#i tried to leave it pretty ambiguous as to when this happens!

[forest-hashira]

Cool Touch

hello hello everyone!!! i know i just updated Noble Blood a few days ago, but the mental image of this one wouldn't leave me alone, so i went ahead and wrote it. this is the first of my entries for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this was gojo + sunburns. not much happens here, but nonetheless i hope you enjoy it! also as usual this is not proofread at all so please forgive any mistakes haha

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.9k | cw: gender neutral reader, ambiguous relationship (can be read as romantic or platonic!), kinda implied autistic gojo (mentions of sensory issues & such), sunburns (obviously), that's pretty much it!

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding.”

Your words earned you a glare from Satoru as he stood in the doorway. His sunglasses had slipped down his nose as he looked at you, and for once, the dark lenses stood out less against his skin than the stark blue of his eyes.

“Do I look like a liar?” he retorted, opening the door a bit wider so you could come inside.

“More like a lobster,” you said as you stepped around him, before you could even really think about the words. “Sorry! Too soon, I guess,” you added quickly, dancing away from him as he reached out, probably to pinch you in retaliation for your comment on his appearance.

“Yeah, too soon,” he grumbled, shutting the door. “I don’t think I slept at all last night, I was so uncomfortable.”

“That’s what you get for not reapplying sunscreen like we told you to.”

“‘We’?” Satoru asked indignantly, dropping down to sit in one of his dining table chairs as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who else told me to reapply?”

“Me, for starters.” As you spoke, you set the shopping bag down on the table in front of you and began to pull out the things Satoru had asked for: multiple bottles of aloe vera gel, four flavors of ice cream, a box of popsicles, ice packs to be stuck in the freezer for later, and a few large bottles of water – your own addition, not something Satoru had requested. “And Suguru, Shoko, Kento—”

“Nanamin??”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “He does actually kind of like you, you know. And we’ve talked about the interrupting thing.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Sorry. I’ll put the money in the jar later.”

“Good,” you hummed. You tried to hand him the receipt from the drug store then, but he waved you off.

“Just leave it on the kitchen counter when you grab spoons,” he told you, leaning against the back of his chair, though h e quickly sat up straight again with a hiss when his skin made contact with the wood. “Hurryyyy,” he whined as you walked off. “I’m literally going to die if you’re not slathering me in gel in the next five seconds.”

“First of all, why the fuck did you have to phrase it like that?” You opened the silverware drawer, grabbing two spoons for the various ice creams you had gotten. Before you left the room, you stuck the receipt to the fridge with one of Satoru’s kitschy little magnets – you were pretty sure the one you grabbed was some sort of fish, but it was a little chipped and faded, and you didn’t bother to look at it for too long before you were walking away again. “Second of all, you are not going to die, you’re just uncomfortable.”

“And itchy. Soooooo fucking itchy.” Satoru was quick to snatch one of the spoons from you, already having the pint of cotton candy flavored ice cream in his lap. 

You wrinkled your nose at the sight, never quite able to understand how he was able to enjoy the flavor, but you said nothing as you came to stand behind his chair. Setting your own spoon on the table, you picked up one of the bottles of aloe gel.

“This might be cold on your skin,” you warned, though he barely acknowledged your words with a hum, his mouth too full of pink and blue ice cream for him to be thinking about much of anything. With a shrug, you squeezed some of the gel out into the palm of your hand, then set the bottle aside. You took a moment to rub the gel between your hands to warm it up a bit, then placed your hands on his tomato red shoulders.

Immediately, Satoru jumped, making an almost hilarious squawking sound as he moved away from your touch. “What the hell?” he demanded, ice cream and spoon still clutched in his hands. His eyes were open wide and his sunglasses had slipped all the way down his nose, seeming to cling to his face for dear life. “Warn a guy next time!”

More than a little shocked by his reaction, you blinked dumbly at him for a moment. “But… I did warn you?” Your brows furrowed as you spoke, and you cocked your head a bit as you looked at him, more confused than anything else.

“You definitely did not,” Satoru argued, now scowling at you.

“I said ‘this might be cold’,” you reminded him. “That counts as a warning.”

“But you didn’t say it would sting!”

Though part of you wanted to roll your eyes at Satoru for his dramatic reaction to the feeling of the aloe gel on his skin, you managed not to; you were well aware of how jumpy and antsy he could be in moments of vulnerability – physically or emotionally – and that generally he didn’t take well to perceived judgment during vulnerable times. Instead, you took a deep breath before apologizing.

“I’m sorry for not warning you about that part, too, Toru. If you’d like to come and sit back down I’ll put the gel on your sunburn. It’ll help you feel more comfortable in your skin, for at least a little bit.”

He eyed you for a moment longer, and you were certain if he had cat ears, they’d be in airplane mode as he decided whether to trust you again or not. Eventually, he let out a somewhat exaggerated sigh, then walked back over to the chair you still stood behind. “I appreciate and accept your apology,” he said quietly, settling down and taking another bite of his cotton candy ice cream. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him, glad that he was comfortable enough with you to be vulnerable, and that he trusted you to take care of him this way. He’d come a long way since you’d first met; he’d never been standoffish, really – he was the life of every room he walked into, party or not – but he’d kept anything he deemed “too personal” close to his chest, not wanting to give anyone a reason to dislike him. He’d been slow to open up to you, but once he’d realized you could be trusted? He’d become your closest friend, constantly in your space whenever you were in the same place. It had surprised you, the sheer amount of love he was capable of, when he deemed someone worthy – and trustworthy – enough to show that side of himself, but you felt honored to have his love directed at you.

Even if he was dramatic and difficult sometimes.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Now, I’m about to touch your back and shoulders again, alright? It might be cold and it might sting again, but hopefully not much.”

“‘Kay,” he replied around a mouthful of his frozen pink and blue treat, and you shook your head at him, a small chuckle escaping you.

Doing just as you’d said, you placed your hands on Satoru’s shoulders again, spreading the gel over as much of his skin as you could reach from your current angle: across the tops of his shoulders and down around to his collarbones; up his neck to his undercut; back down below his shoulder blades, rubbing it all in and doing your best to make sure it wasn’t layered on too thick, knowing that would aggravate his sensory issues.

Satoru tensed and shuddered for a fraction of a second when your hands came in contact with his fried skin, but he quickly relaxed again, letting you do all the work for him, since the worst of his burn was on his back and shoulders, where he couldn’t get a great angle to rub the gel on himself.

Grabbing the bottle of gel, you squeezed a bit more of it out into your palm. “I need to get the rest of your back,” you told him. “Could you lean forward a little more so I can reach it better?”

“Sure.” He did as you asked without complaint, even setting aside the now empty pint of ice cream and reaching for one of the water bottles you’d bought, twisting off the cap and taking a large sip of it.

“Someone’s thirsty,” you couldn’t help but tease. It was so rare to see Satoru drink anything that wouldn’t give anyone else a cavity just from looking at it that you had to make note of it any time it happened.

He grumbled at your words, but if he blushed, it was impossible to distinguish from the red that already tinted his cheeks. “I am thirsty.”

“I know,” you soothed. “That’s why I bought those. I always get really thirsty when I get a sunburn.” You uttered another warning before placing your gelled up hands further down his back than before, once again working the substance into his skin as well as you could. From the new angle, you could tell the burn ended where the waistband of his swim trunks had been, so you didn’t let your hands wander any places they weren’t needed. Though you didn’t need another reason to keep your hands to yourself (so to speak), the way Satoru shivered when your fingers dipped the tiniest bit below the waist of the current shorts he wore was reason enough.

“I’m done with your back,” you told him after a bit, stepping out from behind the chair to better look at the snowy haired man you had just thoroughly aloe-d. “Do you need help with getting the gel anywhere else?” The smile he shot you struck you right in the heart.

“No, I think I can do the rest of it. Thank you.” 

Keeping eye contact with him suddenly felt too intense, so you looked away. Your gaze landed on the open water bottle on the table, and you were pleased to see that he’d nearly emptied the bottle; the sight made you smile.

“You’re welcome,” you said back quietly. Then you remembered the ice packs and popsicles, so you picked them all up and walked back into his kitchen, sticking them all in wherever you could them, in between all his boxes of frozen chicken nuggets and other microwave meals – his kitchen skills were minimal, and the man knew what he liked, so you couldn’t really fault him for sticking with the ease of frozen food.

When you returned from the kitchen, you saw Satoru beginning to rub the aloe gel along his arms, so you were satisfied that you had completed the job you’d come here to do. You pulled your keys out of your pocket, making sure you had your phone before you made for the door.

“Wait!” Satoru called after you, and you stopped, turning back to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and his expression was some combination of confused and… dejected? “Where are you going?”

“You said you didn’t need any more help with the aloe, so I was gonna leave you to it.”

“Oh.” His face fell at your words, but he spoke again anyways. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Not really, no. Why?”

Satoru perked up so quickly it was enough to give you secondhand emotional whiplash. “Oh, good! I was hoping you’d stay, maybe watch a movie or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, with his sunglasses hanging crooked on his nose, his frosty white hair falling into his eyes, his boyish grin aimed full force at you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’ll stay. What movie were you thinking?”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by @/saradika

[the-mad-starker]

Starkercest Smut: Quick Tips For Satisfying An Alpha (1/3)

For TSToT and Starker Battleship!!

Figured I'd post this in and I'ma try to finish chapter 2 so I can attack Spidey team over at @starker-battleship !! Not gonna reveal my prompts just yet but they're very typical of me haha 😮

Notes: Omegaverse, starkercest, alpha tony, omega Peter, intersex Omegas, Size Kink, ambiguous age but underaged, tags to be updated

Rating: E

WC: 2606 (AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

When Peter Stark walked into Omega Ed., he wasn't sure what to expect but it surely hadn't been this.

The sex ed class for omegas that he'd been required to attend was just so dry. He hadn't had any real expectations though. If anything, he thought he'd end up leaving with a bright red face because learning about those things with his peers just seemed… embarrassing?

But no. Whatever Peter had expected, it was worse because it was boring. The omega instructor was a stickler for facts, which, yeah, those were super important, but Peter wanted to know stuff beyond what he could find in textbooks.

For the first week, they had to study the anatomy of all sub-genders. Peter learned a lot, for sure. He learned just how knotting happened, how female alphas’ pensies were different from males, and that male omegas had two internal erogenous spots compared to female omegas who only had one. That kind of information was an eye opener, but even then, it was all… very scientific and therefore, not at all what he thought sex ed would be like.

He'd been raised by a very sex-positive parent so it wasn't surprising that Peter had questions. Unfortunately, Peter realized pretty early on that what he had wanted from the class was guidance and a more real life approach than the in-depth diagrams and plastic models that his instructor showed them.

Like Peter now knew about the prostate and g-spot for omegas, but how do you stimulate them? What did that even feel like? He read somewhere that prostate stimulation for some males was uncomfortable but was that across all males? Or were omegas an exception? Or maybe just alphas? Beta males?

He had so many questions but the instructor didn't seem inclined to answer them. It was always a gentle but firm decision to turn back to the books and a dismissive answer that wasn't an answer at all.

It was great, then, that Peter had such an accommodating parent. His dad had never held back on giving him the truth, at least not since he was maybe five years old and had accidentally tugged Santa’s beard off only to be met with his dad’s chagrined face.

His dad wouldn't sugarcoat things for him and he’d finally get the answers he wanted.

Peter set his plan into motion on a nice Saturday morning. The freshly ground coffee beans were brewing and just as expected, the smell of it lured his alpha father out of his room.

Peter watched as his dad went straight for the coffee pot, eyes assessing the alpha over the rim of his cup of orange juice.

His father was the epitome of what an alpha should be, Peter recalled all the social media claiming. His classmates often teased him for having a hunk of an alpha as a father. Add to the fact that his dad was also single… and his father didn't discriminate between genders… and he was rich and handsome…

Peter frowned and took a sip of his OJ.

He tried to look at his dad like his classmates did. Look beyond his quirky lovable father to see the alpha that teens his age drooled after.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard because as he already acknowledged… His dad really was the perfect alpha.

Alpha genes really were something. Alphas were just naturally taller, broader, and stronger. Put an alpha next to an omega, and these physical attributes were even more exaggerated. Alphas had a more muscular physique compared to an omega’s softer, leaner body.

And that was just the genes influencing an alpha. Of course, like any normal person, if they didn't take advantage of it, an alpha can squander those built in boosts and end up as unhealthy as any other. Not even superior alpha genes could help someone if they didn't take care of themselves.

But Tony Stark didn't have that problem. Peter’s gaze lingered over his lightly muscled arms, his broad shoulders, and the defined muscles of his back through his thin white undershirt. His dad, courtesy of Peter’s insistence, ate healthy and, despite his grumbling, worked out regularly.

“Morning, kid,” his dad's voice rumbled, rough from sleep. It sent something foreign but exciting shooting through Peter's body.

He stood up, setting his OJ aside, and like many sleepy mornings before, he hugged his dad from behind as Tony readied his coffee.

With his face pressed against his dad’s back, Peter breathed in the comforting scent of his alpha. This close, he could smell his own scent mixed in, and before he knew it, a purr rumbled in his chest.

His dad had never been able to resist Peter’s purring and it said a lot that his attention immediately went from his precious coffee to his even more precious son.

Tony turned and gathered Peter in his arms and the omega melted right into his embrace.

As a male omega, Peter stood at a respectable 5’7 height, but in his daddy’s arms, he felt so small and precious. He rested his cheek on his dad’s chest, the firm muscle of his pecs a perfect cushion. Their eyes met and Peter’s purr grew louder which only made the fond smile on Tony’s face grow wider.

“Alright, Pete, what is it?” Tony laughed, hugging him tight. “You've ambushed me before my coffee and you're purring up a storm so you're up to something. Give your old man a break and out with it.”

Peter pouted but he let his purring taper off before it stopped completely.

“First off, you're not old, Dad,” Peter had to protest.

Yeah, his dad had some silvers and grays in his hair and beard, but he was far from old. He was still in the prime of his life as far as Peter was concerned.

“Mhmm.”

Tony wouldn't be so easily distracted so Peter adopted his best puppy eyes look. Wide round honey brown eyes and just the slightest downturn of his lips completed the pouty look.

“Ouch, pulling out the big guns,” his dad dramatically sighed.

“Dad… You know they put me in omega ed this year, right?” Peter started.

“Mhmm, I had to sign off on it 'cause you know how some parents get about that stuff,” Tony said then raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do you want out or something?”

Peter paused but then shook his head.

“No, not really,” Peter decided, “I'm learning some stuff but it's…” How could he explain that it wasn't giving him what he wanted?

“Not what you expected, huh?” His dad hummed in understanding.

Peter instantly lit up, pleased that his father just understood him right off the bat.

“Yeah! I mean, I've tried asking questions but it always goes back to–” Here, Peter pitched his voice to a soft almost condescending tone, “This is not that type of class, Peter. I don't think your parents would appreciate it if I indulged in those kinds of questions, Peter. This class is just to help you get a better understanding of how your body works.”

Peter huffed by the end of his mini rant and immediately, his dad soothed him with a few strokes to his hair.

“Yeah, I get it,” His dad indulged him, “So what can I do, hmm? The classes that’ll scratch that itch in your brain are probably college courses. Psych classes if you're interested in the bonding aspect or maybe those general Alpha-Beta-Omega classes… We can look into some AP classes or some online classes…?”

Peter briefly thought about it but then shook his head.

“I don't think my interest is that deep,” he explained to his dad. “At least not yet? I just want… something more informative or uhh… something more real life than diagrams and stuff…”

Throughout the entire exchange, Tony maintained eye contact with him, probably to show he took Peter’s concerns seriously. Peter loved that about his dad but for the first time, the young omega hesitated. He didn't think it was weird for him to ask his dad but maybe it was weird in general?

They had a strong bond but surely, there were limits and lines between father and son that couldn't– shouldn't be crossed.

He's already gotten this far, though, and with his dad now alerted to a problem, Tony definitely wouldn't let it go unless Peter begged him to drop it.

But the thing is… Peter didn't want to drop the subject. This was his life, his future, and his understanding of what being an omega meant. He trusted that his dad would always have his best interest at heart, that he loved him no matter what and no matter what questions Peter asked.

There was no one he trusted more so Peter took the jump.

“I thought maybe… you can help me?”

There, it was out there in the open.

There was a moment of silence where Peter felt blood rush up to his cheeks and flush down his neck. This was probably the craziest thing he'd ask from his dad.

“You… want me to talk about my, uh, dating…. life…?” Tony asked, puzzled.

With that, Peter instantly relaxed but he did make a sour face at the question itself. He didn't want to know anything about the many alphas, betas, or omegas that had caught his father’s interest in the past. He didn't even try to parse the fact that it was other people getting intimate with his dad that bothered him, not the fact that it was his dad at all.

“Nooo thank you,” Peter denied very quickly. Rando strangers getting their grubby hands all over his amazing father? Gross.

“Not like I have much of one,” Tony sighed then ruffled Peter’s hair again, this time a little roughly, “Too busy with this little troublemaker here.”

Peter grabbed his dad’s wrist and set his teeth to the skin there in a playful bite. And like the good daddy he was, Tony pretended to be seriously injured.

“Oww, what a feral feisty omega I've raised,” Tony bemoaned as he tested the hold that Peter’s teeth on him.

Peter let go but still held onto his dad’s hand. The embarrassment had died down with their interaction. His dad always knew how to make Peter feel better.

“I don't wanna know about your past flings,” Peter told Tony seriously. “But I wanna know things about… alphas… And I've looked into some stuff but none of them were…” Just thinking about all the ridiculous porn he’d stumbled across in his research made him feel hot all over.

“...Credible…” Peter coughed.

His alpha gave him a look, no doubt realizing what his sources were.

“So what… you want like… tips?” Tony asked hesitatingly. “About alphas?”

“Maybe?” Peter answered, also a bit doubtful. He wasn't sure tips was the right word because he wanted something more than that. “...Would it be too much to like…”

Why was this so hard! Peter wanted nothing more than to bite his dad’s hand again, just so the words wouldn't come out. But he was a Stark and even though they were bonafide geniuses, they were also idiots with idiot planning at times.

Maybe he should've put more thought into this. His dad would never do anything to hurt him or make fun of him for his questions. The worst that could happen would be his father saying no and setting up some online learning and getting actual credible sources… But this was what Peter wanted.

He just wanted his emotional support alpha, who happened to be his dad, to hold his hand through all of it.

That was what he wanted. If he could have it. But first, he'd have to ask.

Peter firmed his resolve and then looked up from where he’d been staring at their clasped hands.

“I think I do want tips and… maybe some… hands-on experience…?” Peter tacked on the last bit, unsure of what his dad’s response would be.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Oh,” was his dad’s response. The request was definitely a surprise, but it wasn't a no.

Peter looked at his dad, hopeful and uncertain. Terrified but excited.

Maybe… maybe…??

His daddy took in his puppy eyes and Peter could see the second he gave in.

“Ohh, boy,” his dad groaned, “you're so vicious, Pete. At least let me have my coffee before you throw something like this at your old man. I can't believe my baby boy would pop this question before I've even had a sip to wake up.”

That sounded like a yes! Well, not a definite yes, but Peter knew his dad and that was a yes for sure.

He pecked a kiss on Tony’s cheek, his face making some weird expression because he was trying not to smile.

Peter quickly retreated back to his OJ, leaving his father to his coffee. He did have a bounce in his step.

He watched eagerly as Tony poured way too much sugar into his coffee. He didn't even make a peep as his dad stirred for a bit before taking his first sip.

He waited patiently and when his dad finally looked at him, their eyes met over the rim of their cups. It felt like something seemed to sizzle between them, some irreversible change that Peter didn't understand.

“Alright,” his dad said once he'd gathered his thoughts. “So my baby boy wants his daddy to teach him about being an omega and what to expect from alphas. Is that it?”

Peter’s breath hitched as he saw the look in his father's eyes. Dark and calculating. The mood was entirely different now and Peter’s heart fluttered as anticipation took over.

“Y-yeah, I mean, yes, Daddy,” Peter tried to sound so confident like a strong omega who knows what he wanted but the words came out coquettish and shy.

That only made his dad hum thoughtfully.

“Alright, Pete,” Tony affirmed, “This… Whatever this is… You gotta be sure, kid, that this is what you want. I’ll always stop if you want me to or you decide to call it off– but some things you can't pretend never happened once you've done ‘em. If you know what I mean.”

Peter did know. Theoretically. Or at least he’d thought about it briefly. Even now, he was sure this was what he wanted.

“I'm sure,” Peter said with all the confidence of a teen who only had a tiny inkling of what he was getting into.

“Good,” his dad said and Peter sighed in relief at the acceptance. He smiled at his father, only for his breath to catch because…

For the very first time, the person looking at him wasn't his patient loving father, but an alpha assessing a potential omega.

Oh…

His dad was already starting without realizing it. With just that one look, Peter was already learning what it meant for an alpha to look at an omega like that. It made him feel… he wasn't sure what but he liked it.

His gaze dropped but then flirted back up. His dad smirked at him, knowingly, and Peter agonized over what that smirk meant. His dad always seemed to know what was on his mind, did he know what he was doing to his own son, even now?

Peter’s hands tightened on his drink, cheeks flushed like he'd been drinking wine instead of juice. Was this how omegas felt when alphas gave them attention…?

If so… Peter liked it. He liked it a lot.

The omega squirmed in his seat, surprised but excited by the indescribable look in his father's eyes.

He couldn't wait to learn what it meant.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hi! In your ugly baker + daughter story, what happened to the original ugly baker? I assume the new ugly baker is the daughter, but what about the one who went to see the king?

Right! So the stories were kept on a really strict one page and I couldn’t fit in a conclusion.

Now, I’ve told this story orally several times but this class was the first time I ever wrote it down. There’s been several different endings and I liked the idea of some ambiguity. In every ending the original baker was cursed about the same age as her daughter had been and goes back to being young and pretty.

So in some versions when I’ve told it, the original baker, who I’m gonna call the mother, returns home. She stays and switches places with her daughter, helping her now that she’s the one cursed. The daughter stays cursed and they live out their lives that way.

In another ending they hire a girl with dyslexia who tries to use the book but she can’t follow directions, so each recipe gets ruined in some way and the curse slowly sheds because the baked goods aren’t perfect. All three women live happily ever after.

In one version the mother transforms back into her young beautiful self at the palace. The Prince returns home, sees the beautiful woman so like the one he was just romping with and proposes. The mother accepts and never returns home, leaving her daughter with a grandchild and a curse to repeat the cycle.

It’s really up to you to decide.

[butwhyduh]

Guy from the Window

Batboy x reader

This is ambiguous as to which of the boys (Dick, Jason, or Tim) because a name is never mentioned. So kinda a pick-your-fav to imagine story. It’s sexy but just a kiss.

“Of course, Mr Wayne, I’ll leave these in your office. You can sign them when you get back. The deadline is next Thursday so no rush. I’ll be sure to remind you then-“ you said as you carried a filing folder into Mr Wayne’s office. The words fell silent on your tongue and the folder slid to the floor from your hands.

There was a man standing behind the desk in the darkened room. He appeared shirtless and holding something white like thick paper. The curtains were drawn closed and the only light was the pale blue of the electric wall clock.

The man turned. Mr Wayne was saying something over the phone but you paid him no mind. The man stared at you. He was imposing and fit and more importantly injured. The paper was a bandage he pressed against his side.

“I have to go,” you said numbly on the phone before hanging up. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. You tried to ignore the way his shoulder muscles rippled as he turned to grab another bandage. Part of you was terrified. This was Gotham. He could be a killer. But the other part saw possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen needing help because he was hurt.

He tried to wrap gauze around the injury on his side below his ribs. You could see the set in his sharp jawline as it clearly hurt to twist.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. He hummed, clearly amused at your question.

“This office is closed. Why are you here?” He countered. He set his teeth as he twisted for another round of gauze. You grabbed the roll and moved closer to give to him.

“I’m working late. You-you don’t even work here,” you replied. He looked at you and nodded. He smelled like gunpowder and mint gum. Even in the dark room, you could feel his intelligent eyes assessing you.

“The tape,” he muttered softly. His deep voice was calm, even, and certainly not scared of being caught. You reached across him and grabbed the tape. Rather than giving him the roll, you pulled off a piece and taped the end of the bandage he was holding.

“What happened?” You asked with more curiosity than you should have. He hummed again before sitting down painfully in Mr Wayne’s office chair.

“Gotham.”

“That’s not really an answer. Why are you here?” You pressed. He seemed amused at your questions. Even while injured and caught trespassing, he clearly saw you as no threat.

“Let’s say, I know the owner,” he finally said. You sat back on the desk. Your feet hurt after working all day in heels. His eyes looked down at the hem of the pencil skirt you wore and down your bare legs. He looked at the clock on the wall. “No offense, but you’re too pretty to be in an office this late at night alone in Gotham.”

“Why? Someone might break in?” You quipped. He laughed before stopping with a little frown in eyebrows. His side clearly hurt more than he let on.

“Something like that. You don’t have to but can you get me a drink? Water preferably,” he said. His voice was soft and probably trying to hide the pain he was in.

You didn’t bother replying but instead reached over him to the mini fridge beneath the desk. He stared at you. You pushed past energy drinks and a can of coffee to give him a bottle of water. You also grabbed an ice pack.

“You don’t have to-“ he started before you touched the soft ice pack to the bruise forming on his bottom lip. The words failed him and he said nothing as you pressed the water bottle into his hand. At this close you could see the blue of his eyes and the scattering of freckles and scars on his nose.

His hand grasped your side. Fuck, why were you practically in the lap of a stranger? He was hot but this was Gotham. He could be a killer.

His other hand reached up and slid around your wrist and gently pulled the ice pack away and you let it fall to the plush carpet as you steadied yourself with an arm pressed back on the desk. You were still sitting on the desk but now his leg was basically between yours almost touching.

“What’s your name, doll?” He breathed. His voice was breathy and his eyes lingered on your lips. Your voice was softer as you told him your name.

“What’s your name,” you asked back. He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Can’t really say,” he replied with a smile on his voice. It was infectious. You grinned despite yourself.

“And why not?” You said while leaning forwards. It was all a game where hopefully you both would win. “You can whisper it if you need.”

His hand on your side slid up your back pulling you closer. “You’ll keep my secret?” He asked. You felt goosebumps on your flesh as his other hand grasped your mid thigh. Your heart beat out of your chest.

“Why don't you tell me it?” You suggested. He grinned before shaking his head. The hand on your back slid up to the back of your neck. Other than your ass on the desk, you were basically in his lap.

“Not quite,” he answered. His hand on your thigh slid up the thin fabric of your skirt to your hip and ther other hand on the back of your neck moved to cup your jaw. You inhaled quickly and your hands jumped out to press on his thighs as your balance tipped towards him.

“You’re alright,” he muttered. His eyes were on your lips. His thumb reached up and gently swiped over the pad surface of your bottom lip. The hand that was on your hip pressed on your lower back with just enough firmness to bend you even closer to him. Your hand reached up to hold onto his shoulder.

“May I?” He asked softly. His eyes were on your lips and hand cupped your jaw.

You softly replied “yeah.”

He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and slow but deep. Your mind was reeling as you made out with this stranger. You didn’t even know his name for fuck sake. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip like a question. You opened your mouth and the kiss deepened. His hand on the small of your back pulled gently and you slipped into his lap. You ignored the way your skirt slid up your thighs.

Your hands skirted along the muscles in his arms. Fuck, who was this fit? He was so fucking muscular. His hands reached down to your ass and pulled you flush to his body. But in doing so, he brushed your knee against his injured side.

He hissed out a “fuck.” You pulled back immediately. He was panting. His eyes showed lust mixed with pain.

“Sorry,” you said. You still sat in his lap but your knee was far from the injury.

“It’s fine,” he insisted.

The phone rang on the desk. You turned in his lap to grab it. He sighed a little annoyed while looking down at his side.

“Hello?” You answered. It showed Mr Wayne’s personal phone. “Oh, so sorry to hang up on you.….No, no. Everything is okay…. No need to come to the office.”

The man you sat on looked at you concerned.

“No no, Mr Wayne. I already ordered a cab. I’m leaving now. I’ll close up shop,” you replied. “Yes sir, have a good night. Thanks.”

You hung up the phone.

“I should probably go,” he said to you. You turned to look at him after hanging up.

“How can I contact you?” You said as you slid off his lap. He pulled your skirt straight before groaning as he stood up.

“I’ll be in touch,” he answered before pulling you into a mind numbing heart racing kiss. When he let you go, you sat on the desk looking dazed. “A cab is on the way. And sweetheart? Keep this between us, okay?” He said with a wink.

“Sure,” you replied as he grabbed his shirt and climbed out on the fire escape. He jumped off and disappeared into the night before you could get to the window. It was only a few minutes later as you closed everything down that a cab showed up just as he had planned.

A few weeks later you found a rose on your desk with a little piece of paper wrapped tightly around it. You carefully unwrapped the paper and read a little note.

I’ll see you this weekend Sweetheart -guy from the window

“Who sent you that?” Asked your coworker with a grin.

“Nobody,” you replied and she laughed.

“Sure.”

[dat-lil-shark]

Transformer One Review

I would say the movie in general is pretty mid, to be honest. It’s clichéd, it’s rushed, it's everything we’ve seen before. Even my sister who had no knowledge of the franchise and whom I dragged into this guessed that Sentinel is evil right away.

But once thing I loved the movie so much is how Orion was written. And this is the most important thing there is to this movie. Even before watching the movie I knew he would be flawed and stupid, but I never expected he would be THIS flawed and THIS stupid.

He was SO STUPID there are even times he even feels morally ambiguous! Like he dragged all his friends into dangerous situations, without their consents, for no reasons other than just wanna feel good and feel cool. Even when he saved Jazz I was feeling like he didn’t save him because it’s the right thing to do and Jazz has a life too, but it’s more of a “Wow it would be so cool if I save him and come back alive!” Kind of situations. And he didn’t even apologize when others even first pointed it out and tried to convince them to feel the same way he does.

And his immaturity payed a big price. Disasters happened, so many almost and probably did got killed, and no one, not his friends, not plot armours, NO ONE defended him when things goes wrong because of him. He made grave mistakes and the world punished him for it, so he will learn. And I cannot imagine how bold were the screenwriters when they made the creative choice to make Orion this flawed. He was so stupid it was beautiful.

And not only was the film not afraid of making him flawed, it also wasn’t afraid of making him vulnerable.

For a large part of the film, I feel like Orion wasn’t even trying his best to persuade D-16 to not change, probably largely because he just can’t emotionally comprehend how someone like his best friend could possibly change so myth, until it went to the point of no return. And maybe if he was strong and wise enough to do the best he can, like giving D more attentions, trying to cheer him up and remembering the good thing in life. Best case scenario: D-16 would never go the length he would. And worst case: he would still at least try to leave his friends out of things. But no, Orion was visibly procrastinating on taking care of his friend cause he just don’t know how to, and possibly even want to, just to not face the truth. And I know he will make the 🥺 face eventually when D turned evil, but I did not expect Orion to spend almost half of the film to just staring at D with them big ol’ eyes and doing nothing but hope things are not going the way he thought they were going. Seriously though 70% of the later part of the film he looked like he was one step away from just bursting into tears.

However, these are not big surprises, the BIGGEST surprise the film gave me was at the end, when Orion finally became Optimus, and he defeated D. He. Still. Looked. Just. So. Sad.

He didn’t instantly become strong, at least emotionally.

He was still full of 🥺 and hesitations.

It was almost like, even AFTER he became Optimus, he was still naive enough to be somewhat hoping D-16 was not really doing what he knew he was doing, but finally accepted reality when he banished D and the Decepticons.

And.

I.

FUCKING.

Love this!

Essencially, the movie DID NOT make Orion just Optimus, but younger and more naive. Instead they made OPTIMUS just ORION, but knowing how life is not all sunshine and rainbow now. And the way they left the movie with Orion still VERY different from the expressionless, badass, and untouchable Optimus we know, instead still FULL OF sorrows and FULL OF Orion, not only leaves space for more movies in this new prologue-oriented franchise, with more character arcs for Orion, but they also shows how maturing doesn’t just happen overnight.

Orion learned how life is not all sunshine and rainbows, and he would not stop learning it for millions of years to come. There will be a day where Orion/Optimus would be hurt so much that he can no longer cry or smile anymore. But for today, he still can.

[citrinae]

cursed are the ones who ate the fruit.

robin x reader

summary; you always had a thing for passivity. watching events come and go, not getting involved. yet this is soon to change when you slip away from a halloween party to spend some time with the woman rumoured to have bargained with the devil. 

contents; murder, ambiguous morality, college!AU, afab!reader, wc: 1.3. i support women’s rights but most importantly i support women’s wrongs. part of my spooktober nonsense. 

masterlist

“Don't trust Nico Robin,” was the first thing ever told to you as a first-year student. “Whatever you do, stay away from that witch. Nothing good ever comes from associating yourself with her.” Someone said she killed a man, wet and pathetic in his own bed. Someone else insisted she was the reason why the dean's wife ended it with him, going on about how the poor fucking guy was made to sleep in his office for a week until he’d be allowed to return to an empty apartment. 

But one rumour they all seem to agree with is that she sold her soul to the Devil. “Demon woman,” as they described her to you back then. You saw it as a really unfortunate exaggeration; they insisted it was not.

Everyday you see her—dark hair, fitted dresses, leather jackets—sitting all by herself on the marble stairs of the faculty, a portrait of modern tragedy. Most of the time it’s with a book in her hands, and not once have you felt the defiant urge to join her and strike up a conversation about whatever the title unlocks in either of you. After all, you’re pretty sure she noticed you, too, welcoming your presence with a smile each time your eyes happen to stumble upon each other. Always so small, always so sweet, the type of natural innocence making you want to pick it up and brush it like some kind of expensive china. Pushing coins into the rusty vending machine by the dining hall, you sometimes catch yourself scripting interactions in your head. “Is it true?” you’d ask her at some point, leaves creaking under your boot. “That you dealt your soul away?”

The answer never comes, for you cannot quite figure what her voice would sound like. You haven’t heard her talking to anyone before. 

Would she talk to you, were you to get closer?

Despite the number of questions clutching your stomach at the sight of this woman, so lonely and beautiful in the comfortable distance, yet so vile from up close they needed to invoke the Bible to describe the experience, you prefer to believe that you were made for the simpler things in life. So you’ve tried your best to live your college days without thinking much of Nico Robin. Attend courses and sip on cheap booze and make friends like anyone your age would be expected to do. 

It’s this thought that pushed you to this place to begin with, keeping yourself busy by focusing on the multicoloured lights and the threads of fake spider web hanging about some colleague’s rented apartment. Kitsch costumes and plastic glasses, board games and smudged eyeliner, air dense with sweat and perfume. The music is loud, and people have to raise their voices to make themselves clear for important stuff like cigarette breaks or needing to hold a fellow’s hair in the bathroom. Someone compliments your costume; by default you find something nice to say about theirs as well. By the corner of your eye you watch a couple sucking each other’s face off, flushed and lazy on a beer-stained sofa. 

A familiar voice suggests that you gather for some rounds of Spin the Bottle, and a tepid gush of bodies shoots into a circle as soon as it does. This time, you decide to simply watch the game take its course; lifting yourself onto a table, back flat against the window, intervening with a joke whenever you catch an opportunity to. For a moment you think everything should be like this: light and approachable, a recorded show you can skip and rewind to your heart’s content. 

The bottle spins, and spins, and spins. Then it stops. Laughter turns into a muffled series of sounds as you absent-mindedly watch the leaves bend and billow outside the window. 

And that’s when you see her. 

Strands of hair flutter behind the trees. There’s a canvas bag in her hands, and a leather jacket thrown over her shoulders. She looks to be in a hurry. 

Your heart squeezed inside your ribcage, you hurl yourself towards your boots and coat, breathing out an excuse as you leave the crowds. Stairs echo under your feet, your mind blank with nothing but the pressing realisation that tonight might be your only chance to get your answers. Faster you run, over puddles and through brittle trees, cold seeping into your clothes and numbing your fists. You need to see her. No, you need to hear her, maybe even understand her. Behind you the polluted glow of the town fades as you dive deeper into the woods. Something moves into a bush nearby, but adrenaline pulses into your ears a bit too loud for you to care. 

When you stop, your feet feel like they’re about to collapse. You bring your hand to your spleen. Gingerly your eyes climb up the height of Robin’s boots, dark leather stretched to the knees, and when they reach her face, you’re met with a smile different from the one you were used to seeing between classes. There’s something sly to it now, something wicked. Shame clutches your stomach as you remember the stories your colleagues told by the dumpster. “Woman’s fucking bad news.”

“You’re a bold one,” Robin’s voice snatches you out of your head. It’s soft, divine, and your heart stops for a good second as she slightly tilts her head to the side. “Coming all the way here to catch me doing something bad.”

She doesn’t sound mad; if anything there’s a tinge of amusement for you to pick out from her voice. Like she expected you to meet you here, under these circumstances. You cannot seem to take your eyes from the blood under her fingernails, still not fully dried out. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you hear yourself saying. 

Robin’s laugh is melodic, like a bell chime. It makes you feel sick. “Would you tell on me?”

You shake your head.

“Even if you did,” Robin says. “I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.”

Something melts within you as the words leave her. With the courage built by Robin’s perplexing hospitality, you point towards the bag hoisted around her shoulder. “What’s in there?”

“History,” is all she says. 

“Of what?”

“Of this town, our college. Things they don’t want you to know.”

Taking into account the gravity of the situation, you find it hard to comprehend the ease with which she’s telling you all this. Inner cheek pressed between your teeth, a new question takes form in your head: are you really a threat to her? Looking into Robin’s eyes, primed and intelligent, you’re inclined to say no.

Wind blows wrathfully through tree crowns, through Robin’s hair. There’s a numbing chill biting into your bones and for a second you’re sure you’ve seen a pair of horns sprouting from her head. 

Further suspicion lingers on the roof of your mouth. “The dean is dead.”

A second later, “I had no choice.”

“But there’s no evidence that you did.”

“There is not,” she smiles, all warmth. 

“So why are you telling me this?” you ask her, and you can hear her heels press into the ground as she moves forward. 

Robin carefully measures the uncertainty in your eyes, sweeps a cold finger below your chin to align your stares. “Didn’t you want to know me better?”

Heat cuts through your lungs; you say nothing. 

“Besides,” she continues. Freesia and violets in your nostrils; a hint of sulphur you choose to ignore. “Recently I’ve taken quite an interest in you as well.”

And even now, with all the cards laid on the table, Nico Robin continues to stay a mystery to you. Even though you’re certain there’s something evil lurking behind her shoulders, leaning into the undeniable warmth of her words, stars dashing off her eyes with the promise of building something new, something better, you cannot help but wish to keep on unravelling her like a most fascinating riddle. 

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 4

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1515

Hiccup is passive aggressive. You’re mad. He doesn’t do anything about it (yet).

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

<Previous - Next>

“I don’t think Snotlout realizes he can like Ruffnut yet, but Fishlegs definitely likes Ruffnut,” You said confidently, pulling up pond weeds with your hands.

Your trousers were rolled up to your ankles, one side of your skirt tucked into your waistband as your toes dug into the silt close to the shore.

Hiccup was beside you, wading in a similar fashion, although it was a bit difficult to hike up both his pantslegs when one was otherwise occupied with his prosthetic. 

The trees were incredibly tall around you, enough to block out all light around the pond. Just a few beams filtered through the topmost leaves, filling the forest floor with a heady yellow glow, mites and other things filtering through them, dancing like fairies to a tune only they knew, lighting up the dark waters.

Behind you was an old, abandoned dock, small and molded and falling apart, and besides that, a bucket which you used to toss aside weeds. 

Indeed, you were deep, deep in the forests around Berk, where only mystical and mysterious things ever seemed to happen.

“Really-?” Hiccup asked, voice high as his spirits seemed to be, “There’s a large one to your left.” 

He indicated with a nod as you glanced over towards him, once again dipping your arms with your rolled-up sleeves into the water, sifting around until you found what he was motioning towards. 

A long, dark-green frond of something which pulled easily from the mix below.

“...Is this what you and Fishlegs were talking about before?” You asked, also noticeably, to yourself, a lot less gloomy. You too had been feeling high of spirits, enough to make you feel as if you had broken your old moping patterns, “The weeds.”

It was a pleasant surprise, when Hiccup had come to you asking for help picking weeds from the water.

You wondered which plant was the subject of his interest or his ire now? What plant had the dragons been interacting with this time, to pull his attention? Was it the Rush, or the Pendula? Maybe another plant, one that ended up being from the forest floor instead? 

You felt bad still, for not meeting him by the Great Hall.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, the same way he thought most skulls looked the same.

“Not really?” Hiccup tried, rubbing his hand down his shirt before ruffling the hair at the back of his own head as he tossed a long bunch of wet weeds back, the water sloshing around his ankles, artificial and otherwise, “Not specifically.”

“Specifically?” You took a moment to stare at him with your eyebrow raised.

“Barf and Belch.”

You hummed casually, though you had your ears perked.

You didn’t care at all to keep track of the Twins’ dragons so this was news to you.

“Belch hasn’t been able to fly straight with his other head in a while. Not always, but they’ve been sneaking off to who-knows-where. In short, we think he’s hallucinating. He had… Something, in his teeth. He was hanging around the water the last time- he was dripping wet. Not salt water. Tuffnut… tested that.”

You winced at the mention, “-So you think whatever it was that caused him to act stupid’s been floating around in one of these ponds.”

“Right,” Hiccup nodded.

“Sounds easy enough,” You nodded in return.

“Yeah, so…” Hiccup tried, half-joking in a way that made the invisible hairs on your back prickle, alert, “I’ve been… Meaning to ask. What’s been going on with you and Snotlout? And the others? I’m pretty sure the Jorgensons are getting ready for the two of you to get married.”

“I’d hope not,” You rolled your eyes at him wearily, beginning the slow slog back to the docks behind you, legs pushing through murky water. You were half afraid it would end up making you sick, “I wouldn’t marry him.”

Really, though, why did he care?

“So… You’re not interested in him?”

“Never,” You scoffed, “Not in a million years.”

You were glad that he wasn’t angry- he didn’t seem it, anyways, not at you for accidentally ditching him… if he remembered anything about your plans at all. You didn’t want to bring it up in case he did and that reminded him of anything, pulling up memories like a sharp tripwire. Some things were better off just left unspoken.

You still felt bad, though.

He finally sat down to pull up his own prosthetic, tugging aside the soggy pants leg just above, stitched to cover his stump like a sock.

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” He said as he turned away, moving continuously with a certain lilt to his voice that made it sound sort of final.

Tuffnut and Snotlout and Ruffnut usually said the same in a voice that seemed more sing-song, though you were certain Hiccup couldn’t ever hold that sort of tone without it sounding weird, or out of place.

“What are you getting at?” You sniped, stomach dropping, “Are you feeling fine? You’re not mad, are you? About before?”

Hiccup’s shoulder’s seemed to jump, nose wrinkling as he grimaced.

“Yup, great… You left me behind, remember,” Hiccup said sarcastically, drily, “So, you know, I’m feeling so warm and fuzzy and loved. So, how are you, by the way? I never really got an explanation for that.”

You grimaced, resisting the urge to bristle at that, knowing in half that he was just baiting you. 

You finished pulling up your boot, stuffing your pants leg into the fur lining, feeling incredulous.

You finally understood what it meant for the others, when they said they were annoyed by Hiccup. His sarcasm didn’t seem so funny when you were on the other end of it.

Now you just felt bitter and annoyed.

Pot-kettle. 

Well, if he wanted something to scoff at then he’d get something to scoff at.

“Oh, thank you,” You nodded sarcastically, hand braced against your knee, in an action that was more Astrid-like than you would have preferred it to be, “I’m great.”

Hiccup scoffed again, and you felt another spike of irritation in your chest that you weren’t inclined to smother.

Instead, you yanked on the handle of the bucket, tugging it upwards and nearly wrenching your arm with the force of it, and the weight of the bucket, made heavier by the plants and water inside, and dumped it over his head.

“I-uh, ah-ha!” His voice started normal but hitting a higher nasal as it peaked, the contents of the bucket dumping over his face and pasting his hair to his cheeks, water-darkened and tangled with pond plants.

Hiccup stopped for a second, choking on his spit, looking at you incredulously, astonished and definitely upset. 

How things could have gone so sour so fast was lost on you.

You glared at him, “Having fun picking that up all on your own.”

Then you marched off, kicking back through the undergrowth as you made it your mission to get as far away as possible.

“You messed up, dude,” Tuffnut spoke with faux wisdom, with words supposed to trigger something in you like you cared at all what he thought, or agreed that somehow in some way he might have known better.

Twins had a certain air about them. They took themselves more seriously than anything else, a level of self-involvement that made it seem like their words had merit whenever they said things of the soul-searching. Most people put their advice above all others, some even vyed it, not that the Twins would ever help anyone on purpose.

You thought they were just stupid.

You’d long since ceased to be fond of it.

It was obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, and it just made you mad.

You missed when you were miserable, because it made everything else feel duller.

“Yeah, well, how do you think I felt?” You asked, incensed, “After he spent all that time blowing me off to hang out with you guys?”

You shouted frustratedly, a nonsensical thing, as you grabbed at the air.

“It was well something well deserved and if he can’t pull his head out of his- if he can’t pull your helmet horns out of his ass long enough to see it then I don’t need it-! You-! Him. The whole lot of you!” You snarked, feeling incredibly hostile as you marched off for the second time that day.

Hiccup stood, rubbing his chin with his hand, leaning against the wooden side of a hut feeling slightly stressed.

He’d… Overheard your shouting.

You’d seemed fine, but then again, your fine was kind of… not. He thought you’d have found someone else to hang out with. 

It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal at the time. He’d always talked about wanting to be friends with the others, and you’d never said anything against it. You hadn’t. But he got it now. The shoe was on the other… prosthetic.

It was all karma.

He really did mess up, didn’t he?

[alianoralacanta]

Hi! So I am a newer fan and I know you've been a Charles fan for so long, was it really unusual for him to be this outspoken about Ferrari and his true feelings after the races? Because the way some people responded to his statement you would think he flipped the middle finger to Sainz and his entire family.

I also know he has this reputation to be more PR-oriented than Sainz. I think it was China where Charles said he and Carlos had talked and everything was fine in response to a journalist, and Carlos had said the complete opposite, that they hadn't talked at all.

Judging from my activity panel, a few other people have had similar questions…

Charles sometimes gets outspoken out of anger after races. It's not common, but also within character for him. For people who've followed Charles long enough, he tends to "leak" the emotions he's feeling no matter how hard he tries to hide them, to the point where even I, who in most circumstances is pretty bad at interpreting body language, can reliably do so. Usually he keeps an impressive amount of verbal control while still making it obvious what he feels. Sometimes, though, this does not happen. Before Spain 2024, the target of the outspokenness was always one of two people: himself, and whoever his team boss happened to be at the time. The outbursts against himself became notorious, especially Baku 2019 and Turkey 2020. If you hear about journalists talking about Charles being self-deprecating or looking to improve his own performance before looking to others, that reputation got founded on him being vocally harsh towards his own mistakes on the radio and in subsequent interviews on several occasions. To the point where a lot of Charles' fans outright fear the "Leclerc radio" message appearing following a mistake. He's got better at keeping things in proportion now, but knowing how harsh he can be helps with understanding what happens when others raise his ire. There are two occasions where he had significant outbursts like this towards a boss: Singapore 2019 and Silverstone 2022. On the first of these, Charles thought he'd got a third win in a row in the bag. However, Sebastian Vettel made an early stop in order to protect his ability to fight for a podium spot (something Charles wasn't offered since Ferrari had no especial reason to believe his win was under threat in that direction) - and it was so effective Sebastian ended up leading, and winning, the race. it soon emerged that Charles did not have a valid complaint to make, but he was so angry that he complained anyway. (Charles ended up apologising later that week, after his error was explained to him). This, I think, is what some of Carlos' fans think Charles was doing on Sunday but wasn't. They think Charles complained without cause, took the shine off what was otherwise a special occasion for them (Carlos' last Ferrari race in Spain until further notice) - and thus they think Charles owes them an apology. However, Charles has always been careful to leave a certain amount of ambiguity in his post-race verbal conduct towards team-mates, even when he's upset with them. He's sometimes had to assert boundaries with Carlos in the past when Carlos has overstepped a boundary, and sometimes queried something Sebastian did, but always with an eye to keeping channels of communication open. A "we'll talk about this" or "I need to see the data" can change a blunt criticism into a perspective that could potentially require other perspectives to understand the full truth. The latter tends to be more palatable to observers and thus PR people, even if both allow Charles' true opinions to be voiced.

[bxttxrflybxddie]

Dating Gray

a/n: he had one sentence in my valentine's post so I decided to do him justice! timeline purposefully left ambiguous!!

warnings: fluff, talk of crime, slight angst

pairing: graham "gray/crackle" calloway x reader

Graham is a man who's been orphaned and left to defend himself by whichever means necessary. After being in that unhealthy headspace for so long, he will happily accept any and all affection from you.

No matter your status when it comes to criminal activity, you're aware of his. It's not surprising for him to gift you a trinket of your interest occasionally. However, the more he parts with VILE the less it happens.

Even if you're a VILE operative yourself, he'll keep the unknown details of his mission to himself. He doesn't want to worry you, burden you with the particulars, or somehow change how you see him.

He likes to be goofy with you! Joke about his accent and he'll poke fun at you back. (Nothing you're seriously unconfident about, don't worry!)

Gray is touchy! He definitely knows how to work his charisma to get what he wants, but he doesn't have to pull any fake smirks with you. Indulging in physical affection is always a treat. Hand on your waist, Arm resting on your shoulder, Forehead pressed against yours, you name it.

This also introduces the fact that he loves to kiss you. So much. It doesn't matter the pace, intensity, or location. Let him place his lips on you, please! (Yes, you can make him beg for them.)

Between his work (either occupation) and your schedule, he tries his best to make time for the both of you that isn't date night. He's up pretty early, would you like to join him at the gym? Morning sunlight is peeking through the curtains, join him for a cuppa? It's almost time for bed, one more movie? You'll get to pick!

Go to one of his shows. Do it. Surprise him as he's leaving and he'll be grinning for a week.

Want to make him smile with glee? Compliment him on something other than his looks. He knows he's devilishly attractive, but it's a gift to hear how you view him besides that.

Growing up as an orphan on the streets meant that every meal wasn't promised. He appreciates you helping him stay fed! Take him on grocery trips and ask for his input. He'll stay with the flow and have no strong opinion, but it's certainly the thought that counts.

He's big on nicknames! Not too many, but they're used often. Usually the iconic "Sweetheart", "Darlin'", or "Love" but he'll also have one or two about an inside joke in your relationship.

Cuddle with him as often as possible. It's the highlight of his day. It plays into his preference for touch. It makes him feel wanted.

© BXTTXRFLYBXDDIE

[jarl-deathwolf]

It's been a little annoying to go through the BG3 tag - and especially Gale's tag - and see all the people relentlessly tearing into Mystra over her ultimatum to Gale. It's especially bad when they're comparing that situation with Lae'zel's or Shadowheart's.

Just to be clear: I love Gale to pieces! He's my funny little guy with a slightly morally ambiguous heart of gold. But... he was absolutely in the wrong in his conflict with Mystra.

I'll slap a read more here in case you disagree and don't want to hear me out on this

First off, his reasons for getting the orb in his chest in the first place was intended as a romantic gesture to Mystra... but also one intended to 'prove himself' worthy of her. Which she had repeatedly said over and over that he didn't need to do. He had already proved that - he was one of her Chosen!

It was a romantic gesture that she didn't ask for, didn't want, and was more for Gales piece of mind than anything. Not a good start, honestly.

I'll forgive him for how badly it turned out. How would he have been able to predict that it wasnt mystras weave fragment that he found? But the end result is still important. You might not have intended to burn someone's house down, but you can hardly call the person irrational when they're mad at you afterwards! Especially when they specifically told you not to juggle torches!

Doubly so when you remember that Mystra saved Gales life when it happened. If Mystra had done nothing, Gale would have just died when the orb got attached. And it was Mystra who made it so he could continue to satiate the bomb by feeding it magic items.

I'm less sure on this point but I think the implication with her "fixing" the bomb in early Act 2 was her just feeding it with her own personal power.

Which leaves us with the big, thorny issue - Mystra telling Gale to blow himself up to destroy the Absolute.

On the face of it... yeah, that's pretty extreme. But remember that Mystra is a deity and probably understands more of what's going on than the party does at that time. So she understands what exactly is coming for the Sword Coast.

Even if she doesn't- she knows about the illithids and their reproduction. If Gale fails at any step of the road or if his mysterious protection gives out, then his soul is GONE.

And that's the part people forget about the bomb - yeah, it'll kill Gale, but it ends the threat of the absolute and his soul is saved, sent safely to Mystras hall.

To an immortal God, that's the important part - a mortal life is fleeting but a soul is forever.

And that's what divided Mystra from Shar or Vlaakith - she actually cares about her followers and tries to help them, even when they constantly question her or go against her warnings

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 3

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna) [p.s. y'all kno i try to keep her features ambiguous asf but i think i mentioned her having long/waist-length hair at some point :') maybe i should just give her features but i kinda like leaving it open-ended]

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, stalking/possessive themes, pet names [kitten, baby, princess, pretty], manhandling, mentions of depression, smoking (w33d, cigarette), profanity, dub/non-consented sex, begging, fingering, orgasm denial, brat taming (kinda), rough sex, creampie (pls don’t b silly & cover ur willy), coercion, alcohol/drinking, peer pressure, jjk manga reference (no major spoilers, jus some of the same phrasing-lmk if u spot it lolol), groping, somnophilia (a bit)

word count/plot: [18.4k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: Sooo i’m not joking about all the warnings so pls b thorough w reading them. I really don’t want anyone to feel misled bc i do take my time to type everything out bc this stuff is dark & not a happy jolly love story. I feel like a part of why I even write this story is bc i want to explore the characterization of someone extremely entitled and completely helpless to their impulses vs someone who is relatively sheltered & always in fight or flight mode-its all p twisted but can u tell i wasn’t in a good place when i first started this LMAO. anyway, jus b warneddd

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , chapter 3 , ch. 4

They fucked. They fucked a lot. Whether it be at night after his basketball practice or mid-day in school. In study rooms, the locker room, empty classrooms-wherever they could find.

Some days he wanted her extra early, he’d have her first thing in the morning or right after she changed into uniform. Or-when he’s feeling extra desperate-he’d have her in his car in the parking lot, right after driving them to school. He liked seeing her all flush-faced and flustered while zooming out of his car those mornings.

He never seemed to get enough. 

And she couldn’t take it. Her veil was slipping away with each encounter with him. She cried a lot when he wasn’t around and grew incredibly frustrated whenever he was around. Her patience was running incredibly thin—despite knowing her options were limited, she never stopped fantasizing of ways to end their ‘relationship’ on the daily.

The cops left their school a week ago. It seemed they gathered all the information they needed. And seeing how lax Gojo was, she knew without a doubt that he’d gotten off without a scratch. She didn’t even think anyone suspected him.

How could they? When she was the only one that’d seen it all—The only one who knew the reason.

Noel hadn’t come back to school—rumor had it that he’d transferred schools. Rumor also had it that it was Nanami’s doing because-apparently-Noel stole jewelry from Nanami’s house the night of the party. 

She couldn’t help but doubt that rumor. Noel was well off, he didn’t need someone else’s mothers jewelry. But she supposed transferring to another school district couldn’t be helped, especially not after having a label like ‘robber’ stuck to you at a school full of rich kids. It didn’t help that he robbed his own team captain at that; it was something his reputation couldn’t come back from-at this school, anyway.

She wished she could directly ask him what happened that night but she doubted she’d get the chance now.

Eitherway, she knew something was more than suspicious about that situation. And it made her more than just irritable when she thought of Gojo going on with his daily life while other people had to face the repercussions of his actions.

Suddenly the sound of a car honking drew her from her thoughts.

She immediately glanced over to see a matte black Mercedes G-Wagon pulling up beside her. The passenger window rolled down to reveal an unruly, platinum haired boy with the most lethal smirk on his lips.

He lowered his sunglasses, “You forgot about me already?”

She’d gotten so lost in her thoughts she must’ve accidentally walked right past his car. She swallowed-hesitating for only a moment before slipping into his car.

The second she shut the car door, she tried not to be tense. She knew what was coming and he did exactly that.

His hand slid around her nape, his crystalline eyes affectionate as he leaned over to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. He always greeted her like he missed her—as if he hadn’t been in her bed an hour ago.

Since he slept over most nights he'd wanted to leave some of his clothes at hers. She immediately refused-using the excuse that if her Dad found his clothes in her room she was bound to get in trouble.

In reality, she needed the hour he took to go home and change in the morning for herself. He was always around-it felt suffocating sometimes. Suffocating enough that she almost liked school.

Except for when he texted her ‘i wanna see you’ in the middle of class. That text filled her with dread every time.

Aside from school, that ‘morning hour’ and his basketball practice-they were almost always together. Like now, he always picked her up the same time her bus usually came to pick her up. He also parked a block away from her house-her orders, because she had a thing about discretion.

He broke the kiss, his fingers playing with her hair, “What’s got you in a daze, kitten?”

She inadvertently tensed, “Nothing.”

He assessed her before his gaze grew warm, “Always so serious.” he mused.

He ruffled her hair and she pushed his hand away. He leaned back in his seat before driving in that one-handed fashion that he always did.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed him take an unfamiliar route. She watched him pull into one of the nearby gated communities.

She didn’t build up the courage to ask about their whereabouts until he stopped in front of a house that couldn’t have been worth less than two million. The architecture of the house was rather modern, with a lot of glass wall panels and a marble driveway.

“This isn’t school.” the words came out more curt than she intended.

“Correct. We’re picking Suguru up.”

Her eyes widened and before she could speak the back door of the car opened and Geto slipped inside. He was dressed in uniform. His hair tied back in his typical man bun, she’d never seen him without it.

Geto patted Gojo on the shoulder in greeting before settling into the backseat. “Yo.”

Geto caught her gaze and merely nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Yooo,” Gojo greeted-rather enthusiastically-before pulling out of the driveway. “Busted your car, didn’t ya?”

“Shut the hell up. I get it back tomorrow.”

Gojo smirked, “Damn-tomorrow? Kinda liked it when you rely on me.”

“Yeah well I’d rather hang myself before getting on a smelly bus.”

Ara flushed.

Geto continued, “Did you do the calc homework?”

“Yeah, you want it?”

“Do you remember what you got for the last question?”

They continued to converse until Gojo parked in the school parking lot.

Gojo checked his watch, “We still got fifteen minutes left till homeroom.”

“Great, I had to print out something from the library anyway.”

Geto stepped out of the car only to pop his head back in a second before he shut the door, “Yo, make sure to send me the calc homework.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gojo said, slipping his phone out his pocket to do just that.

Geto’s eyes seemed to catch Ara’s for a moment, “Bye, Natsuna.”

She blinked, “Bye.”

Geto shut the car door before walking off in the direction of school. The familiar sound of a text being sent was audible, “There.” Gojo muttered.

“You told him.” Ara spoke, rather outright.

He raised a pale brow, “What?”

“He knows.. about us.”

Gojo blinked.

She held his gaze, trying not to look as unnerved as she felt, “I thought we agreed on keeping us a secret.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“And?” her irritation got the best of her. “What if he tells someone?”

“He’s not like that. Besides, you told Millie too-didn’t you?”

“No.”

“She knows we fucked.”

She flushed, “Yeah, and that’s it. I didn’t tell her we’re together.”

A subtle grin tugged at the corner of his lip, “Love when you say it.”

His hand went to the headrest of her seat-leaning towards her, “You could tell her. You can tell anybody you wan-“

“I prefer to keep things private,” she bit out, “You know this. How come I always have to listen to you but you never listen to me?”

The second the question left her lips, she froze. She felt it—the invisible line she’d crossed. She felt herself treading into dangerous territory.

His voice was oddly calm, “I do listen to you.”

It was true, sometimes he did but- “Only when you want to.” The words tumbled out of her, a whispery quality to her voice.

Suddenly his hand was at her nape, forcing her to look up at him. “Because you still hide things from me, Ara. I want you to tell me everything. I’m willing to tell you anything because I’m willing to give you everything. You just need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

She grabbed his wrist, her mind boggled. She shoved his hand away from her neck, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m willing to wait, Ara. I told you that I’m gonna be your everything and I meant it.”

His gaze was determined as he spoke, “I want you to open up to me because you want to-because you love me.”

She froze-holding his gaze for a moment before speaking a bit shakily, “You couldn’t handle it if I told you what’s on my mind.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Tell me,” he insisted, “Tell me one thing.”

She didn’t have enough energy to hold back- “I want space.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye once she said the words-simply staring straight out his blacked out windows. She tried not to tremble as the silence hung like weight between.

“I don’t believe in space.” His voice was cold.

She shivered, fighting the urge within her to just clamp up and be silent as she stuttered out, “I-I told you.. you couldn’t handle it.”

She nearly yelled when he grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her to face him.

His eyes were ablaze with such anger it was nearly palpable, “Is there another boy?”

Her eyes widened before narrowing, “What?! No-!“ she twisted her head away from his hold, shoving his arm back.

His arm barely budged but he complied anyway, releasing her.

“Then why the hell do you want space?”

“Because we’re always together! I-I barely have time to myself. Y-your always there.”

“You had enough time to yourself. All those years before I found you was enough.” His tone was frigid, unrelenting.

She wanted to cry-she couldn’t do this anymore. “Y-you see,” she choked out, “I can’t speak my mind.”

His hand found her nape again, forcing her to face him—forcing her near as tears spilled down her face.

“No,” his tone was calm, yet the icy undercurrent within his words could not be denied, “You only want space because you’re afraid of falling for me. You think the more you get away from me you can convince yourself you don’t need me and I won’t have any of that.”

His voice turned lethal-completely deadpan, “I’m never letting you go.”

The words felt all too heavy-all too weighted-all too much. She hated this feeling; the feeling of having found another cage. This was exactly what she didn’t want.

Another situation that she didn’t know how to get rid of.

She shoved herself out of his grasp, looking away before he could see more tears spilling out of her eyes or how she was biting down on her lip hard to control her sob. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.

She didn’t think when she stepped out of his car and ran towards school. All she wanted to do was get away from him.

She didn’t respond to him all day-and the terror of it all didn’t hit her until she was home, in the middle of doing her nightly skin care routine.

Fuck.

She froze, lowering her hand as she stared at her terrified expression in the mirror-the memory of how angry he looked when she muted him resurfacing.

She’d felt incredibly depressed after their argument, going class to class like a zombie until all her emotions became numb. She was incredibly zoned out, fatigued. She hadn’t checked her phone once all day.

The second she got home, she fell back into her old routine of napping after school. She felt refreshed after waking up and was able to do her homework with perfect concentration-not one stray thought clouding her mind.

She didn’t realize what she was disassociating from until now.

She quickly wiped her hands and retrieved her phone to check the time. 10:29 pm.

She blinked. That was way past his practice time. He would normally be at her place by now. What is going on?

Her heart raced. Too say she was worried wouldn't nearly cover how fidgety she was feeling. He never did this before.

She swallowed, wandering out her room to glance out the window. She was nearly certain it had something to do with their argument-it had to, right?

Her stomach rolled at the thought of him being angry. She stared at his several texts with growing horror.

9:59 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: hi

10:45 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: araa let’s talk

11:37 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: i wanna see you

11:39 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: talk to me ara

1:24 pm - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: u fr ignoring me?

1:45 pm - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: u can’t ignore me forever yk

Her horror grew a thousand fold. She never ignored his texts-especially not after the ‘muting’ incident. But this-she’d ignored his ‘i wanna see you’ text, the first time she'd done such a thing. She was sure-most terrifyingly sure-there was no way she was getting out of this unscathed.

He was sure to be fuming.

She held her phone to her chest, dropping to her knees in the middle of her room. Questioning everything.

I shouldn’t have argued with him. Oh my god.. God, why didn’t I check my phone? Why?! Fuck, fuck, fuck !

She raked a hand through her hair. There was no way she was going to get an ounce of sleep tonight. She was terrified of what he would do.

Her eyes widened. I should text back. Maybe that’ll calm him.

She fumbled for her phone only to freeze when she saw a new notification appear. It was him.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: come outside

Her heart stopped. What should I do?

Her mind scrambled for the safest option. Her fingers hesitated before flying across the keyboard.

ara: i just saw ur texts sorry

Before she could send out her next reply, three typing dots appeared from his end and he responded a millisecond later.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: just come outside .

She froze. She couldn’t help but think he was mad-definitely mad. He never texted like that.

Oh no..

Her anxiety spiked. She knew she had to go.. Her eyes squeezed shut, chest tightening.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: i won’t repeat myself ara

Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

ara: im coming

She stared at her text with dread and.. frustration. Frustration because she couldn't believe he could command her like this-invoking her forced compliance. Dread because.. she had no clue what he would do.

She hugged herself tight as she slowly approached his car, which was parked at its usual spot down the block. He knew to avoid the cameras around her house.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she knocked on the G-wagon passenger door before stepping inside.

He was facing out his window before she knocked. He immediately glanced over-tapping off the burnt edge of his joint.

His radiant eyes scanned her impassively before puffing out smoke slowly. The smoke silently curling in the air between them.

“Close the door.” he muttered.

She blinked, immediately glancing towards the passenger door to see that her hand was still on the handle. She hadn’t fully closed it.

She refrained from audibly swallowing before closing the door. She flinched when the car door locked.

She glanced over his way to see him swiftly adjust the gear to ‘drive’-mode and get the car on the road. The speed of the action made her throat tighten.

Her intertwined hands fidgeted in her lap uneasily. She contemplated apologizing for not responding to his texts-but she couldn’t find it in herself too. She almost didn’t want to remind him. Even if he was angry, he seemed somewhat calm right now.

She couldn’t ever be sure with him.

She didn’t want to break the silence. Her mind going a mile per minute before finally spurting out, “Where are we going?”

Ever since their ice cream hangout, he always wanted to take her to places at night but she always refused. The paranoia of her Dad finding out always overwhelmed her.

“To a party.” he responded, airily.

Her head whipped around to face him. She stared in shock as he indifferently took another hit from the joint.

“W-what?” she questioned, blankly. Her voice low.

“We’re going to a party.”

She stared at him. He couldn’t be serious… Entering a party with him-everyone would know what that meant, everyone would see them.

“I-“ she scrambled for words, “I can’t go.”

“Yes, you can.” his voice completely assured.

“No, I can’t, Satoru,” she fought to keep her voice even. “My Dad might check on me a-and we can’t show up to an event together-“

“Fuck your Dad and fuck being private.”

She stared at him in astonishment. His eyes were ablaze as he threw his burnt out joint out the window.

“Sick of that shit. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

She felt herself growing sick. Is this supposed to be her punishment? No. no. no.. She couldn’t allow this, word would spread like wildfire and if her Dad were to somehow find out.. It was a huge risk-one that she wasn’t willing to take.

It didn’t help that something about the briskness of his words made her impulsively tap into her anger.

Her tone came out firm-with a tinge of desperation, “What do you have to prove to people?”

A wicked smirk slipped across his lips, “I don’t give a fuck about people. But you do-don’t you? You think your Pops is gonna find out. You know the attention you're gonna get bein’ mine and you hate it.”

He continued, “I don’t give a shit about either excuse anymore. Anything happens, they’ll have to come through me first.”

“Excuse?” she repeated in contempt-filled shock before sputtering out, “Y-you don’t understand-“

“What? That your Dad’s old school? He doesn’t allow you to date? Who cares-If he hears some shit just tell him it’s a rumor.”

Suddenly anger overrode her fear. Her words came out sharp, “Do you think I would be like this if it were that easy?”

“Then tell me why its not.”

She froze, her partly open lips gradually closing. She’d nearly told him-her answer just on the tip of her tongue-but it felt wrong. Telling someone her family issues would be a first, and-on top of that-confiding in him of all people? She’d rather die.

Her voice was low as she spoke through gritted teeth-attempting to keep her emotions at bay, “Just-take me home.” she choked out, shakily.

He glanced over at her. She felt his gaze on her and quickly faced the window. Her jaw locked as she swallowed, hard.

She squeezed her eyes shut as a heavy silence followed. She felt the tension build into a knot in her stomach.

She hesitantly glanced his way to see his expression was completely cold-to glacial levels. Not one emotion on his face.

She felt herself go breathless but decided to push her luck anyway. She needed to go home.

“P-please, Satoru.” she whispered.

His hand on the wheel tightened, “You’re coming with me. That’s final.”

She felt her heartbeat go faster. The finality in his tone was suffocating. She hated how helpless she felt; she felt the weight of it in every point of her body. Unease swirled underneath her skin, making her tremble slightly.

She couldn’t go to this party. She had to try. She needed to think of something.

“Satoru..”

“Hm?”

She fought to keep her voice even, “I’m dressed in pjs, I-I can’t go like this.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s Shoko’s party, I’ll tell her to let you borrow somethin’ “

She gnawed on her bottom lip, facing the window again as she racked her mind for something. It was hard to think through the turmoil of emotions swirling within her.

Her desperation got the best of her as she spoke, her voice cracking, “Please, don’t do this. Just take me home-I-I want to be home.”

He sucked his teeth, his ill-tempered expression faltering a second to reveal something more worn out. He looked almost exhausted.

“Why’d you have to whine today of all days? I don’t have the patience today.”

Her stomach twisted at how he spoke. He made it sound as if he were complaining about a pet being disobedient. Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched into fists.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my peace or some shit.” he muttered.

She chose not to dwell on his words, instead she inhaled a much needed breath before speaking quietly, “I’m sorry to bother you.. I promise I’ll stop once you take me home.”

A short, dry laugh left him, “Nah.”

His fingers tapped the steering wheel before he glanced her way, “I can think of a few other ways you could put me at ease.”

Her eyes widened when he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Her stomach swirled with dread. He wouldn’t—

He stepped out of the car and easily made it to her side. He opened the passenger side door, his tall frame nearly blocking the entirety of the entrance.

She stared at him in horror. His blue crystal-like eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile grew on his lips as he looked at her.

She was still for a millisecond before attempting to zip past him through the narrow space underneath his arm-but he caught her easily. Almost as if he anticipated it.

She was yanked to his side, “Relax, kitten.”

Her limbs flung out, trying to connect with anything as she twisted in his grasp. Sounds of frustration leaving her lips as she yelled, “Let go-! Let go of-!”

He swung open the back door as she struggled in his hold. He tossed her in the backseat, her back flat against the seats. She didn’t get a second to process because Gojo was suddenly above her-the wide ceiling of the car providing him ample room.

She opened her mouth to scream but froze when a smug grin split across his lips, “Go ahead, be as loud as you want.”

He tilted his head slightly, “No one’s around to hear you.”

Her heart sank when she realized he was right. Whatever road they were on was rather deserted. She hadn’t seen anyone drive past them for the past ten minutes.

His lips brushed over hers, “No one but me.”

She shoved him off, a short cry leaving her lips as she twisted fiercely underneath him—attempting to turn her body and grasp the nearest car door handle.

His large hand found the meeting place of her neck and shoulder-and shoved her down. She yelled out.

“Where do you think you’re goin’ Ara.”

She stared up at him-momentarily frozen. His pale face was directly over hers, too close-everything too visible. The faint flush over his high cheekbones, the subdued spark in his dilated eyes, the hard-set of his jaw.

Strands of his white hair tickled her forehead as his hand came up to the side of her face. His thumb gliding over her bottom lip-playing with it almost. “You can’t escape me.” he reminded her, softly.

Tears filled her eyes and her arms moved before she could process it. She scrambled, she didn’t even know what she was doing. She wasn’t sure if she was shoving him or hitting him-all she knew was that she had to get away from him.

It took him an entirety of two seconds to pin both of her hands above her head with just one of his own. A sob left her lips as she writhed. She threw her head back in frustration.

His other hand slid down her ribs, over her stomach—pushing her arched body back down against the seats.

“Fuck, you’re testing me today.”

He pushed her legs aside with his free hand before easily tugging her sweats off. 

After removing them, he spread her bare legs and hooked them over his own. Despite being clothed himself, his erection made itself evident through the tent at his groin. The tip of the tent poking right against her panties, right over where it wanted to be.

She gasped, her hands pushing against his hold on her wrists as she struggled.

“N-no! Gojo-stop! Please-I don’t want to-!”

He began to thumb her clit over her panties, giving her a completely different reason to writhe underneath him.

“You think you get the choice?” he hissed, “You think I forgot how you ignored me all day, hm? I needed you, kitten. You ignored me.”

She let out a choked moan when he squeezed her clit slightly, “You can’t ignore me now, hm?” he taunted.

She felt his cock twitch against her cunt. He was already so hard, she couldn’t help but feel terrified.

“S-satoru, plea-nngh!” she moaned shakily, betraying herself. His fingers knew his way around her too well. He knew where to touch her-to make her whimper-to make her moan.

His thumb moved expertly along her puffy clit, pressing at the point where it throbbed the most to make her squeal.

Her shoulders shook as she twisted under him, her arms sore from how much she thrashed in his hold. His grip on her wrists never loosened.

She immediately turned her face aside when he lowered his face above hers. A strangled moan leaving her lips when her clit grew slightly hard under his ministrations–making her all the more sensitive to his touch at its tense bud. She was close, and he knew it too.

A low gasp left her lips when his touch disappeared, leaving her clit throbbing with need–aching for more. She’d been seconds away from her peak.

She felt her hips rise, nearly chasing his touch before freezing. Her frustration surprised her–her eyes going wide in shock.

No… no!

“You wanted more, didn’t you, kitten?” he spoke huskily against her temple before taunting, “Beg for it.”

She gasped when she felt his long fingers touch her pussy lips, spreading her wetness along her folds. She hated that she enjoyed his touch–she hated that she knew he was prepping her.

She turned her head to face him, the hatred clear in her eyes before she spit in his face.

“Never.”

A growl ripped from his throat and the next thing she knew she was screaming. His index and middle finger fucking her so hard, her hips bucked with each thrust.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Ara,” he promised darkly in her ear, “I’m gonna fuck the disobedience right outta you.”

She screamed once more when his fingers felt like they slammed too deep. The lewd sounds of her wetness felt too loud each time his fingers fully submerged themselves in her.

“I-I hate you.” she sobbed, her head shaking back and forth as she tried to tame her moans.

“Your pussy doesn’t.”

She hated that he was right. With each ferocious thrust of his fingers, drops of her wetness flew in the air-leaving wet spots on his pants, his shirt. It was embarrassing–and completely lewd. She squeezed her thighs, aching to close her legs but his body was planted firmly between them–keeping her legs wide open, her pussy completely vulnerable to his advances.

She sobbed, her back arching as she felt herself get as wet as he liked. Her pussy sloshing with juices, her insides a complete sopping mess. It hadn’t taken long due to his teasing earlier.

She knew he liked when he got her like this, so he could completely submerge his huge cock into her straight away despite how narrow she was inside. It made her realize-with daunting clarity-how rough he was planning on being.

He groaned before removing his fingers from her cunt and slipping them into his mouth. A jolt of electricity zipping up her spine as she watched him deftly suck his fingers clean. He loved her taste.

“Fuck,” he muttered, a bit breathless.

He reached down to unzip himself, his luminous eyes never leaving hers as he did so. Her legs trembled.

He didn’t miss the subtle action-his gaze dropping to her shaky legs. His hand slid down her inner thigh, making her trembling worse.

“You scared?” he murmured, quietly-before grabbing her by the hip to pull her sopping cunt directly against his groin. She felt his length press against her through his jeans, he was so stiff she couldn’t help but shiver.

He moved her trembling legs over his shoulders, “You should be.”

She felt tears slip down her face as she tried to contain her sob. She lifted her hips-her cunt inadvertently rubbing his clothed cock as she tried to push at his grip on her wrists-frustration consuming her. She hated how weak the action felt against the strength of his grip.

He chuckled darkly.

“Please, stop..” her voice shook, but she knew her pleas would be futile.

He began to unzip himself once-more. Her body jolted when she felt his hot, bare cock press against her pussy lips. Her wetness making it all too easy for him to glide his thick, veiny length through her folds.

He pulled back slightly, wrapping his hand around his cock to press its tip into her clit—making her squeal. He began to rub his cockhead against her clit in painstakingly slow circles.

His breath hitched as he watched her stir underneath him. She attempted to lift her hips away from him but he was adamant, keeping his cock right at the bud of her pleasure—knowing how it would make her feel.

“I’m gonna make you wish you were good to me.”

Her eyes shot open at the coarseness of his voice, meeting his dominating gaze a second before he showed her the truth behind his words.

She screamed.

He’d buried himself into her to the hilt-in one brutally swift motion. His cock was so huge she felt like she could feel it throbbing at every point in her body. The sound of the action was so lewd, she couldn’t help but gape in embarrassment.

But he didn’t stop–he didn’t give her a second to adjust. Instead he made her mind go completely stupid when he fucked at her at the cruelest pace she’d ever felt. It felt like the cruelest pace known to mankind. She didn’t think her mouth ever closed.

The sound of his cock slamming into her was instantly repeated–it was never ending. Despite being so wet, the fit was still too tight–she was able to feel each bump, ridge and curve of his cock. Especially its head when it hit far too deep within her then it should've. Her body shook forcefully with each thrust.

Her legs on his shoulders gave him the perfect angle to drench his cock to brim in her juices—allowing him to thrust into her as mercilessly as he wanted. His pace was brutal-punishing.

She managed to finally gasp out words through her moans, “Oh my god-ngh!-I-I can’t! I can’t–Gojo, please.”

Her back arched as he didn’t stop-desperate mewls and cries leaving her lips. He clutched the side of her face-his nose grazing hers as he pressed his cock deep into her, making her hips rise as she groaned. She felt so filled.

His thumb wiped away a tear as he continued to thrust into her-a bit slower than before so he could revel in the feel of her slippery cunt. He didn’t know how she managed to be so soft and tight at the same time.

“Love seeing you cry on my cock like this,” he muttered raggedly, “Gets me so hard, kitten-so hard. I don’t wanna stop. I can’t stop.”

He groaned as he slowed down-as if it were taking him everything to do so. “I don’t wanna cum just yet.” he gritted out hoarsely.

He finally went still inside her. He released her hands to slip off his shirt and her eyes widened.

My hands are free.

It was a split second decision-one that was made without a single regard for how badly her body ached or how stiff her arms felt. She moved, using her legs on his shoulder to kick him back and twist her body towards the door.

She clutched the door handle and shoved it open, only to yell when she felt hands grip her waist and yank her back inside.

She screamed, struggling and kicking in his grip, “Let go—let go of me! Let go! Let g-“

Suddenly she was held up and plunged down on his cock in his lap. Her wetness completely enveloping him, instantly transforming her scream into a choked moan. Her body shook as her cunt was forced to accommodate him. The sensation all too much-tipping her to the edge of her sanity.

Her eyes squeezed shut as her cunt spasmed around his stiff cock. She jerked in his hold, nails scratching wildly at his arm around her, "N-no, nngghh," she choked out, moaning as her cunt squeezed him so tight, "Please-please—" she whisper-cried.

Despite all her struggle, he didn’t budge—he was completely immovable. He easily reached over and slammed the car door shut. The 'click' sound of the doors locking seemed to echo.

The second the door locked, his hand slipped around her neck and shoved her small back completely against his muscular chest. His other hand gripped her hip, keeping her rooted in spot as he shoved the full length of his cock into her. The head of his cock reaching a spot too deep.

“AHh-!”

“Enough.” he said the word without a drop of emotion.

Her whole body twitched, uneven gasps leaving her lips as his fingers tightened around her throat. Her back arched against him, his hand on her hip kept her cunt glued to him.

He stared at her parted lips, “When are you gonna learn, Ara..”

She whimpered when she felt his cock throb within her. She dropped her head-forcing herself to breathe.

His hand at her neck slid to her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder.

His lips brushed her throat, “I’m never letting you go.”

His cock didn’t stop moving after that. He fucked her. His actions embodying his words as his cock pistoned in and out of her ruthlessly.

His hold on her left her utterly useless to anything but his means. She could feel too much of him at this position. Her body trembling with each rough press of his cock.

Her throat was sore from how much cried-screamed-moaned. From pain or pleasure, she didn’t know anymore. All she knew was that she was completely consumed by him. There was nothing else but him.

He was everywhere. Beside her, near her, in her. 

Nowhere to escape. Just him. Only him.

His breaths were short, hot and desperate beside her ear. He bit at her neck and jaw needily. His hand on her neck now under her shirt, squeezing her tits with all his strength. His cock pounded into her harder.

She bucked forward, crying out. His arm over her tits kept her close to his firm body. With how hard he was fucking her, he had to hold her-to keep her from flying all over the place.

The pleasure building within her couldn’t be helped. Her skin felt hot and sweaty—at the cusp of something she couldn’t come back from. Every nerve within her body felt attuned to the brutal pace of his cock.

She flimsily grabbed the wrist of his hand at her tits, “Satoru, pl-nnghh-st-Satoru!” she yelled, wishing she could tell him to stop but the only thing that left her mouth was an earth shattering moan.

She jerked forward. Her pussy spasming hard around his cock. She felt like she’d entered another dimension—especially since his pace didn’t slow down. His cock drawing out her pleasure to the max.

His arms wound themselves tight around her smaller frame, keeping her close against him as her entire body jerked and trembled with her orgasm. Her back arched against him-his arms only tightening around her to pull her close again. She threw her head back and he buried his face into her neck.

She couldn’t stop moaning-screaming-she couldn’t tell anymore. All she knew her throat felt entirely too scratchy from all the noises she’d made during their fucking and now, her high.

Her pussy clamped around him. Her walls squeezing him so deliciously tight he swore he saw a glimpse of heaven. He groaned into her neck. The groan was so deep, so animalistic she felt it emanating through his chest against her back.

He leaned forward, burying his cock impossibly deeper as he came. She was too weak to even gasp at the feeling of his thick, warm cum spurting within her-completely coating her cunt walls. She merely twitched at the feeling of his stiff cock throbbing in her overly sensitive cunt. Streaks of his cum slipped out of her-down her inner thighs. There was simply no more room inside her.

Then finally, they both went still. Nothing but their breathlessness filling the silence.

She released his hair, she hadn’t realized she grabbed it mid orgasm. Her tits felt sore from how hard he’d squeezed her through his high.

She shivered when she felt his cock twitch within her-the aftermath of his peak. She felt so weak, so utterly used. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think anymore.

He was always so good at that-not making her think.

His arms loosened around her. His hands found the curves of her waist and pulled her upright with him. Even that subtle action made her body ache with soreness.

Suddenly he bit at her neck, nipping at her skin possessively while palming her tits under her shirt. She writhed weakly against him, his half-erect cock within her making her go still.

Her eyes shot open, she couldn’t let him get hard again.

His hands suddenly slipped underneath her knees, spreading her thighs apart. Her cheeks grew warm when she felt his gaze on her lower regions over her shoulder.

She swallowed when she saw all the marks and bruises from his hands on her earlier. He always grabbed her so hard. He always did whatever he wanted with her.

He shifted underneath her, his hips slowly pulling his cock out of her. When his cock finally slipped out, a lewd sound filled the car. She watched in horror as streams of his hot cum poured out of her cunt-it felt endless, it didn’t stop pouring out. It didn’t help that his cock was completely erect and shiny from her juices.

“Look at how wet you’ve made my cock, kitten,” his voice was husky against her temple, “You came so hard you were screaming-you screamed my name.”

Her eyes widened when she saw his cock twitch. She instinctively drew her legs together.

He harshly drew her legs apart, “You think anyone else could make you feel like that?”

She trembled when his hold around her thighs tightened. She knew he was bound to leave new marks at the skin there.

He pressed his nose to her temple, “Hm?”

She shivered, simply turning her face aside. She couldn’t find it in herself to speak.

“Answer me.” he whispered in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut, merely shaking her head.

“That’s right,” he muttered, “No one but me.”

His hand squeezed her inner thigh, making her jolt, “You’re mine, Ara. Mine.”

He watched a tear unconsciously make its way down her cheek, “I took your first and I’ll keep takin’ you forever.”

She flinched when she felt him deftly lick her cheekbone, catching her tear with his tongue-tasting her.

“You belong to me.”

He held her hand as she stepped out of the car. She silently followed him. She didn’t register anything about their surroundings-simply letting him lead her where he wanted.

She thought she faintly heard the sound of a phone ringing and going to voicemail. He grumbled in annoyance.

Suddenly a door swung open before them. Music blasting through the doors.

She glanced up to see Shoko standing at the door, “Hi snowman.”

“I was calling you.”

Shoko glanced over at her, “This her?”

Ara couldn’t help but sense the smirk in his voice, “Yeah.”

Ara glanced around-finally noticing her surroundings. She was on a vast, wrap-around stone porch. Empty alcohol bottles and burnt out joints were scattered all over the otherwise sparkling ground.

Suddenly Shoko was grabbing her hand, “I don’t know why you’re tellin’ me to dress her up when I can barely dress myself but I’ll have fun with this.”

Ara was dragged through the double doors and led inside the mansion. Ara didn’t the chance to admire the color changing chandelier in the lobby because she was getting pulled up the steps-or rather, dragged. Shoko walked pretty fast.

People were everywhere. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She didn’t want to see people from school.

People laughed boisterously-calling out to each other. Wearing shiny outfits. Drinks and joints in hand. They looked so happy, care-free. She felt so out of place.

A few people spoke to Shoko but she simply said a few words and shoo-ed them away. Ara was too zoned out to care.

Suddenly Shoko pushed open a door and led them both inside. It was a bedroom, decorated sparsely but lavishly. Each decoration piece looked as if it were taken from a museum or art studio.

It was quite obviously a girls room, due to the subtle feminine touches within the room despite the color scheme of the room being cream and sage.

“Alright, so…”

Ara stopped scanning the room to meet Shoko’s blank stare. The other girl looked curious but unamused at the same time. They’d seen each other before-in classes and such-but this had to be the most they’ve ever interacted.

Ara knew she was rather close to Gojo and Geto. Rumor also had it that her and Nanami were dating.

“I don’t know if I have clothes your taste or whatever but can you take your shirt off so I can see what I’m working with?”

Ara blinked, “Uh..”

She couldn’t blame the other girl for asking. She was wearing an oversized tee and loose fitting sweats.

Shoko sighed, walking over, “It’s just us girls-“

She easily slipped off Ara’s shirt and froze, “Holy shit.”

Ara grabbed her shirt and pressed it close to her chest-trembling slightly.

Shoko blinked several times before running a hand through her shoulder length hair, “Oh-wow, you and Satoru had a time, didn’t you..”

Shoko shook her head, “I don’t know what girls see in him.”

Ara was too tired to speak-to agree with her and say she saw nothing in him. All words simply felt too useless.

Shoko went to the closet and returned with a garment on a hanger and heels. She handed it to her.

“Put this on. I’ll try to see what we can do about the..” She gestured towards her chest before waving towards the attached bathroom, “I think my Mom might have some extra foundation shades…” she mumbled to herself.

Ara didn’t understand what she meant and was-frankly-too tired to care. Ara walked into the bathroom. She barely looked at the clothes before stripping and putting them on. The heels were strappy kitten heels that wasn't too bad but the dress... the dress fit a little too well.

She glanced in the mirror and stared in shock as she realized the dress was a sleeveless, bodycon minidress that ended mid-thigh. There were also a few patterned, cut-outs shapes that ran down the sides.

Her eyes widened when she saw what made Shoko curse earlier. Her neck was covered in marks-including her collarbones and cleavage. There were even a few bruises strewn along her exposed thighs.

She uncomfortably pulled the dress lower-only to freeze when she saw that it made her tits spill out a bit more at the top.

What the hell is this?

Ara felt naked. She’d never worn anything like this. She felt exposed.

A knock at the bathroom door made her jolt, “Did you put it on?”

Ara glanced down at herself before stuttering out, “Y-yeah.”

Shoko entered, her eyes widening as she gave her a once-over, “Pft. My moms real funny if she thought I’d look like that in that dress.”

Ara’s brows furrowed-unsure of what to make of the comment. Just as she was about to ask for something else to wear, Shoko gently took her hand.

“You have bruises on your wrists too?” she asked, while examining them, “Christ.”

Ara quickly pulled her hand away, trembling slightly, “Do you have something else I can wear.”

Shoko nodded, “Sure, is there anything you want instead of a dress maybe? A crop top? Skirt?”

Ara froze, hesitating. It was stupid.. she knew she was being stupid. Maybe it was because how genuine Shoko appeared when she asked or the calm sincerity in her tone but something about her asking about what she wanted.. It felt like the first time someone actually cared about her opinion-cared about what she wanted.

She choked slightly on her words, “C-can you get me home?”

Shoko blinked, “You want to go home?”

She nodded, “I-“ her voice cracked. What she wanted to say was ‘I can’t do this party. I never wanted to come to this party.’ but instead she started crying. She full on fell to her knees and started to cry-she couldn’t help herself.

“Oh my god,” Shoko gasped, going on her knees as well. “Shit, are you okay?”

Ara couldn’t speak-simply too consumed by sorrow to go on. Her shoulders shook as she continued to cry. She didn’t know how long she cried for but by the time she calmed down Shoko was gone and the bathroom door was closed.

Ara stood up slowly-grasping the counter to steady her wobbly legs.

Suddenly the bathroom door swung opened and Gojo entered. Shoko stood behind him, a concerned expression on her face.

“Ara-“ his words were cut short the second his eyes landed on her. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. His mouth still partly open as if in disbelief. Color swiftly rose to his cheeks.

Shoko shook her head, “Can you get over yourself and help her out already? I think you boned her enough.”

A smirk split across his lips, “It’s never enough.”

“Gross.” Shoko muttered as Gojo sauntered up to her. He ran his hands down her trembling arms. She couldn’t look away from him.

“You look stunning, kitten.” he murmured, giving her another once-over up close.

Stunning didn’t cover it. She looked sexy as hell. She was guaranteed to give every male an erection with one glance… and something about that fact filled him with an uncanny amount of satisfaction.

He cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes with his thumb. She was frozen.

He glanced over his shoulder at Shoko, “You gonna watch?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Hell yeah I am. God knows what you'll do in here if I don't."

His smirk reappeared, “You have no faith in me.”

“No one should.” Shoko bit back.

He merely slid his hand into Ara’s. “Let’s go.”

She gripped his hand tight. Her free hand latching onto his arm just as he moved to head out the door with her.

“W-wait, please,” she stuttered out. Panic suddenly rising through her numbness, “I can’t-I can’t—“ do this party. I want to go home.

He looked down to face her, “What's wrong, kitten?” he asked softly.

There was something humorous about that question-especially coming from him. In another life, she might've laughed. Instead her throat tightened up the second they locked eyes.

She casted a quick, side glance Shoko’s way. Shoko seemed to be watching them curiously.

She swallowed hard before glancing up at Gojo, “I..I can’t wear this dress.” her voice ending as a whisper.

There was a moment of silence as he looked at her. His gaze dropped to her feet before raking up her body ever so slowly. She felt as if he were committing everything he saw before him to memory.

When his eyes met hers, he exhaled through his nose-in faint amusement.

"Modest now, are we?" he teased.

The words would've hit her like a bullet once-making her hand itch to slap him-but now it had the impact value of a rock skipping water.

He released her hand to slip his hoodie off in one movement. He tugged it over her, "Happy?"

She stared down at the floor, nodding.

He slid his hand through hers. “Let’s go.”

Ara couldn't meet Shoko’s eyes as he led her out the bathroom. She knew the other girl only meant to help by calling him but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

“Wait.” Shoko spoke.

Gojo paused, glancing back towards her. He watched her crossed arms fall before she walked up to Ara. She reached around Ara's nape, pulling out the rest of her hair that'd gotten tucked underneath the hoodie.

Gojo saluted Shoko airily, “I’ll buy you a replacement for the dress.”

Shoko’s eyes widened, “What-“ she shook her head, “I don’t even wanna know.”

She was led through the crowd with Gojo ahead of her. She didn’t have to look up to know people were parting for them. Mainly, him.

Familiar voices of their classmates greeted him as he passed. He never let go of her hand, simply winking or dabbing up whoever he recognized as he walked through. She felt so many eyes on her, she wanted to puke.

She was wearing a hoodie so she knew it wasn’t her insane outfit. It was most definitely the man she was interlocking hands with. She hated how much attention the simple action of hand holding could garner simply because it was him.

The music was so loud, it was almost obnoxious. The smell of weed was everywhere, she felt like she’d inhaled enough second hand smoke to start feeling traces of being high herself. This was truly the last place she wanted to be.

Finally Gojo stopped walking, arriving at the center of the living room where all his friends were gathered.

He sat down on the couch next to Geto, easily tugging Ara down on his lap.

She gasped slightly, grasping Gojo’s shoulder to steady herself. She felt so uncomfortable.

Geto eyed her, his dark eyes going to her hand on Gojo’s shoulder. She immediately dropped her hand.

“I’m back.” he said with a small smile, “Hope I didn’t miss anything too interesting.”

“No,” Geto responded, “We just skipped your turn.”

“He wanted to play for you but that’s fuckin’ cheating. But—who the hell is that?”

She glanced up to see that it was Toji asking the question. The second they made eye contact his eyes widened in recognition.

“My girl,” Gojo responded with a growing smirk before tugging her close to press a light kiss on her cheek. “She can introduce herself.”

She swallowed, meeting Gojo’s gaze uneasily before facing the others seated around them. She recognized them one by one. Geto. Toji. Nanami. Haibara. And-it seemed-Shoko had just joined them as well.

She cleared her throat, “I’m Ara Natsuna.”

“I remember you,” Toji stated, “You were at Nanami’s party that time.”

Nanami grumbled, “Can we not talk about that.”

Toji chuckled, “My bad.”

Haibara’s voice piped up-rather animated, “At least you’re not grounded anymore!”

“I wasn’t grounded.” Nanami retorted flatly.

“Well your Mom basically put you on house arrest so you kinda were.” Haibara responded lightly.

Nanami looked slightly agitated as he slouched back in his seat, “Fuck those cops. They didn’t leave me alone for weeks.”

Shoko stood behind the loveseat Nanami occupied. She leaned against it, “Didn’t they stop questioning you last week?”

“Yeah, finally.”

Ara tensed slightly in Gojo’s lap. She’d completely forgotten Nanami must’ve gotten the brute end of questioning regarding the investigation for Arman and Jaemin's deaths-considering they died in his house.

She glanced at Gojo. His impassive expression turned into something more amused when he caught her gaze. She shivered when he ran a hand down her back.

He glanced at Nanami, “Need my help?”

She could only assume that meant contacting his Dad. His offer only reaffirmed her theory of his father's influence still persisting in law enforcement despite being retired.

“Nah, my lawyers got it.” Nanami muttered, looking rather worn. It seemed the investigation had taken a toll on him.

Ara didn’t miss how Shoko’s hand subtly dropped to Nanami’s shoulder from her perch behind him. She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before raising her hand to hold her cigarette as she lit it.

“Is no one shocked that Gojo settled down.” Shoko asked.

“Yeah, what’d you do to him, miss smarts.” Toji asked, “You the reason why he hasn’t been hangin’ out as much?” 

Gojo chuckled, “That’s bul-“

Haibara snapped his fingers, realizing belatedly, “Oh yeah! I haven’t seen you out the past few weekends-“ his eyes widened, “Woa, that’s unheard of.”

Shoko blew out a puff of smoke, “That’s what I’m saying.”

Suddenly she was being pulled further up Gojo’s lap. His hand on her waist slipped over her lower stomach, pressing her body close to his.

He kissed her neck, “Obviously I had better things to do.”

Ara’s face heated up just as the group broke out in ruckus—Haibara whistled. Nanami rolled his eyes. Shoko threw a red Solo cup at him-causing Geto to laugh.

Nanami looked unamused, “Fuck you.”

Toji was grinning as he shook his head, “This guy thinks he’s different.”

Gojo chuckled as he caught the cup after it bounced off him. He glanced within the cup to check its contents. It was filled a little less than half-way, it was a miracle the drink didn’t spill on him.

“Your drink is still in here.” he exclaimed with an astonished smirk.

“That's the point.” Shoko replied. His smirk widened before he set the drink down on the table before them.

He met Shoko’s narrowed eyes, “I’m obviously joking. I haven’t been out cuz I don’t wanna go without this one-“ he shook Ara slightly in his grasp, “Wouldn’t want her partying without me so.. gotta play fair.” he shrugged.

Ara’s brows furrowed. Am I supposed to appreciate that?

“What a gentleman.” Toji muttered before taking a swig of beer. She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Shoko blinked before meeting Ara’s gaze, “I hope this means you're coming out to more parties then?”

She felt Gojo’s nose nudge her temple, suggestively, “Hmm?” 

As if I had a choice in coming here.

Ara hesitated-shifting awkwardly in Gojo’s lap, “Um.. I don’t really like partying that much.”

Shoko tilted her head, “Why?”

Ara wasn’t really sure how to respond, “Well, Nanami’s party was my first so..”

“That was your first party?” Haibara questioned, nearly jumping out of his seat.

Toji shook his head, “I knew it.”

Nanami ran a hand over his face before grumbling, “I’d hate partying after that too.”

Ara nodded in response to Haibara’s question.

“But aren’t you a senior?” Haibara pressed, eyes wide in shock.

She nodded.

Haibara stared, his eyes flitting between her and Gojo. Gojo was resting his head on her shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around her.

Haibara blinked, “How did you find her?”

A devious grin split across Gojo’s lips. She felt his arms tighten around her slightly, “I got lucky.” he replied.

Haibara continued to stare at them in disbelief.

Shoko absentmindedly played with the ends of her short, blunt cut hair as she blew out another puff of smoke, “Okay well, to be fair the party was fun before all the.. bullshit, but I guess I can’t really blame you.”

Ara merely nodded. They had no idea what occurred in her house the same night after that party.

“But also-“ Shoko continued, “Not all parties are like that. I promise.”

“I’d kill myself if they were.” Nanami muttered.

Toji chuckled under his breath.

“Did you drink anything yet?” Shoko asked her.

Ara shook her head, “No.”

Shoko raised a brow-her eyes snapping to Gojo, “What kind of boyfriend are you? You didn’t get your girl a drink?”

Gojo raised his head from her shoulder, “I didn’t even get myself one,” he straightened slightly, as if preparing to stand up.

He looked down at her on his lap, “Do you want a drink?”

Shoko waved her hand, “Just stay put. I’ll get her one, you’d probably get her something lame like beer anyway.”

Haibara frowned, “Beer’s lame?”

Nanami responded flatly, “Don’t listen to her.”

Just as Shoko turned to leave Gojo yelled after her, “Get me one too!”

Shoko didn’t turn around as she flipped him off.

Toji picked up his deck of cards from the table, “Can we play now? I got money riding on this.”

Nanami chuckled as he looked at his own cards spread neatly in his hand, “You’re gonna lose, Fushiguro.”

Toji grinned, “Let’s see.”

Gojo reached over to pick up his deck, “Oh shit, nobody told me we had money on this.”

“Winner gets 2K, last person playing the winner pays.” Geto responded.

Ara’s gaze immediately latched onto him. She couldn’t help but take note of how he hadn’t said one word during the group's conversation until now.

He sat hunched over, legs spread on the couch next to Gojo. He wore a simple loose gray tee with black loose-fitted sweats. This had to be the first time she’d seen him in casual clothing-and she couldn’t help but notice that his shoulders looked impeccably broad under his shirt.

She’d never taken him to be the quiet type but she supposed she didn’t truly know him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he knew something..

Gojo grinned subtly, “Let me guess, Fushiguro started the bet.” 

“Who else.” Geto replied airily.

She looked down at the cards in front of her as Gojo spread them all in one hand.

“You’re on my team,” he murmured, his cool breath trailing down her neck, “Do you know how to play?”

She shook her head.

He began to explain the rules but in truth she zoned out halfway. Geto suddenly elbowed Gojo, cutting him off mid-explanation.

“Your turn.”

“Jus watch.” Gojo murmured to her before straightening slightly to put a card down on the table. 

Suddenly Toji’s hand shot out, “Wait, does your girl want to play?”

“Shut the hell up, scammer, she’s on my team,” Gojo quipped.

She heard Geto faintly snort beside them.

Toji’s darkly handsome grin returned, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t scam your girl. You got that covered.”

The boys continued to banter as they played the card game. Gojo checked in on her here and there but otherwise no one paid her too much mind-which she greatly appreciated. It was nice to zone out to the pounding music and people watch for a while.

“Shit-I’m out.” Gojo tossed his deck of cards down.

Nanami was smiling, “That’s what you get.”

Toji squinted, “Did you even try?”

Just as Gojo shrugged, some guy approached him. Another athlete that she didn’t know the name of. Gojo and Haibara enthusiastically engaged in small talk with him before the guy offered to smoke them up.

Gojo suddenly turned to the rest of them, “Yo, I'm goin out to smoke.”

“I wanna smoke.” Haibara pitched in.

Toji waved his hand dismissively towards Haibara, “Just go. You don’t even play right anyway.”

Haibara sucked his teeth before whining. “I suck at cards, okay? I’m better at chess.”

“Who the fuck plays chess.” Toji replied.

“You’re next.” Nanami spoke to Toji-rather focused.

Haibara tossed his deck of cards on the table with a sigh before standing up.

Gojo faced her in his lap, “You wanna smoke, kitten?”

She met his gaze before shaking her head. She wondered for a second if he would force her.

His light blue eyes softened before he kissed her cheekbone—lightly squeezing her in his arms as he did so.

“ ‘Kay, I’ll be back in a bit.” he said before lifting her off his lap and standing up. He gave her one last wink before walking further into the party with Haibara and the athlete guy flanking his side.

She shifted slightly, occupying less than half of the space Gojo took up on the couch. She usually would feel relieved that Gojo left her alone but-for some reason-she felt more awkward. More aware.

She glanced over at Geto beside her. It was his turn to play and he seemed to be deciding which card to put down. It was taking him longer than she expected.

She pointed at a card in his stack, “That one.”

His brow raised slightly before he picked out that card and put it down, “Thought you didn’t know how to play.” his tone was calm.

It seemed he’d been eavesdropping on her and Gojo’s conversation.

“Satoru explained the rules to me.”

He seemed to pause before replying, “Oh. It didn’t seem like you were paying attention.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. Is that passive aggressiveness in his tone? Or is he simply pointing out the fact? She couldn’t tell.

He was right to assume because she hadn’t been but it wasn’t hard for her to pick up the rules of the game after watching a couple rounds.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before saying, “I-I wasn’t.” She wasn’t too sure why she admitted that but-for some reason-she didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

The hard-line of his mouth twitched imperceptibly, “Oh.”

She swallowed uneasily. She watched him play his next move silently. Her eyes flickered upto Toji and Nanami who were locked in on a conversation about the game.

Her gaze returned to Geto as she blurted, “Did Satoru tell you anything.. a-about me?”

She was terrified to say the least. Terrified to confide in him but if he knew anything-something-maybe he could help her—

He blinked before finally looking her straight in the eye, “Like what?”

She stared at him-slightly petrified. She couldn’t gauge him. Does he know or does he not know? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t risk making an assumption either. Who knew if he was an enabler. He was Gojo’s best friend after all—What if he found Gojo’s behavior acceptable? 

The thought made a shiver run down her spine. She sank back on the couch, scooting away from him slightly.

“N-nothing.” she responded faintly.

She wasn’t looking at him, so she was completely oblivious to the way Geto stared at her. 

He set down a card before stating, “You’re his girl, of course he talks about you.”

She perked up slightly-not expecting him to respond. Her voice felt hollow to her ears, “Did he.. did he tell you how we started?”

“Like start dating?” he asked.

She nodded.

Before he could respond, Toji elbowed him. “You’re out.”

Geto stared at the cards laid out on the table. He muttered a low curse before setting his deck of cards down.

“It’s all you, Nanami.”

Toji grinned wickedly while Nanami shook his head-looking mildly amused.

Just as Geto turned back to face her, his gaze went to something beside her. Suddenly hands were at her waist and she was getting seated on a familiar lap. Gojo was back.

He was showering her face with kisses. His lips smelled of weed with a tinge of something sweet. She placed her hands on his shoulders, lightly moving him back.

“Satoru.” she chided.

His arms around her tugged her knees between his legs as he pulled her further up his thigh, “Missed my baby.”

She went still when she suddenly felt his hard-on against her leg. Oh no.

He kept touching her. His hand on her back kept her close to him, while his other hand crept up her bare thigh. Her breath hitched, stopping his hand just as he found the end of her mini dress. Her dress kept riding up-uncomfortably so.

She quickly crossed her legs, her gaze flitting up to his-uneasily. “S-satoru.”

He smiled-showing off his perfect teeth and lethally attractive boyish charm. His hand slid up her thigh, squeezing her hip over her dress.

She closed her eyes when he pressed his forehead to hers. She bit her lower lip, turning away slightly. She could still feel his erection pressing into her leg-it seemed even stiffer now.

“Sorry kitten,” he murmured roughly against her temple, “You’re just so soft..”

His hand slid down her hip to her thigh, caressing her bare skin. She felt his fingers slip under her dress and immediately put her hand over his. She didn’t meet his eyes when she smoothly intertwined their fingers together. Please, not here..

He chuckled slightly, squeezing her hand in his before whining, “Let me touch you..”

He began to press light kisses along her jaw and neck. He was being so needy.

She tried not to squirm, only to go still when he began to tug her sweater off.

She quickly hugged herself, “What are you doing?”

“Aren’t you hot?” he asked just as quietly as her-matching her energy-but the subtle curl to his lips betrayed him.

In truth she was. She started feeling hot five minutes into wearing the hoodie but anything was better than her incredibly revealing dress.

Her gaze flitted over to Geto, he was looking at them now. Not just him but Toji and Nanami as well. Geto quickly looked away.

She felt her face heat up with self awareness.

She trembled slightly when she met Gojo’s gaze. His azure eyes twinkled as he tilted his head-silky strands of his platinum hair falling over his forehead as he did so. She swallowed when she realized.. he wasn’t asking. He wanted this-all of this.

His hands went to her hoodie, never breaking eye contact as he helped her out of it. Once the sweater was off, he smiled slightly.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, gently pushing the rest of its length behind her shoulders to reveal her ample, hickey covered cleavage.

She felt eyes on her. She didn’t have to look to know it—it made her heart rate pick up and skin crawl with nerves.

She didn’t want to focus on it-on the attention she was receiving. She knew it would overwhelm her so she kept her eyes glued to Gojo. To his easygoing smile. His familiar ruffled icy hair. His imposing stature that always seemed to be at her side.

He kissed her gently, his arm tugging her closer possessively.

“You look so good, kitten,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m goin’ crazy.”

She didn’t have a choice but to believe his words. Especially with his throbbing erection pressing into her thigh. She didn’t know how he had any stamina left.

“Wish we were in the car.” he muttered.

She tensed-flashbacks flooding her mind. She’d been completely bent to his will—used for his desire, just to get her here. She felt her chest tighten-nearly breaking her out of the numbness.

Suddenly, someone nearby cleared their throat obnoxiously loud. They both glanced up.

Shoko stood with a hand on her hip, a drink and cigarette in her other hand.

She shook the drink, “I got your drink.”

She glanced over at the others, “What’s with you guys?”

Nanami seemed to be staring-very concentratedly-at a random spot on the ground. Geto was flushed.

Toji stammered out, “Erm-we’re playing cards.”

“If playing cards means staring at them making out then, sure.” Shoko rolled her eyes.

Toji sucked his teeth, “Do ya fuckin’ blame me?”

Satoru quipped, “I do. Why were you staring, Fushiguro?”

Toji smirked, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

A devious grin broke across Gojo’s lips, “Answer carefully.”

Shoko sighed, “You guys are so boring. I’m surprised Ara’s ears haven’t melted off from all your bullshit.”

She turned to face Ara, “You’re bored aren’t you? You can chill with me-“

Gojo immediately complained, “Hey-“

Shoko took Ara’s arm and pulled her up to stand beside her, “Shut it, Satoru. She’s not just your eye candy, she deserves to have some fun.”

Ara stared at Shoko, wondering how she talked to Gojo as carelessly as she did. They seemed closer than she expected.

Suddenly a low sigh left Gojo’s lips, he reached out to take Ara’s hand, “I know, I know,” His thumb began to rub comforting circles on the back of her palm, “I jus like her attention that’s all.”

His subtle, boyish grin returned, “Don’t get too wild without me.”

Shoko tugged Ara away from him, “She’ll get as wild as she wants.”

Shoko took her hand then, leading her through the crowd of people. She was kind enough to slow down when she noticed Ara was struggling a bit with her heels. Kitten heels or not, she wasn't used to it

Suddenly Shoko pulled her into an elevator and Ara was too shocked to even gape.

Shoko handed her the drink, “Drink up. I got you a margarita cuz you don’t seem like the hard liquor type.”

“Thanks.” Ara whispered before clearing her throat.

Shoko bent over to take off her heels, “My bad for taking so long, I won’t lie, I completely forgot.”

“That’s fine.” She took a sip from the sugar coated rim of the glass and froze. That’s delicious.

Just as she downed the rest of the drink, Shoko asked, “Are you feeling better now? I know you wanted to go home earlier.”

Ara blinked, a bit shocked that she remembered, “Y-yeah..”

Shoko smiled slightly as she stood upright, the straps of her heels hooked over one finger, “That’s good cuz we’re about to have more fun upstairs.”

Suddenly the doors to the elevator opened and they were in the biggest bedroom Ara had ever seen. The decoration screamed opulence. Everything looked so put together that it felt like she’d walked into an Architectural Digest video.

“Hey! Over here.” Shoko’s voice called out.

Ara turned to see Shoko further into the room, standing before a set of double doors. Faint laughter seemed to come from within.

Shoko waved her over, “C’mon, c’mon.”

Ara hurried over and entered inside. This time she couldn’t help but audibly gasp.

“What.. is this?” she asked while glancing around.

“Oh, I forgot you’ve never been here before. This is my moms closet.”

Closet?! The room was a dozen times the size of her bedroom. The walls had glass panels that showcased the clothes within. Drawers and shelves were also built into the walls. There was an upstairs portion as well-clothes, purses and shoes neatly displayed all over.

In the center-below the mini chandelier-was a carpeted area with cushions and bean bags. A handful of girls were seated, chatting and laughing about.

“Hi guys.” Shoko rushed over, tossing her heels aside as did so. “I brought us a friend.”

“Shoko!” “Where the fuck have you been?” “Finally!” A few of the girls yelled out. One of them jumped on her-which resulted in Shoko and the girl falling onto a cushion. They burst out in laughter.

Suddenly the volume of the music was lowered and Ara belatedly realized that there was a rather huge, flat screen TV mounted to the wall. It currently displayed the lyrics to a song by Ice Spice and Nicki Minaj.

“New friend?” One of the girls piped up.

Ara glanced over to see a familiar student that she couldn’t remember the name of. She might’ve been on the girls track team.

“Oh my god! You’re the girl who was with Gojo.” Another girl added.

Before she could even get the chance to feel anxious about being in a room full of complete strangers, she was dragged to the center cushion and plopped between all the girls.

She was bombarded with questions.

“Are you and Gojo dating or just hooking up?”

“Wait, aren’t you the girl who said you’d never date him?”

“Since when did you guys start dating?”

“Did Gojo buy you that dress?”

Ara downed the rest of her margarita.

“GUYS!” Shoko’s voice suddenly rang out, “Can y’all shut the fuck up for a sec. Let’s drink first.”

Laughter and chatter ensued as Shoko handed out drinks from an ornate serving cart that was placed nearby. Just as Ara was relieved that the attention was off of her, Shoko’s eyes suddenly zoned in on her.

“Wait, wasn’t that margarita your first drink of the night?”

Sounds of shock suddenly erupted in the room.

“What the fuck?” “No way.” “Girlll—“

Suddenly a red-haired girl grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the cart and stood over her. She held the bottle over Ara’s mouth.

“You need to catch up to us.” she demanded.

Ara’s eyes widened. “Um-I-“

The next thing she knew all the girls were chanting. “Chug!” “Chug!” “Chug!”

Ara glanced over to see Shoko was part of the chanting as well.

She didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was because the day had been so stressful or maybe it was because she just felt so numb. Maybe it was because the margarita tasted good earlier so she thought this drink might taste the same. Whatever it was, in that particular moment she decided—that she just didn’t care anymore.

She opened her mouth and let the girl pour. She didn’t know how much she drank-and didn’t care to know either-but she didn’t pull away until she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

The girls' voices and laughter felt louder than usual. They sounded so bright and happy.. it was contagious. She couldn’t help but laugh along when they all hooted and hollered after her, as if she’d done something wonderful.

“Holy shit, I was not expecting that. Don’t fucking die on us later though.” Shoko chuckled.

“Just puke on Gojo.” one of the girls suggested.

Laughter broke out within the room.

“Speaking of Gojo,” Shoko slipped into the space on the cushion across her, “I did have questions about you two-like since when did you guys even talk? No offense or anything, I jus never seen you two out together before.”

Ara shifted in her seat, wanting to avoid the question, “Erm.. I’m not really too sure..” she drifted off.

“Oh come on,” one of the girls complained. “You have to remember when he first talked to you.”

“I do,“ Ara responded, a bit agitated before muttering, “But it doesn’t really count because I ignored him-for a while.”

The girl’s eyebrows skyrocketed, “You ignored him?”

Shoko snorted, “That’s hilarious. How’d he take that?”

“He didn't take it.” Ara mumbled.

Shoko laughed, a bit drunkenly, “Go figure.”

Ara looked at her in confusion, “Has he done that before?”

Shoko blinked, “What-you mean date? No, that’s the thing. He’s never dated anyone. His bitchass once told me he didn’t believe in monogamy so I’m just as surprised to see him dating as you are.”

Ara’s brows furrowed.

Another girl then piped up, “So when did y’all first hook up?”

Ara hesitated-her mouth opening and closing multiple times before unconsciously whispering, “..Nanami’s party..”

The memory of that night flashed to the forefront of her mind, making her wince. That night felt so long ago.. it’d been the start of a beginning she never asked for, all of it happening against her will.

“Forreal?!” Shoko questioned in shock.

One girl whistled. Another elbowed her playfully, “How was it?”

Another girl quipped, “She’s dating him-obviously, it was good as fuck.”

Ara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was belatedly starting to hit her that she wasn’t required to answer any of these girls questions-besides the further they pried, the more she would have to withhold. Her and Gojo’s ‘relationship’ wasn’t close to whatever fantasy they thought it was.

Shoko seemed a bit zoned out, “Wow.. he must be really serious about you.”

Ara’s eyes flickered to her, “What do you mean?”

Shoko blinked. “He doesn’t really keep quiet about who he’s been with, but he kept you to himself for a while.”

Ara shook her head, “No-actually I was the one who wanted to keep us private.”

Shoko’s eyes widened, “Really?"

"Why?” someone else asked.

“Because…” she swallowed, before deciding on a half-lie, “I knew everyone would be nosy.”

Shoko laughed, “You’re not wrong. Sorry.”

“Can you blame us.” the girl seated next to Shoko whined.

One of the girls hugged her arm, her voice slurred. “Sorry, Ara. Forgive me?”

Ara finally recognized her. It was Leah Falcone. The girl was also a senior and she was popularly known for her incredible vocal skill. Her mother was also an established opera singer so she assumed that good vocals ran in the family genes.

Ara remembered once asking her for directions to a classroom freshman year and she’d responded with ‘why are you asking me?’

Shoko took another puff from her cigarette, “Alright, no more Gojo talk.” she turned to face the TV, “Who put the music down?”

Once the music was back up, it didn’t take them long to get more drunk. They went from refilling their red solo cups to drinking from champagne flutes, then drinking from a bottle of passed around vodka. Ara had no idea where all of it was appearing from but she'd take it. She felt good—good as shit.

A pillow hit her in the face.

Ara glanced over to see Leah pouting at her, “You’re not paying attention to the fashion show!”

Suddenly Shoko stood up on her cushion, throwing a pillow smack center in Leah’s face, “No one’s paying attention, dumbass!”

Leah tripped on the heels that were obviously too big for her and landed on the carpet-her beret falling off in the process.

She huffed, tossing her Dior bag in the air before crying.

Suddenly the redhead threw a pillow at Shoko, “Look what you did, you made Leah cry.”

“She always cries when she’s drunk,” the blonde-Mina-interjected.

Shoko picked up two pillows-throwing them rather ferociously in the redhead’s direction, “Think fast!”

Then before Ara knew it, she was wrapped up in the most intense pillow fight of all time. She ran cushion to cushion, throwing the fuzzy pillows with the most strength she could muster—nearly peeing herself with laughter when Leah wailed every time she got hit by a pillow.

Mina ducked behind Ara, “Help me!!”

Ara’s eyes widened as Shoko jumped onto the cushion before her, pillow in hand, “Don’t protect that hoe-“

Shoko swung the pillow in Mina’s direction and Ara blocked it with her own pillow.

“Yes, get her! Get her.” Mina hollered from behind her.

Ara flung the pillow-defending Mina like her life depended on it. She somehow managed to smack the pillow with enough force to make Shoko fly backwards onto the cushion-making Ara and Mina crack up.

Ara didn’t know why everything was so hilarious but she truly couldn’t stop laughing. The girls just kept giving her an excuse to—is this what having friends is like?

“Oh fuck you guys. It’s on.” Just as Shoko attempted to stand up, she toppled over again. This time the sound of cloth ripping resounding in the air.

Ara’s eyes widened while Meena gaped. The second the girls made eye contact they doubled over in laughter.

I’ve never seen her laugh like that.

Gojo stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. She looked beautiful-so carefree-so lively. Her laugh was the prettiest thing he’d ever heard.

He didn’t believe his eyes when he saw her at first-merely coming to check on her since the card game finally ended. He never thought he’d find her… like this.

She was smiling.

Her eyes twinkled as she laughed, carelessly offering her radiant smile to Mina as she did so. The sight of it made his chest tighten with need.

She looked… happy. And she never looked like that with him.

A dark lick of jealousy coursed through his veins as he watched her. She let Mina clutch onto her so easily as they fell back on the cushion in a fit of giggles-not a hint of reluctance on her face.

His cool blue eyes slid over to Mina, to her left hand on Ara’s back—to her right hand clutching Ara’s arm. His jaw tightened. Mina was nice enough but what had she done to earn her touch? What had she done to elicit her pretty smile? Did she really deserve it?

He watched Ara turn to look at Shoko getting lifted off the cushion by Nanami. Despite Shoko playfully kicking her feet around he managed to keep the rip on her dress hidden by wrapping an arm around her torso. He easily held her up, whispering things softly in her ear as he carried her further into the closet.

Suddenly Mina was getting tugged away from her as well. Daniel gently pulled at Mina’s arm to get her attention, only for her to jump into his hold the second he got it. Daniel had entered the closet shortly after he had-probably coming to check on what’s his like himself.

Now it was his turn.

He slowly approached her-reveling in her unawareness as she sat quietly on the cushion by herself. She seemed zoned out.

He stopped right beside her, standing at the edge of the cushion. She was merely an arms length away, all he had to do was reach out and he could quell that thrumming need in his fingers to touch her but she was just so pretty up close-so unaware, so inviting-he wanted to revel in it a moment longer.

Suddenly she glanced up, her eyes widening before she stood up, “Satoru!”

She lay her hand on his abdomen. Heat gathered in his skin underneath her palm.

That’s new. She never touched him first.

His eyes glimmered, “Hey.”

He saw her eyes flicker before tilting her head. She smiled, “Hey.”

His eyes widened, his gaze stuck on her lips. It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did but it couldn’t be helped. He stared—rendered frozen.

She’s smiling.. at me.

She looked up at him, her smiling widening ever so slightly as she shook her head. Her hand slid up his chest before going on her tiptoes to kiss him.

The kiss was light, a simple peck but he didn’t let it go. She never kissed him first. He didn’t realize how badly he needed her to until now.

The second she drew her face back his hand found her nape, forcefully keeping her lips glued to his. Her lips tasted of champagne-maybe vodka-he didn’t like alcohol too much but her lips made it so sweet.

Maybe the drinks were making her soft on him but he chose to ignore that. He needed to believe that she wanted him because he needed her—he always needed her. She kissed him-him-and that was all that mattered. 

He kissed her with such intensity she fell back on the cushion. He stayed atop her, his greedy lips never letting hers go. She gasped-the pretty sound going straight to his cock. He should’ve been satisfied after the car-he should’ve.

But he was never satisfied when it came to her. He always wanted more, more, more—

“Satoru-“ she breathed out, grabbing him by the shoulders to push him back.

He searched her face-repositioning himself so that he was further over her body, “Mmm?”

She jutted her chin in the direction of the door.

He glanced over to see Toji standing in the doorway-staring at them. The rest of the room had been cleared out, all the girls nowhere to be seen except for the redhead-Arden-laying passed out on the fur rug.

Gojo spoke first, “Enjoying the show?”

“Maybe,” Toji grinned, “Was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Before he could decline, Ara straightened slightly-peeking her head out from underneath him, “A drive?”

Toji answered, “Yeah, racing.”

Gojo saw her eyes widen with interest. “You wanna go?” he asked.

She hesitated for a second-her hand on his shoulder sliding down to his tricep gently. She looked up at him, “Can we?”

He nuzzled his face into her neck, effortlessly scooping her up as he stood. Her scent engulfed his senses as she twisted in his arms. She was giggling.

Christ, he wanted to mess her up again bad. She was already too much to bear-but like this, he didn’t think his stamina would ever end.

He smiled down at her, “Of course, kitten.”

I only remembered bits and pieces after that.

Gojo tugged at her hand in his, “Kitten, let me carry you.” he whined.

She continued to clip clop in her heels on the driveway. The others in the group heading to their cars as well.

She walked-a bit wobbly-into Gojo as he tugged her, “No, no,” she chided quietly, her other hand latching onto his forearm to regain her balance.

She looked up at him. His platinum hair and pale face stood out so starkly against the pitch black sky. The stars glimmered and the pounding music sounded faint to her ears.

“I wanna walk to the car.” she insisted with a pout.

He stared down at her, his intricate blue eyes churning with something heavy as he looked her up and down. His eyes lingering a little longer than necessary in some places.

His hand slid around her jaw, tilting her face up as he kissed her cheekbone. She stumbled slightly, leaning against him.

His hand in hers gripped her firmly, his eyes dropping to her feet, “You want me to take them off?”

She glanced down at her heels, “No-no, I’m fine. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She stared out the car window, gasping as Gojo pulled the car to a stop.

“It’s so big.” she exclaimed, in reference to the vast empty parking lot.

He’d parked his car near the others. All the cars were parked in one big row, side by side.

“Of course, baby,” he reached over and unbuckled her seat belt, “I’ll have to take you to our racetrack some time. It’s bigger.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment, “Racetrack?”

A sly smile bloomed across his lips, “Yeah, racetrack.”

She sat between Gojo’s long outstretched legs-laughing as he tickled her. He was relentless, one hand gripping her hip while the other tickled her wherever he pleased. There was a wide grin on his lips as she writhed against him.

She couldn’t reign in her giggles, “Toru, stop-“ she whined.

He paused, eyes widening, “Toru?”

“Yo, can ya’ll stop playing around and pay attention.” Toji butted in.

Gojo glanced up from his slouched position. He was leaning against the front of his G-wagon, with Ara resting against him. Her small frame fit all too perfectly against his chest-like a little puzzle piece.

He raised his chin off her head, “Did you decide who’s goin’ first or what?”

Toji stepped away from the little circle of boys to address him, “Yeah, you and me are up first. Then it’s Geto and Haibara, and so on.”

A guy she didn’t recognize piped up, “We don’t got a flag girl.”

“Where’s Shoko?” Geto asked.

“Probably with Nanami.” Haibara answered with a frown, “I couldn’t find both of them before we dipped.”

Toji grinned subtly, tilting his head towards their direction, “Coulda been the same ish for these two if I hadn’t got em’ in time.”

Gojo merely smirked, “I know you wanted to watch.”

Suddenly a flat voice arose, “Can’t she just be flag girl?”

Ara’s eyes widened when she saw who the voice belonged to. He was extremely pale and tall, with dark brown hair that was tied up in two short spiky ponytails. He also had a thick black horizontal line tattoo across his nose and cheeks. She’d never seen anything like it.

She belatedly realized that the ‘she’ he was talking about was her. She was the only girl here.

“Oh yeah!” Gojo poked her in the stomach before hunching over to look at her, “You wanna be flag girl, kitten?”

She looked up at him, “What’s a flag girl?”

His signature smirk returned before he kissed her on the cheek, “All you have to do is wave a flag and look pretty.”

Ara held up the makeshift flag-which was a silk, bubblegum pink Gucci scarf that Toji had lying about it in his car. No one else questioned how the hell he had it but she’d bet her life and kids that it was a woman’s work. (Apparently the actual ‘flag’ they had was kept in Nanami’s car)

Toji sat in a silver, latest model Volkswagen Arteon while Gojo sat in his matte black, Mercedes Benz G-Wagon. One car was obviously bigger in height than the other.

Ara stood ahead of both cars, gesturing with her hands for them to pull up to the line they’d marked on the ground with chalk. Once the cars crept up to the starting line, she waved the scarf in the air.

“Are you ready?!” she hollered.

A couple of the boys standing on the sideline whistled. Toji revved up his engine.

She swung the scarf once more, “Get set..” a subtle smile rested on her lips, anticipation swirling in her gut.

Gojo lowered his windows, a grin on his face as he blew her a kiss.

She waved the scarf in the air, “GO!”

The cars zoomed past her, the gust of wind that followed made her hair ripple in their wake.

She stared at the two cars zooming off around the lot. They were driving side by side—from what she could tell, no one seemed to be going faster than the other just yet. The speed of it all scared her, in a thrilling kind of way.

The cars zipped past her once more. The sound of their high powered engines echoing.

“So loud,” she murmured to herself while readjusting her crossed arms. The gust of wind that followed from their speedy turns was a bit unnerving.

“Gets even louder when Satoru has his McLaren.” A low voice spoke from beside her.

She glanced over to see Geto, leaning against the railing beside her. She didn’t remember seeing him there earlier.

She glanced past him to see the ponytail guy and Haibara standing by the starting line-closely watching the race with their phones out. They were timing each car. Apparently Gojo and Toji had two more rounds around the lot before the winner was declared.

“I bet,” she responded, before looking at him, “Did you drive it?”

He nodded, “Couple times. It runs really smooth.”

She sighed, “It looks smooth.”

“Do you have your license?” he asked.

She shook her head, “No.”

“You should.” he suggested, “Get Satoru to teach you.”

“You think he’d let me practice in his McLaren?”

He smiled a bit, “Probably.”

That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting. She laughed slightly, “No way.”

“He would,” he spoke evenly, “He’d buy you a car if you asked.”

He swooped her up in his arms, twirling her in the air before holding her against his chest.

He nuzzled his nose against hers, “I won, kitten, I won.”

She held onto his shoulders, laughing lightly, “I know, I know.”

His arm underneath her ass squeezed her closer. He looked up at her, “Where’s my kiss?”

She smiled a bit, “You don’t deserve it.” she teased.

His blue eyes blazed with delight, “You don’t think so?” he whined.

She shook her head, her smile widening ever so slightly. Something about his sparkling blue eyes on her made her belly churn with butterflies.

He raised a white brow, “Just one?”

She shook her head again.

He leaned closer, his chin grazing her breasts, “Pleaseee,” he pouted.

She held onto his neck, “Only one.” she emphasized.

A grin lit his features as he nodded-eagerly, “One.”

She cupped the sides of his smooth face, lowering herself to press a short kiss to his lips. Her nerves thrumming wildly underneath her skin wherever they touched.

“Alright, show off. You only won by a second.” Toji grumbled from somewhere in the distance.

She pulled away, staring, as the corner of his lip curled upward handsomely. His blue eyes glittered, with mischief and want and something.. indescribable, but it was tangible in his touch.

He was just so striking—it made her heart ache.

He beamed up at her-speaking in sing-song, “One kiss for the winner.”

Ara swung aside in her seat, her hands clutching the car handle and dashboard.

“Oh my—“ she gasped out as Gojo swerved to the left to cut ahead of ponytail guy-Choso’s-car.

Geto gripped the edge of the passenger and driver seat, hovering in between, “Goddammit Satoru.”

Choso’s car honked several times.

Gojo glanced over, a shameless smile on his lips, “Oops.”

The three of them shared a look before laughing airily.

It was the final race for the last two winners-Gojo and Choso. Instead of completing the last race at the parking lot, they chose to see who drove to Nanami’s house and back the fastest. The group had split into both cars.

Ara glanced out the window, her hair flipping in the wind due to Gojo’s speed. She looked at Choso’s car behind them to see Toji flipping her off through the passenger window.

She drew her head back in, smiling faintly, “They’re flipping us off.” 

A smirk split across Gojo’s lips as he kept his eyes glued to the road. His speed picked up.

Ara stood through the sunroof, arms outstretched. Geto held onto her legs to secure her.

She tilted her head back, letting the wind and speed make her hair whip in the air. Her eyes fluttered closed-reveling in the feel of the cool air running across her skin.

She swore she felt the music vibrate within her body as it pounded throughout the car. Of course, it had to be ‘F**ckin' Problems’ by A$AP Rocky playing.

The whoosh of the air speeding past her ears made her feel more present than ever before. She wanted to feel like this forever..

She felt someone lightly tap her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

Gojo was before her, a subtle smile on his lips, “Hi, princess.”

She blinked a couple times before realizing she was in the passenger seat of his car. He stood beside her-partly leaning on the open car door, one hand over the roof and the other caressing her cheek.

His blue eyes scanned her face, “How are ya feelin’?”

She reached out and touched his chin-his face-checking if he was real.

“Where am I?” she asked hoarsely.

“Sonic,” he spoke through her fingers, “You want anything?”

Her hand slipped down. She didn’t have enough strength to keep it up.

Her eyes dropped sleepily, “Did you win?”

His eyes widened slightly before smirking, “The race? Of course I did, baby.”

“Good boy.” she mumbled.

He tilted his head, smirk widening, “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes half-open.

He licked his lips.

She closed her eyes, his hand stroking her hair all too relaxing. She heard a faint voice somewhere in the distance.

“She okay?” Haibara.

“She’s fine.” Geto’s voice-it was clearer-closer.

“Choso’s asking if yall want anything?”

“Yeah, get me a milkshake.” Gojo-his voice crisp-very near.

“What flavor?”

“Cheesecake.”

She slurped the milkshake silently-zoning out while staring at the bonfire before her. There were voices, many voices but she couldn’t seem to focus on any of them.

Through her peripheral vision she noticed bags of Sonic getting handed around. Empty cups, burnt out joint ends and cigarettes littered the patio floor. Familiar voices talked excitedly—a person jumped into the swimming pool. Laughter followed.

“Can somebody get him?” Shoko. “He’s too drunk.”

“Why don’t you get him?” Toji. “Or did Nanami make it hard for you to walk?”

More laughter. “Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, you finished it?”

She glanced up to see Gojo looking down at her. She was sitting snug against him, in the crook of his arm. Her legs over his lap.

He squeezed her forearm before leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Shoulda got two.” he murmured.

He cupped her chin, tilting her head up as he bent low to press his lips to hers. His tongue pushed past her lips, sweeping her mouth as he deepened the kiss.

He hummed appreciatively before pulling away. He swiped away a dot of whip cream at the corner of her lip with the tip of his tongue.

His eyes lingered on her lips as he smiled subtly, “Yummy.”

“Look what I found.”

The laughter and noises of approval that followed made her curious enough to glance away from the fire.

Toji held up several nerf guns with a devious grin.

Shoko shot up from her seat, “Did you go into my brother's room, dumbass?”

Her heels echoed against the mahogany wood floor. The moment she spotted Haibara she raised her nerf gun.

He yelped before running to hide behind the couch. Just as he hid, Choso entered the living room.

“Any of y’all see Toji?”

Ara opened her mouth to respond, only to freeze when the sound of an ‘empty’ dart cartridge echoed. She glanced over to see Haibara holding up his nerf gun.

She glared and his eyes widened, “Shit.”

She ran around the couch—attempting to chase him.

He screeched, circling around the couch hastily, “Choso! Choso! Back me up!”

Just as she pointed the nerf gun at his butt, she felt a dart hit her in the cheek. She quickly turned her head to see the culprit—Choso. 

Before she could even react, Choso was suddenly getting sprayed with a shit-ton of bullets. Gojo entered the living room—with Geto right at his heels.

“Do you know who the hell you just hit, hmm?” Gojo taunted—a wide grin on his lips as he emptied his clip on Choso while chasing after him.

The boys laughed when they cornered him. The second Gojo’s darts ran out, Geto took over—showering Choso with a second round of bullets.

Choso held his arms out before him, blocking as much of the entourage of darts as he could.

Once Geto emptied his clip, Gojo smiled, “That’s the second L you took today.” 

Choso shook his head, grinning faintly, “Oh fuck off. If I had back up your ass woulda been on the floor.”

As the boys bickered, Ara’s attention quickly redirected itself to Haibara’s crawling figure-clearly attempting to slip away.

She smiled a bit when she realized he hadn’t noticed her looking just yet. She silently followed him, balancing her weight on the front of her heels to keep her footsteps quiet.

Haibara’s head turned back amidst crawl-spotting her. His innocent eyes instantly blew wide but before he could get up, she planted her heel right on his ass and shoved him back down.

“Dammit!” he hollered—making her laugh.

She aimed her nerf gun at the back of his head—unleashing all of her bullets on him. She didn’t notice the other boys cracking up.

Toji walked in two seconds before her clip emptied, “Damn,” he paused, “Can I be next?”

Gojo shot him with a dart-coincidentally starting a whole new round.

Ara stared at herself in the elevator mirrors, she couldn’t recognize herself.

Gojo was laughing in the reflection beside her. His hand went over his stomach as he bent over in laughter.

“I-“ he could barely get his words out, “I can’t believe you did that.”

Geto merely shook his head, smiling subtly as he restocked the darts in his nerf gun.

Gojo threw his arm around her shoulders when he straightened, a humorous smile on his glossy lips, “Haibara said you're more of a menace than me.”

Ara looked down at her feet-noticing a bit of dirt on heels as she muttered, “That’s impossible.”

Geto snorted.

She stared up at the sky-her eyes darting from star to star before settling on the moon. It looked so big-so close-she swore she could see its craters from here.

A breeze passed, making strands of her hair slip over her face. The hammock swayed.

His fingertips grazed her cheek, tucking her loose hair behind her ear.

She faced him-only to find him already looking at her.

His hand settled on her throat, thumb grazing her jaw.

The music and voices of the others on the rooftop grew more and more faint the longer she stared into his eyes. They were so blue-multiple shades of it too-all within one pair of eyes.

There was something about them.. that made him look more extraterrestrial than the moon. As if he didn’t belong here.

“Satoru,” her voice inadvertently came out as a whisper.

A light smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah?”

“What.. happened to you?”

He raised a pale brow, “What do you mean?”

She chewed at her bottom lip-speaking slowly in attempt to word her thoughts accurately. It was taking a lot more effort than usual.

“What.. made you.. the way you are?”

He froze-something seemed to flash over his eyes before his jaw locked.

He slowly scanned her face before responding after a moment, “The way I am?”

She nodded, words flowing freely from her tongue, “You’re not normal, you know.” her tone indifferent.

She saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and felt a vivid zip of fear when his fingers around her neck twitched.

“Is that right?”

He pressed his face into her cheek. His fingers tightening around her throat when she tried to turn away.

“Maybe you’re right..” His words made her shiver. She closed her eyes-breathing shakily.

Suddenly he was laughing-full on chuckling beside her ear, “You’re so right.”

He released her neck to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger. He exhaled, “There isn’t a line I wouldn’t cross for you.”

She kept her eyes closed, her heartbeat still raging in her ears, “I w-would never ask you to.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

She felt gravity disappear from underneath her feet. Her eyes fluttered open. The sky was still dark, scattered with twinkling stars. She was in Gojo’s arms.

He looked down at her, “Hi, pretty.”

Her brows furrowed as she blinked sleepily.

“We’re home,” he muttered.

Her eyes flew open, “Your home?”

He paused-appearing to consider her question, “Can we go to my home?”

“No-no-“ panic swirled in her gut despite her drunkenness, “My home, only my home.” she mumbled off.

“Okay, okay,” he shook his head, “Knew you’d say that.”

She grabbed onto something when she felt herself lose balance. She focused to see that she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her hand gripping Gojo’s shoulder.

He was bent on the floor before her, his hands on her leg-unstrapping her heels.

He looked up at her, his turquoise eyes scanning her features, “You’re good, kitten. I got you.” His hand snaked up her thigh to squeeze her hip reassuringly.

Her fingers inadvertently dug into his shoulder, “I’m-I’m good?” she stuttered out, lost.

He nodded, his gaze gentle, “Yeah, baby, you’re good.”

She glanced down at herself, at the expanse of skin she was showing due to her mini dress. The dress barely covered her cunt while sitting. Her eyes widened when she saw the bruises starting to darken along her thighs—she remembered-flashbacks of his hands gripping her body roughly passed through her mind. He’d fucked her so hard-so ruthlessly-in the car before the party. All of it occurring against her will.

She bit her lower lip, trying not to sob, “I’m-I’m not good.” she whispered.

Suddenly his hand was at her face, cupping her cheek, “Yes, you are, sweets. You're such a good girl. The best girl.”

Two large hands were at her tits, squeezing heartily. A soft moan left her lips, her eyes fluttering closed.

Her hands slipped over his as she whined, “Toru..”

“I know, I know,” he groaned lowly into her ear, nuzzling her cheekbone as he caressed her tits more gently this time.

She glanced ahead to see her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was completely naked, her mini-dress a bundle at her feet. He towered behind her, nearly encapsulating her within his lean frame. His firm chest against her back.

He was fully clothed. It was hard to see him completely due to the dim lighting of her closet but she could make out the smooth planes of his features-his sharp jaw, his sculpted cheekbones—the veins running down his arms, his hands as he kneaded her tits.

His crystalline eyes met hers in the mirror, his breath hot as it trailed down her skin with each exhale. Goosebumps rose all over her body.

His hands at her chest tugged her closer-possessively, “You’re so beautiful, Ara..”

She stirred slightly, her eyes opening to see him propped on his elbow on the bed beside her. She felt his hand at her waist, thumb gently stroking her side boob.

Strands of his white hair tickled her forehead as he leaned closer, “Don’t sleep,” he whispered.

He pressed a probing kiss to her lips, “Not yet.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer. His hand slid down her side, slipping out from underneath her nightgown. He took her hand, guiding her to touch the bulge at his boxers.

His breath hitched the second she made contact. He released her hand for a moment, shifting slightly before taking her hand again. He wrapped her hand around his cock-she swore she felt his cock twitch.

His hand tightened over hers, wanting her to apply pressure but she was only half-awake. He groaned lowly, slowly pumping his cock through her hand.

“Help me.” he spoke raggedly against her temple.

The bed shook and she glanced down to see her nightgown bunched up at her neck. She was laying on her side-a leaky, pink cockhead sliding between her thighs.

Gojo gripped her hip hard—short, desperate grunts leaving him with each harsh press of his hips against her ass. He had a steady pace going.

She was too weak-too sleepy-to move. Merely wriggling her hips when his cockhead glided past her folds. She moaned weakly.

“Sa..toru..” The feeling of his thick, veiny cock sliding between her thighs all too unfamiliar.

His fingers dug into her hip, lifting his head up from her neck to whisper-hoarsely, “I’m close, kitten, m’close.”

Her eyes fluttered open the second she felt a ray of light hit her eyelids. She shifted slightly to check if the curtains had been left open only to stop mid-movement.

Holy shit.

Everything hurt-bad. Her throat felt dry. Her body ached with soreness. And her head-why does it hurt so bad?

She fell back onto the bed, a low moan on the cusp on her lips-only to cut herself off when she noticed who she was lying beside.

She immediately looked over to see Gojo sleeping soundlessly. His eyes were closed, his long light lashes covering his under eyes. His pale face was a mask of relaxation, not an ounce of stress on his features. His white hair was a fluffy mess-facing every which way. His arm was outstretched, she’d been using it as a pillow.

She glanced down to see that he was shirtless. She didn’t want to check under the blanket to see if he was less clothed than that. 

She stared at him-letting the bits and pieces of memories from last night come back to her. A rollercoaster of emotions building up within her silently.

She’d let herself loosen up around him. She’d let herself have fun—and it’d been the most fun she’d had in eons. The thought was sickening. Absolutely sick. 

How could she have fun with him of all people?

After what he did to her in the car-after everything-she’d been nice to him. Her drunk self had been nice to him. Overly nice, in her opinion—she’d been all over him.

She wanted to puke. Why did I drink?

She shot up out of the bed, her hand going over her stomach as she breathed heavily. 

She felt the bed shift beside her and froze. She didn’t have to look to know he just sat up in bed.

She flinched when he stroked her back, “You okay, kitten?” his voice was deep-slightly raspy from sleep, “Gotta vomit?”

He took one look at her face and immediately scrambled to grab the bucket he’d set on the floor last night. The second he placed the bucket before her, everything from last night poured out of her.

She held the bucket like her life depended on it-despite Gojo having a hand on it as well. Her stomach lurched as she heaved multiple times. His hands slipped around her hair, holding it back as she bent over the bucket once more.

She heaved one last time and nothing came out. Her stomach was finally empty. She pushed at the bucket slightly–signaling she was done.

“You done?” he asked anyway, voice gentle.

She nodded, too weak to do anything else.

He cautiously moved the bucket away from her and handed her a roll of paper towels that was somehow on her nightstand. She couldn’t help but notice how prepared he seemed.

She wiped her face, watching silently as he grabbed the bucket and headed towards the bathroom without complaint. The second he disappeared from view a storm of emotions brewed within her.

Her hands trembled as she started to cry. Her body wracked with the force of her sobs. She covered her face with her hands, attempting to quiet herself but she couldn’t stop. Tears kept flowing down her face.

“Ara, Ara,” his voice felt distant to her ears, “Kitten..”

She felt hands come to her sides, enveloping her gently. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, instead she sagged against him—letting herself use him this once-just this once.

If he was surprised he didn’t show it.

She hated the inexplicable sense of comfort she felt in his presence. She wished it didn’t exist but it was there—he was always there.

She was a hypocrite-she knew she was but she was tired. oh, so tired. She wished there was someone else—someone else she could rely on. Someone who didn’t use her. But there was no one. No one but him.

Why did it have to be like this?

His fingers sifted through her hair gently, merely letting her sob in silence. Her body felt so frail against him like this, her small hands trembling as she held onto him. He drew her closer.

He didn’t bother asking why, he knew she’d never answer. She never answered in the past.

He knew she cried on her own time. Her puffy under eyes always gave it away-but she liked to pretend she was fine near him. He indulged her.

He wanted her to come to him on her own. He'd wait.

But this-he peered down at her-this was progress. She never let herself cry in front of him before. The few times he caught her, she immediately wiped her tears and gathered herself.

But this, this was different. She was clutching him so tight, sobbing so weakly—she needed him. She needed him to comfort her.

And he’d give her just that. He'd give her anything she asked.

All she needed to do was one thing… just one.

She needed to accept she was his.

The last thing she felt was his lips pressing her forehead when she went limp—succumbing to the emptiness of sleep.

previous chapter | next chapter

[deecotan]

I found this art and it's yours but I can only find it on pinterest and it's consuming me pls show me the original post or just give me a backstory I am Haunted

https://images.app.goo.gl/NU3FarXZQHfRyE258

Ahhh, Zoro Gets Violent the comic. One of my most reposted artworks ever. You can find my original post here. (Also on twitter.) Honestly I'm more upset about the fact that the reposters always seem to leave out the second part of the comic whenever they reposted this, cause like if you want to steal something at least steal the complete set, no? :/ (Sarcasm.)

The basic gist of the comic is basically Sanji got captured and held hostage by a bunch of bad guys, and Zoro got so furious that he barged into their lair, slaughtered the hell out of them, and had to have Sanji calling his name and murmuring reassurances to him just so he can calm down.

I did intentionally keep the backstory ambiguous because, well, I like to keep the interpretations up to the viewers to decide. But my original intention is that there is a reason why Zoro in here is so uncharacteristically violent - even more than usual, knowing how much faith he put in Sanji's ability to hold his own. And I tried to show... or rather imply that, through one of the panels of Zoro hugging Sanji (or Sanji hugging Zoro?). Sanji isn't wearing anything below his waist. Zoro, upon finding him like that, had assumed the worst.

Now I tried showing it through Sanji's dialogue, but if it wasn't clear enough, nothing really did happen. Whether that's because Zoro had arrived soon enough to stop anything from happening, or because of any other reason, that's up to you. Why the bad guys captured Sanji in the first place is also left to interpretation. The main focus of the comic really is just the depiction of Zoro's mind slowly coming back from a mix of pure, unadulterated rage and gut-wrenching fear when faced with the reality that Sanji (might) got hurt - with only Sanji's voice guiding him away from that frenzy. It was to show the utter desperation behind Zoro's eyes when he sees (or rather believes) Sanji got hurt, and contrast that with the bloodied carnage Zoro left behind - the only evidence from what happened before Sanji is able to get Zoro to calm down. Zoro is one of the most level-headed characters in the series, and he always has faith in Sanji's ability to hold on his own. Putting Zoro in a situation where the admirable steadfastness inside himself shatters because his lover is in danger is a really interesting subject to tackle.

Gotta admit, when making this comic I was actually in a pretty low place, hence why the outcome became pretty dark. Maybe a bit edgy. And I guess also kinda personal. But it did help me process whatever emotion I was feeling at the time, and reading other people's receptions of it had honestly helped me go through a difficult phase in my life. Three even wrote a fic based on this art which still made me giggle and kick my feet to this day. I love reading people's interpretations of my art, and receiving a wholeass fic about it? I'm over the fucking moon. (Go read it, it's an excellent fic).

So honestly? I still consider "fear" as one of my best artworks of all time. And while I was obviously bummed about the fact that it got reposted a lot of times, if it means that some people might be curious about the backstory enough to find my account? So be it. I'm glad people are able to enjoy my art, in any way they can.

(Still, obviously, don't make reposting art into a habit. At the very LEAST ask for the artist's permission. Respect your fandom creators, people.)

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 21

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BYAKUYA ok i said i would be going on hiatus but i got really inspired and also it's my guy's birthday today so surprise update. going on hiatus fr now tho

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trust ended with makoto and never really started with kyoko now celeste is my new conversation partner

cant believe hes 31. and blond

@digitaldollsworld roman my friend romannn !!!

Content warning tags: description of depression/PTSD, mention of suicide, description of eating disorder

< previous - from start - next >

“Your hand.”

It’s the first thing Byakuya says to her as they leave the bathhouse. Kirigiri pauses mid-step, already halfway to the stairs, and turns over her shoulder.

“What of it?”

He gives her a pointed look. WIth her gloves on, he can’t tell the extent of the damage, but remembering how hard he’d tried to shut that door, he can imagine it’s not exactly pretty. “Is it broken?”

In response, she raises the hand in question, flexing it in front of him with the soft creak of well-worn leather. “It’s fine.”

Like hell it is. The fingers of her left hand hadn’t even been moving when she was typing, curled into a half-moon that skittered clumsily over the keys. But if she doesn’t want to admit it, there’s no point in him pointing it out. He has other questions, anyway. “Did you already know?”

He doesn’t mention Alter Ego out loud, but he doesn’t need to; there’s nothing else he could be referring to. She lowers her hand slowly. “Why do you think so?”

Of course, she would answer with another question. It was nothing but ambiguities and obstructions with her. “You didn’t seem surprised at all. You opened up the locker without any trouble. And you were very quick to volunteer yourself to take full responsibility.” It had been a thought in the back of his mind since the possibility of having to reveal Alter Ego to the others was brought up. She was the one who gave the computer to Chihiro, after all. He lowers his voice: “Considering how you were the one who passed that computer off to Chihiro, I can’t imagine that you weren’t aware of what he was up to.”

She doesn’t reply immediately, instead glancing around the ceiling for any wayward cameras, then behind Byakuya for any stray ears. But everyone else was still gathered around the bathhouse entrance, preoccupied with discussing their next move. Hiro was at the head of it, voice loud and excessively optimistic. “I’m curious as to how you perceived me as being unsurprised, all things considered.” She says flatly, and he feels a muscle twitch in his cheek. “And it wasn’t as if there was any lock on the locker itself. And it was the most logical thing to do, considering our room assignments.”

It doesn’t escape him how she hasn’t bothered to respond to his last statement, and it was too risky to make her answer it out loud, and especially not here or now. He hated having to concede, and especially not to her of all people, but the risk outweighed his pride. “Fine.” He grits out. Let her keep her secrets. “And where are you going now?”

He can probably guess, but he wants to hear it from her anyways. “The third floor was recently opened to us.” She replies coolly. “I am going to investigate.”

“Alone.” He doesn’t say it like a question. “You’re not bringing Makoto?”

“I always investigate alone. Anyone else…would get in the way.” She says that last part hesitantly, as if she’s not sure of her own reasoning. “I doubt he’d want to go with me regardless. Not after yesterday.”

Yesterday? He tries to think, if there was anything that happened yesterday that could have affected their relationship, but all he comes up with are the worst parts of the trial, the body discovery, the confrontation with Fukawa. The memories of everything else had blurred, melting together to become indiscernible.

She’s answering before he can even open his mouth to ask further. “I was the one who told Makoto to out you in the trial.” She says, monotone and unreadable, and then stands there, almost expectantly, as understanding sinks in.

He tries to feel angry, that familiar rush of fury, but there’s nothing, and it leaves him feeling jarringly cold in its absence. At his silence, she continues: “Let me be clear, Makoto did not want to betray you to begin with. I told him that it would be unavoidable, and the only way to clear you of all suspicion.”

“The two of you made me into a bigger target.” He points out, bitterly. A person who would be of no help in investigations or otherwise, who was helpless enough on his own to be an appealing victim who couldn’t retaliate. 

“There’s only ten of us left, in an enclosed space. With smaller numbers, it’s less likely for any one person to be willing to kill. Or get away with it, at least.” If she was trying to reassure him, she was failing miserably.

“Why Makoto? If you were aware, why couldn’t you have told them instead?”

She takes a step closer, and he barely keeps himself from stepping back. “Would they have been as ready to believe me?” She asks quietly. “You said it yourself: I’m someone who you all know nothing about. If I was the one who did it, would they be as quick to accept it? Or would they have started wrongly accusing me as well? Where would we be then?” She reaches out and grabs his lapels - in her left hand - and pulls him close, just enough to whisper: “I am the only one who can get us out of here. I’m sure you know that well.”

He feels his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but she’s right. Of course she is. Out of everyone here, she was the only one who was actively searching, trying to escape, and probably the closest to succeeding. That was the most frustrating part; that he couldn’t even properly argue back.

She releases him and retreats, tucking her hair behind her shoulders. “I will admit. If I had been the one to absolve you, then maybe you wouldn’t have had to be betrayed.” She says simply, and it’s probably the closest thing he’ll get to an apology. An offhanded acknowledgement of his miserable state.

He’s heard enough. He turns on his heel, but hasn’t made even a step when she grabs his arm so suddenly that he almost stumbles. “What?” He demands. Her fingers are tight around his forearm, and he can feel her leather glove, smooth and creased at the knuckles, digging through the fabric of his jacket.

There’s another pause, as she opens her mouth, but she’s silent long enough for him to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Then she releases him. “Nothing. Go eat.”

He was already planning to head to the cafeteria to do just that, but her tone irks him so much that he’s almost tempted to turn around and stomp back to his room. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Starve, then. But don’t wear yourself out.” She was already brushing past him, hair streaming behind her like a ghost. “You still have some use yet.”

He watches her go, a little stunned and more than a little scandalized. For her to belittle him, patronize him, and mock him, after he tried to help her - demonstrated concern, even - he clenches his fists to stop them from trembling, and smothers down the insult that she was already too far away to hear.

What an-! Insufferable little-! He sputters silently. To go from blatantly labeling him as ‘useless’ just a few days ago to saying this now, when his most fatal flaw had been laid bare to everyone…even more frustrating, was how underneath the anger, a smallest shred of pride had curled to life in his chest, undaunted by the disgust that immediately followed. As if he were a dog easily placated by nice words.

…The hunger must have started to interfere with my thoughts. He shakes his head, and turns back to the cafeteria. Behind him, he can hear the squeak of sneakered footsteps, pattering to catch up with him, and starts walking a little faster, knowing full well who it could be. And sure enough:

“Byakuya!”

It was just one after another. Makoto’s hand pinches onto his elbow sleeve, and Byakuya jerks out of his grasp with enough force that he almost stumbles, staggering awkwardly to maintain his balance. Makoto steps back, one hand still raised hesitantly, and his breath stutters slightly as he freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a lot that Byakuya can say here. He’s envisioned this interaction a thousand times, in between chess and shogi games with Alter Ego, as he showered, as he rested his exhausted, sightless eyes. But the vitriol he prepared doesn’t come; the very act of trying to come up with something to hurl at him just leaves him feeling drained. Hollowed out.

Luckily, he’s saved from having to say anything at all. Seemingly out of nowhere, with only a sudden rustle of velvet to announce her arrival, Celeste appears by his side, placing one hand delicately on his elbow.

“Oh, excuse me,” She hums serenely, entirely ignoring the strange, tense air between the other two. “I pray I am not intruding. Byakuya, won’t you please join me for tea?”

She’d never shown interest in him before. He scowls, instantly wary. “What for?”

“There’s no need for such frightening looks. I have no ulterior motives.” She’s probably smiling, though he can’t make out her mouth on her pale face. Just her eyes, pinpricks of an artificial, unsettling red. “But you have not eaten since yesterday’s breakfast, no? Hifumi’s milk tea is almost passable, and I would appreciate it if you could offer your refined opinion on it.”

He doesn’t move, arm held at an awkward position away from himself to keep her at a distance. Makoto is still there, watching them, hesitating. “Um, Byakuya-”

“And…I would like to apologize for my actions during the trial.” Byakuya’s eyes snap back to her. Her posture has relaxed somewhat, and she speaks slowly, as if every word was pushing against her pride. “I spoke rather callously, and…shed some rather insulting suggestions of your relation with Chihiro. At the time, I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing, but it seems I should not have been so rash.” The hand on his elbow slackens, just enough to be in danger of sliding off his arm entirely. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling now. It’s clear now, you were one of the people closest to him, if he was able to entrust you with something so precious.”

He feels his lip curling with disgust, at her shamelessness. It was unsurprising that someone such as the Ultimate Gambler would use words like cards, and know exactly how to play them. But even despite knowing that she wasn’t likely to be genuine, the stifling, uncomfortable pressure on his chest dissipates, just a little.

And he was hungry. And he has no desire to be face-to-face with Makoto at all, and he doubts Celeste’s intentions to kill him. And there was no motive, nor had he slighted her in any way - and besides. Prepositioning him here, in the middle of the hallway with Makoto to witness it, meant that it would be very difficult for her to free herself of suspicion if he were to turn up dead.

“Fine.” He forces his posture to relax. At that, her hand twines around his arm with the grace of a snake, much like how a lady might be led by a gentleman, resting there lightly.

She radiates smugness, and the self-satisfaction of a pampered cat as she leans into him. “Then, shall we go?”

He doesn’t really want to. But sometimes sacrifices were a means for a better end, and he only spares a single glance at Makoto as he leaves, standing ignored and alone in the middle of the hallway. 

___

“Ah, Princess!” Yamada calls as they enter. And then, slightly panicked: “And - M-Mister Togami-?”

Byakuya scoffs, disgusted, but Celeste tugs him along. “Yes, I am aware of the nature of the company that I keep.” She sounds almost apologetic about it, as she half-guides, half-steers him towards a two-person table near the far end of the cafeteria. “But I assure you, he has his uses. He’s loyal where it counts, and accomplishes things decently well.” She pats his arm, a gesture that feels far too familiar for his comfort. “I’m sure you understand?”

He makes no comment, seating himself with a scowl, and eyeing Celeste warily from across the table, a graceful shape of black and white before him. The girl had always been an enigma - much like Kirigiri in her careful, conniving ways - but he hasn’t forgiven her for how she so carelessly dropped the mention of his meeting with Chihiro. It hadn’t been to clear anything up either; he was sure that her intentions were for her own self-satisfaction, and nothing more.

Yamada waddles out of the kitchen, a large, silver tray balanced between his hands. He sets it on the table with a flourish, its contents rattling slightly - an intricate porcelain tea set decorated with a swirling black design, with a plate full of small teacakes, cookies, and other such deserts - and begins pouring out two cups of tea. He’s surprisingly graceful about it, making a show of pouring the milk in a large arc and stirring it all with a tiny silver spoon, before he sets one down in front of both of them.

Celeste lifts her cup to her lips, taking a careful sip. “Hm. Better,” She praises, and Yamada swells with pride, his chest puffing out. “Thank you. You may go.”

He deflates immediately. “Ah, but-” He clutches the empty tray to his chest like a shield. “Er, to sit alone w-with another man-!”

“Now, please.” There’s a firmness behind her gentle politeness, and after a moment’s hesitation, Yamada retreats to the kitchen with a quiet grumble.

There’s some sound near the entrance of the cafeteria, and when Byakuya looks up he sees Hagakure leading Owada towards a table, talking jovially about the importance of health and food, asking about any preferred dishes, and launching into some inane story about a hamburger and aliens.

“He’s been like that since this morning.” Celeste comments, and he turns back to her. She sets her teacup down with a gentle click, and laces her fingers beneath her chin as she leans forward, her voice lowered to an exaggeratedly conspiratorial degree. “You were not there, but Hiro declared himself the de facto leader in Taka’s absence. He stated that he has rights by age, but thus far he’s only taken responsibility for Owada.”

De facto leader…as if they had such a thing. “Good. Someone has to.” Byakuya grunts, as he lifts the cup to his lips. Owada was the farthest thing from stable at the moment, and he would rather avoid having to participate in another trial so soon. The tea Yamada made is passable, though too sweet for his tastes and richer than he would like.

“Hm, quite right.” She sighs. “I have no interest in repeating yesterday’s events for as long as I live.”

She says what he was thinking out loud, and somehow, that bothers him deeply. He didn’t like how similar the two of them were, how similar she was perceiving them to be. How similar they already were.

“But let’s not waste time on depressing things.” She claps her hands lightly. “I am curious. How is your relationship with Makoto now?”

He chokes on the teacake he had just taken a bite of, crumbling into crumbs and dust into his throat, and takes a hasty gulp of tea. It’s too hot and scalds his tongue, and the raw, healing wounds on his inner cheek. He almost doubles over with the pain, just barely managing to keep his posture. This whole time, he was painfully aware of Celeste watching him over her crossed hands.

“Are you alright?” She asks, offering him a handkerchief. He ignores it and takes another sip of tea, ignoring the burns.

“M’ f-ine.” He spits. He has the feeling his eyes are watering, though there’s not exactly a clear difference in his vision to suggest if that’s the case, and counts himself lucky for not choking. He tries to blink the tears inconspicuously away, and clears his throat. “Why - why do you ask about him?”

She tilts her head as if his question is the odd one. “You underestimate how much attention you drew when you accepted Makoto’s company. In the course of just a few short weeks, we’ve seen you two develop a sudden companionship, then a sudden lull, and then rekindle that relationship as if nothing had happened at all.” He has the feeling she’s smiling, though he can’t make out the gleam of her teeth compared to her chalk-white face. “Would you like to hear some of the rumors that have been spread?”

“Not in the slightest.” He can imagine what tasteless things have been whispered already. “The truth is nothing as scandalous as you’re hoping to hear. He was the first person who discovered my blindness, and was simply assisting me. Though-”

He grimaces inwardly now, at the memory of the trial. The earth-shattering feeling of betrayal. The quiet, hesitant way that Makoto had reached out to him afterwards, guilty as a thief. “Though, I have no need for people that can’t obey orders.”

That’s not the exact reason for his avoidance of Makoto, but he’s not interested in analyzing exactly why the other boy was bothering him so, and especially not now. It’s also not the sort of answer he would expect Celeste to be satisfied with, but to his surprise, she simply shrugs, and nods as if she understands it completely.

“I am the same. Though given our situation…I have had to be a little accommodating.” She flicks a hand carelessly in the direction of the kitchen. “I am surprised, however. Given your nature, I hadn’t expected you to be so merciful. You seemed to let Makoto off very kindly compared to the injustice he did you.” She leans forward slightly, staring at him. “You’ve changed, it seems.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is not an insult.” She says, with the same, gentle tone as a nanny with a displeased child. “If anything, it is praise. You’re far more open now, when compared to before.” She taps at her face. “You’ve stopped wearing your glasses, which you didn’t need in the first place. It’s a sign that you have become less shut off, no?”

“It’s not a sign of anything. My glasses broke when Owada punched me.” Never mind the fact that he has several spare pairs in his room. Trying to wear them now when everyone knew they were pointless would be more humiliating than anything, though he still has to consciously refrain from reaching up to touch his temples, fighting the habit to adjust something that wasn’t there.

“But even so, my point still stands.” Her eyes narrow as she smiles. “Before, you seemed very distant, but now it is more obvious that you are of flesh and blood.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. That was what he was afraid of, becoming more human, more like those around him. His glasses had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, even before there was a real need for him to wear them; they made him look older, Pennyworth had told him, and more mature. Less like a boy, more like a proper heir. Less like his mother, and more like a Togami.

He notices the pale, spindly shape of Celeste’s hand reaching for his face just in time, jerking backwards and out of her reach. If she’s surprised, she gives no sign, and simply retreats slowly. “I apologize. It seems I’ve said something insensitive once more.”

“...You said nothing of the sort.” He lies. Has he become that easy to read? He presses his lips into a thin line. “Even if I still had them, there’s no point in wearing them anymore. Not when everyone knows they’re pointless.”

“I see…if it is any consolation, I do find your appearance appealing now.” She says this hesitantly, shyly, hiding her face demurely behind her cup. But either she had layered on enough makeup to completely conceal her face, or she was an exceptionally skilled liar, or most likely both, because not the barest hint of a blush is visible on her at all. “You were uncomfortably perfect before, more like a little porcelain doll than anything. I rather enjoy this new, human side to you. Even the…imperfections, if you will forgive the term, are quite endearing.”

He can feel her gaze, bright red eyes, roaming his face. “Save your flattery.” He mutters. The burn on the roof of his mouth was making itself known again, and as he glances down at his plate at the remains of his earlier pastry, all he sees is an unappealing, sand-coloured blur. “Asides from the change in supposed ‘leadership’, what else happened when I wasn’t around?”

Thankfully, Celeste doesn’t push the topic, and instead launches into a detailed recount. Monokuma opened up the third floor as a reward for a successful trial, which included new amenities: an art room with just about everything needed for any medium, from sculpting to calligraphy; a very robust physics lab with a very large and elaborate air purifier; an equipment room without anything particularly noticeable; and a recreation room with a pool table, darts, board games, and a weekly magazine rack.

Byakuya raises his eyebrows at this last mention. “Weekly magazines?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, Monokuma has no intention of providing us with any new issues.” She sighs. “I asked him myself.”

He clicks his tongue, disappointed again but unsurprised, and leans back in his chair, taking a biscuit. Everything that Yamada had brought out was too sweet for his tastes, and tasted cheap, with the chemical-ly staleness of preservatives. It was killing his appetite, and he was ready to retreat back to his room.

“It seems that our school life has gained more opportunities to become enjoyable, however.” Celeste continues, ignoring his apparent sourness. “Won’t you join me for a game of Othello, sometime? I’m sure someone of your caliber is familiar with the rules.”

“I’ll pass. I have no need for a partner.” He doubts that she would be a better opponent than Alter Ego, in any case. Especially if he couldn’t see the board.

“A shame. But it was worth asking.” She doesn’t sound surprised by his blunt rejection. “I’m sure I could not compare to the games you have witnessed among the aristocracy?”

He hesitates for a moment. Her intentions were clear, full of the subtle eagerness of a child trying to wheedle out a prize for good behavior. “Witnessed, and participated. But I have to disappoint you, they’re more or less just like the gambling games that the commoners play, blackjack and roulette and such. The only difference is the wagers.”

“Very high wagers, I presume?”

“Yes, but not in money. Most of the time, all the participants have enough money to their name that mere cash becomes meaningless. So they place their stakes in other things- properties, businesses, liquid assets and even people. A family castle, their favored butler. Things that have more value to them than just monetary.” She leans forward on her elbows, listening intently, and after another moment’s pause, he continues. “I’ve only played once, and wagered a genuine second-generation [Delafoy] portrait bust. I won the original copy of the opponent’s family records.”

“A rather underwhelming prize.”

“Not at all. There’s nothing more valuable than information - especially when it’s limited.” He replies, smugly. That book of records was the only copy to exist, and the stupid, sheltered boy who had wagered it had gone nearly catatonic when he lost. He was outright disowned when his family discovered what he’d done, and the family head offered a fortune for the return of it - but Byakuya had kept it, both out of spite and necessity. That book ended up being a precious bargaining token later, when the game of inheritance found him and he needed a place to lie low.

Celeste is captivated, leaning as far as she can over the table with her chin tucked on her laced hands, eyes so wide that the red of her irises - contact lenses, surely - are twin, bloody suns on her milk-white face. Like a vampire bite, he notes distantly, with a hint of snide amusement. “It has always been a dream of mine to sit among those tables.” She says, and her voice is hushed and passionate, eager, expectant; a demand hidden in plain sight.

“It would never happen. Someone of your status would never be afforded the chance.” He scoffs immediately, matter-of-factly.

“Do the wealthy not recognize the value of skill? I’m sure I can provide a stimulating enough game for them.”

“And I don’t doubt that you could. But that wouldn’t matter.” She was certainly clever, but if she was still dreaming such foolish things, then he suspected that she would not last much longer in the mastermind’s game. He leans forward, fixing her with a stare. “The only reason why I could participate at all is because of my lineage; the Togami name is the only reason that family offered to buy back their precious records, rather than simply assassinate me and pick it off my corpse. Someone like you wouldn’t even be allowed to leave that table alive.” Those esteemed elderly with nothing to do and those spoiled brats with lofty ideals would let her join their table, for the novelty of having a member of the peasantry try her luck, but the moment she humiliated them would have marked her end. 

That answer seems to discourage her, and she sits back, plucking another cookie from the tray and turning it in her hands. “Such a violent reaction…it seems that the nobility are much less civilized than given credit.”

“Do you think yourself uncivilized for shooing away an insect? Like I said before, do not flatter yourself into thinking that we are on the same level.”

They’re quiet for a moment, sipping their tea and nibbling at the deserts. Hagakure was trying to coax Owada into eating a bowl of rice porridge, pressing a spoon into his listless hand. Byakuya watches with a strange, uncomfortable feeling growing over him, and suddenly wants nothing more than to leave.

“Ah, speaking of being human,” Celeste says suddenly, as if remembering something. “Makoto found a particularly interesting photo in the third-floor maintenance closet. And a very odd one, at that.” She pauses to take a delicate bite of a pastry, making him wait as she chews. “One of Mondo, Leon, and Chihiro laughing together in a classroom setting.”

“What?” He frowns. Were the three of them that close? He hadn’t noted them having any particular interactions between them to suggest such a thing. “When was the photo taken?”

“That, I cannot say. Monokuma seized the photo, so the only one who saw it was Makoto.” She shrugs, an elegant lift and fall of one shoulder. “But from what he said, they couldn’t have been much younger than they were when we first arrived.”

Perhaps they knew each other before enrolling here. It would be the most logical explanation, and it wouldn’t be impossible based on what he knew of them. He says as much aloud, and Celeste simply shrugs again.

“Perhaps.” She agrees, and takes another bite. “But if they did, they gave no indication of it, and certainly did not act like they knew each other at all. Though, I am inclined to believe it was nothing more than one of Monokuma’s pranks, intended to shake us.”

That wasn’t an unlikely possibility either. Byakuya certainly didn’t doubt that the bear might do such a thing. But for some reason it bothers him, sitting stubbornly in the back of his mind and refusing to be brushed away. Like a conspicuously empty patch of dust in an old room, marking the place where something unnamed once occupied and was now gone. Was it really just a prank, and nothing more?

From the kitchen, Yamada was humming, accompanied by the sound of pans and sizzling oil, hissing steam. Hagakure was still coaxing Owada into eating, while regaling him with another long-winded, far-fetched story. Despite everything, everyone was still going about their lives, domestic and carefree.

He thinks about Kirigiri, who never seemed to stop moving. Always thinking, always searching, always leagues ahead of him. She was similar to the girl in front of him now, clever and scheming and concealing everything behind an unreadable face. But different as well; Celeste speaks in an elegant, lilting cadence that reminded Byakuya of the children of the nobility that he had bumped elbows with before, and he can’t imagine himself having tea and small talk with Kirigiri in a similar setting.

“What will you do now,” He finds himself asking. “In regards to the killing game?”

Celeste tilts her head as if this were an obvious question. “I have no interest in dying. Nor do I have the stomach in me to imagine taking another person’s life.” She shudders slightly, as if the very thought of it was horrifying. “But all our amenities have been accounted for here, and I imagine we have all the provisions to live very comfortable lives. I can be content with this, so long as it ends the pointless tragedies.”

As he thought. Despite all her secretive, careful ways, the way she took to lying like a second skin; she was nothing like Kirigiri. Kirigiri had spine, at least.

He stands up suddenly with a screech of his chair, and she makes a noise of surprise. “You are leaving?”

“I have exhausted your company,” He says bluntly. “So there is no reason for me to stay.”

“Is that so…” There’s a sharp click as she raps her fingers against the patina. “In that case, thank you for the conversation. It was very insightful.”

He has no doubts about that. This was not a simple excuse to have a leisurely chat, but an exchange of information. She gave him what he wanted to know about the third floor, and he gave her a story to stave off boredom. Something to daydream about while they waited to escape.

He doesn’t bother deigning her with a proper goodbye as he turns to go. On his way out, he catches sight of Owada, sitting across from Hagakure, spoon still unmoving, watching him. Faceless and blank.

< previous - from start - next >

[mimbotomy]

I am high on weed and NyQuil and yet am still awake because a bad cough and a fever and for some reason decided it was a good idea to read the AC Odyssey Novelization! Here are some random things that stuck out that I think you should know:

Kassandra’s hears Nikolaos’ lessons in her head throughout the book.

She also loves Phoibe so much but tries so hard to pretend she doesn’t because her mother told her that love is weakness when she was a kid.

Kassandra finds Ikaros as a hatchling taking shelter among the bones at the bottom of Mount Taygetos.

It’s mostly from Kassandra’s POV but there’s some other brief POVs too. The Cult POVs seem to exist pretty much make sure that the reader knows they’re like super fucking evil and Stentor’s few POVs are mostly to bitch about Kassandra.

In one of his less bitchy POVs it’s revealed that a Spartan soldier in Megaris tried to grab Kassandra and kiss her and she either full on broke or just badly bruised his jaw

Building off that sorta, the only person Kassandra even kisses is Alkibiades at the symposium, and mostly to get information.

Nikolaos’ fate is left ambiguous for a long time.

Someone mocks Barnabas’ storytelling in line to see the Oracle and Herodotos later sets the guards on him to provide a distraction so Kassandra can sneak back and talk with the Oracle more.

The Cultists are way less protective of their identities in Delphi and way more obvious with their plans to get rid of Deimos. Also, Kassandra kills a lot of them on accident.

Aspasia keeps Kassandra from drinking poisoned wine, courtesy of Hermippos, at the symposium and helps her escape Athens

Chrysis is killed by her own biological son, the priest Dolpos who helped Myrrine, in revenge for both taking his tongue and killing countless children over the years.

Kassandra and Brasidas’ super badass warehouse fight doesn’t happen. Instead they are discovered by the Monger and taken captive and rescued by two heterae prisoners after the Monger burns Kassandra’s legs with an iron poker.

Phoibe dies playing hide and seek with Kassandra as they escort Perikles to see the Parthenon one last time and Kassandra first realizes something is wrong because she can’t hear Phoibe’s giggles anymore 😭

The first time Kassandra cries after that night on Taygetos is when Phoibe dies.

Aspasia only fully decides to leave the cult after Perikles’ death.

Pausanias’ super secret cult nickname is the Red Eyed Lion and he is uncovered because of a wine stained map or letter or something and a ring seal of a lion and some other super circumstantial evidence.

When they return to Sparta, Barnabas and the crew somehow temporarily sink the Adrestia in a cove to keep from being spotted by Spartan scouts.

The Kos and Arkadia storylines don’t happen at all and the Olympics happen after Kassandra and Myrrine already got their house.

At one point, Kassandra refers to her new family as Myrrine, Barnabas, Herotodos, and Brasidas, which made my shipper heart happy. Then in that same paragraph she refers to Herodotos and Brasidas as something like proud uncles, so we’re pretending that doesn’t exist

Kassandra is imprisoned in Athens for months and like in the game, is “rescued” by Barnabas and Sokrates. Barnabas still has his shovel but Sokrates has a broom instead of a pitchfork.

Also, there’s a small subplot about the woman Barnabas has a fling with on Naxos and her husband who Herodotos met that visited Thera. He’s being tortured by the Cult when Kassandra is imprisoned in Athens and is brutally murdered when he refuses to tell them anything.

Kleon was 100% planing to kill Deimos at Amphipolis.

Brasidas basically dies telling Kassandra how happy he is to see her what the fuck???

A lot of the confrontation on Taygetos is the same as the good ending of the game, where Deimos tells Kassandra that he’s done terrible things. But he also tells her that he can’t change no matter how much he wants to while preparing to throw a knife at Myrrine so she kills him.

Nikolaos and Stentor watch Alexios’ funeral at a distance until Kassandra and Myrrine invite them to join them for dinner.

Kassandra doesn’t fight the Minotaur and Co. but is just given the staff by Pythagoras, who talks to her after his death through the pyramid.

Aspasia’s fate is somewhat left ambiguous in the end because Kassandra’s focused too much on the vision from the pyramid.

Overall, it read a little bit like a weird fanfic! I saw glimpses of the characters we love from the game but since the author cut out such big pieces of the plot and every side quest - which makes sense since it was a very short book - we didn’t get to see too much of them either. Except for Kassandra, who is a lot more no nonsense than I imagine her as. There’s no flirting or and very little joking, but I really liked her resourcefulness and unique fighting style. And her love for Phoibe and her family that shines like a beacon throughout the entire book, from the very beginner where her mother tells her it is unspartan to love. Of course, our lovely Kassandra is a lover and a fighter and that does not change no matter what ❤️

Hope this list helps some of my fellow lovely wonderful odyssey fic writers I love you all so much you beautiful souls 😘😘😘

[scarlet--wiccan]

Is there a stated (specific) reason why the high evolutionary kidnapped the maximoffs, experimented on them, then gave them back? Did he have a specific goal in mind or was it just general mad scientist stuff? Were they targeted for a specific reason (beyond the implied racism ofc), or would any babies have worked? Were there other babies experimented on? Was it Bova’s, Natalya’s, or someone else’s efforts to get them back to their original family? (because it seems kind of out of character for THE to make an effort to return the children he stole and then experimented on…)

Yes. Wyndham's motives are clearly stated in Scarlet Witch. The timeline of events after the children were taken is left somewhat more ambiguous, but we can piece it together from context.

In Scarlet Witch #11, the priest, Drobnjak, explains to Wanda that the Evolutionary had been sending his Knights out on raids to locate human subjects-- specifically children-- with latent powers or supernatural abilities for him to study and augment. Drobjnak was aware, at the time, of a witch's family living in the area and figured that the children would have inherited some of their mother's power, so he gave the Knights their location in the hopes that they would leave the area once they found what they were looking for.

In other words, he sold them out. There's a pretty clear undercurrent of racial and religious prejudice on Drobnjak's part, and Wanda explicitly points out that he was comfortable sacrificing her and Pietro to ensure the safety of his own community and parish. But for Wyndham, the twins were viable test subjects because they had latent powers.

A lot of people-- myself included-- forget this detail, but the twins were already living with Django and Marya when the Knights abducted them. Natalya had apparently left them with her brother and his wife while she was off doing, you know, dangerous superhero witch stuff. So, the twins were actually taken directly from Django and Marya, and later returned to them. This contradicts previous accounts of their adoption, but it's also a lot easier to believe that Wyndham basically put them back where he found them, rather than going out of his way to locate their family. It lines up with Wyndham's account in Uncanny Avengers (2015) #4, as well, which was probably important for Robinson since he was building directly on top of that retcon.

Here, he states that Django and Marya are their "true parents," but it's a discrepancy that's easy to forgive if the twins were already living with them before Natalya's death.

It's worth noting that in most older versions of the story, he actually shows a lot more concern for the babies' well-being, and he's the one who goes out of his way to find them a loving home with parents who'd recently lost their own children. Obviously, that's a very different character treatment from what we see in these mid-2010s stories, but my point is, it's not impossible for me to believe, based on what we already know about Wanda and Pietro's origins.

I think it's probably safe to assume that Bova did urge Wyndham to return the twins to their family when he was done with them. That's what happened in their previously established backstory, and there's nothing here to contradict it. But Robinson makes no effort to justify Bova's now-false accounts of the twins' birth or explain how and when Chthon got involved-- I don't think he's mentioned once in the whole series-- and Natalya's death is still a mystery. I suppose we don't even know if Wyndham was aware of Natalya's identity or knew that he she tried to get her kids back-- it just never comes up, and nobody's touched this storyline in nearly ten years.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Into the Fire

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel isn’t the only one who loses a brother to the Fireflies in Boston. In the wake of your rage, Joel Miller is the only one who can understand you and that changes everything.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, some good old fashioned angst, hints of smut, It’s not explicit but minors DNI/18+. I have not included any age references or physical descriptions of the reader to try and keep this is as inclusive as possible however it is a female reader. There is also no explicit cheating, but there’s an ambiguity that could be interpreted either way.

Word count: 1.7k

Notes - This is not only my first ever Joel Miller fic but it’s the first time I’ve been able to write in over a year. I’m very nervous about posting this, but I hope you enjoy it.

“Takes one to know one, so take it from me/ You've been lonely/ You've been lonely too long” Dust to Dust – The Civil Wars

The world pretty much ended years ago, but you survived. You tried to forge your way through it all, endure everything just to find a way to stay alive and stay you. It’s been years but once again your axis has twisted, and you don’t know what to do.

The last fifteen minutes are replaying over and over again, ever more embarrassing and you’re not entirely sure how you’ve ended up at this apartment, but you have.

Joel Miller is staring at you with an unreadable expression, one arm leaning against the door you’ve been knocking repeatedly.

“We have to stop them,” you say as he moves to let you in the apartment.

“We?” he asks, his tone somewhere between amused and furious, as he walks into his kitchen.

“Yes, we. I spoke to my brother and he’s useless so it’s down to us. They’ve lost it, Joel. Leaving the QZ? The Fireflies?”

“Probably,” Joel says.

You knew your circle of friends wouldn’t fight your little brother on this, but Joel? You were certain he’d help you. Especially after seeing his face when your respective brothers made their announcement.

Joel, however, he was a different story. You had known Joel vaguely for some time. Your family and his group had made it to the QZ at the same time, but it was through your best friend’s smuggling that you knew Joel and his partner Tess. You still weren’t sure what their deal was, however neither Joel or Tess seemed the types to sit around and gossip about relationships.

Joel’s apartment is very similar to yours, however while you’ve tried to make your allocated apartment feel as much like a home from before as you can, Joel’s home seems stark, dustier somehow. There are few personal touches, just an out of place butterfly ornament in the kitchen you’re nervous to ask about.

“We can’t let them do this,” you add as loudly as you dare as he rustles around his kitchen.

“Oh, we can’t?” Even from the kitchen, you can tell he almost sounds amused. “They’re adults, sweetheart, they can do what they want.”

“They’ll die, Joel.”  You mean to sound forthright, firm and to the point but there’s a desperate whine in your voice that utterly betrays you.

Silence.

Joel places a glass of dubious looking alcohol in your hands and takes a large gulp of his own drink.

Your baby brother is joining the Fireflies. He’s still so young, he was just a child when everything happened and now him and Tommy have got it into their heads that they need to join the Fireflies. At least Tommy believes in the cause, you have a sneaking suspicion your brother just wants to fight, that it’s not about the cause at all. Maybe you underestimate him.

You don’t talk about what happened in those years before you headed for Boston, you keep those moments locked away tightly. You know how dangerous the need to belong is, how destructive it can get and why your brother might chase that.

“He’s not going,” you say, “I’ll stop him.”

“He’s not a kid anymore,” he says. “They’ll be fine. You need to let it go, find a way to move on, say goodbye right.” His final words poke at an open wound, because if your brother were to leave tonight then you’d never forgive yourself. His announcement tore all your scars open so you lashed out at him in a way you hadn’t before.

How fucking dare Joel Miller try and calm you down. You’ve heard enough about him to know this isn’t his personality – you know he’s angry about Tommy, you know they’ve been raging and fighting about this too. Why are the rules so different for you?

“You - you have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say angrily, “no idea at all.”

“I know what it is to look after your little brother. I know what it is to see that thrown in your face.” There’s quiet fury in his voice there, one that might not he directed at you, but you feel anyway.

“It’s different,” you say, taking another swig of alcohol.

There are two years you cannot talk about, not because of what you did or didn’t do, but not talking about them doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. Your brother and you were moulded from the fires of that hell and emerged different. Stronger perhaps, but mostly different.

“You can’t stop him, you know you can’t,” he says, his voice a touch softer.

You don’t reply but take a healthy swig of your drink. There’s half a bottle of whatever crappy whiskey this is on the makeshift coffee table; one you know you’ll need a refill from in a moment.

“You realise that he isn’t leaving you, he’s just joining them,” Joel says pointedly.

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it ain’t.”

Oh.

Oh.

Joel takes a hard gulp of his drink as you find yourself staring at your hands. You hadn’t thought about how it might feel for Joel. You’ve been so busy drowning in your own brother’s betrayal there was no room for anyone else’s pain. You take a breath and let Tommy’s words come back to you hours before for a moment.

“The things we did …”

You remember how Joel’s face had tightened, how he’d looked away for just a moment but when he had met his brother’s gaze again, his eyes were duller and his posture had straightened minutely.

You knew your brother was leaving you to go believe in the Fireflies, but Joel thought Tommy was leaving Joel because he didn’t believe in him anymore. That had to sting.

“We were meant to stick together,” you add in a small voice because that is what hurts you the most. The only way you and your brothers have survived this long is together and now your baby brother wants to mess with that. He wants to go outside where the Infected, who could tear you apart in a moment, are at least the most predictable threat he’ll encounter.

For a moment you sit in silence and use the time to observe Joel Miller. You’ve known him a while, however this is the longest time you’ve ever spent with just the two of you in a room. He’s always seemed so unknowable, so intimidating, fascinating but terrifying in equal measures. Who would have thought your brothers would be the bridge between you both? You’ve felt lonely for so long, even in a crow, and you’re sure Joel must feel the same. You can feel it too.

One drink turns into two and find yourself shifting on the sofa, one knee pointed towards him, an elbow on the top of the so far with your drink sloshing around in that hand and your gaze directly on his.

You’re staring at his lips. You shouldn’t be staring but you are. You notice how he downs his drink, how his deep brown eyes meet yours, seem softer than earlier somehow. There’s still a hardness there but the edges seem muted, blurred.

You need to stop staring at his lips.

You swear you can see the edges of his mouth twitch, almost like a smile if you didn’t know better.

You shift momentarily, move just a little closer to him because right now Joel Miller understands you. You understand him too.

You’re not sure who starts it, who is the one who brings their lips to the other first. Maybe you realise it at the same time, maybe you don’t.

You’ve thought about this before. You thought that Joel would be different, more like the man you’ve known for the years. You expected him to be cold, aloof, perhaps even perfunctory.

Joel Miller is desperation and need though.

He touches you like there are only moments left before you’re taken from him, his kisses are hungry, never satiated. “Wait – wait, what about Tess?” you ask, pulling away. You are more out of breath than you expected and every part of you wants to continue but you need to ask.

“It’s –‘s not like that,” he says, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I don’t want to cause -”

“Tess and me, it’s not like that. We’re not like that.”

He is everything and nothing like you expected.

His hot hands skim down your ribs, down to your legs, warming every part of you. As they move up between them you hear yourself let out a low noise.

“Oh yeah?” he whispers before kissing you harder.

Your jeans are unbuttoned and you hurry to push them down, to get closer, to be with him.

You didn’t realise how much you had ever wanted Joel until now.

The two of you are a mess of hands, gasps, and groans, pulling off clothes, getting as close as you can. You are both desperate, lost things but for a moment, just one moment you don’t feel so alone.  

It doesn’t matter you’re on a couch, that this is surely just a release of pain and a desperate need to connect with someone.

Afterwards you lie on the sofa, watch him pull his jeans back up, stand up and get another bottle of alcohol before pouring two more drinks. You watch the walls that have broken down over the past evening slowly rebuild themselves. It’s disappointing but expected.

He opens his mouth as if to stay something then stops himself.

“Don’t overthink it, I’m not,” you lie. “I won’t – I won’t tell Tess.”

He makes some sort of affirmative grunt that tells you that perhaps his resolute denial of whatever him and Tess are together was exaggerated or if that’s your anxiety. You wonder if it’s just because he’s a man who cannot show any weakness, any vulnerability anymore.

Right now, you don't want to analyse it anymore though. You don't regret it.

"I should go," you say.

"No, no - you can stay," Joel replies to your surprise. "If you want. Easier than tryin' to get past the guards at this hour."

"Okay." You take a sip of your drink, take a deep breath.

Your brother is leaving you but your world isn't going to end. The rage you felt has subsided a little now. It hurts, but you can make it through this.

You look at Joel, think about the unexpected but welcome twists of the evening, try to tell yourself it doesn't mean anything.

You know how this story goes. You will tell yourself it won’t happen again, but you already know it will. Time and time again.