticking to you, but he always seems to be keeping an eye on you. For Toby, he's always been hyper aware of his surroundings because if he's not, he could get hurt without realizing it and then bleed out and die, so sad. But now he has to make sure you don't get hurt as well, already becoming increasingly protective over you.

Any missions tasked to you, Toby will always join you. Doesn't matter how simple the mission is, or if you or Slender try to argue with him, he's going.

He's so protective over you that it borders on possessive. He hates when you get close to anyone, and the moment you leave his line of sight, he's hunting you down. Friend or foe, Toby doesn't want you near them. You have to understand that everyone has bad intentions. Hell, Toby himself acknowledges his behavior to be bad as well, he's well aware of that fact. But to him, it's for your own good. You can trust him, but you can't trust anyone else.

And there's literally no chance that you'll be able to leave him if you tried. As a proxy of Slenderman, you're stuck with him. Slender doesn't care about your comfort, it only cares about you completing the missions it gives to you. Sure, it finds Toby's behavior strange and mildly annoying, but it's not causing you any physical harm, so it simply doesn't care.

But Toby would never, under any circumstances, hurt you. That's something he will vehemently refuse to do no matter what, so you could use that against him if need be.

Just… just let him have this. Let him have you.

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shizucheese · 16 days ago

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So about that Dropout Tweet...

There's a common trend in influencer/ content creator apologies, where the person doing the apology will say they are sorry for the harm that they did, claim they are taking ownership of it and using the whole situation to become a better person, etc. etc. Usually in a way that makes it sound suspiciously like it was written by ChatGPT.

And then they'll go on to say something along the lines of "But we've been getting a lot of death threats guys, and that's bad!" As if the fact that they're getting death threats somehow absolves them of at least some of the guilt of whatever it is that made the apology necessary in the first place. As if it means they're the real victims here.

Apparently Dropout decided to just skip the "ChatGPT apology" part and jump straight to the "We're getting physcal and legal threats" part. Followed up with them once again saying they support Palestiniens and ending it with "We reject antisemitism, Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry, and welcome all to our platform who treat others with respect, empathy, and human dignity."

And they did it on Twitter, and only Twitter. You know, the website that's notoriously overrun by Nazis. Nothing on Tumblr or Instagram, where the original statement that sparked all of this (which has since been taken down) were posted.

@dropoutdottv, @samreich, this is not listening to the Jewish members of your community who are speaking out about antisemitism. This is reinforcing the antisemitism that those Jewish members of the community are speaking out about. Because what this Tweet does is paint everyone who spoke out against the antisemitism in your original post with the same brush as the people who were sending you threats.

Which, let me be clear, they should not have been doing and I wholeheartedly condemn.

But the actions of the people sending you threats of violence and threats of legal action do not invalidate the things being said by the people who haven't threatened you with anything worse than a boycott. I have literally seen people say "the fact that they got threats just proves they were right." Is that the outcome you were trying to achieve with this?

People who did bad things get death threats all the time; refer back to the beginning of this post. Does that make their critics wrong then, too? Or is it only now, when the accusation being made is that a nerdy comedy network beloved by people on the left did an antisemitism?

I honestly can't tell if you have no publicist helping you out with one, a bad publicist that needs to give you your money back, or an evil genius publicist that knew that if you made a post like this one, it would distract from the fact that you're being accused of antisemitism, maybe even act as a dog whistle to to paint anyone who accuses you of being antisemitic of being "Zionists" (meant in the derogatory way, where people claim they're only talking about people who uncritically support the Israeli government and their actions in Gaza, but then in practice will use it against anyone who believes Israel has the right to exist, including those who want a two state solution, whose hearts break for the people in Palestine, and call Netanyahu a fascist and probably want him gone more than even the people calling them "zionists" do). Maybe even make up for all of the subscriptions you're losing over this and even gain a few by catering to the antisemitic leftist crowd.

Is that really the kind of culture you want to cultivate? If not, then do better. Acknowledge the Jewish voices that are speaking out. Listen to them. And do it in a way that doesn't bring up any other marginalized group. Because like...fuck, man, I reject Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry too. And I'm sorry you guys are receiving threats; that truly does suck and I hope everyone that works for you guys are staying safe.

But you're specifically being accused of antisemitism. Can you really not reject it all on its own without including other forms of bigotry in the same statement?

And do it on a platform that *isn't* run by an infamous antisemitic, and overrun by more antisemitics? (You can turn off comments and reblogs on Tumblr and comments on instagram, in the same way you disabled replies on your Tweet, you know.)

Here, I'll even write the statement for you: "Earlier this week, we made a statement regarding accusations that Dropout was platforming zionists. At the time, we made a statement focusing on our support of the Palestinian people. We stand by this statement. However, we have received feedback from several members of our community that some of the things that we said were inappropriate insensitive to the Jewish people. "Zionist" and "Zionism" mean different things to different people, ranging from "people who support the Israeli government's actions in Gaza" to "people who believe that Israel has a right to exist and the Jewish people have the right to self-determination." We had meant it in the context of the former definition, but we understand that many Jewish people identify with the later, including many people who are disgusted by the Israeli government's actions in Gaza, and we should have been more sensitive to this fact. Additionally, we would like to reiterate that, to our knowledge, nobody who has appeared on Dropout has openly stated support for the Israelie's actions in Gaza, and several of those accused have voiced their support for a free Palestine. We would like to take this moment to remind everyone that just because a person is Jewish, and may have ties to Israel, does not inherently mean they condone the actions of the Israeli government in Gaza, and to suggest otherwise is antisemitic. We at Dropout reject all forms of antisemitism and are committed to providing a safe space to everyone regardless of religion or ethnic background. We apologize if we made the Jewish members of our community feel like that was not the case."

See how easy that was? I feel something like this is the bear minimum, and if you had said the things in the last three paragraphs from the start, you could have avoided having to say everything in the first two paragraphs and the apology at the end.

That's...pretty much everything I have to say on the matter. To anyone reading this: Do not use other Jewish people to silence Jewish voices.

Do not use people of other marginalized groups to silence Jewish voices.

Just...maybe just listen to what we have to say without twisting our words and putting words in our mouths? Maybe?

Thanks for reading.

I'm so tired.

#dropout #dropout tv #jumblr #jewish tumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #dropout antisemitism

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singukieee · 5 months ago

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—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

#san recs #hybrid bts #bts poly #bts x reader #fics recs #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #bts fic

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bimboyaoi · 5 months ago

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okay, this is my first time posting fics on Tumblr, so sorry if the formatting is a bit wonky 🩷 Hope you guys like it!

warning: suggestive content

Summer heat

Billy still doesn't know why he let you into the team. You were too young, too inexperienced, too distracted, you were an airhead and a real-life Polly pocket, not bright enough to go on the missions.

But somehow, despite all of that, you were a genius when it came to computers. Codes, hacking your way to getting information, breaking firewalls. So it's not like you were a complete liability to the team.

You may not have been a liability, but by God, had you become a distraction. As the days got warmer, your outfits got shorter.

He knew you weren't doing it on purpose, rilling him up and having him hold back the urge to just press you against the nearest wall and put you in your place, that you were only trying to survive the hot NYC days just like everyone else in the team, but Jesus, it's not like anyone else in the team had thighs like yours.

Today especially, you looked divinely distracting, leaning against his desk as you babbled about computers and codes. And he wanted to pay attention, he did, but he was using all his remaining energy to focus on your face so he wouldn't look at how gorgeous your tits looked on that tank top.

His attention is brought back to you as you call out for him with a worried look.

"Boss? Are you good? You saw distant..." You say as you eye his face, searching for any signs of injuries.

He chuckles before waving you off, a bit ashamed he got caught. "Don't worry about it, Luv. Just tired."

And there it is. That expression you do every time he calls you a pet name or praises you. The way you look with your cheeks flushed and your lips parted like that drives him wild. He can't recall the amount of times he had stayed up at night, jacking off just at the thought of ruining you.

Unsurprisingly, you seemed oblivious to your effects on him. Anyone whose brain hadn't been fried by computers and energy drinks would have noticed it by now. But he was dealing with you. His tech genius polly pocket.

"I-I'll go back to my desk now... To finish gathering the information!" You say with a nervous laugh, refusing to look him in the eye.

He looked around the spacious office, that was empty except for you and him. Maybe it was finally time to be bold and strike.

"Actually..." He says with a smirk, softly grabbing your hand. "Why don't you help me with a little something?" Gently leading your hand to his upper thigh.

You look back at him with wide eyes, face even redder than before. He laughs as you stumble with words while trying to say something.

"What? Are these little slutty outfits just for show then? Don't tell me you haven't done this before, doll." He says, tone almost demeaning as he guides your hand higher to his crotch.

"No- I have... But-" You stammer and he chuckles again.

"But what? I've seen the way you look at me, luv. Honestly, we're doing each other a favor by doing this. Don't ya think so?" He says as he brings up one of his hands to softly caress your cheek.

You look up at him with big eyes, softly biting your lips as you nod and kneel in front of him.

He smirked and leaned back against his chair. "That's it. Now be a good girl and suck daddy's cock."

If anyone wants me to continue it, plz let me know :3

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher brainrot go brr #billy butcher x you #the boys billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys tv #karl urban #karl urban x reader #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys season 4 #billy butcher the boys #karl urban brainrot go brrr

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magniloquent-raven · 2 months ago

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I'm getting distracted from my current projects by someone else's post again someone tell me to stop going on tumblr while I have WIPs lmfao

@rosetterer this isn't EXACTLY what you posted about but it does get there in the end

Twenty-four hours has never seemed like such an insurmountably long time.

Buck's had long shifts before, the boring ones when he'd stare at the alarms on the wall, willing them to go off—he can picture Maddie's disappointed scowl if she ever found out about that, but he swears he was only hoping for something small and harmless to break up the monotony—and the busy ones. Ones that leave his ears ringing with phantom sirens by the end. Those days only ever seem long in retrospect, when he's bone-tired and trying to remember all the names he asked for.

But now every shift seems to find new and shittier ways to be gruelling. Eddie's miserable and trying to act like he isn't. There's this weird, uncomfortable tension brewing between Hen and Chim. Ravi got himself transferred to B shift—probably to get away from Gerrard, and Buck can't exactly blame him, but he sort of does anyway and their new probie is terrible, and... then there's Gerrard.

Like, Buck already knew he was a piece of work, but. Knowing and experiencing are two very different things. He could barely stand keeping his mouth shut at the medal ceremony when he met the man for five seconds, and now he has to put up with him making smug, belittling comments towards all his friends, all the time. Constantly needing to remind himself he doesn't want to get fired is actually killing him.

It doesn't help that every so often he'll remember Tommy's offhand Captain Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, with a pang as he wonders what exactly Tommy grew up with. What parts of Gerrard's condescending tyranny were familiar to him. Phillip Buckley may not have been father of the year, but maybe never being looked directly at was better than being raised neck deep in toxic waste.

Every time he remembers he gets the urge to pull out his phone and call Tommy up just to... he doesn't even know. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Know if he's doing okay.

Another reason work days seem so long now, if he's being honest. He's always counting down the hours until he can see Tommy again. Like a kid on the last day of school, watching the clock tick closer and closer to summer vacation.

So, of course, right near the end of a particularly busy shift, Gerrard gets them all lined up for a lecture about how sloppy that last save was. Everyone did something wrong, and everyone needs to hear about all the ways they could have gotten someone killed, like they don't all know how risky the job is already.

By the time he's finished telling Chim it's a miracle he managed to convince anyone to let him out on calls, Buck is clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache.

"I'm sure Captain Soft-Touch loved telling you all it was okay to be mediocre, and that you were trying your best," Gerrard sneers at them all, waving a dismissive hand at very idea of Bobby's captaincy. "But the coddling ended when he retired. Sparing your feelings is going to get people killed. Diaz!" He shouts, abrupt, turning on his heel towards Eddie. Eddie doesn't flinch, but Buck does.

"Yes, sir?" He's coolly polite, and his face is carefully blank, but his posture is tense.

"If I ever catch you checking your phone at a scene again, I'll make sure you're mopping floors for the rest of your life."

Eddie's expression hardens. It was a fender-bender and Eddie didn't even touch his phone until everyone was accounted for and packed into the ambulance. "It was a text from my son. Sir." His tone veers a little to the left of polite.

"I don't care if it was from the goddamn Pope, when you're in the field your focus stays on scene. Next time your brat needs something tell him to go cry to his mother about it."

This time when Buck flinches, everyone else in line does too. Hen bites down on a grimace. Chim hisses quietly through his teeth.

"I can't do that," Eddie says flatly. "What with her being dead and all."

The firehouse is silent for a long, horrible moment. That might've taken the wind out of any decent person's sails, Buck thinks. At the very least most people would've retreated into awkwardness and ended the lecture entirely.

Gerrard's brow pinches angrily. "Don't get smart with me, Diaz."

Buck's not sure it's possible to hate someone more than he hates their new captain right now.

"I don't care about your little sob story excuses, I care that you're sloppy and distracted. If you can't handle the job and the kid, drop one of them."

Oh, he was wrong.

He hates this man so much he's choking on it, it's clogging his throat like bile and he's running out of strength to care that he shouldn't spit it out, spew it everywhere and ruin everything just for the chance of hurting this man in the process. He feels like his skin is bursting at the seams.

Eddie's biting the inside of his cheek, rage and sorrow warring silently on his face.

And Buck breaks. Bursts. "Hey, Captain, that's—"

"Can it, Buckley," Gerrard cuts him off before he can even start. It's not angry, it's not anything, he brushes Buck off like he's an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, barely worth glancing at for the two seconds it takes to tell him he doesn't care. "You're all dismissed. Get out of my sight."

Some of them flee, scurrying to their lockers, the kitchen, anywhere but here. A couple of people throw backwards glances before they walk away. Hen and Chim exchange grim looks. Eddie disappears out the back door in an angry haze. And Buck...

Buck feels. Empty. Small. Like he cut himself open trying to relieve the pressure and now there's just nothing left. No one to patch up the wound, and no reason for any of it, he didn't make an impact, he didn't help anyone, he stood there listening to his friends get degraded, and now—now he's feeling sorry for himself?

It's stupid. He's stupid. He feels like shit because, what, because he didn't get yelled at? Because his piece of shit captain took a break from implying he's a disgusting pervert?

He thinks himself in circles about it his whole way home, the pit in his stomach getting a little deeper every time he tries to will it away.

He's wallowed himself halfway through a six-pack, staring sightlessly at his TV, by the time his front door opens.

"Evan?"

One of the knots in his chest loosens. "Yeah," he calls out, not bothering to sound less pathetic than he is. "In here."

"Hey." Tommy's stopped next to the stairs, eyeing him. His gaze is assessing, but his tone is soft. He's always so careful with Buck. "Bad day?"

Buck takes another sip of his beer. Shrugs.

"Ah, one of those."

The couch cushions dip as Tommy takes a seat next to him. He's close enough that Buck doesn't have to look at him to know he's there. There's warmth radiating off him. The woodsy scent of his aftershave. Buck presses their knees together, and exhales properly for the first time in hours.

He knows he could talk about whatever he wants and Tommy would let him. He's waiting for Buck to take the lead here. Buck could avoid the issue entirely and decide to talk about anything. The fact that he can't really tell the difference between the fancy beer Tommy insists is better than the crap Buck's drinking right now. The documentary about bees he's pretending to watch. The goddamn weather.

What comes out of his mouth is a quiet, "I feel like an idiot."

Tommy pulls the beer bottle out of Buck's loose grip, puts it down next to the couch, and then takes Buck's hand in both of his. "Why?"

Buck scrubs at his eyes. "I..." He catalogues the tiny scars on Tommy's knuckles. Two, three, little dots on his index finger. A lopsided vee on his thumb. "Something happened at work."

"Did Gerrard say something to you?" There's an edge to Tommy's question, something sharp and flinty. It makes Buck's heart do dumb little somersaults.

"No." He stops, shame burning his cheeks. "Not. Not to me. That's... He was lecturing everybody, and I..."

"Evan." Tommy grips his chin, firmly, gently, guiding Buck's face until he looks him in the eye. There's a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "Tell me."

He does. As best he can when it feels like what's didn't happen is more important, and he can barely put into words why that is. But trying helps, a little. Trying to whittle it down into an explanation forces him to look at the whole of it, and realize it's not looming over him anymore.

Maybe it's just Tommy's hands on him, soothing the hurt away.

"I dunno. Feels like I could have done something differently, maybe"

Tommy hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "You could've."

Buck winces.

"But it wouldn't have turned out any better."

Oh.

A flower blooms on the TV, purple and white petals reaching for the sun. Buck toys with Tommy's fingers, and shifts his leg closer, hooking their ankles together.

"It felt so shitty," he mutters.

"I know."

He would, wouldn't he. Buck gets that pang in his chest again, and he pushes the rest of the way into Tommy's space. Tommy wraps his arms around him, and drops a kiss into his curls, seemingly content to let Buck situate himself however he wants.

He kind of wishes Tommy wasn't still wearing jeans, but asking him to take his pants off might send the wrong message.

"You don't think I'm, like...a bad friend, right?" He cringes his way through the question.

"No." Tommy responds matter-of-factly and without hesitation. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you're a very good boy."

Buck's entire head feels like it's on fire. A grin starts to creep across his face. It might be the first time he's smiled all day. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

Maybe he should ask Tommy to take his jeans off after all.

#911 abc #911 show #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #dailykinley #evan buckley #a raven's writing desk #this got away from me a little bit

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s4lv4tions · 1 year ago

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numerology; nsfw

pairing; gojo satoru x reader / gojo satoru x geto suguru (past) / geto suguru x reader (past) summary; numerology — the belief in an occult, divine or mystical relationship between a number and one or more coinciding events. or: trying to move on. wc; 13.4k cw; death, angst, requited unrequited love, violence, smut (at the very end, but mentions throughout), canon divergence, spoilers for manga an; if you think you've read this before, you probably have! i posted this on my old tumblr a year or so ago, and it's still available on my ao3. this version is slightly updated and edited, but still diverges from canon as it was created at the start of the culling games arc :)

The first time you bathe with Satoru, he cries.

You don't notice at first; he's quiet — abnormally so —, and his face remains pristine, unchanged. The only hint you get is a small, barely audible sniffle that stops as quickly as it starts — and you think he wants it that way. You don't think he's ever cried in front of anyone.

That's why you don't say anything. Just continue washing the suds from his hair, and pretend that the tears rolling down his cheeks are beads of water dripping from his hair — but you take extra care to massage the conditioner in, and peck his cheek as you finger-comb through silky, cloud-white strands.

It occurs to you afterwards — as he lounges on your bed, scrolling through channels with a wayward hand planted on his stomach — that perhaps, it's the first time somebody has taken care of him. The first time ever, or just the first time since… since…

Geto Suguru's face smiles up at you from your vanity — a tiny polaroid, his face no bigger than the nail of your thumb. Beside him, Satoru grins, cheeky and bright-eyed — you don't think he's ever been any different —, and in the corner, the smudge of your thumb covers the lens. You don’t have to lift the photo and check the back to know what’s written there, in your scratchy, looping scrawl; the strongest, 2006.

"Lord of the Rings?" Satoru calls, carefree as ever. A yawn catches in his throat, and his fingers slip underneath his shirt to scratch absentmindedly at his chest. "Ooh, haven't seen this one yet…"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

It was a better time. Less pain. Less responsibility. Less death — or maybe the same amount, just shielded by the blinding cover of childhood inexperience. Suguru was still alive and burning bright, Satoru was happy (happier. He didn't cry in the bath, at least). Shoko didn’t self-medicate as intensively as she does now. The days were spent in childish ignorance and stupid indulgence, and even when things seemed their darkest, you never lost hope.

(It probably says a lot about you that, if given the chance, you wouldn't return. Whether that's because of what you know is bound to happen, and the pain is too much to experience again, or because you're so utterly pathetic that you'll take sadness and grief and a tiny shred of affection over… whatever it is you were back then, you don't know. A smudge in the corner of a picture of the jujutsu world's greatest.)

Suguru's eyes seem to burn into you. You turn the picture over, and rejoin Satoru on your bed.

"It's been two years."

Satoru doesn't like to talk after sex. Not in any way that's really meaningful, you mean, nothing that lets you in. He loves jokes, empty small talk, work politics. Chatter that's deep enough to show he cares a little without bearing any part of himself — your injury healed up? When was the last time you had a break? There's a new teppanyaki place in Shinjuku, I'll treat you. Don't work yourself too hard, you'll put me out of business!

If you're being honest, you didn't go into this expecting anything more than a person to scratch an itch with.

You're already friends — though, you're not sure friends totally encapsulates what Satoru is to you, romantic or platonic. You've been friends since you were 12. Satoru, Suguru, you — and then Shoko, when you all met in your first year at Jujutsu Tech. That's how it's always been.

You swear sometimes you know him better than yourself. You swear sometimes it's his voice you think with. Is that what "friends" encompasses? Somehow, it doesn't seem enough.

Whatever. The point is that your relationship with Satoru is already strong; foundations tall and proud and unshakeable. You didn't start fucking Satoru in the hopes of forming a relationship — one was already there.

It's just... Satoru is young, yes, and he enjoys flirting, but (contrary to common belief) he's not all that keen to sleep with the first person who's willing. You don’t say this with the belief that you’re special. It’s just that with work, and especially with — y'know, his… romantic history, Satoru hasn’t found the time or will to just sleep around. At least, according to him.

Sheer willpower isn't enough to make those urges go away, though, and… well, you had them too, and you were willing, and he trusts you. And you'll take anything he'll give you, really, even if it's just scraps. Even if sometimes it makes you feel worse.

Today's one of those days.

You feel sick, after. Not because of him — because of yourself. Your polaroid of Getou and any other photo he's in has been turned over, anything that could remind you of him tucked away, but — but he's everywhere today, everywhere, and you'd fucked Satoru despite it. And Satoru is covered in memories of Getou, of course. Every freckle, every shifting of muscle, every jut of bone — did Getou touch him here? Caress every bit of him he could get his hands on? Tangle his hands in his snow-white hair, breathe against his collarbone?

When you came, you cried. Pretended it was just because it was so intense, but behind your eyelids, dark, cat-like eyes stared back.

"Hm?" Satoru hums as if he didn't hear you, eyes fixed on the TV. Dumb doesn't suit him — it's honestly a bit of an insult for him to even try it. Like you didn't sense the stiffness of his limbs the second he'd stepped inside, or the crumbling edge of his smile, or the way he'd forced you to love him harder — pull his hair harder, scratch his back deeper, his Infinity turned off and his skin yours for the marking.

Satoru's mannerisms are scribed into your brain. You catch yourself emulating them, sometimes; hands waving, head tilting, grin wide and posture open. You wear it like an oversized coat, an ill-fitting costume, and sometimes you wish you could stop taking on pieces of him. The more you take, the more you must throw away — and it's Suguru that your memory discards. You find yourself forgetting how he hummed when he woke up from a nap, or filled his cheeks with food like a hamster; how he scrunched his face up when he laughed, pretty all the while…

The point is that even with his incredible knowledge, his awesome strength, the sheer holiness of his existence — you know Satoru. And the fact that he came to you today isn't mere coincidence.

You decide to come out with it. You've tiptoed around it for 24 months, give or take, had a shockingly brief mourning period before the jujutsu world forced you along, and… even with what he did, Suguru deserves better. "Suguru died today."

A beat of silence. Then:

"Mm, I guess he did."

You'd spent the day staring out at the grey sky, the miserable sight of soaked pavement. Grey, grey, grey. Concrete jungle. Heavy rain clouds and an ocean of multicoloured umbrellas, bobbing and rolling to destinations unknown. You hadn't said it aloud; hadn't even thought of it, specifically. The knowledge of it had just sat over your head like a thick, sweltering fog — and if you know Satoru at all, you know that he'd done the same. Maybe he hid it better.

You don't have to look now to know that his lips are pressed thin. You find the sudden thought of looking him in the eyes daunting, anyways, so you turn onto your side, back facing him, and pick mindlessly at the sheets. You don't want to see what his reaction will be when you say—

"Did you know that I loved him — back then?"

You don't want to see the shock, or the confusion — and you'd rather not see a lack of them, either. What's worse, you wonder — him knowing and loving Suguru too, or not knowing and loving him?

"...Yes."

You screw your eyes shut and try to will away the sudden surge of cold, like a sharpened dagger to your chest.

(It turns out that knowing is much more painful.)

Suguru Geto had been the apple of your eye ever since you'd met. 11 and gangly and stupid in a way that all children were always stupid, Suguru had been a bit kinder than his white-haired counterpart. Satoru, being Satoru Gojo, had grown up with no fear of authority, no mindfulness for his less-powerful peers as anything more than people who existed around him. You and Suguru were allowed the title of friends, but very few were. Anyway — he grew out of that mindset, of course, but your fondness for Suguru stayed.

(Though they'd always seemed to be on another level than you — not even just in terms of power, but… just caught up in each other, always. Suguru had only ever wanted Satoru. And vice versa.)

And then Suguru changed. Right under your nose, he changed, and his sudden quietness made sense. His fatigue. The way his hands would always shake when swallowing an exorcised curse, always had since you were kids, and then suddenly they were ingested with a scary calm. Nobody understands the taste of curses. Not even you, not even when he’d explained it in sickening detail.

You sigh, then. Tired and lethargic and not from physically straining yourself for an hour. This is bone-deep, soul-weary. It's been held in for 730 days, or maybe more. Maybe you've carried it with you since birth. "I never apologised."

"For what?" Satoru asks — and he laughs, jolly, and the sound fits awkwardly in his throat. A clear attempt at feigning indifference, but he's a bad liar. He always has been, because he's never needed to lie. Perks of being the strongest, you guess. You can just come out and say shit — and if you can't, not saying anything technically isn’t lying.

"I hated you, after," you confess. You dig your thumbnail hard intoyour pinky finger, taking momentary refuge in the sharp shock of pain. "I couldn't stand to look at you. When I did, I saw… I saw what you did. What you had, and what you had thrown away. I blamed you for Suguru. I blamed everyone except Suguru."

Another snicker, a bit too humourless. "You can't stand to look at me now."

"I…" You don't know what to say to that.

Truth is, you don't want to see his face. Contorted in pity, or disgust, or sadness for you. You've gotten used to living in his shadow — most everyone has — but that doesn’t ease the ever-present blanket of insecurity that you carry around your shoulders. It doesn’t dull the ache of inferiority you’ve been housing in your chest from the moment you were saddled with your technique. As you aged, you got better at hiding it, and you generally prefer your self-pity to go unnoticed, but Satoru—

He could always read you like a book. And you hated it. You hated being pitied by someone who was as powerful as him — someone as close to God as one could get. It was demeaning. Patronising. It makes you feel like a child again, bowing your head as your mother makes excuses for you.

You shift over — onto your back, and then onto your other side — and you look at him. You force yourself. Blankets pooled around his waist, his skin so pale it could be translucent, eyes icy blue and framed with fluffy white.

"You were forced to do it," you murmur. Your eyes remain trained on his chin — his are much too bright, much too all-seeing for comfort. "If you hadn't, he would've gotten worse. He never would have stopped. You knew that, you always did. It… took me a while to come to terms with it."

Satoru sighs. Then, he slumps down so that — like you — his head rests flat on the pillow, and his body arcs towards yours. He's forced himself into your sights again, in a way that’s gentle, but not so much that you wouldn't be able to figure out what he's doing: forcing you to face him.

"Would it have made you feel better," Satoru begins, reaching forward to brush his fingers against your chin, "if you were there when I did it?"

Would it have?

Would it have given you closure? Would you no longer spend your nights wondering what he'd looked like, what his last words were, his last thoughts? If he had spittled and roared in anger, if he had wept in fear, if he had attempted a smile, a joke? If he thought of you, or if you were just another insignificant blip in his radar?

In your mind, Suguru exists as his 17 year old self — smiling and mischievous, polite yet humorous. He puts extra broccoli on your plate and gently berates you to eat more. He tells you that you're a precious part of the team, that none of them would be who they are without you. He calls you crybaby because you always wear your heart on your sleeve, and tells you not to worry about things you cannot change.

Change what you can. Forget the rest and leave it to me, crybaby.

The bubbling hatred that had festered inside him has no place in your head. You want him to stay as he is, your Suguru that was never yours, shining like gold in your mind.

"No. He hated me at the end, I think," you say quietly. For a second, you dare to meet his eyes — bright and pointed in how they stare at you. You know he can see the tears that have begun to burn in your waterline, the way you ball your fists so hard you dig half-moon into your skin. He doesn’t need to be blessed with the Six Eyes to see.

"I wasn't interested in changing the world like he was, even with my Technique. That made him despise me, I think."

Satoru stares for a few more seconds. You wonder what he's thinking about. A second in your time is a lifetime in Satoru's; he must be thinking hard.

But he blinks, at last; sighs so deeply that his chest caves in with it, before he winds an arm around your waist and pulls you close, bare chest to bare chest, only atomic space between you.

There's nothing sexual about it. You're nothing but bones and skin and blood, here. He moulds your head to his shoulder with one large hand and cocoons you in his embrace, warm. Protected. You're not sure who the action is meant to comfort.

And just when you think the conversation is over — just when minutes have passed with nothing but the sound of the TV between you both — he speaks.

"Suguru could never hate you. Trust me."

You don't want to know what that means. You're only beginning to get over it, two years later.

Satoru is holding three onigiri in one hand, and two Starbucks' cups in the other — extra sugar, extra cream, extra ice, extra unicorn-marketing, just the way you both like it.

"There she is!" Is the first thing he says as he meets you just outside the metro, grinning.

It's sweltering hot today — the sun had risen early and would surely set late, and Satoru seems to be taking advantage of it. Gone is his Jujutsu Tech uniform and thick blindfold, but he's stuck with the all-black theme like he usually does — black jeans, black linen shirt, black socks and shoes. Even the frames of his sunglasses are black.

(Handsome. He's handsome. He's always been handsome — years later, you'd think you'd stop feeling the effects of it.)

Lucky for him. You're not, y'know, the strongest sorcerer in the last century, so there's no leeway for you — and even in your summer uniform, the skirt and short-sleeved blouse, you're sweating. Your only respite is that the combined force of you and Satoru will mean this mission is going to be a breeze.

Satoru tsks. "Took your time. I almost ate your onigiri."

A man nearby jogs past, clearly in a rush, and Satoru has to step closer to you to avoid him. He could've stayed still. He wouldn't have touched him, anyway, with his Limitless.

"And you would've had to buy another, genius."

A pout. "You only love me for my bank account, don't you?"

(He's joking. It's a joke.

But your hand shakes — a miniscule tremor — as you reach out to take one of the cups, and you know he sees it because he's Satoru and he sees everything. You turn away as quickly as you can, setting off in the direction of whatever place it is you're here for, and pretend that the fact that he can say it so casually doesn't kinda fucking hurt.

(He could never say it like that with Suguru — so bluntly, so crassly. Not without softened eyes and softened smiles and a gentle tilt of his head — those are mannerisms reserved only for him, never to be seen again. Instead, you get snickers and digs in the arm and teasing pulls of your hair. Of course it’s a joke. That’s all you are.

Perhaps you should just be grateful for what you get. Perhaps you should try to stop comparing yourself to a man you once loved. Perhaps you should try to stop comparing yourself to a dead man. Perhaps, in the end, you just love the pain of it all.))

"Yeah," you reply, taking a large, sugary sip. "And don't you forget it, either."

Satoru catches up to you quickly, effortlessly; his arm flops around your shoulder as he tugs you in the opposite direction, chastising you for going the wrong way — but it stays there long after it needs to.

Itadori Yuuji — Sukuna's dead-but-not-really vessel — thinks your cursed technique is powerful. He thinks it’s amazing that you can use reverse cursed technique — you must be really powerful, right? Gojo-sensei says you’re special grade. He also thinks you're very pretty. He tells you this over his fourth grilled pork belly wrap — this one bursting at the seams with kimchi, garlic, and roasted sesame seeds.

He doesn't say it in a flirtatious way — it's just an observation to him, simple and blunt, and you figure he has about as much of a filter as Satoru does.

"O-oh," you say, metal tongs frozen over the sizzling meat. "Thank you, Yuuji."

You had briefly met him for the first time before his death — Nobara, too. Megumi, the third piece of the golden trio, has been something of a little brother ever since Satoru had taken him in, and you know him well enough to know that Yuuji's death (or lack thereof) is weighing on him terribly.

(There are too many parallels you could make. Suguru and Satoru. Haibara and Nanami.)

Hiding it does make you feel guilty. To experience that grief, that loss — even if it will soon go away when Yuuji rejoins jujutsu society — isn’t something to take lightly. But Yuuji needs a guide that isn’t completely off the rails. Satoru and you balance each other out, and balance seems to be something Yuuji needs.

He reminds you terribly of Satoru when he was younger. Maybe that's why you have such a fond spot for him — he's too goofy and well-meaning and genuine to dislike.

"Why are you acting surprised?" Gripes Satoru, chewing with his mouth open. "I tell you that all the time."

Your eyes narrow. You place a perfectly cooked slice of marinated beef on his plate. "You're you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He whines. "We're best friends, crybaby!"

"You don't say I'm powerful. You say I'm helpful. There's a difference. And don’t call me that."

"Is there?" Satoru asks, turning to Yuuji for guidance. The teen boy shrugs, preoccupied by assembling his newest monstrosity. "I call you pretty, too."

"Yeah, when—"

When you're eight inches deep in me, face buried in my neck, trying to get yourself off. Your cheeks flush with warmth at the thought, and you shut your mouth. Yuuji doesn't notice your slip up, busy as he is; Satoru does completely, and fixes you with a grin so sharp that you vow to not give him any more meat until Yuuji is completely full.

"It's not the same," you say, voice final. It's a lighthearted lunch. You don't want to ruin it by getting touchy over semantics, and that's exactly what'll happen if you keep going. "You say it to reward me. Like tossing a dog a bone."

You reach for the scissors to snip the meat into little pieces — and in doing so, you miss the brief frown that presses against Satoru's brow.

Neither of you say anything more on the matter.

Satoru has known you for five years when he realises that he resents you. Not completely, and not for one particular or solid reason, either. He prefers not to think about it, in any case, because you're one of his closest friends — and even at 17, he knows that that's hard to come by. Especially as the Strongest.

Satoru stares up at his ceiling; stares at the miniature striations only he can see, the starburst-shaped gyrations of clay used to finish it off.

Tonight, he's thinking about it. And many other things.

He hates that you're so hesitant about everything — he hates that you believe yourself so weak that you have to tiptoe. You, with your reverse cursed technique — which is a feat in and of itself — that could transcend time and space, just like he could. A technique passed down for hundreds and hundreds of years, accumulating power all the while…

(Your technique has lots of rules and regulations, of course. A handicap, and he understands it frustrates you, but his own frustration eclipses his understanding. Why should someone so strong feel anything but their own strength?)

He hates that you curl in on yourself when you're sad, or lonely, or angry. He hates that you wear your heart on your sleeve — he's never allowed himself to, not fully. He can't, never fully, because there are people who are watching him, people who hate him, people who want him dead. He can joke. He can make his political desires clear — but he can’t love like he wants to, and God forbid he cries.

He hates that you close your eyes and bask when it's sunny, like a cat in a sunspot; hates that you remember that he doesn't like chicken wings and prefers thighs; he especially hates that you watch over Suguru like it's your job, when Suguru doesn't need it.

And some part of Satoru hates Suguru, too. It was strange for him to come to terms with it, fond of him as he is, but as he grows Satoru realises that there's no love of his that isn't closely affiliated with hate. It makes the love all the more strong.

Satoru, for one, dislikes how polite Suguru is, even when he doesn't need to be. He hates that Suguru becomes a straight-faced, unfeeling thing when he's upset, and tries to hide it — the emptiness in his eyes unsettles him like nothing else.

Most of all, above all, Satoru hates that Suguru loves you, crybaby, and is too pussy to do shit about it. Satoru doesn't understand why, anyways, because he'd made it clear that if he wanted, Suguru could have you both and Satoru wouldn't care. Usually, the thought would offend him. How can you love someone when you already love me? When you've already sworn yourself to me? You already have the strongest, who else do you need?

But… he doesn't know. He kinda understands. You're precious to him, too, after all, sunflower soaking up the sun.

Like he said: there's no love of his that isn’t closely affiliated with hate.

Six and a half hours after the hours-long meeting that followed the ruined School Goodwill Event, you find yourselves in a diner somewhere in Harajuku. It’s one of those weird fusion places, loaning ornamentation and tokens from classic American diners, serving omurice with fries, sushi with mashed potatoes, with a cute little mascot that looks like Elvis. It’s loud enough and bright enough to make you feel timeless. It's a sensation you can appreciate.

Something’s been telling you that time’s ticking, and you’re not quite sure what it is. Trauma, probably. Anxiety. The fact that curses have been banding together, learning spoken language, amassing power — planning an attack on Jujutsu Tech, gaining intelligence, gaining anger.

Satoru doesn’t say it — doesn’t want to say it — but you think it’s unnerved him, too. The last time outsiders entered school grounds was… two years ago, wasn’t it? It’s crazy. Everything always seems to lead back to Suguru.

The attack has fueled something in both of you, anyways; something that makes you both stay up instead of knocking out like you usually do; something that makes you both hungry and restless and liable to travel across Tokyo past midnight. By public transport, no less. No warping or high-speed flying for you, tonight.

But you appreciate it. And you think that Satoru is taking things slow for the same reasons you want to — to take things in, to appreciate what you never think to appreciate. To admire the mundane, even for a little while. Satoru’s less emotionally attached to the jujutsu-less aspects of life than you are — bullet trains and waiting in line and standing on the train platform, escalators and traffic — but he enjoys them all the same when he has time to. And it’s not often The Strongest gets to experience pure, genuine normality, too, so maybe sitting in this gaudy diner and watching the world pass you by is a luxury he rarely affords himself.

He orders the most complicated drink they have — a sakura-caramel milkshake topped with whipped cream, glacé cherries, and an entire slice of cheesecake. He’s down to the last dregs of melting cream within 10 minutes, swiping fries from your plate between sips, ignoring your chides of rotten teeth and high blood sugar.

Blindfold swapped for glasses. Strands of hair drifting down against his forehead.

You’re always reminded at the worst times of how handsome he is. It’s not like it’s a secret, or he’s unaware of it — and he takes pride in his looks, if his extensive skincare shelf and general attitude is anything to go by — but he puts much more stock in his strength, in his usefulness to others, his intelligence. The things he can provide for others. Not many people realise that.

Maybe you shouldn’t act so high and mighty. It’s not like you don’t appreciate his appearance as much as the next person — hell, half the time you’re trying to stop it from distracting you — but maybe you get a pass. Y’know, as a person who actually has reason to marvel over the stretch of his neck and the flush of his cheeks and how his lips go the prettiest pink when you kiss him. Or the cords of muscle along his arms; the slender-yet-thick bands of muscle of his chest and legs. The large, veiny expanse of hand — slim, delicate fingers wrapped around a paper straw…

"Are you gonna eat those?" Says Satoru, slurping obnoxiously. “Haven't eaten since dinner."

You push the basket across the table, uncharacteristically void of argument. "Go crazy."

Satoru sets his empty glass aside, but the straw remains in one hand. The other he uses to pluck up fries, 4 or 5 at a time, his gaze suddenly fixed on you as he chews nonchalantly.

"Y'know," he says, licking salt from his fingertips, jabbing the straw in your direction, "I can always tell when you're horny."

"Excuse me?"

"You squirm," Satoru continues — matter-of-fact, casual, as if he's talking about the weather. "And you get quiet.”

“I’m a quiet person,” you snap, nails pressing against your palms under the table. “Sorry I know when to shut the fuck up—”

“And then you get flustered. And when you’re flustered, or embarrassed, you get angry.” He raises his hand — signals the cute waitress for another basket of fries, and leans back with his arms splayed along the back of the booth. “Don’t look so surprised! How long have we known each other?”

If you were a better person, you’d probably admit that yes, he’s right. You do get quiet when you’re horny, and you do get angry when you’re flustered — if you were a worse person, though, you’d remark on how you're the first person he crawls to when he’s sad, or overwhelmed. How getting you into bed and losing yourselves in each other is a sort of therapy for him. How he always tries to distract you with cheeky grins and sly, flirty comments, but then afterwards he cries in the bath as you clean him up.

You don't say that, obviously. Seems like a pretty shitty thing to bring up today of all days. He'd probably deny it anyways, but you don't think it's a coincidence that the attack has left him restless and he obviously wants to take you home.

The new fries are delivered to the table, but he looks right past them. He bows his head slightly, glasses slipping a little further down his nose so that his white-framed eyes peek over the top of them.

"Let's warp home," Satoru says — and oh. There's that voice. That drop in tone, that lack of boisterous humour he always employs. It's soft enough to have goosebumps rising on the back of your arms, smooth enough to have you squirming — yes, squirming, you admit it — in your seat. "Alright?"

"Yes." And it's embarrassingly breathless, and embarrassingly quick, but Satoru doesn't tease you. Just smiles, raises a hand for the bill, and watches you all the while.

You count seven stitches in the forehead of Geto Suguru.

Count, because it's all you can do. Everything else is lost to you.

Breathing.

Standing.

It feels like even your heart has stalled. Because—

Because—

Because Geto Suguru is dead. Dead, in the ground, no longer breathing, no longer living. Satoru had killed him. Satoru had demolished him.

The lips of the Geto in front of you twist — a sickening, stomach-turning imitation of the smile you once adored. On his face it's a sneer, a mockery. Your Suguru did not smile like this when you knew him.

"Hello," he greets pleasantly. His arms are hidden within the sleeves of his yukata. Hair down. Suguru always tended to wear his hair up, unless he was fresh out of the shower. Unless he was upset. It was too much hassle to take care of. You know when he took over the Time Vessel Association and donned the gojo-kesa he began wearing it down. "_____ _____, yes?"

You can't answer. Your ears are ringing. Your stomach gives a worrying lurch that winds up your throat — you think you're going to be sick.

How? Why? Who — who is this in front of you? Because it's not Geto, not Suguru — and you don't say that because of longing or a pathetic desire for ignorance. This thing feels wrong. Inherently, blasphemously wrong. Looking at him for too long makes your cursed energy prickle. Seeing Suguru's image painted in such slimy, rancid energy has you gasping for breath.

Satoru, your mind whispers. Satoru needs to know.

He should. He needs to. But this pseudo-Geto does not look friendly in the slightest, and you are isolated.

Looking back, it had seemed fine to go alone to exorcise curses in the belly of Tokyo's metro. Taking old service tunnels and eventually entering abandoned tracks hadn't felt scary. You're a semi-special grade sorcerer with years of experience under your belt and a powerful cursed technique that could get you out of most, if not all, pinches, restrictions and regulations be damned.

"I'm sure you're very confused. I apologise, really…"

The reality of the situation hits you. Maybe hit is the wrong word — it doesn’t come as a bloody, stinging smack in the face. It’s a trickle of ice-cold water down the nape of your neck, drawing dread from your head all the way into the pit of your stomach. You don't think this is a pinch you'll come out of — at least not battered half to death, especially when a silver-haired curse decorated with stitches steps out from behind pseudo-Geto. The curse Kento had fought. The one that he said to look out for. Patchwork.

Immediately, you know fighting isn't an option. But what else is there to do, in the face of pseudo-Geto and his silver-haired, sentient curse? Your technique may not be limitless in your possession, but in theirs? If they did to you what they did to so many others — transfiguring you past the point of recognition, stealing your body and technique, desecrating your corpse with cursed energy…

"I can feel it from here," titters the curse excitedly. "So warm… I have to have it! Her soul, I have to have it!"

Fuck.

You could try to escape, but you wouldn't have enough time to run past them and through the winding corridors of the underground, even while distracting them with your cursed technique. They'd catch you within seconds. You’re sure they have curses lurking around waiting to thwart you, too.

You could burst directly into the layers of concrete and metal above — use your technique to revert them back millions and millions and years to their very first forms, atoms and subatomic particles, and then rebuild them up as an ascending platform — but that would take too much time, and you'd be completely defenceless while you did. Not to mention the toll it'd take on you.

(Not to mention the fact that you'd be bursting into the public eye from a giant crater in the ground.)

"I'm sure you know what I'm going to do," continues pseudo-Geto, amiable. "I would ask you to join us, but I know that is impossible. Therefore, there is only one course of action."

Can't fight. Can't escape. Can't get answers. Can't stay clueless. How contradictory.

You're not dying, that's all you know. And if you have to do the one thing you never wanted to do, then so be it. Anything is better than death. Death is not an escape, in this scenario — it’s a guarantee of imprisonment.

"It's a shame," pseudo-Geto sighs, bloodlust swelling. "Such a waste of a good technique."

You make a Binding Vow with yourself within seconds.

Using a magnitude of cursed energy usually out of your reach, your entire body will be reduced to atoms — intangible, untrappable, unkillable — for as long as it takes to retreat to safety. In return, you will be unable to think, unable to move according to your own will, only a mere pawn to entropy as the rest of the galaxy is — high risk, high reward.

There are many things that could go wrong.

In reducing yourself to essentially nothing, in splitting your cursed energy into billions of particles, you could reach a state of such low cursed energy concentration that you are, for all terms and purposes, considered dead. In doing so, your Binding Vow could break, and you would be unable to return to living.

Or you could float for days, weeks, years — safety is subjective, subjective is dangerous when it comes to contracts, and you can only hope that your own understanding of it sets the standard.

It's either this, this fleeting, terrifying chance, or death. With one, you can return to your school, your students, your Satoru — you can tell them what happened. You can bring justice to whoever has disturbed Suguru from his slumber. With the other — nothing. Just plain, utter nothingness forever and ever.

(You know which you'd rather.)

The last thing you recall, in spotty haziness, is the heart-stopping sight of Suguru surging towards you, eyes bloodthirsty, face contorted in malice.

The last thing you hope is that Satoru isn't too upset about the risk you've taken.

Eight days after your solo mission, you resurface — a discombobulated, stumbling mess on the outskirts of Shibuya, eyes glazed and mouth stuttering over syllables. A nearby Window calls the college within seconds, and Gojo is there just as soon — hands shaking when he grasps your arm and turns you to face him, fingers trembling when he cups your cheeks and brushes them under your eyes.

It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you, and he can breathe, he can fucking breathe, his chest is lighter than it’s been for those entire 8 days — all the while, he burns with an anger so intense it hurts. And Satoru is no stranger to anger, of course — knows it as intimately as he knows himself — but he's not sure if he can remember the last time it had rendered him breathless, trembling. Bloodthirsty.

It's not the time to think about it. Not when you're shaking in his arms, so frail and weak everywhere except your hands — no, your hands remain strong, fingers digging into his clothes and skin. He turns off his Infinity. The sting of your touch grounds him.

Shoko is already waiting in the clinic for him — she’d been preparing ever since the call first came in. The students (the ones on campus, at least) crowd together at a distance, buzzing anxiously as Satoru disappears swiftly into the depths of the infirmary with you in his arms.

Bad things happen often. Too often. Satoru isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that they haven’t gotten used to it yet.

“Gibberish,” Satoru answers when Shoko asks if you’ve said anything competent since he picked you up. “Just gibberish.”

Shoko is poking and prodding you with the usual doctor's shit — stethoscopes and thermometers and that blood pressure band that goes around your arm — and you just lay there and take it. Head rocking side to side, limbs trembling, mouth lolling open, and Satoru's trying not to lose his head because what good is taking your temperature? Do you look like you have a fucking cold? Is the way your eyes focus and unfocus normal? The way you can’t string together two syllables that make fucking sense?

But even with how he can see your cells malfunctioning all over your body, Shoko knows more about this shit than him. So he sits pretty on her swivelling chair, twisting back and forth, body the image of boredom but mind anything but. Time and time again, he’s reminded of how unprejudiced tragedy is — how it leaves no hint, no mark of itself, no time to prepare for the toll of it all.

Satoru had greeted you briefly before you’d left. Said something about getting lunch together, that you better be careful because you were treating him — the same shit he said time and time again, his real plea hidden within the folds and twists of his jokes and quips. Be careful. Don’t die. I can’t lose you. You’re precious to me.

You’ll be okay. You have to be — he won’t allow anything otherwise. But if he’d known last week that you’d end up like this, would he have said those things out loud? He doesn’t think so. He’s cowardly in that way.

A few moments later, Shoko straightens up. Immediately reaches into the pocket of her lab coat and pulls out a cigarette and a rusting lighter, and is puffing out clouds of bitter air just seconds later.

Shit. That’s not a good sign.

Shoko sighs. Rubs at her dark undereye circles and only makes them worse, taps her cigarette so that the ash falls to the floor. “I know what it is.”

Well fucking tell him instead of keeping it in!

“Oh?” Satoru says instead, leaning forward onto his knees. “What is it, then?”

“She used her technique on herself.”

“She does that all the time to heal."

“She didn’t heal herself,” Shoko snaps — and Satoru remembers that he’s not the only person you’re important to. That while he and Suguru had gotten ahead of themselves being the strongest, they’d left you and Shoko to stroll humbly along your own paths. The only girls in their year. The only person Shoko could fully confide in, really — at least in Tokyo —, the only person who had bothered to check up on her when she drank too much, smoked too much. Even if Shoko hated it.

Shoko is upset. Satoru doesn't what to do with it.

(Alcohol — she likes alcohol. Satoru reminds himself to pick up the most expensive bottle of the stuff the next time he's out.)

(No. She’s trying not to drink so much, isn’t she?)

(Whatever. Life is short.)

“She dissipated herself.”

Satoru knows about your technique intimately enough that it immediately gives him pause — but he runs over the details in his head, just in case, as if it isn’t already imprinted on the flesh of his skull.

Your cursed technique allows you to disassemble items down to their most basic units — subatomic particles — while your reverse cursed technique allows you to reassemble them. Items can be reassembled into their previous form, or to another related form, but you cannot exceed the item’s natural entropy threshold. If you do, the item cannot be reverted back to a physical state, and you will bear the brunt of the resulting shift in energy.

It's a finicky technique. Finicky and fickle and the risks tend to outweigh the rewards — but you'd always used it so elegantly, so gracefully. Even when you doubted yourself, you had a handle on it. Satoru admired that about you.

("You don't say I'm powerful. You say I'm helpful. There's a difference."

You'd said that to him once, when he brought you and Yuuji to lunch. You'd acted like it didn't bother you but he could tell it did — he didn't need his Six Eyes to notice how your nose twitched and your eyes narrowed, displeased.

But Satoru believes in two types of helpfulness.

The kind he is — powerful, needed, a force to be reckoned with. Someone that keeps things afloat, that acts as a beacon in the dark.

Then there's the other kind. The usefulness of pawns, of bait. Necessary, but not fundamental. Desired, sure, but rarely crucial.

You've always been the first. Always. You and him and Suguru and Shoko, always. Even he could admit that.)

You disassembled yourself into atoms. Into nothingness. You lost your mind, your body, your energy, everything—

Satoru sighs. He's been doing that a lot today.

“I didn’t know she could do that,” Satoru says. His throat is covered in a layer of sawdust. He can’t remember the last time he had to actually focus on not throwing up. “Why would she do that?”

“She talked about it, before,” Shoko says. She leans against the bed you’re laying on, gazing over her shoulder — and the way she looks at you turns his stomach, the upturn of her brows, the sad downturn of her mouth. It’s as if you’re already dead. As if she’s looking at a living corpse. “Just… as a theory. A last resort to help her get away, if needed, but—”

“But what?”

“She knew she didn’t have the power for it,” Shoko mutters. Breathes another puff of cigarette smoke. “If she tried, she'd end up just… fading away. In breaking herself up, she'd negate the cursed energy that gives her the power to put herself together.

"And the side effects would be… well, you can see that for yourself. Stupid, so fucking stupid…”

“Well, obviously she has the power for it,” Satoru murmurs. “Or made the power for it.”

“A binding vow?”

Satoru shrugs. Clenches his jaw, watching as you scratch at the faux-leather underneath you. “It'd make sense. Explains how she put herself back together."

(But for what? What could have driven you to such lengths?

A curse like Jogo wouldn't be all too difficult for you to defeat.

So who…?)

Shoko hums. She stares into space for a moment, eyes unfocused, and for a moment Satoru sees her younger self — the one who just started smoking, just started drinking, who carried the weight of all the people she healed (and those she'd failed to) tucked in her pocket. The Shoko that would make sarcastic quips and humble them when they needed humbling, but humour them when she knew the outcome would be funny.

A time when they had very little responsibility. Even him, shackled with it since birth. Comparing his duty from then to now is like comparing a boulder to the weight of the world.

He feels very old, suddenly, at 28.

"There's nothing I can do for her," Shoko says, softly. Regretfully. "If she did make a binding vow, I can only assume she made a condition about returning to normal. If so…"

Satoru can’t do anything about it, basically, she explains. Your condition is one that will only heal with time, patience, and the odd boost from Shoko’s technique. Maybe, she says — she's still unsure about that last bit.

It sickens him. It festers as a deep, curdling annoyance in his bones, his uselessness. It’s a sensation he had only felt once before, standing before the slumped-over body of Geto Suguru. Nothing he could do for him except put him out of his misery, and even then that felt like a cop-out.

So… he can't go directly after the thing that had forced your hand, because they had left no trace. He can't heal you, either. He can't take care of you while your body repairs itself, while your supposed binding vow returns you to your rightful state — that duty will fall to Shoko, or one of her interns.

He can do nothing. And Satoru is nothing if he cannot be of use.

Nine months after the events of the culling games, Satoru enters your room to see you sitting up — eyes wide, eyes seeing, and it only takes you fixing him with a single look to know that you're okay.

(Subjectively. Relatively.)

Suguru Getou — Kenjaku — is finally dead — exorcised. He’s not sure which is the right word to use. All of his allies, killed or exorcised too. Nanami, murdered. Nobara, comatose. Yaga, dead. Inumaki, Maki, Okkotsu, maimed; the great houses of sorcery destroyed and rebuilt in the image of Satoru’s will.

Itadori Yuuji — dead. Sukuna Ryomen — exorcised.

Adding up the gains, subtracting the losses, carrying the ones… Both sides seem to have lost pretty evenly. And he should be happy about it, too; things could have turned out much worse. And they would have, too, if he hadn’t pushed himself out of his pouting and escaped the prison realm — a feat that was half out of spite and half concern for the outside world, and maybe a little curiosity. Rage. Longing to see the bastard who’d stolen Suguru’s face and body, who dared to reanimate him and rouse him from peace — longing to slaughter the thing that had rendered you bedridden and half-mad for months.

He had been the one to kill Kenjaku. It only felt right to be the one to do so — he’d killed Suguru, after all; had been the one to leave him defenceless and open to manipulation. If Suguru hadn’t been dead, Kenjaku wouldn’t have been able to steal his body.

Of course, Satoru ignored the fact that the very last rotten, desperate dregs of Suguru would have enjoyed Kenjaku’s plan — it was the only way he was able to keep his eyes open when he blasted his brain to bits. It was hard enough the first time.

All of these things sit on his tongue, bitter and souring and curdling — every detail of the battle, of the culling games, the colleagues and peers and students he’d held in his arms, the ones he’d comforted as they slipped away, the ones he’d reassured and promised.

(Pink, blood-covered hair; a smile that never dimmed, a nervous murmur (“It’s okay, Gojo-sensei. I know what I got into.”). The shaky laugh that had followed.)

Satoru’s hands tremble at his sides.

Your eyes are wet with tears when you look at him.

“How long has it been?” You croak — voice dry and cracked with disuse, whining in some parts, low and wheezing in others. Bone-deep, the fear in your voice, and for good reason — things had already been at a boiling point when you’d been taken down. Everything had moved past you. “Satoru—?”

Another selfish decision on his part: he doesn’t tell you. At least, not now, when the words threaten to vomit out of his mouth, when the pain is suddenly too fresh and too raw.

(For one strange, too-long second, he’s reminded of his mother — weak, presence-less, powerless as she was. Empty-eyed and unhappy. She was hardly even a mother with the amount of governesses he had.

Somehow, though, every problem would seem worse when her eyes were upon him; every cut and bruise was more painful; every slight against him a grave insult; every mistake a cause for self-pity and temper tantrums — and none of it mattered, as long as she took him into her arms.

A rarity, yes, but… maybe one of the only fond memories he has of his childhood in the Gojo household.

Satoru feels like a kid again — suddenly sniffling from a bruise he swore didn’t hurt, his mother ready to pat his head and baby him and coo his name. Satoru. Not Gojo-sama.)

He crosses the room and plants himself upon your bed and takes you into his arms for the first time in months, and—

And for the first time since Yuuji’s death, since Nanami’s, since Suguru’s, since your injuries—

He cries. Openly. Heaving, chest-wrecking sobs; red, wet nose and ugly whimpers. It’s overwhelming. It’s cathartic. It makes the pain worse, for a second, before it begins to taper out in a bruising wave; with it, he remembers his darling underclassmen who died, his colleagues that he’d wanted to live at least a few more years; he remembers that despite years of being told so, he’s not God — he couldn’t stop Yuuji’s death, or Suguru’s, or Toge losing his arms, or—

“Thirteen months,” he manages to get out. “Thirteen months — you couldn’t talk, or move properly, or—”

Satoru grabs handfuls of you — hair, waist, belly, it doesn’t matter. He can feel you beneath his skin. Rushing, pounding blood, cells, micromolecules — and he doesn’t need to, but he engages his Six Eyes for a moment — actually engages them, doesn’t let them run unconsciously in the background. It’s a comfort to let himself see each receptor interact with each signal on each plasma membrane, to let himself see the tissues that formed organs that formed organ systems forming you, breathing, living, sentient—

He kisses you — or you kiss him, he’s not sure — but it’s far more intimate, far more tender than any touch he’d delivered unto you; hands clutching the sides of your face, your fingers digging into his wrists. You’re crying, salt on his tongue — and he only knows they’re not his own tears because you give a great, shuddering sob when you part, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“I had to,” you gasp, and he wants to tell you that he knows, he knows, he doesn’t blame you, sweet girl — did what you had to do to live, to survive— “I had to—”

“Only go where I can follow, okay?" His eyes are burning again, voice cracking with the promise, regardless of the fact that he’d rather you do it 100 times over than die. But it's the only way he can tell you he loves you without telling you he loves you, and he can't remember the last time he said the words aloud.

(He does. He remembers. And he remembers that Suguru wouldn't mind if he said it to you — that Suguru loved you as he loves you. And he remembers that Suguru is dead and doesn't have an opinion anymore, so it really doesn't matter, anyways.)

Satoru calls Shoko when he rights himself, barely pulling back from your embrace to text her something barely understandable and hurried. You don't say much while he does; still acclimating to being aware, being awake — he catches you with your eyes screwed shut and your nose buried in his jacket, fingers tight on his arms again. Grounding yourself. Reminding yourself that you're alive, and with him.

Shoko scolds you between rummaging around for a thermometer and scribbling your prescription in messy, barely legible cursive — calls you a dumb bitch for doing what you did, tells you that you owe her a bottle of wine and a trip to a fancy hot spring, and it all seems a little lighter.

(She cries a little — if the slight glassiness of her eyes can be considered crying. Satoru only teases her a bit for it, though you're quick to mention how he'd blubbered like a baby when he saw you, and he's humbled quickly.

It's the most normal he's felt in weeks.)

Shoko clears away after a few hours — gives you strict orders to rest, and sends him a knowing look that he's not all too sure of the meaning of.

"You look tired, Satoru," you finally say when you're alone again. Your smile is sad, knowing, and Satoru curses it all. You deserve a grace period, a moment of ignorance before the grief settles in. "What happened?"

But when have you ever wanted a moment of ignorance? When has he ever been able to hide the truth of things from you? When have you ever been anything but his equal, his confidant?

"Everything," Satoru says. A short, humourless laugh punctuates his single-worded sentence. "Everything, crybaby. Everything that we thought could happen, and everything we thought couldn't."

A flicker of a smile — uncomfortable, flat. Your eyes flicker down to the bland, starched sheets of the hospital bed. "Did you see him?"

He doesn't need you to elaborate. There's really only one person you both mean when you say him.

"Yes."

"Who was he?"

Satoru shifts in his seat. "An ancient sorcerer named Kenjaku. His cursed technique allowed him to transplant his brain between bodies and possess them."

"And he chose Suguru."

"Yes. And many others, too."

"And you killed him."

"Yes. For Suguru, and for you. But mostly for Suguru.”

“I’m glad,” you say, but your fingers twist the sheets tightly. “When I saw him, I was angry. So angry, I… I wanted to kill him. I knew I wasn’t strong enough, and I knew he would kill me, but for a second—”

He understands. God, does he understand. “You wanted to take the risk.” No matter the cost, no matter the damage to your own body. Anger like that consumes.

“I did.” You swallow. Your eyes meet his. “It was like… adding insult to injury. As if it’s not enough that Suguru is dead, but this — this Kenjaku has to puppeteer him too. Disturb his peace."

The wind rustles the trees outside. The late-afternoon gold of the sun settles along the horizon, a burning orange that stretches the shadows and warms the wind and turns the side of your face honey-soft and sad.

“But I realised that I was probably the first person he’d revealed himself to," you continue, "so I was the only one that could warn you."

Always thinking about the good of others. It was another thing he admired about you — Nanami, too. Satoru, for all his big talk about changing the world of jujutsu, about being better than those who came before him, is really quite selfish.

It's why his hands had trembled when he'd had to kill Yuuji. It's why he couldn't put Suguru in the ground the first time they met after he became a curse user. Even when he knows things are necessary, he tries his damnedest to hold on — just for the chance of it all. The chance that Suguru could change his mind. The chance that Sukuna could be removed from Yuuji without him needing to die.

"And…”

One snow-white brow raises. “And?”

“You’ve already lost too many people that you love,” you say simply, shrugging — like it's a simple fact, no need for experimentation, no need for an academic paper complete with its own abstract and footnotes. Like you've always known, in some little way, but you're only able to bring yourself to say it now.

And Satoru — well, it's no secret to him, is it? He's known it since he was 13, 14, 15 — had a bit of a buffering period, sure — and now here at 28, he knows it just as well. The point is that you're not supposed to know. Not while you're still healing from Suguru and… being attacked by fake-Suguru.

Regardless of what he knows and how long he's known it, Satoru feels his throat begin to close up, twisting and turning and holding his breath tight. He doesn’t like the feeling.

“Love?” He echoes. His voice has gotten a little empty. It's too soon for him to say it aloud, he thinks. It was okay when he whispered it in his head after making love to you; it was easy when he grinned at your scrunched up nose and scoffed comments and thought fuck, I love you. It was easy when he could pretend it was a simple, passing comment, a trick of the mind — but having it said as fact?

Not so simple. But you don’t need to know that. “Is that so?"

You don't seem to notice his momentary pause — a lifetime of rambling in his time, a second's hesitation in regular time — too busy staring at the space where his fingers stretch apart over the sheets. Just inches away from yours. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Oh.

"Oh." Satoru blinks back. "Oh, yeah. Best friends, you and I, crybaby."

"I know it's normal for us," you say, ploughing ahead, "to just lose and lose and keep losing, but… I'll be honest. I never fully got used to it, and I don't want to."

He wishes he could say the same, but he can't.

He understands, in some capacity. Nobody wants to see the people around them die, a continuous and vicious cycle. Nobody wants to get so used to loss that most funerals no longer hold any emotional significance. But getting used to it had saved him. Getting used to it helped him act without consequence, without remorse, and that's what the battlefield both needs and requires of him.

He could count on both hands the people he wants to save in this world — about half of them were dead, at this point. A lot of them died while he was imprisoned. Two, he had to kill himself. He swore he'd protect the rest with all Six Eyes, every non-existent boundary of his Limitless.

So Satoru doesn't care much about getting used to death and dying and loss and grief. As long as you're okay, he's okay. As long as his job as the Strongest is done, everything is as it should be.

He doesn't say that to you, of course. You'd probably curse him out and call him a heartless bastard. Instead, he nods, hums and agrees and tells you the names of those who died when you work up the courage to ask.

It's a long night. It's an even longer list.

10.

Shoko keeps you for observation for 10 days after you wake up — three days longer than necessary, but she won't hear it from him, no matter how many times he reminds her that technically she falsified her degree—

He's joking. Mostly.

Satoru volunteers himself to help you back home, taking with you the plastic bag filled with your cleaned sorcerer's garb and weapon. He carries it over his shoulder along with two teddy bears, a half-wilted bouquet of tulips and a half-eaten box of chocolates (all courtesy of the second years — except for the chocolates, which are half-eaten because of him). He winds his other arm around your waist even though you can walk perfectly fine, but — it's just in case. Purely precautionary. For once, you don’t argue about being babied.

In the midday sun outside, you tilt your head back and close your eyes and smile. For a moment, it's as if the sadness has melted away from you — the tears you shed over Yuuji, Nanami, Suguru. The tears you shed over him, and he wasn't even dead. Satoru is glad your eyes are closed — even beneath his sunglasses, it's painfully obvious that he's staring.

You decide to take the subway home — it's my first time outside in almost a year, you remind him, so he pushes down any arguments he might have and enjoys the too-cramped journey towards Akihabara. You’re both shoved standing together, between a panicked looking man holding a tray of coffee and a woman with her child hanging about her legs, your head bobbing against his chest as the train moves.

For a moment — as the train passes momentarily out of the underground and becomes encapsulated in light — it's easy to drown in the normalcy of it all. For a moment, he sees himself looking in as a stranger would. Here, he isn't the Six Eyes; just a simple man taking his girlfriend home, standing close on the train, wishing to be closer. Riding home to your shared apartment where he'll peel oranges and feed them to you, where he'll lay his head in your lap and hold your hands to his heart.

His nose wrinkles. He prefers reality, he thinks, where he can be powerful and have you by his side; where he can protect you, uphold peace, change the jujutsu world for the best — and then go home all the same, and have you to hold.

"What are you thinking about?" You mumble against his collar.

"Oranges," he replies.

"I don't have any at home," you say, "or if I did, they're rotted."

"Don't worry — we cleaned your kitchen up. Me and the kids." It was an afternoon of Yuuji attempting to shove rotting potatoes in Nobara's face. That was before Shibuya; before everything, really.

"Oh? You got your hands dirty?"

Satoru tries to not think about that same beaming, smiling Yuuji's last breaths. "Of course! This is me we're talking about, honey. I was front and centre."

You snort, soft against his neck. It's a wonder he went almost a year without you. "Housewife Satoru. I'll keep it in mind."

When you return to your apartment, you shower together for the first time in forever. He spends extra time and care massaging shampoo into your scalp, detangling each knot; spends extra time rinsing the suds out, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin.

Steam clogs his mind. Almond shower oil and citrusy shampoo fog his senses. The realisation that you could have potentially been taken away from him sits heavy like a stone in his stomach — why it hadn't sunk in in the past, oh, 13 months or so, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he's terribly bad at caring for precious things — but if he could, if it's possible, he'll remould and reshape his hands, his heart, his mind, just for the chance—

"Satoru," you breathe against his lips, "Bow your head."

(Bow your head, you say. He'd kneel if you asked him to.)

You brush your hands through his hair; rinse him free of suds and bubbles and kiss his temples as you shut off the water. What is supposed to be healing for you is quickly becoming therapy for him — muscles relaxing, mind clearing of all responsibilities, mournings, obligations. All he knows are the soft, newly washed sheets beneath him and your nose in the crook of his neck.

It's a strange sensation, the lack of tension, his brain not working overtime. But hardly unwelcome.

11.

Satoru asks you if you saw anything when you were indisposed. Memories, flashbacks, prophecies? Blurry half-truths, nonsensical babbling? You tell him that you can't really remember — and you can't, not really, but you do remember one thing.

When you were 11, you met Satoru and Suguru for the first time. It's that memory that you can remember playing in your head, over and over and over again: Satoru and Suguru, scrawny and still-faced in their yukata.

Satoru was from a great, traditional house. Suguru was not, but upon discovery of his powers, was taken into unofficial custody of the higher-ups. In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been allowed within two feet of them — but the elders had deemed your cursed technique a great gift, and so you were warily accepted into the upper echelons of jujutsu society, a stranger, a foreigner.

Introducing you to the most powerful sorcerers your age was nothing more than political play, of course. The adults followed behind as you walked through the grand grounds of the Gojo family — (maintained by a team of 12 gardeners, according to the Lady of the house) — muttering and scheming between themselves, making sure nothing would go awry.

Nothing did, of course. Satoru picked his nose and Suguru told him it was rude and they bickered for a while — Satoru bickered, Suguru replied calmly and quickly. Satoru asked you if your technique was good or bad ("No such thing," interjected Suguru) and whether or not you think you could beat him in a fight.

(That last question was to stroke his own ego, of course. Everyone knew he was the strongest sorcerer born in the last century.)

At some point, Satoru made you cry.

You can't remember what about, all these years later — you'd think you'd remember, considering the fact that you know the amount of gardeners employed by the Gojo estate — but you know that you had tried to stop it; fists balled, teeth gritted, full-body heaves. Crying was the last thing you had wanted to do. Crying meant weakness. Weakness meant being taken advantage of.

But you were so scared. It was all so alien. You wanted to go home, but home didn’t exist anymore. You wanted your mother, but your mother was long gone. All you had left were stone-faced adults that were only interested in your abilities.

Suguru had been confused at your reaction to what he took as a harmless quip — a little callous, as most children are — but he had reassured you nonetheless.

"Don’t cry. Satoru speaks before he thinks," he'd said, nudging your shoulder. "Sometimes you have to ignore him and he'll be so bored that he has to think."

"I can hear you," Gojo huffed. "I didn't mean to."

"See?" Suguru smiled. "Works like a charm."

Yes, Suguru had always been there to protect you. Emotionally, at least. He was willing to be kinder to people. More gentle, more forgiving. He'd believed that it was his duty as a sorcerer to protect those that couldn't protect themselves, and—

Well. That had changed, by the end, but having that memory replay in your head made you see the bigger picture of it all. Suguru's place in things. Your place in things.

You'd loved Suguru, no doubt. And you’ll probably always carry a piece of him with you — you'd hate to do otherwise. You’ll carry his kindness and his jokes and his catlike smile, all tucked away in bubble wrap somewhere in your chest cavity — but you will never disregard his wrongdoings. Since his death, you'd argued against the two sides of him; felt guilty for loving him after what he did, felt guilty for hating him after loving him and knowing him for as long as you did. Two halves of a whole. Darkness in light and light in darkness.

He was both of those things. You love him, but you don’t forgive him, and you probably never will. He will never again be the boy that comforted you after Satoru made you cry; he will never again be the boy who let you braid his hair back. He won't be the boy who slaughtered innocents, either — death's funny like that. Indiscriminately doing away with both the good and the bad.

And that's okay. Kenjaku is dead, after all, and Suguru can finally rest — and with him, your warring mind.

12.

Midnight strikes and you're still awake. You don’t even seem tired, and that's after a long shower and takeout and a movie. Usually you'd be a drooling mess by now, but tonight is different. Feels different. Satoru isn’t sure if it's just a year's worth of built up sexual tension or something else, but he feels it regardless.

He's flopped on his stomach, hair still damp; you're curled up in the shape of a C, skin reflecting the light of the TV. He might visit Nobara tomorrow. Megumi usually goes on Wednesdays, too — they could make a day out of it, and you could tag along, too. He's got a craving for the pistachio macarons they sell near—

"I'm in love with you," you announce.

Satoru doesn't bother asking you to repeat yourself because he knows he didn’t mishear. It isn't the knowing that shocks him — he's not stupid, and you wear your heart on your sleeve — it's the sudden, quick verbal affirmation of it that catches him off guard. After all, haven’t you two been putting this all off? Yearning for a dead man? Being pulled from two opposing poles?

He turns his head towards you, opens his mouth to ask you just that, and—

"After Suguru, I thought I'd never be happy again," you say, and you’re smiling like you didn't just say something inherently heartbreaking. But no, you look fond — content, even, blinking slowly at him. "And I thought I'd never feel for someone as strong as I did for him. But here I am: happy, and in love, and okay."

Satoru opens his mouth — then closes it quickly. For some reason, he remembers something Suguru said to you when you were younger: "Satoru speaks before he thinks." But he wants to think about this — about what he should say. How does he respond to you quite literally baring your heart to him? How does he tell you what he wants to tell you, what you deserve to hear? He's never been good with real, genuine words — emotional shit never came easy to him out loud. His thoughts are much more concise than his mouth is, but he guesses it's because it moves so fast in comparison.

Pity you can't read his mind. It'd make things much easier.

“You don’t have to say anything,” but he wants to, don't you know? "You don't have to pretend. It’s okay. I know that… maybe you don’t love me as much as you loved Suguru, but I know you love me in some way, at least—”

Satoru frowns — strings of ideas and thoughts bunching up and stopping short as your words register. “As much as I— hey, stop putting words in my mouth—"

"The truth is," you continue on, "I feel lighter than I have in years. I don't dread life so much anymore. I don't dread you anymore."

"You… dreaded me?"

You hum. Your legs stretch down, arms forward, face scrunched up in a passing yawn. "I'm not stupid to think you didn’t know how I felt, but… I hated that I was so obvious about it. Even when I was fighting with myself about it, I was obvious. It made me hate being around you, sometimes."

You sigh, then — not as heavy and melancholy as they used to be, no. This is a sigh of relief, of cathartic release.

Satoru blinks, and attempts to wade through the seventy-or-so compulsions telling him to make a joke, to laugh, to tease you. Maybe he should actually be serious for once. Say it straight and say it firm, so you can't take anything the wrong way. If there was ever a time for him to not beat around the bush…

"I've liked you since I was 17," he confesses, finally. "Me and Suguru, we were together, y’know, and we were happy. And Suguru loved you, and somewhere along the line I… began to do the same, but we were so young and then… Everything changed so fast. Everything broke so fast.”

Your fingers brush against his, and he breathes in a sigh. Your eyes are wide and watery, low light reflecting like glitter in your eyes.

"Sometimes, it keeps me up at night," Satoru says, laughing a pained sort of laugh. "Out of everything, that's what keeps me up — that we could've been happy together, all three of us. It never would’ve been enough to make him change, but…"

At least you would’ve known what it was like. To be happy together in that way. To be content. To find your places in the world, hand and hand. To know what it was like — even if Suguru’s fall from grace was inevitable — so you wouldn’t have to keep wondering until your untimely, gruesome, sorcerer-style deaths, or whatever.

Back then, Satoru didn’t understand why Suguru never told you how he felt. He couldn't understand how he could be content watching from afar, looking but never touching. What Satoru wanted, he learned to take; the Strongest didn’t need to ask for permission, only forgiveness.

He learned quickly that some things were better left unsaid. And now, 28 years old, half of his friends, students, colleagues dead — he understands even more.

He remembers how Yuuji had tried to stave off tears when he realised he had to die; remembers how his student’s throat had felt being crushed in his hands. He loved Yuuji like a little brother. Like a son, even. He was family. He was his student, and yet his death had been necessary, and Satoru battled with it. It allowed him to succeed in the mission he was born to complete. But he had given up Yuuji in return.

There is no curse more twisted than love.

Therein lays the problem, he supposes. The second you love someone, you run the risk of having them end up like Yuuji did. Like Suguru did. Like Nanami did. When you are burdened with incredible power like Satoru is — like Suguru was — you must be able to sacrifice for it. The closer that people are, the more likely they are to be caught in the crossfire, the more likely you are to be hurt. Suguru hoped to avoid that at all costs. It was easier to watch from afar, less painful.

Satoru is a tad more selfish. Which is bad, he knows, because he's too prepared to sacrifice. Even now. Even now, he knows that if caught between saving you and saving society, he would be forced to — to—

Satoru inhales. The only thing for it is to simply stop things from getting that far.

He could explain all this to you. He could talk circles around you about it, in fact, but the truth is that it's all conjecture. Suguru isn’t here to tell him why he did what he did. He can’t speak for him, no matter how well he knew him.

"I don't know why Suguru never told you," Satoru says instead. He folds his fingers tighter, taking yours in his grip as he does so. "Guess that's something he took with him to the grave."

"I've stopped wondering," you say. “I’ll never stop regretting, but I’ve stopped wondering. I can’t stay rooted in the past any more. It was doing more harm than good."

And you raise your interlocked hands — nestle them under your chin and screw your eyes shut, like you're wishing on the evening star, like he's something precious to be treasured. All of a sudden he's 17 and confused about why he can't stop staring at you. He doesn’t have Suguru to tease him about it, now.

“I’ll never forget him,” Satoru announces — a warning, or a reassurance, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s telling the truth and nothing but the truth, and whether or not you like his truth is not his concern. He respects you too much to lie about this to you.

Your lips twitch upwards, a phantom of a smile. “Neither will I. "

"I'll never forget you, either."

The smile grows, blooms, blossoms, until it stretches bright and full across your face. The first smile of yours he's seen in a while that wasn't at half-mast, or tinged with sadness, or pain, or fatigue.

"How lucky I am," you whisper, "to be known by you, Gojo Satoru."

It should be the other way around, he thinks.

(12.5.

It's the first time he makes love in years.

Satoru has always fucked you. Always. No matter how tired you both were, no matter how injured — he'd always force himself to be rougher, force his touches to not linger as much as he wanted them to.

If he felt too much, he'd crack a joke instead of drowning in it; if he felt his eyes beginning to burn he'd bury his nose in the crook of your neck and push it down. If he thought of long, dark hair and cat-like eyes, he'd tighten your grip in his hair and the shock of pain would clear his mind. He fucked quick, and when he was done he'd lay far away enough that he couldn't feel your skin against his.

Tonight, he lets himself love and be loved again.

You're on top of him, ass flush against his thighs, taking every inch he has to give you; his hands have found your jaw, thumbs brushing back and forth across your dewy, sweat-slick cheeks. One hand of yours clasps around his wrist; the other bands to his chest, nails digging red into his skin. Your cursed energy blooms, flushes, flourishes when he opens his eyes to look at you.

He sees every pore, every hair, every dimple, every broken capillary, every scratch and scrape. Every part of you, bending to him in some places, unfalteringly stubborn in others.

"Look at you," he mumbles, blinking dumbly. "So… pretty…"

You snort something like a laugh, and continue: up, down, up, down. Slow, grinding gyrations of your hips that make his head spin pleasantly; and with his Limitless nullified, he feels every inch of skin, every tensing of muscle, every scrape and press fully and completely. He’s never felt so engulfed in it before — the sensations of it all, the warmth, your scent, your weight above him.

He'd drown in you, if he could. Take you in his mouth and nose and ears and everywhere, until he's left gasping for air and grappling for something of substance. Maybe once upon a time he would keep those thoughts to himself, for whatever reason — but now he's allowed to be selfish in his affections, allowed to give more than surface-level compliments and vague declarations of love.

Between pleasure-ridden shudders and sloppy, wet kisses, he breathes:

"I want you everywhere," he says, "All the time. Over me, on me, in me—"

You raise a brow, impudent and teasing in a way that makes his abdomen tighten. "In you?"

And maybe he didn’t mean it in the way that you took it, but he plays along anyways, waggling his brows. "You heard me."

"You're terrible."

"I'm not joking," Satoru argues — but it’s hard to take him seriously when his voice quietens, when he arches up eagerly to meet your lips—

When his grip on your lower back becomes painfully tight, when his lips part in a moan and his eyes screw shut and he throws his head back, hips rutting up to meet yours, and—

His peak rises to greet him — and his heart swells all the while. He finds himself clawing for you as his orgasm builds, hands clambering against your back, your neck, your hair, until (with a great, shaking breath, may he add): "Fuck, I — mmf, I love you—"

It carries him off to a state of fuzzy, empty-minded ignorance — pleasure tightening his entire body, fizzling from the tips of his fingers to his curling toes. Your name on his tongue, slurred and mellifluous, his smile dizzy and drunk.

As you smile down at him, so unbearably fond, Satoru thinks that he doesn’t mind saying I love you aloud after all.)

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knightyoomyoui · 1 year ago

Text

[SMUT] TWICE Mina x Male Reader - "House Of Balloons"

Requested by my buddy and fellow author @mintchoccy, I'm really sorry again if I haven't been able to write it for months, man. I had to focus on other works. Hope this would be fine enough to be worth the wait. TRIGGER WARNING: Aside from mature content, this contains drugs, violence, non-con ( I really didn't want to write with this theme but since it's my second attempt of writing a yandere Mina fic and for the sake of the plot, I had to give what the previous is lacking) and other uncomfortable parts. WORD COUNT: 5700+ TAGS: yandere, obssession, aphrodisiacs, viagra, rough sex, edging, dominant, worship, non-con element, torture, angst, smut Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too! Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

"That fucking snake again."

Mina has had enough.

She calmly watches such an atrocity of a view, her hands fumbling vigorously within the curves of the wineglass, her fingernails scraping in time with the pattern of her gritting teeth covered through her tight-lipped lips.

The one that she likes- no, she loves - a lot legitimately is talking to somebody. It's their friend but in her perspective, she felt like she could just erase her existence and remove any identification of her being into her whole life.

That one and only man she's head over heels for quite a long time now is YN, unbeknowst to him that girl she's with, named Sana turns out to be one of his secret admirers in disguise.

And what's even worse, Sana doesn't even know that there's one more person who is impatient to fall in line just to snatch YN's heart from everybody else who wanted it, and that is none other than Mina herself.

She tried to hold it in for months, but with how many times she encountered that almost sucked the soul out of her with the tiny possibility remaining to complete for others to win over YN, she has now on her breaking point.

Every day and night passes, her craving, her longing, her desperation is going stronger and higher, and Mina felt like she'll gone out of her mind if she wouldn't do anything about it.

Just like today, it seems like Sana is going for the final blow to attract YN and possibly the worst case scenario might happen, and that is the confession part where Mina doesn't want to witness or hear it to happen.

She doesn't fall in the line, she made the line and she's the most deserving out of them all.

That why it came to this moment that Mina finally pronounces something that will guarantee her victory, a fight where she doesn't have to lose.

She doesn't give a damn if they want YN's love, she's the one who needs it the most.

"I'm going to make you mine, YN. Not even that flirty bitch or anyone could take you from me. We'll go blood for blood just for them to dare." Mina snarled with annoyance and a poisonous glare at the two. "We're going to be together, because we have to and I love you."

Mina first met YN when he brought his childhood bestfriend Sana to their group after Sana found out that her car isn't working properly. He got introduced to the group and with his kind-hearted and humorous personality, he managed to build a strong closeness with the girls.

Until that closeness turns into attraction for one of them aside from Sana.

YN was closest to the J-Line because he is Japanese, and even though he knows Sana a lot, he tried to spend time with Mina and Momo, and Mina was the one he focused more onto.

To be honest, Momo's personality was already fine but there's something that YN observed on Mina that made him check up on her all the time. She is mostly quiet, soft, and meek because of her introvert and elegant attribute, and YN always make sure that whenever he's hanging along with the girls, he wanted to feel that Mina always belongs to them to have fun.

Until suddenly, that fun had Mina searching for all the time, and she became selective only for him.

Mina's fond over YN grew from time to time. There has been instances where she would just start to look for YN, mention him, miss him, hear him. Just everything to feel his presence.

And that, turned Mina's obsession over YN inside out.

Her infatuation bloomed into an excessive devotion fueled by interest where she felt like not having any trace or signs of YN on her would have her less enthusiastic and stable.

The first time she did something very strange was back when Mina sat on YN's chair and muzzled her face around the cushion to inhale every scent he left there.

It leveled up to her stalking him wherever he go, memorizing the directions and time he appears and departs. She also tried to snatch and collect straws and cups that he used, wiping it around his lips then compressing it like as if she's engaging a make out with him.

Until it developed into something that easily malfunctions and thrives her horniness and perverted minds. She had many prints of her pictures with him and to aid her thirst for YN, she even bought a dildo for the first time and imagine it as his dick impaling her pussy by riding it while staring at YN's printed face on the pillow.

And now that she always gets to caught numerous almost close calls of Sana and other girls trying to take her away from her, it prompted her to finally step away from the shadows and make her move that will not require any further attempts.

YN is hers and hers only. As Sana went to the bathroom for a break, Mina came up to YN who is watching their other friends dancing to the floor while sipping on his wine.

"How's the night so far?" Mina talked to him and laid her hands on his shoulder.

"Doing good, but I starting to feel sleepy." YN chuckled. "I mean, I did everything I wanted now here, and now I don't know what else to do than empty these drinks and foods I have."

"Shall we get out of here and you know..." Mina started to move her hand, caressing his shoulder while it slowly lowers through his left pec. "Find something entertaining, make ourselves have some fun~"

She slightly presses her body, her breasts almost pushes through his arm. Her voice starts to become rougher and closer to his ears, making YN blush and feel a bit tensed up.

"I feel a bit bored now. My phone is now out, I hate that I forgot my powerbank."

"You wanted to play games, huh."

"Yeah, and I would really love to do it only with you, if you don't mind~", Mina smirked and squeezed her embrace on his side.

"You're lucky, I can feel my inner gamer loading up-"

"Hey guys!" Sana interrupted their conversation after returning from the bathroom. Mina cursed under her breath and her grip tightened on YN. "Sorry I had to take a break, YN."

"No it's fine, I had to say goodbye to everyone now anyway." YN chuckled. "I'm now tired and done for the night."

"Awwww already?" Sana pouted. "You can join us for one more-"

"Uhm, I think I'll be off now too, Sana." Mina cuts her out. She doesn't want his man to get anything involved with them until they get drunk. Their time is up and her turn is now. "I have low alcohol tolerance and I still have to visit my dad on the hospital tomorrow. Gotta sleep early."

"Not you too, Mina?!" Sana whined. Mina found it adorable but deep inside she's smirking mockingly at her for not being able to get through their zone anymore. "Okay, if that so then let's just catch up at the next party." Sana shrugged. "Be safe on your way home okay?

Mina just nodded and elicited a fake smile while YN smiled. He got surprised when Sana quickly hugged him tight and Mina sweared that she's doing her best at all to control herself from grabbing her arm and slamming her through the table.

"Say our goodbyes to the girls, okay?" YN said to Sana who gave her a cheeky smile while raising her thumbs up.

"Cmon, let's go." Mina swiftly tugs his hands and wrapped it around with hers. She hoped he wouldn't noticed her arms twitching at how good it feels to touch his soft skin.

As they exit the building, she halted and proposed an invitation to him. "Wanna go play with me at my place? I have a newly bought God of War: Ragnarok that I haven't been able to try yet."

"Wait what?! You already got it?!" YN reacted in awe. She knew he'll go hysterical since that is his favorite video game of all time. "No way, we better do it right now. Let's go!"

Mina escorted YN to enter her car and they drove straight to her mansion. They greeted the guard before he opened the gates for them. As Mina parked the car on her garage, they entered the mansion and YN was astounded at how great and rich Mina's family are.

"This is your first time here, right?"

"Yeah, and wow it does feels awesome and honored to be here." YN said as he travelled his eyes around here. "It's like stepping in here should be a priviledge because you'll never get an easy chance to experience this."

"Don't worry, you can stay here as much as you like. Treat this as your home now." Mina said as she walked through the kitchen before eyeing a sinister smirk on him who is still busy checking out the decorations around the place, too oblivious to notice the double meaning on her words.

She walked out of the kitchen with a bottle of alcohol and some cups with her. "Just thought of something to make this even more fun. Shall we do a drunk gameplay?"

"But you said you have to visit-"

"I lied." Mina said sternly. "I did that to make myself more convincing, so don't worry about me because I want us to spend more time together. I want to stay with you alone for now so don't go, please?"

YN nodded and smiled. "Sure. If that's what you want Mina, I'll be joining you."

Mina giggled and felt overwhelmed at his words. "Cmon, let's head upstairs."

They climbed and reached the second floor where Mina's guest room at. YN opened to room in assistance since Mina has her hands full with bottle and glass and they entered at Mina's private space.

Mina slightly got anxious when they passed her bedroom because little does YN know what would greet him once he saw what's in store there.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get it." Mina said as she dashed through her forbidden area and hurriedly grabbed the cd and controllers.

As she heads back to the room, she found YN conversing through the phone. The call was in speaker and she heard Sana's voice that made her a bit fumed up.

"Yeah, I already got home. Thank you for asking, Sana." He said before bouncing his eyebrows on Mina who remained silent and just walked behind at him.

"Ohwww okayyy, gowd nightt okayyy, sleep and dream ahbout mewh, i- i lhove youuu!" Sana said with a husky, blabberish tone behind the call. YN was shocked to hear the last words she said to him while Mina... well she didn't took it that well at all.

She was about to pop off the cap on the bottle she heard Sana's "I love you" to him. Something just cracked open inside her mind and all she knew after is that she couldn't control herself anymore. She's moving away from her sanity now.

"W-wait, Sana are you drunk? You should go home now. It's already late." YN said, stuttering and made a chuckle as he is still processing what Sana just told him.

Mina on the other hand, placed the alcohol back on the table and went through her cabinet to open a drawer. She grabbed a bottle of viagra and aphrodisiac that she bought just in case the perfect has come where she will need it, and that finally happened tonight. She smashed it into pieces before mixing both of it to his drink and hers.

YN couldn't understand what Sana is saying now so he bid goodbye and wished her well before dropping the call. "Sorry, Mina I didn't know that she'll-"

"Scratch it. I know. Let me just set up the game." Mina didn't want to hear it no more. She starts to set things up until they are now allowed and ready to play. "Every minutes, we'll drink. Okay?"

"Noted."

As they started the game, Mina was quite hesitant at that rule because she couldn't endure longer the need and the crave increasing through her insides. Throughout the game she starts to rub her thighs and feel her panties getting soaked with her juices. She stares at the TV while biting her lip just to avoid moaning early.

The timer beeped for 10 minutes and finally Mina released a long sigh before beaming broadly in excitement. "Time to take a shot."

They both hold the cup and they faced at each other. Mina eyed YN and looked at his last innocence for tonight before they counted the three and simulteanously gulped all the drink. They both exhaled a refreshed huff before continuing to play the game.

7 minutes has only passed and they haven't been reached the next turn to drink but both of them can feel the effects now. While YN is playing, Mina started to became handsy on him, touching him all around his body and teasing his crotch by tapping his thighs and pretend to press his fists on it while she cuddled herself beside her.

Mina then balled her fists and cupped YN where she was shocked and impressed to discover how huge and heavy it felt around her touch. YN started to sigh heavily and look down on Mina's playful hand as his eyes starts to get cloudy.

"M-Mina, stop... i'm getting distracted." YN said between his sighs but Mina didn't listen.

"Ssshhh... just focus on playing. Don't fight it, you'll want it soon." Mina whispered in his ear before she bit his earlobe and licked the side of his neck and sucked on his skin to leave enough hickeys.

Mina's massage over his crotch became even more relaxing and enticing. "F-fuck.. w-what are you doing to me, Mina?"

"It's okay, baby~" Mina said as she peppers his cheek with kisses. Nobody could interrupt us, it's just and me... so get naughty if you want..."

YN has finally snapped and his stability has completely covered by the drugs he didn't knew he intake. Mina rotated his head and they went on for a sloppy kiss. YN's hand crawled through the back of her head where she pulled her face closer to his, their french kiss became even more rougher where their nose and their faces starts to rub altogether.

Mina took her place and bent down on YN's lap, where they resumed their kiss. He got to his feet, backed away, and grabbed Mina by the underside of her thighs, cradling her around his body.

They collapsed on the bed together where they had their freedom to make out as much as the drugs consuming their conscience could take. Mina removed his clothes and fiercely showered his body starting from his neck, to his chest down to his abs with licks and kisses.

Mina unbuckled his belt and dragged his pants and boxers down to expose his hardened cock already leaking with impressive amount of pre-cum, a proof that the drugs effectively had YN lusting as much as Mina would want him to feel as hers.

"I- I don't know what's happening to me, but Mina is making me feel good..." YN tries to shake his head but the substances are too strong for him to fight for control.

He surrendered on being overpowered and now he had to just watch Mina quickly stripping her dress, leaving her on her black lingerie with thigh-length stockings and suspenders. She slowly crawled to his legs and stared at him with pure seduction her hand slid through the base of his cock to grip while the other went on to cup his heavy full testicles.

"You don't know how much I've been wanting to taste you, YN. I'm glad I'm going to be the first one to do this, and no one will come after that... because this cock is only mine for me to devour." Mina said through her slow pumpings on his cock before starting to drag her tongue through the length of his shaft.

"Fuccckkk mhmph~" YN moaned as Mina circled the tip of his cock head, creating a tickling yet satisfying sensation. Her hand also began to massage her balls as she placed her cock inside her mouth to suck him off.

Mina's loud gargles and chokes around his cock adds an unbelievable sensation to YN. She tried to press his cock through her throat where her face is now almost touching his crotch. Her eyes starts to get watery until more than 10 seconds she released and went pumping on his dick.

She stood up for a while to remove her black panties before laying down on top of him in reverse, her legs wide open flailed each beside YN's head and for him to witness her dripping wet pussy presented to him in full clarity while her head is now beside her erected cock.

Mina tilted her head to direct his length back into his mouth to suck him off, poking her cheek enough to create a bulge while YN began to play with her clit and flicker his tongue around her walls.

They continue to taste each other until they reached their peak, with YN cumming first by spurting a big load on Mina's mouth, with the rest spilling on her face due to the excessive amount to contain before she followed by squirting her juices around YN's face.

YN opened his mouth to savor Mina's sweet nectar before both humping on their breaths to ride out their post orgasms and release their pleasure.

Mina rolled away from the top of YN's body to straddle him on his lap. She grinded her pussy back and forth on his cock before inserting it inside, creating a loud moan from her.

She started to bounce, fucking her tight cunt on her cock before YN joins her in sync by gripping her waist and starts drilling her upwards, causing Mina to scream and shriek.

The claps became louder and Mina's head rolled up at the intensity of the fucking YN is giving him. This is it, this is the exact feeling that Mina used to imagine having with YN and now, her fantasies has been fulfilled to end her long curiousity and anticipation.

"OHHH YESSS FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT'S IT YN MNGGGHHH HARDER! POUND ME FASTER AND DON'T STOP!!!" Mina cursed and murmured unknown words into his shrinking breath. She started to roll her hips to add more rhythm on YN's cock impaling her walls.

YN pulled her arm to press her upper body on her chest. They kissed again before Mina lets go to release a deep moan as she felt the bed creaking and her body bouncing at the full force of his cock drilling upwards to her abused pussy.

"I'M GONNA CUM I'M GONNA CUM DON'T STOP!" Mina's eyes starts to roll as her pupils were almost absent. Her mouth gaped open, spilling her tongue that is now savoring the heavenly pleasure of his girthy meat ramming through her womb.

"ME TOO! FUCK, NO I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

"FILL ME UP, I BEG YOU!"

With last strong thrusts remaining, YN and Mina came together, their own fluid mixed and bursted at the same time to intensify the sensation. YN carefully raised Mina up to slide off his slimy cock out of her dripping pussy.

He turned around and grabbed a handful of her perky tits to suck on them one by one. His gnawing and suckle on her nipples were strong and shallow which made Mina whimper in pleasure.

She turned her body to the side and YN raised one of her leg to the air. He rubbed his cock through her soaked lips before inserting it back again, and he didn't went too soft on Mina as he got way rough again on her treatment to the highly obsessed and sex-driven woman.

"ANNGGGHHH YES YES OH IT FEELS SO BETTER, OOOH FUCK I LOVE YOUR THICK COCK SO MUCH YN YEAHHHH UGHHH~ Mina said as she spammed praises again straight to YN's face before giving her again another kiss to shut her up and focus on the wild action they're having on her bed.

YN gets up and lifted Mina with him, not taking out his cock to switch positions. Mina balanced himself on fours and arched her back to raise her huge appetizing ass.

YN thunderously slapped it and takes off his cock for a while to bury his face on his and add stimulation on Mina's puckered hole before reinserting and proceeding to pound Mina just as harder as she wants.

Due to the combination of the viagra and aphrodisiacs they swallowed, the effects of it became multiple for them to go on lengthy fucking sessions for hours, almost emptying the night by trying many different positions.

They fucked on the window with Mina pressed on the glass, exposing theirselves to the outside world where many of the people in the neighborhood are asleep and unable to view to sinful act they're committing.

Mina was even taken through the wall, sandwiched by YN's body while hammering her pussy from below and kneading on her pair of tits bouncing hypnotizingly.

Then they went on a stand and deliver just beside the cabinet for Mina to hold on to, with his cock now demolishing her plump ass before he filled it up with another load of hot creamy cum.

Their wild night was so active, heated and intense that Mina slept through the dawn filled with cum on her holes and some scattered around his body. She looked at YN who is now asleep beside him, she kissed her on the head and grinned in lust and satisfaction for the last time before she succumb into slumber.

The morning arrived, YN woke up groggily and horrifyingly found himself naked on Mina's bed. As he sat up, he saw Mina appearing at the door, with a radiant smile on her face.

"YN! You're awake!" Mina lunges onto him and she showered him again with kisses while hugging her. YN became irritated and pushed her away, dropping her on the floor.

"W-what is this, Mina? What did you do to me, WHY AM I NAKED IN YOUR HOUSE?!", he panickedly asked the suspect.

"Oh, yeah. The after effects of the viagra and the aphrosidiac I put onto your drink are now gone so you couldn't remember." Mina sighed and shook her head in dismay.

"WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT THAT I DON'T REMEMBER?"

"I know, I know it's sad that you don't remember, you would've recall how much we had fun last night." Mina giggled as she slowly stood up.

"What the fuck? D-did I... no, no way." YN denied his guess. "No, I couldn't remember anything now after we played, y-you... drugged me Mina..."

His voice shifted into disbelief and he placed his hands beside her head, his fingers clawing on his hair. "Oh my god... w-what did you do to me, Mina? ARE YOU INSANE?!"

Mina just laughed at his agony. "You were the one who made me like this, I just did what I have to do, YN. You keep on involving yourself with Sana too much, how could you be so dumb that she likes you!"

"And what does it matter to you?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YN!" Mina confessed. YN just stared at her in surprise. "I COULDN'T STAND SEEING THAT SLUT OR OTHER GIRLS LAYING THEIR HANDS ON YOU. YOU SHOULD BE MINE! I HAVE TO MAKE YOU MY PROPERTY BECAUSE I-IF I DON'T... WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO ME?! I... I COULDN'T LIVE IN PEACE WITHOUT HAVING YOU NEAR ME."

Mina kneeled in front of him and looked at him with pleading eyes. "That's why I did what I had to do last night. If I claim you, no one would have the rights to steal what's mine. I get what I deserve to have, you're the one I pick YN! Nothing would stop me and not even you to say that you don't want to be with me."

"You have to love me, YN. I can give you everything you want. This place, it could be your home. We'll turn this into a happy house of balloons, and we'll always gonna have fun as much as you want!" She said as she crazily giggled with her tears flowing through her eyes.

"No... fuck this. You're out of your mind, Mina. I'm leaving." YN quickly stood up and snatched all of his clothes on the floor as he left Mina alone in the room.

Mina's expression changed from odd into a complete unhinged seriousness. She slowly stood up and took out something from her pocket.

YN was about to dress up on his boxers when he noticed something at first before feeling a sudden tingling cursed through his body.

"OH... AGH SHIT!" He shivered and turned to look at the eyes of Mina wearing an unrecognizable face while pressing something like a remote on her hands.

She activated the cock ring she placed in his cock to the full volume after she woke up to make her avoid escaping in case he attempts to, and she called exactly what's going to happen.

YN's moaning goes louder as he witnessed his cock now leaking already with pre-cum. "S-STOP... PLEASE!"

Mina stopped pressing the remote and walked at him. She stomped on his crotch, making the exhausted YN unable to move more.

"You're in my world now, YN. Whether you like it or not, you're staying with me. You belong to me now and nobody else's." Mina intimidatingly declared. "No matter how your mind wants to leave, you can't go and I will never let you go. We will be together forever from now on, do you understand?"

YN started to tear up at the sight of this new darker side of Mina he never thought he would be introduced into. "W-why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you, and you will learn someday that loving me too is the best decision you'll ever have." Mina cupped his cheeks and pinched on it. "By the way, the breakfast's ready. Don't you dare do something stupid or else, I'll punish you. Understand?" "Y-yes..."

"Good. For now, let me get my own protein to start this morning." Mina smirked and cackled as she jerked his cock again with her fist again and also through tugging the cock ring back and forth with her fingers.

YN had to endure letting Mina edging his cock for minutes until she decided to release his cum on her glass, tapping her reddened cock head on it and slurping it with her warm mouth to ensure not even a drop would get wasted. YN then disgustingly watched Mina drink his cum through the glass like it's a milk.

YN has been imprisoned by Mina's so-called paradise for 2 months. He tried many attempts to escape and nothing worked. Instead, he just got caught by Mina repeatedly and in result, he had to suffer on the consequences.

When YN got caught by Mina looking for some keys in her room, his hands were smashed by a screwdriver 20 times then commanded him to finger her pussy until she cums. He even tried to peek from some of the windows and shout for help, and Mina blocked all of his sense of sight and ability to speak later that night by muffing him with a scarf and tying his arms on each side of the bed, where Mina would play all over his body and drain his energy afterwards.

Due to that incident, Mina also began placing more cameras around the house to keep a closer look on him. That didn't made YN to stop though as his desperation for freedom still motivates him to keep on looking for other ways.

He attempted to look for his phones but all of it are gone. Even he pleaded at the guard to let him borrow his own but the guard refused for his own sake, stating that if Mina finds out he might get punished and fired for the only job that's keeping him on living.

The more security devices Mina keep on placing around the house as days passes unfortunately made YN to began losing hope on escaping this hell hole. Even his chances for Mina to change her heart for him already ran out, as he has now finally accepted that this isn't the same Mina he once met.

He became Mina's personal slave, pet and a fucktoy, not being able to let him rest even for a day.

Through every corner of the house, Mina would find a way to force him provide the pleasure she seeks by having sex with her through multiple angles and tasks. Doggy at the shower, blowjob while washing dishes, rimming while in laundry or even a 69 during massage.

On the other hand, the girls began to suspect something strange on the disappearance of YN, especially Sana. They all know that Mina was the last person YN has been with, and Sana is monitoring Mina since she have this weird gut that Mina is hiding something from them.

And she was right. One day while she tried to visit Mina's house, the guard didn't let him in. Instead she took a photo of the mansion and informed it to the girls. Dahyun who has a sharp locating skills, found something shocking.

"Unnie, did you notice this?" Dahyun sent a message to Sana before replying it with a cropped photo. Sana stared at it for a second before her mind processed a frightening revelation.

"Isn't this oppa?"

Dahyun discovered a blurred reflection of YN's face screaming at the window.

1 year later, YN visited a psychiatric hospital in Seoul. After meeting a doctor in his office, they walked through the hallway and passed through some nurses, patients and guests to reach the visitation room.

The doctor returned and this time, he brought the person YN came for has entered the room on the opposite side behind the glass.

Mina is wearing a white patient attire with handcuffs removed on her hands for a while. She was arrested when her former friends reported her crime and was sent through at herapy when they discovered that Mina has been diagnozed with psychological and mental disorder.

Her eyes widened at the sight of YN looking at him with poker face.

She remained silent and lowered her head in guilt and shame for more than a minute before YN cuts it off to avoid wasting time.

"How are you?"

Mina was shocked to hear him checking up on her. "W-Why did you come here?"

"Just answer my question." He remained deadpanned.

She gulped and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Good, I guess." He struggled on looking for other words to say to her but Mina went different than him.

"I'm sorry."

He looked at Mina staring at him awfully. "For everything that I've done to you. I know it's not enough for me to redeem my sins but I just want to apologize to you because you deserve it."

"A year has passed Mina, but I had to admit that I'm still trying to recover from what you did to me." YN said to her. "It was a nightmare that always keep me up at night. You scarred my life, took my virginity away without consent, y-you... you violated me, Mina."

His tears started to drop on his cheek. Mina's heart shattered at the aftermath of what she had done. "For the first time in my life, I've never felt so frightened and worried for my state, not even I would expect from the one I admire."

"W-what?" Mina muttered at the phone. She leaned her head closer. "What did you just said?"

"It's true, I did loved you, Mina. It was always you, but I don't think I could tell the same anymore after what you did to me."

"You didn't know, and sometimes I have this guilt and regret with these what ifs of my mind that... if I confessed to you earlier, would you not turn out into someone I never wanted you to be?" YN continued.

Mina started to sob in devastation. She buried her face in embarrassment as she cried harder, hearing all the confession and scolding from the man she thought she would never had a chance at, that's why she did the unthinkable.

Little did she knew that she was actually winning already right from the start. She was the one YN already prefer the moment he met her and how his fond for her developed.

"I should've been patient. Oh God, I'm so sorry..." Mina said. "I could've waited for you, but I never did. I became so desperate, selfish, obsessive, and too greedy on you that I let myself gone crazy when I thought I would be losing you."

"I love you, YN and I meant that... but I understand now that you won't feel the same for me anymore. You don't deserve a psychopath who will make your life a living hell and traumatize you in any ways possible."

YN now felt a glimpse of pity and distress for Mina. The girl just became too attached and mentally unstable caused by the power of love she received that she couldn't contain, and now she fell in victim for it.

This is why he couldn't help but to blame himself believing he has also have a fault that if he didn't became too coward on his feelings, he could've saved Mina and immediately introduce her the adoration she was hoping to receive from him.

"Did I made you scared?"

"Always." Mina whispered. "I was always alone, my parents always abandon me in our house, I know I have my friends with me but... there's something that you did to me. You're the one who cures my loneliness. I thought that if there was a chance that I could make you love me back, you will stay with me all time like you always do and we'll grow together until the end. "

"And I could've done it to you without hesitation, Mina." YN disappointingly stated. His face twitched as another stream of tears escaped in his eyes. "I forgive you, but I will never condone what you did to me. Goodbye, Mina."

Mina smiled at his remark before he stood from his seat. About to walk away, Mina shouted his name for the last time.

"YN!"

He looked back.

"Thank you and don't desert yourself in love because of me, please. Sana likes you, she'll need you and I think you're better off with her. Atleast for her, she could make you happy unlike me who couldn't give it to you in return."

He slightly smiled and remembered that reminder. "I'll ask her later."

He walks out of the room just as the time runs out for his visit. Mina surrendered herself to the doctor and to the police who handcuffed and escorted her out. Mina carried a mix of lingering sorrow and relief, realizing that her mistake cost her to manifest her fears in full reality, that she'll be alone forever but what mattered more for her now is that she'll continue living knowing that YN is now is in good hands.

#twice mina #twice #myoui mina #yandere #twice smut #kpop smut #twice mina smut #mina smut #twice mina x m reader #twice mina x male reader #twice x m reader #twice x male reader #twice au #twice oneshot #kpop au #kpop one shot

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 8 months ago

Note

Hii can you write Emily x fem!reader in a secret relationship but the team somehow catching them kissing and that's how they find out. Also there is a bet going on about them.

Are you kidding?

Summary: see the tumblr req above!

Word Count: 1.05k

Fluff

TW: kissing, getting caught kissing

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

A/N: I swear I haven't abandoned you guys I've just been caught up with school!!

Emily's pov:

It's been a slow day at work all day. Paperwork, consultations, paperwork, staring at my girlfriend; the cycle repeats. The team doesn't know where dating yet, we decided to wait to tell them.

She can clearly feel my gaze because she turns and looks at me and smiles, god her smile. I beam back at her and her eyes flick away from mine to the direction of our 'place' I gently nod and she puts up her hand to signal for me to wait 5 minutes before following her.

As she stalked off, her hips swinging slightly, I drag my eyes down to the file I'm currently looking over and pretend to focus on it. My mind is too full of her to think about anything else.

Reader pov:

I casually walk away from the bullpen with a random file in my hand, making a beeline to mine and em's 'place' (which is just a storage cupboard, albeit a very empty one. There's only printer paper in there) I look around and don't see anyone in the hallway so I slip into the small room and wait for Emily.

I hear the click of her heels on the floor as she approaches the door. The handle clicks and she slips in. Her feature lit up by the sliver of light that leaked in from the open door, her eyes shining with joy as she closes the door.

"Hey you." She says in a hushed tone as her arms find their wait around my waist and mine around her neck. She plants a delicate kiss on my lips.

"Hey," I reply with a bright smile on my face. "How's your day been?" My head fell onto her shoulder as I sunk into her embrace.

"Slow, boring. You know, the usual." I lightly chuckled at her answer.

"Yeah same, but uh. I know a way to make it a bit better." A smirk found its way onto my lips as she cupped my cheek.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Why don't you kiss me and find out."

She smiled and crashed her lips onto mine. Our lips moved together with care and love. Her hands trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to her, she slowly backed me up against the wall and deepened the kiss. Her tongue swiped over my lips asking for permission and I gladly granted it. Her tongue fought for dominance with mine, she obviously won instantly.

In the heat of the moment clearly neither of us heard the clacking of another set of heels on the floor coming towards the room. We were both pulled back to reality when we heard someone walk in the door and just as quickly shut it with a yelp.

Both of us pulled away, knowing it was Penelope, and made eye contact. Still holding each other close we burst into a fit of hushed laughter like a couple of teenagers who got caught making out at school. Oh wait...

She got out her phone and put the flash on so she could properly see me so she could fix my hair for me and make sure I don't look too flustered. I did the same for her and we walked out of the room one at a time and sat back in the bullpen.

Not even a minute after we had both sat down Garcia walks over to the round table and Hotch out of his office.

"We have a case." Hotch announces as he walks towards the room.

"Ugh, I was hoping to go home at a normal time today." JJ groans as we walk to the room, a grumble of agreement sounds from everyone as we all sit down.

Garcia sets down the tablets and Reid's paper report. Oh god Reid's still on paper, Pen was probably going to get paper for the printer from the storage room. We clearly all had the same thought at the same time because me and Emily made eye contact before glancing at Garcia, who was already flicking her eyes between the two of us.

"What have we got?" Spencer says, breaking the silence.

"Okay before I tell you, I have something else to tell you all." She speaks quickly, to avoid me and Emily protesting. "Y/n/n and em were making out in the storage cupboard! There I said it, sorry guys. I couldn't help it, you know me!"

The team all looks to me and Emily who are coincidently sitting next to each other, looking for confirmation.

We make eye contact again and she grins.

"Don't I swear to god Emily." I say fighting back a laugh yet again.

"Wait hang on, are you- were you?" Rossi asked. Voicing the confusion of the rest of the team. Emily responds before I can.

"Yeah, we were. Hotch, sorry, but it was a slow day can you blame us? We're dating, she's my girlfriend."

A look of knowing passed across the teams faces before Derek and JJ make eye contact.

"Okay guys c'mon," He says holding out his hand, Jay swiftly following. "Pay up."

"Are you kidding, did you make a bet on us dating?" I stare at them in amusement.

"Well yeah, you couldn't expect us not to." JJ shrugs.

"She's right you know, it was too obvious." Derek adds on as Hotch, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia hand money into their hands.

"You know Pen, I'm disappointed in you." She looks at me shocked. "I thought you were good at spotting these things?"

Everyone laughs and Garcia responds "You had me stumped sugar." I smile at her and then shift my focus to Emily. Her hand trails to my thigh and she squeezes it affectionately, I intertwine my hands with hers.

"Okay, back to the case." Hotch says and discussion about the current case ripples through the room once again.

Emily brings my hand up to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it and whispers a small "I love you." I smile at her and whisper back "I love you too."

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #sapphic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #wlw pride #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds evolution

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obsessivestar · 3 months ago

Text

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.

{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}

//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.

This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)

Also idk how to do all the fancy Tumblr border stuff so sorry if it's all messy :^(((//

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter 1: No Show, No Movie.

I'm keeping my eye on the road, occasionally glancing at the GPS to make sure I can guide my buddy Tanner as he drives. We had quite an early morning to get to L.A., having been on the road for the last 2 hours to get to this airbnb we'll be staying at. Tanner's nearing the end of film school, so he's getting all his classmates and anyone else that's available and interested to help him with his big final project: A legit short film, filmed, written and directed by him. Having some experience with being on camera myself, he elected to make me part of the main cast. I don't mind at all, if it'll help him out. Even if it's a romantic comedy. I'll kiss some dude, get him that 100%. I'm excited for this.

"Has Conner messaged me at all?" Tanner asks, breaking the last 20 minutes of silence. I quit out of my daydream to check Tanner's messages. Other members of the crew have updated them on their location, including a name I don't recognize, but Conner hasn't responded at all.

"Nope. Mostly everyone else is nearly there though." I responded, lightly shrugging my shoulders. A humorous but knowing smirk creeps along the edges of my lips. "Think he slept in?" "I fucking hope not." Tanner huffs, his tone suggesting he's half-joking. "He is literally /the/ male lead. He's like one of the people I need there the most today."

I put the GPS back up on the screen and lay back against the passenger seat, slightly raising a brow to myself. What would happen if he's late, or doesn't show up at all? Could we even get a replacement in time? We only booked this place for the next couple weeks.

As we get off the highway and get even closer to our destination, I see a notification pop up on Tanner's phone, it's the name I don't recognize. Ted. He's not in our friend group and I don't recall Tanner mentioning him from class.

"Is Ted a new guy?" I ask, turning my head to Tanner. "Oh, no, he's like...a friend of a friend." Tanner pauses before reiterating "He's going to be the editor. He's a youtuber, like you; he went to film school as well."

"Oh. He's like the only name I didn't recognize."

"Yeah, he's a cool guy, no worries, he'll probably be there with me to help with the, yknow, directing too."

There's room for a response, but I don't continue the conversation. We don't have a lot of money to put into this, so that airBnb is also where we'll be filming everything. Most of the film crew and extra actors got their own accommodations elsewhere, but some of us will be staying /at that/ location itself. Wonder if that includes the editor? It'd be weird to share a house with a dude I didn't know, but if Tanner trusts him, I will as well. "I know where to go from here, let everyone know we'll be there soon."

I take Tanner's phone and let everyone know we're close by, including Ted, before setting the phone aside. Tanner pulls into what I thought was a street at first, only to notice its the driveway of the airbnb. Wild how we can't afford multiple sets and hotels, but can afford this villa-like estate for nearly a month. Hey, whatever works, right?

Tanner parks by the many other vehicles and grabs his phone before we both hop out. I can't help but look up at how tall the building is. It looks like one of those frat houses an influencer would own, like if you told me this was owned by fuckin' 'disney channel flow' Team 10, I would 100% believe you.

Tanner and I are greeted by most of the cast and crew as we approach the front door of the house, giving the appropriate hugs and handshakes as we head inside. That's when I spotted a tall man in a dark green sweater fixing up some professional looking cameras, dark hair slicked up to add to his already impressive height, with circular glasses to match the relaxed vibe I'm getting from him. To be fair, he only stands out so much to me because I don't recognize him. This must be Ted.

He looks up from his camera when he spots Tanner and I greeting the other crew members. I casually glance away to one of the pictures on the wall to avoid giving the impression I was staring. I have a habit of fixing my eyes onto people without realizing it.

"Traffic?" Is the first word I hear out of Ted's mouth, directed at Tanner. I don't really know what I was expecting to hear come out of this man, but it certainly wasn't a voice like that. It's strong, deep, almost fake sounding, like he's already playing a character, but no, that's just him.

"Dude, we passed by, like, 3 accidents" Tanner shakes his head slightly, putting his hands on his hips. "And Conner hasn't even gotten back to me, It's been an interesting morning."

As they have their conversation, my thoughts turn to a more curious nature as I contemplate what this guy actually does as a youtuber. If he went to film school as well, does he make long video essays? Commentary, like me?

"This is (Y/N), mine and Joe's friend." My thoughts are cut by the sound of my name, realizing Tanner was introducing me to Ted. Makes sense. We don't know each other. "She's gonna be the female lead."

"Ahhh okay, nice to finally meet you. I'm Ted." Ted personally greets me with a gentle handshake and a winning complexion. I return the handshake with a shy smile. "'Finally'?" I repeat to him, raising a slight brow.

"Yeah! Joe's told me about you, 'said you'd be shorter"

A sudden chuckle escapes me. Joe's my best friend and is part of the wardrobe team, of course he'd say something like that. "He's a dick.." I kid, shaking my head to myself. "You, on the other hand, are a fuckin' giant."

"Oh I know. I have to fuckin' duck down to get into any room upstairs. Tallhood ain't what its cut out to be" We both get a laugh out before Ted returns to setting up the cameras. I notice Tanner checking his phone again, visibly both anxious and frustrated.

"Man." Tanner speaks, seemingly thinking aloud. "Still nothing." "Isn't he the other lead?" Ted speaks as he moves to adjust the stand of one of the lights, glancing up through his round glasses. "I figured he'd be here first."

"He should've been here first." Tanner huffs, masking his clear frustration with a chuckle. "I-I don't know what I'm gonna do if he just doesn't show." "What would we have to do?" I tilt my head at Tanner, feeling a little anxious myself.

"I have no idea, honestly" Tanner responds, shaking his head. "At best, we'd have to find someone to take his place within the next, like, couple days. At worst, I'd have to cancel this whole thing."

I frown, trying to think of some helpful alternative in my head, but nothing comes up. I'd hate for everyone to have to go home, and getting the money back for the airbnb would be a hassle. We all pitched in for this place. As much as I've joked about it, it's pretty nice. 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, half the place is a giant living room and there's even more outside. I'd hate to leave without getting to sleep in one of those giant beds. All I can do is hope for the best, I guess.

About an hour passes. At this point, everyone except Conner has shown up on set and most of us that will be on camera are fitted and ready. We had already read through the entire script together over Discord prior to getting here, so all we need to do is just start filming.

I'm refreshing my memory with the script when I hear a notification ping from Tanner's phone. It takes him less than a second to pick it up and look at the message, pausing to read it. I see his expression go from relief to uneasy, his thumbs tapping on his phone's keyboard louder than usual as he responds before setting his phone down and taking a deep breath.

"Conner can't make it."

Silence fills the room for a moment as everyone looks up from their tasks. I approach Tanner, script still on hand.

"What? What does he mean he can't make it?" I asked, honestly shocked with what I was hearing. "So, yknow how he's just...not been responding since we left?" Tanner asks, looking understandably annoyed.

"Yeah?"

"Apparently he ate some bad food last night and has been throwing up since 4am. We left at 5."

The only thing I can do is run my fingers through my hair in frustration. Dude probably ordered bad chicken or something. Of course. "So our main dude, THE male leading role or whatever, has food poisoning." I say that as a statement, but I'm honestly just so confused, I don't want to believe it. "What do we do now? Could we hire someone else in time?" "Even if we could, we wouldn't have time to get the chemistry built up between you two." Tanner shrugs. "There'd be no way of knowing if it'll work out."

"I'll do it."

Tanner and I turn our heads to Ted, who's joined in on the conversation shortly after assembling the last light. My first instinct is to let out a sigh of relief, but I steel myself, trying to really process what he's offering.

"You? You wanna be the male lead?" Tanner points at Ted, rather surprised he'd offer. Ted seemed to laugh at the expression on Tanner's face "What's that fuckin' look for? You think I can't be romantic, Tanner?" "No--" Tanner cackles, putting his palms up defensively as he laughed. "That's not it! I just-- you haven't read the script, and, yknow..." Tanner pauses, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head in my direction. "You two just met, you'll have to, yknow--"

"'Yknow? Yknow?' I KNOW, Tanner. I. know." Ted begins to mock Tanner in a friendly manner while pointing at himself, his strong voice easily overpowering Tanner's timid tone. "I've been doin' this since you were in little baby diapers, alright? I can read the script, I can kiss the pretty lady, I got this!"

I suddenly feel a whole lot warmer, resisting the urge to put a hand to my cheek. I mean, I have blush on already, but now I'm definitely blushing. I'll have to kiss this guy?

I mean.

That ain't a bad thing.

That's a nice lookin' dude. I'd be blind not to see it.

But I did just meet him.

"I mean...." Tanner seems to be at a loss for words, glancing in my direction once more. I realize I've been one of the main talking pieces of this conversation, yet I haven't spoken a word. "Ah--I.." I stammer out what was meant to be a coherent response, realizing I'm a bit more sheepish about this than I thought I'd be. He called me pretty. I...don't know what to do with that. I can handle a compliment, sure, but this was...

"Hey, sorry, I don't wanna step over any lines..." Ted's smile faded after my lack of a response, resting his hands behind his back. "Oh no! I-I wouldn't mind it at all." I finally managed to speak up. I swear, I felt like a bashful damsel in those old transatlantic-accent films. "I mean, like, better this than sending everyone packing early, right?"

"Real flattering." Ted responded with a renewed smile and a chuckle, getting another sheepish blush from me. "Whatever works for everyone, I'm down for it."

Based on Tanner's knowing expression, I can tell he gathered something of use from whatever that exchange was. "I mean..." Tanner repeats again, as if to remind us he's also there with filler words before taking in a sharp breath of realization, or maybe it was one of acceptance, I couldn't tell. Either way, he had an idea. "OK, how about this: most of the crew didn't get breakfast on the way up here and we're all gettin' pretty hungry, we could use some caffeine. How about you two head back out and get everyone something from Dunkin' or wherever? Get talkin', see if it works."

"You setting us up on a breakfast run, or a date?" I collect myself fast enough to make a joke, actually getting a decent chuckle out of Ted. Part of me couldn't believe I had even made that joke aloud, I was also kind of genuinely asking. "I am testing the chemistry." Tanner clarified slowly with a half smile. "And I...don't want to do it myself."

Ted and I look at each other, giving me a brief moment to realize Ted's eyes are brown. Don't know why I've chosen to collect that information now. Just another observation I've made for the day.

...Man, I'm hungry.

"Alright, but I'm not driving your car." I agree with a shrug. "No need, I got my Tacoma." Ted responds, making a clicking noise with his mouth and gesturing me to follow him outside.

"You...have your city in Washington?" I ask genuinely, getting another laugh out of him, not intentionally this time. "Toyota Tacoma. My truck." He corrects me, guiding me to an old dark green pick-up truck. "I've had this baby since high school. Graduated with it."

"Ahh, your high school sweetheart. Lovely. Happy to meet her."

"Fuck off" Ted jokingly scoffs, hopping into the drivers seat. I have this big grin on my face as I get into the passenger side. He's giving me this...oddly comforting vibe. I can talk and joke with this guy so naturally, like I've known him for longer than an hour.

Somehow, I get the feeling we'll get along just fine, even if I'll end up having to kiss him once or twice this month....

....That's got me thinking, how many times am I kissing this guy again?

__________________________________

|| Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 ||

#ted nivison #chuckle sandwhich #ted nivison x reader #AllARomCom

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bacondaddy · 6 months ago

Text

If you are a Dead Boy Detective Blog that use #DBD, read this.

Your fandom is new and you guys are spamming an established tag. #DBD has been Dead by Daylight's tag for literal years. You guys are flooding it with your show and I, and many other DBD players and content creators, are trying to get you guys onto your own tag, #DBDShow. We literally cannot get to our own fandom without having to block and report your posts because it's either that, or constantly see "This post contains filtered tags". We don't care what came first, game, show, or comic. We care about the fact that two months ago everything was fine, and suddenly our entire tag is overrun by a show 99% of us has never heard of. None of us want a tag war, and that's what is most likely going to happen. Your fandom is new and I do hope it thrives. Genuinely. But we literally cannot have two fandoms in one tag. It throws off the feed algorithm, it upsets fans on both sides, and gods forbid there be discourse from either side that spills over because no one knows what the hell anyone is talking about. Dead by Daylight has 30 *thousand* players on at any given time. More during chapter drops and events.

Please tag your posts as DBDShow or DBDA. I even checked it myself, it's a fresh tag with few posts tied to it. DBD is taken, established, and known as Dead By Daylight's tumblr tag. It doesn't matter if they're the same acronym, it isn't how tumblr works. The more the tag gets used by DBDShow/DBDA, the more confusion it is going to cause, and the more fights break out. Actual fights, not just "get the hell off our tag" squabbles. (Also, if both sides can reblog this so DBDShow fandom can head to their own tag that'd be a massive help) EDIT: The Dead Boy Detective fandom tags are now #DBDA and #DBDShow!

#dbd #dead boy detectives #dbdshow #dbda

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mixtapedoh · 15 days ago

Note

hi hi this isn’t a request, more of a “i do not have anyone else to scream about this with” BUT ANYWAYSS, idk if you listen to keshi but i was listening to Soft Spot on repeat and I cannot get woozi out of my mind send help. might have to start writing for svt at this rate. anyways back to studying for midterms i go, hope you’ve been well olive!

NOT A REQUEST BUT I CAN'T CONTAIN MYSELF BECAUSE FUCK YEAH YOU GET ITTTTTTTTTTTT.

also, hi jen <3 how are you <3 i have been habitually away from tumblr and that is my fault because i saw this like two weeks ago and was going to listen to the song you sent and then. simply did not. forgive me, forgive me, i am unworthy of such correct headcanons and vibechecks, but thank you for sharing them regardless.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ��ᴏꜰᴛ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ .⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

.⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

"so i was just talking to hoshi—" you opened the door to your apartment and set down your keys, tugging off your shoes and already mid conversation, as had become your habit, after moving in with jihoon. you paused for a half second, just long enough to wrestle off your other shoe, and from somewhere deep in the apartment, you heard jihoon's wordless sound of interest. i'm listening. "—and he is somehow under the impression that we are going clubbing with him and the others this friday."

you walked into into the main room, your steps soft and meandering, where jihoon sat on the couch, his guitar next to him and a notebook resting on his lap. he had a pencil twirling in his fingers, and when you caught his eye and asked, "do you know anything about that?" he looked down and pretended to write something.

"yeah, i told him we'd both go." his voice did it's best to feign casual disinterest.

"you told him? you??" the surprise in your voice was giddy and sweet, bubbling like a can of coke just popped, carbonation fizzing.

jihoon still didn't meet your gaze. "you've been saying you need an excuse to wear that new outfit you bought a month ago... and we're spending that night together anyway. i knew you didn't have any scheduling conflicts." he was mumbling this last bit, and the erratic twirling of his pencil did little to hide his nervousness. "two birds, one stone."

you had the buoyancy to laugh, warm as the late afternoon sun coming in through the window. "woozi. you hate clubbing."

he had to look at you, this time. if only to see how your face would melt further into affection and tender admiration. not that he was somehow any better — all the attention made his complexion rosy, and for the life of him, he couldn't wipe off this stupid grin. "but i love you."

"ji!!" the whole of you spun into a whirlwind of motion as the lovesickness hit you square in the chest. you covered your face in embarrassment, and when jihoon laughed, it only brought you somehow closer, now standing above him, your legs brushing the front of the couch. "you can't say that! makes me blush... makes me all stupid in love."

he managed to capture your pinky with his. "it's a good look on you."

you swatted his chest with your free hand, and jihoon pulled you closer, sitting you on his thighs and kissing you deeply. you intertwined your fingers with his, and after breaking away, kiss both of his cheeks. twice. for all that jihoon loves to claim he doesn't understand romance and doesn't believe in all the mushy stuff, he certainly always tries to get it right with you.

you kiss his neck, and jihoon sighs your name contentedly. you smile against his skin before pulling away to ask, "are you really gonna give up our inuyasha rerun night for clubbing with hoshi?"

his face contorts into a playful grimace, and you can't help but laugh at the expression. "that's when loving you becomes the operating part of my promise."

.⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

#olive.writes #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #woozi imagine #woozi x you #woozi x reader #someone kiss woozi's cheeks for me please and thank you <333333 #if you ever think i'm doing well just remind me of HE and i will crumble #wrote this instead of doing work trainings yeahhhhh #honestly the main times i come onto tumblr is when i'm avoiding doing work so perhaps you'll see me a bit more these next few weeks #i'm doing literacy training and it's DRY AS FUCK #if you see typos please ignore and forgive this is short so i'm not proofreading or anything

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genshinluvr · 1 year ago

Text

To be Reborn

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Vidyadhara!Isekai'd!Reader (Reincarnation AU)

Summary: Waking up in Scalegorge Waterscape, you have no recollection of your past life. You are reborn— you are a Vidyadhara— hatched from an egg. A young blond boy awaits your rebirth, the same boy who volunteers to be your protector. Your past life remains a mystery. Your relationship with three particular men remains a mystery as they gaze at you longingly from a distance. Sometimes, it's a curse to be reborn.

Note: Before any of y'all come at me, the relationship between Yanqing and the reader is strictly platonic. Imagine a protective little brother. I'm glad I was able to type this out and get it posted because this idea has been on my mind for a little bit. So, did anyone get Dan Heng IL? :3 I got him with one pull, and that makes me happy and relieved. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of blood, Nanook doesn't make an appearance in this fic :<

Word Count: 4.3k

You’re floating in the sea of darkness, floating around aimlessly. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or if they’re closed. You can’t move your arms or legs, and you feel like you’re underwater. The sounds around you are muffled, making it seem like you’re underwater. You have no recollection of how you ended up in this situation. Your mind is blank; no memories are rushing back to you. Your brain is a blank slate— the only thing you can recall is your name, and that’s it. Everything else? You have no memories of it.

Your ears twitch at the sound of faint cracking around you. Light gradually breaks through the endless darkness. The cracking gets louder and louder, and before you know it, the world around you is flooded with brightness, and you fall to the ground. Well, you land on top of someone. You open your eyes to see bright gold eyes staring at you with awe and worry.

“Are you okay?” The young blond boy asks, helping you up from the ground.

You rub your head and look around, dazed and confused. “Yes. I’m fine, thank you,” you reply hesitantly.

You notice a giant egg resting beside you, cracked eggshells on the ground and on your clothes. Did you come from that egg? You look at the young boy, who notices your confusion almost immediately. The blond boy smiles and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“I hope you don’t mind me waiting here for you to hatch. General Jing Yuan has spoken about you many times, and I wanted to meet you myself,” says the young boy.

General Jing Yuan? The young boy continues to ramble while you stare at him cluelessly, scanning your surroundings. This place… it feels familiar, but you don’t remember anything. You shake your head and rub your throbbing temples, sighing.

“Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself! My name is Yanqing! I am General Jing Yuan’s retainer! I hope you don’t mind me being the first person you meet after being rebirthed,” says Yanqing, smiling at you sweetly.

You have many questions to ask, but it seems like your questions will be unanswered for the time being. Which you don’t mind. However, what bothers you is your lack of memory. Yanqing tilts his head to the side, gazing at you worriedly.

You snap out of your stupor and smile at Yanqing. “It’s nice to meet you, Yanqing. My name’s—”

“[Y/N], I know your name already because General Jing Yuan would go on and on about you,” Yanqing nods, smiling at you boyishly.

Cute. You want to pinch Yanqing’s cheeks until he smacks your hand away from his face. You smile at Yanqing, still confused about how he knows your name. Yanqing’s smile slips off his face when the realization hits him.

You brush off the look he’s giving you and point at the egg. “How long were you waiting for me to be reincarnated?”

Yanqing looks away, rubbing the back of his neck while giggling awkwardly. You cross your arms over your chest, gazing at Yanqing with amusement. Yanqing is like an adorable little brother who’s attached to his older siblings and is protective of them, but he doesn’t want to show it because he doesn’t want to be teased for it.

“Not long, but I would come here every day to check up on you,” Yanqing mutters, kicking a pebble close by and watching it clatter on the ground.

You press your lips into a thin line and pat Yanqing’s head. Yanqing silently fumes and turns away with a small huff, crossing his arms over his chest while puffing his cheeks out. You snicker and pull your hand back, sitting on the ground beside the egg you emerged from.

Yanqing sits beside you, looking at you curiously. “Do you really not have any recollection of your past memories?” Yanqing asks.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t have any of my past memories, Yanqing. Am I supposed to?”

Yanqing exhales slowly and leans back on his arms, kicking his feet back and forth as he debates on what to say. You’re a long-life species with draconic features— a Vidyadhara. Your hair cascades down your back as your tail sways behind you. Your tail and horns are a light pink, almost pastel pink. You look breathtaking, even more breathtaking compared to how General Jing Yuan described you.

You turn to look at the young boy beside you, who blinks at you before turning away. Yanqing hums and nods.

“Yes, you’re supposed to remember your past lives when you reincarnate. Many long-life species remember their past lives and their past lovers,” Yangqing says nonchalantly.

It must be nice to be able to remember your past lives and people in your past. Why is it different for you? How come you’re the only person (well, you’re assuming you’re the only person) who doesn’t remember their past life despite being reincarnated? Maybe you’re the odd one out.

“That’s unfortunate for me. I don’t remember my past life. I only know my name,” you sigh, leaning against the hollow egg you emerged from.

Yanqing hums, tapping on his chin. “Maybe General Jing Yuan can help you recover your memories!” Yanqing says.

You pucker your lips and hug your legs. It’d be nice to have someone help you “regain” your memories, but their memories will be different from your past memories. Then again, what do you know? You only remember your name, and from what Yanqing has told you, it sounds like you and this General Jing Yuan person have some kind of history with each other.

Your conversation with Yanqing was cut short when both of you heard footsteps approaching your direction. You and Yanqing get off the ground and turn to see a large group of people standing before you two. The four men look at you with wide eyes. You couldn’t help but notice they all have long hair, aside from the others in the group accompanying the four men.

“[Y/N]...” The man with long black hair whispers.

He, too, has horns sprouting from the top of his head. You look at Yanqing, who glares at the four men before standing in front of you as if he’s protecting you from the four newcomers and their guests. The man with white hair smiles at you and Yanqing ruefully. You place your hand on Yanqing’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile when he turns to look at you.

Despite giving Yanqing a reassuring smile, Yanqing continues to keep his guard up, glaring at the four men before him. You sigh and cross your arms over your chest, looking away from the four men. Everything to you is a mystery. Your past, the four men standing before you and Yanqing, your history with this General Jing Yuan person.

The white-haired man narrows his eyes at Yanqing. “Am I missing something, Yanqing?” the white-haired man asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man with long, dark hair chuckles bitterly. “It seems like your lapdog is protective of [Y/N],” he says, his red eyes landing on you.

Yanqing growls and holds his sword in front of him. You can’t help but stare at the ground, drowning out the sounds and voices around you. There are whispers in your head, whispers that are loud enough for you to assume it’s all around you. You bite the inside of your cheek, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to listen closely. The whispers are not only loud, but they’re incoherent. You can’t understand what the voices are saying, and it bothers you. Why are the voices loud yet quiet at the same time? You subconsciously reach your temples, rubbing them as a headache forms.

“[Y/N]?”

You snap out of your stupor and look up to see the four mysterious men (and Yanqing and the other guests) gazing at you worriedly. You blink and sigh, shoulders slumping. Could the voices be from your past life? Whatever the voices are, it’s causing you nothing but confusion and frustration. How long have you been spacing out?

The blond man looks at you worriedly. “What’s the matter? You look frustrated,” says the blond man.

You give him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’m fine,” you reply hesitantly.

The man with horns raises his eyebrows at you, looking at you worriedly. You’re not entirely comfortable with telling these men your situation. While they know your name, you don’t know theirs. Yanqing moves closer to you, whispering into your ears and telling you each of the men’s names.

“I don’t have much recollection of my past life, but I heard you all know me. Or I knew all of you,” you say nervously while playing with the billowing sleeves of your hanfu.

The white-haired man— also known as General Jing Yuan— nods and gestures for you and Yanqing to follow him and the other three men beside him. The pink-haired girl steps forward, smiling at you while shaking her legs nervously.

The pink-haired girl clears her throat nervously. “You may not know me, but my name is March 7th! But you can call me March! These two are Caelus and Welt Yang,” says March, gesturing to the older man with brown hair and glasses and the silver-haired man standing beside him.

You smile at the trio before walking ahead with Yanqing sticking by your side. You look around in awe. The more you walk further out of this place, the more you see things you have never seen before. Well, you probably did in the past, but everything is new to you.

Yanqing gently nudges you, glancing over at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“This place is hauntingly beautiful. Where are we, Yanqing?” You ask, passively looking at the other Vidyadhara eggs as you and Yanqing walk by.

How long have you been in the egg you have hatched from? The young boy beside you smiles at you and crosses his arms over his chest. You may have known Yanqing for less than an hour, but Yanqing can’t help but pride himself in being the first person you trust. Unlike the four particular men— well, three men, but he digresss— who have been anticipating your reincarnation.

“We are currently leaving the Scalegorge Waterscape! If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them!” Yanqing announces proudly, propping his hands on his hips.

You smile and pat Yanqing’s head as he leads you out of Scalegorge Waterscape with the others following behind. Scalegorge Waterscape is like another world to you— a secret world only certain people are allowed to know of its existence.

You hum softly. “How much do you know about my past life, Yanqing? You mentioned how General Jing Yuan would go on and on about me. What has he told you about me?” You ask, crossing your arms over his chest.

That piqued the three Xianzhou men’s interest and curiosity while General Jing Yuan’s smile slipped off his face. General Jing Yuan clears his throat as he slowly picks up his pace to catch up to you and Yanqing. Mostly Yanqing. Yanqing taps on his chin as he racks his brain, trying to recall what the white-haired General said about you.

Yanqing’s eyes light up. “Ah! I remember! There’s this drink on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it’s incredibly sweet. Whenever General Jing Yuan sees someone drinking it at the Seat of Divine Foresight, the General would be like, ‘I remember the time when [Y/N] would sneak out at night and buy Immortals Delight with Dan Feng. They were caught in the act by not only myself but by Yingxing as well,’” Yanqing says, mocking the white-haired General’s voice.

‘Immortals Delight?’ you mouthed to yourself, trying to remember what the drink looked like and what it tasted like for your past self to be obsessed with the drink to the point where you and this Dan Feng person had to sneak out and buy it. Yanqing continues to rack through his memories before smiling widely.

“The General would also talk about how the blooming flowers remind him of—” A hand quickly covers Yanqing’s mouth, shutting the young boy up before he can continue.

You stop in your tracks and look to see General Jing Yuan covering the blond boy’s mouth with his hand. You and General Jing Yuan lock eyes for a moment while Yanqing thrashes around in General Jing Yuan’s grasp, trying to remove the General’s hands from his face. You press your lips into a thin line and cover your mouth with your hands to muffle your laugh.

Mr. Yang smiles and looks at Caelus and March, chuckling. “It looks like the General has fond memories of [Y/N],” says the brown-haired man.

Caelus snorts. “Yeah, very fond memories of [Y/N],” Caelus chuckles.

After some time, General Jing Yuan releases Yanqing. Yanqing huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at the white-haired General before scrambling over to you. Yanqing throws your arm around his shoulders, catching the others by surprise. You chuckle, and pat Yanqing’s head before the two of you continue your way toward the main entrance of Scalegorge Waterscape. While walking up the steps, Yanqing turns to look at the other four men— specifically Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae, General Jing Yuan, and Blade— before sticking his tongue out at them and turning back around to start a conversation with you.

“I think it’s weird how, allegedly, long-life species remember their past lives, but [Y/N] doesn’t remember theirs,” the indigo-haired man says, propping his hands on his hips.

The blond man in armor rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not ‘allegedly’ when there’s plenty of evidence about it, Sampo,” the blond man says.

Once you all arrive at the entrance of Scalegorge Waterscape, you turn to the others before scanning the surroundings once more. You don’t think you will be returning to Scalegorge Waterscape, or at least not in the near future.

A man with his hair in a half-ponytail speaks up, “Why do you look glum?”

You blink at him and the other unfamiliar faces. Caelus slaps his forehead before introducing you to the three extra people you weren’t introduced to— Sampo, Gepard, and Luka. The two men, Gepard and Luka, smile at you politely. At the same time, Sampo magically pulls a comb out of thin air, combing his hair before strutting toward you. However, before Sampo can reach you, Yanqing stands in front of you, pointing the tip of his sword in Sampo’s direction with a murderous glare.

“I wouldn’t get any closer if I were you,” Yanqing hisses.

Sampo holds his hands up. “Whoa there, little guy! I mean no harm!” Sampo says, smiling at Yanqing nervously.

Yanqing glowers at the nickname Sampo gave him before looking at the white-haired General. General Jing Yuan chuckles, walking toward you, Yanqing, and Sampo. General Jing Yuan stands behind you and Yanqing, placing both hands on your and Yanqing’s shoulders while smiling politely at Sampo. On the surface, General Jing Yuan is calm. Still, on a deeper level, the white-haired General is mildly annoyed with the indigo-haired merchant.

General Jing Yuan clears his throat. “Yanqing, stand down. There’s no need for hostility. We’re all friends here, are we not?” asks the General.

Yanqing makes a dissatisfied noise before putting his sword away. Yanqing continues to glare at Sampo, propping his hands on his hips before pointing his index finger at the man.

Yanqing demands, “What were your intentions with [Y/N] when you approached them?”

You look at Yanqing, surprised. You look at Sampo and smile at him before patting Yanqing’s shoulders. Yanqing doesn’t budge and continues to glare at Sampo. You sigh in defeat and look at General Jing Yuan, who’s already staring at you. You visibly wince with surprise before quickly looking away from him, your cheeks getting hot while the General chuckles.

“I see the General’s feelings for [Y/N] have yet disappeared,” Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae murmurs beside Blade, crossing his arms over his chest while watching the scene unfold.

Blade huffs beside Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at the horned man beside him. “I could say the same thing for you,” Blade says nonchalantly.

Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae ignores the look Blade is giving him, acting like he doesn’t feel or notice an obvious stare from the dark-haired man. Yanqing grumbles to himself before tugging on your arm and pulling you away from the group. You find yourself standing at the docks, doing what you have been doing since you hatched from your egg— look at your surroundings. It bothers you how familiar this place feels, but you can’t remember why.

“Ahem. Care to tell what’s been bothering you?” Luocha asks, now standing beside you as he gazes at the horizon.

Your gaze falls to the ground, feeling the sand beneath your shoes. You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and tap your fingers on your biceps, debating whether you should tell them what’s on your mind. As much as you wanted to say to them what was wrong, you’re sure the others already knew the issue.

You look up at Luocha, who stares at you intently with his sparkling green eyes. You look at the sun setting on the horizon, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms over your chest. It almost feels inappropriate to tell someone your problems, especially when you met them not long ago after being reborn.

“Is there a reason why I’m unable to remember my past life? I find it strange that I’m the only one who can’t remember their past life after being reborn,” you sigh, rubbing your temples.

Everyone looks at Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae, General Jing Yuan, and Blade. The three men look just as clueless as the rest. You sigh and smile at them ruefully, waving your hand in front of you while shaking your head.

You sigh, “You know what? Forget I asked that question. Maybe there’s a reason why I don’t remember my past life, and perhaps it’s for the best.” Realization soon kicks in. You turn to the audience behind you and Luocha (and Yanqing), eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “Now that I am reborn, where do I go from here?”

Caelus looks at you questionably. “Care to elaborate on that for the rest of us?” Caelus asks, propping his hands on his hips.

“Do I return to the Xianzhou Luofu, or do I go elsewhere? I don’t have a home per se,” you reply, playing with the billowing sleeves of your hanfu. “This is a new and strange concept for me— not remembering my past life and questioning if I belong on the Xianzhou Luofu.”

The rebirth cycle of a Vidyadhara is something you have never experienced. At least, that’s what you assume. The waves crashing on shore are almost deafening, loud enough to keep you semi-occupied from your thoughts. What did you do to deserve to be put in this situation?

Mr. Yang hums, stroking his chin. “Well, you are always welcome to the Astral Express,” says Mr. Yang.

You look at the brown-haired man curiously. The Astral Express, huh? Sounds like you will be going on lots of adventures if you board the Express. It does sound better than doing nothing on the Xianzhou Luofu, especially when you don’t have a place called home. March’s eyes light up, and she runs toward you, linking her arms around yours. For a brief moment, a flash of panic can be seen in Yanqing’s eyes as he reaches forward, ready to pull March away from you.

What stopped Yanqing from doing so was General Jing Yuan grabbing the young boy by the shoulders and shaking his head. Yanqing huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, grumbling while kicking a pebble close to his feet. March caught you off guard when she linked her arms around yours. You didn’t expect her to be bold enough to touch you (mainly because Yanqing would cut anyone who tried to touch you).

You hum, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “I might consider it, but I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb,” you murmur, pointing to the horns on your head.

You know Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae has horns as well, but he can at least hide his appearance and present himself as a human like the others. You, on the other hand, don’t know if you can do the same. However, having horns and draconic features shouldn’t be a big deal other than dealing with the looks of curiosity from strangers and awkward stares when you make eye contact with the person.

Luka raises his hand to grab your attention. “I have a question. Since Dan Heng can change his appearance, can you change yours as well?” Luka asks, gesturing to the horns on your head.

You subconsciously touch your horns and chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m not sure, Luka. Even if I can’t hide my horns and draconic features, it’s no big deal,” you reply, smiling at the now-blushing man.

You and the others got on the boat to return to the Alchemy Commission. Despite reincarnating and not remembering your past life before being reborn, the Alchemy Commission feels almost as familiar as Scalegorge Waterscape. Although, you can’t help but feel grim when arriving at the Alchemy Commission.

“Does anything feel familiar by any chance?” Gepard asks, walking beside you.

You nod hesitantly. “The Alchemy Commission feels familiar, but I don’t think it’s a good thing. I can’t help but feel uncomfortable,” you reply, subconsciously rubbing your chest while looking around.

Aside from the Mara-struck roaming around the area, the Alchemy Commission looks eerie and empty. Unbeknownst to you and the others not of the Xianzhou faction, something tragic happened to you before your rebirth. Everyone is standing on the ground where you were ambushed and brutally murdered by someone you once trusted. You were lured to the farthest part of the Alchemy Commission, ambushed, and killed by someone you used to consider a friend. By the time Dan Feng (now Dan Heng), General Jing Yuan, and Yingxing arrived at the scene, they were too late. Stricken with anguish, Yingxing, General Jing Yuan, and Dan Feng tracked down your attackers and killed them all.

They remember clutching your lifeless body in their arms, trying to stop the bleeding despite you being dead at the scene. Your clothes are torn and bloodied, your hair matted with blood, and your skin stained with your own blood. The three men remember the giant gaping hole where your heart was supposed to be— crimson blood pooling around you on the concrete as you stare up at the three grief-stricken men with lifeless eyes. Perhaps it’s best for you to remain oblivious of your past. It’s better that way, no matter how much it hurts the three men who hold you close and dear to their hearts.

General Jing Yuan places his hand on your shoulder. “Wherever you choose to stay— be it the Xianzhou Luofu or the Astral Express, you are always welcome to the Xianzhou Luofu,” says General Jing Yuan.

You smile at the white-haired General. “Thank you, General Jing Yuan,” you whisper.

You stop in front of the Aureate Elixir Furnace, staring at the large crucible with curiosity. You hear whispers around you. You look at the people standing around you, wondering if any of them said anything. But none of them were speaking. They’re surveying the area, not saying a word.

“How strange,” you rub the back of your neck before crossing your arms over your chest.

You close your eyes and focus on the voice in the back of your head. The voices don’t belong to you, but the voices sound very angry and sad. The voices are gradually getting louder and louder. You squeeze your eyes shut and duck your head low, your hair falling over your face.

The voice whispers, “We shall reunite one day, [Y/N]. You cannot escape your fate.”

Fate? What’s your fate? Are you in danger by any chance? Could the voices be connected to your past, or does the voice belong to something or someone seeking possible revenge on you?

“Are you alright, [Y/N]?” Blade puts his hands on your shoulders, startling you.

You look up at Blade like a deer caught in headlights. You gulp and smile at him nervously, trying to act normal.

“Yeah! I’m alright! I’m trying to recall my past life, that’s all,” you lie.

Blade and Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae look at you worriedly as you turn to Yanqing, who approaches you with a worried look. Great, more people to worry about you. Yanqing stands beside you and stares at Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae and Blade cautiously before turning to you.

Yanqing holds his arm out for you to take. “Are you hungry? If so, I know a few places on the Xianzhou Luofu that have amazing food,” Yanqing says, giving you a closed-eyed smile.

You smile at Yanqing and loop your arms around his arm. “I am feeling a bit famished,” you murmur.

Yanqing hums thoughtfully, tapping on his chin as he pulls you away from Blade and Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae. While Yanqing is listing out the food on the menu of the restaurant he passively mentioned, the group behind you follows closely.

Luocha looks at General Jing Yuan from the corner of his eyes. “You saw that, right?” Luocha mutters.

General Jing Yuan hums, nodding. “Indeed, I did.”

While your past life will be a mystery to you, the voices in your head seem to not want you to live your new life in peace. Whether the voices in your head are from the voices of those in your past life or are trying to warn you, there’s a strange feeling deep down in your gut, and you can’t put your fingers on it. Whatever it is, it will have to wait.

Note: I know a Vidyadhara has many features, but I like the draconic features. Therefore the reader has draconic features. Oh, and the color of the reader's horns... I couldn't come up with a color, so I chose a random color. If you're not a huge fan of the color I chose, change it to whatever color you desire. It's 5 AM, and I need to sleep, so I hope you guys like this story-ish. I won't be posting any fics for this upcoming week, so keep that in mind. Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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