#in that case perish under the sun

[sketchynoodles]

It’s too cold out to not have a scarf on

[hildergard]

Could you do something where Aemond is already married/betrothed to a highborn lady that’s been approved by Alicent and Otto but he has a relationship with a low born woman (a brothel worker or any lowborn really) and once he becomes Prince Regent he starts bringing her around the castle, giving her a room to herself, treating her better than how a lowborn should be treated in Alicent and Ottos eyes and they don’t like it but Aemond doesn’t care.

MINE TO PROTECT ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Suggestive content, swearing, possessive behaviour, classism

WORDCOUNT | 4k

NOTE | I have seen a lot of fanfictions where the Reader is a brothel worker so I made her a baker instead. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for this great request! I had so much fun writing it <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the seedy streets of Flea Bottom, rumours travelled in a precise order, memorised by all.

A Lord, drunk with lust, would disclose the Crown’s secrets to a simpering whore, who would be quick⏤once the gold dragons were in her purse⏤to repeat what she had just heard, noble semen still running down her thighs. The other, much less wealthy, customers would then talk about it loudly in bars, attracting the attention of patrons who, once sober, had only to spread the news.

Today, the rumour burst into your little shop when Old Gerald came through the door, looking for his daily loaf of bread. 

 “Prince Aemond’s been made Regent," he said. 

For a second, you did not move. The dough fell on wood. Your floured hands remained stuck in the sticky, flabby mixture. It would have to be kneaded again. The sight of your dirty fingers woke you from your torpor. You gripped the towel from your apron and wiped your palms roughly before turning your back on your customer⏤less to get the fresh loaves of bread out of the oven than to regain your composure.

He had done it. 

Your shovel rasped against the burning slab of clay and peeled off the loaves. 

A few days earlier, when night had enveloped the citizens of King's Landing in its thick cloak, he had told you of his plans and dreams⏤the two were always intertwined, for Aemond Targaryen provoked fate rather than waited for it. His touch had done nothing to soften the brutality of his words. Sordid tales of fire and blood, the kind that filled the tomes of the Citadel. 

Even the Targaryens could not play with fire indefinitely. Aemond rose in the flames. For how much longer? You had protested, your voice hoarse from the moans he had managed to draw from your throat, but he would have none of it and simply told you to trust him, as if all this were far too complicated for you. 

And perhaps that was the case, for what did you know of war and power?

“What about his Majesty?" you asked.

Old Gerald tossed you three coppers, which you pocketed, before handing you a thick piece of cloth. 

“They say he perished in dragonfire. Seems Targaryens are closer to men, after all. With all this quarrel for t'throne, it were inevitable. And, let me tell you, it'll happen again. Today, a brother sits on t'throne. Tomorrow, it'll be an uncle or a sister. Things like that never end.”

You carefully wrapped the golden loaf in the cloth. 

“Wi' Rhaenyra in Dragonstone and his brother's heir dead, he’ll no doubt be crowned King. And the Lady Baratheon, Queen.”

You winced at the name but immediately hid your reaction with a tight smile. Gerald, bless him, took no notice of your torment. You handed the loaf of bread to the old cobbler, who nodded at you and returned to his shoes. 

The rumour ran on and kept you thinking all day. You burnt a dozen loaves of bread, spilt two sacks of flour and forgot to deliver her apple pies to Dorthy Porter, making you lose a silver stag and a customer.

When the key finally turned in the lock of the shop and cut you off from the rest of the world, your shoulders slumped. The sun and all its problems gave way to the moon. Under its silvery eyes, other rumours would no doubt spread but you did not wish to hear them. You longed for your straw mattress and the comfort of your dreams⏤perhaps your love would visit you there, also freed from the pressure the Gods were piling on his shoulders. 

Tiredness weakened your knees⏤you dragged your body more than you climbed the stairs to your modest bedroom. In the middle of the room, the bed and its pillow stretched out its arms to you. You let yourself fall into the feathery embrace and closed your eyes for a moment, praying to the Gods that you would find sleep easily. 

They ignored you. 

The doorbell rang. 

Your eyelids struggled to open. Sleep paralysed them⏤it clutched at your eyelashes and tried to keep them closed but you fought the temptation and, at last, gazed into the dim light of the room. Another series of blows, more hurried, struck against the wood. The whole  shop seemed to shake. 

“I’m coming, I'm coming…” you mumbled. 

You gasped as two members of the Kingsguard appeared on your doorstep, their cloaks far too white to be dragged through the muddy streets of Flea Bottom. 

“The Prince Regent, His Highness Aemond Targaryen, summons you.”

They did not care for your reply and seized you. You protested, demanded to be told the reason for this summon, but nothing would do. The guards dragged you like a rag doll through the streets of King's Landing, indifferent to your screams and struggle. Above and around you, the candlelight in the windows intensified. Some people poked their heads out to watch the racket. You lowered your chin and remained silent, but the damage had been done. 

Already, rumours were spreading. The baker had been arrested. What had she done? Who would make their bread from now on?  

The dizzy shadow of the Red Keep loomed larger and larger. Just the outline of it made your skin crawl. For the first time, you would be treading on the floor of Kings and Queens. You were being plunged headfirst into this unknown, powerful and dangerous place, populated by men and women who despised people like you. One of the guards tightened his grip around your arm. You yelped. Why were they taking you there? Aemond always came to you, not the other way round. 

Did someone know? You blanched. Impossible, you thought immediately. You had been cautious. 

But what if... What if someone had seen you, despite all your precautions? 

 Were they taking you to the Keep to put you to the sword?  

 A flash of fear stabbed you in the guts.  

You finally passed through the large gates of the castle. They were still open, yet, no one was in the courtyard. The swords were resting on the workbenches and the horses were asleep. Only a few guards patrolled the ramparts, their heads turned skywards in search of a dragon. 

“Hurry up, girl. The Prince is waiting.”

A solitary, proud figure emerged at the top of the stairs, in front of the entrance. His long white hair fluttered in the wind and the bluish moonlight accentuated his strict features and pale complexion. The mere sight of his face reassured you. You defied the guards and walked towards him. 

His rough hand⏤hardened by duty and war⏤gripped yours before thin lips kissed it. The Prince pulled you towards him. Your heart slowed as his familiar scent enveloped you and your shoulders relaxed. For a second, you surrendered to the comfort of his warmth and love. The smell of musk and leather soothed your body, but your head kept its wits about it.

“What's happening, Aemond?”

He closed his eye as his name fell from your lips and smiled. His hand came down and grasped your waist in a possessive embrace. You leaned into the touch. 

“There are rumours that Aegon–”

You squeaked. His fingers had dug painfully into your flesh at his brother's name. 

The mere mention of him brought back painful and humiliating memories, which your lover had confided to you, his head on your pillow. Even today, the wounds had not healed. They continued to transpire in every aspect of his life. You are the only thing he has not stolen from me, he had told you one night. Saying that name was like throwing his past back in his face and breaking your promise. He'll never succeed, you had replied, but today, Aegon was on your mind. What did his wound mean for the Crown, for you?

“Is it true?" you managed to articulate. 

“The Council has made me Regent," he nodded. “We will not need to hide any longer, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

But Aemond did not answer you. He smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and let his fingers brush your neck. With a nod, the kingsguards left. The clink of their armour echoed for long seconds, but the din faded with the tenderness of his gestures. His finger traced the veins in your chest. They led him to your breasts, hidden by your dress. Aemond grunted⏤terribly offended by this affront⏤and pulled at the fabric but it held on. 

Claere Linstar's work was reknown throughout Flea Bottom. You could not find a better weaver⏤today, you were thankful for the two silver stags you had spent. The garment would become the guarantor of your dignity, the bulwark against your desire. 

When you realised that your Prince was not going to answer your question, you took a step back. His hand fell limply between the two of you as a brief look of pain clouded his face. 

“Aemond?”

He straightened up and held out his hand to you. 

“Follow me.”

The labyrinthine corridors made your head spin. You lost count of the turns you took, the staircases you climbed and the alcoves you passed. The beauty of the mouldings and frescoes drew admiring sighs from you several times, but Aemond did not care. He walked past them without giving them a second glance. He's used to all this, you reminded yourself. People of his rank bathed in this luxury and grandeur since birth.  

On the way, maids dressed in red and white stopped at your sight. Their gaze fell on your face, on your body, on your hand locked in the Prince's... Your cheeks heated and you tried to pull away, but Aemond tightened his grip. Out of habit, his thumb caressed your skin. This time, his touch only made you tense. You bowed your head, ashamed. 

They knew. 

The thought stayed with you. 

You only lifted your head when Aemond stopped in front of an ornate door. The mouldings curved into flowers and birds⏤an ode to spring and renewal. Your eyes swept the decor, stopped on a bush of camellias and, finally, met the Prince's satisfied gaze. 

“We've arrived," he announced. 

Aemond opened the door with a confident gesture. Inside, an immense room stretched out and seemed to never end. Wealth oozed out of every corner, from the four-poster bed to the dressing table adorned with sapphires. On the wall, frescoes of flowers had been painted to match the powder pink drapes⏤an explosion of colour that turned drab the corridors you had been raving about just a few minutes before. 

“Is it to your taste?”

You turned back to Aemond. Although his chin was up and his back was straight⏤proud as ever⏤red bloomed on his cheeks. Your lover seemed embarrassed, a far cry from his usual composure. Almost timidly, his hand sought yours. He couldn't help it, you realised. His fingers always found yours⏤skin against skin to find what he had been deprived of all his childhood. 

“I don't know anyone who wouldn't like it," you replied.

“Hmm. Good.”

He pulled you to him. His hands went down to your buttocks and pressed you against his chest. Your pelvises collided. Suddenly, the room made sense. You let yourself drown in these familiar gestures. Your hand caressed his muscular shoulders, moved up to his jaw and brushed against his lips. Aemond kissed the pad of your thumb before replacing it with your lips. Soon, the wet sound of saliva echoed through the room. The sweet melody ignited a fire in your lower abdomen and moved down between your thighs. 

Your hand resumed tracing arabesques on your lover's smooth skin. It stopped at the buttons on his doublet and hastily undid them before wandering lower and lower…

Aemond stopped you before you could take him in your hand. His hand grabbed yours. He kissed your palm and pressed it against his cheek. 

“These will be your quarters.”

The fire went out, leaving you frozen with shock. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

“Now that I am Regent, we will not have to hide any more.” 

A new glare lit up his eye. Purple turned black and made you shiver. Flames seemed to dance in his pupil, crushing all remains of the second son he had once been. That Aemond was dead. In his place was a Regent who thought himself above laws and men.  

“It's not proper, Aemond," you tried to protest. “If it gets out that I'm here... If the Dowager Queen or the Hand–”

“They have no say in the matter. My word is law now.”

 “If you want me here… Perhaps I could serve the Crown, join the kitchens. Anything but that, Aemond," you said, gesturing to those quarters, far too luxurious for someone of your breeding. 

“You do not belong in the fucking kitchens," he scoffed. “No. You will be by my side, as my equal.”

“You're engaged," you retorted. “The Lady Baratheon won't take kindly to my presence here. You nobles can make Small Folk disappear in a blink of an eye and no one would notice or care.”

Alira Merchin's story was remembered as a cautionary tale for young girls naive enough to think love could conquer blood. The fable was classic⏤hundreds of similar romances filled libraries, and perhaps it was these very ones that had encouraged the girl to seduce the heir of House Harte. The man fell in love and made the pretty merchant his lover. 

This did not please his wife, the daughter of Lord Chelsted. 

She got rid of the merchant with disconcerting ease. The poor girl was found trampled by horses in white and green bards. That day, Lord Harte lost his true love and spent the rest of his life suffering the consequences of his betrayal. 

Your heart dropped. What would happen to you if you tickled the stag? Ours if the Fury. Their motto was an ode to their rage, to their thirst for violence. If Floris Baratheon found out that Prince Aemond was bedding you... and in the Keep nonetheless��

The storm would come for you and you would perish in its eye. 

“It's not a good idea, Aemond," you finally said. 

“Do not fret, my love. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here to protect you.”

The Prince pulled you into bed. 

Your protests died on your lips, muffled by moans and the exquisite feel of his skin against yours. 

Your fingers tightened around your thighs. The soap made your skin slippery but did nothing to wash away the shame that had been clinging to it for days. It colonised your flesh and left it tainted, eating away at your muscles and weighing down your heart. 

On the first day, after a passionate night, maids had arrived to prepare you, but you refused their care. You were no Lady. You had bathed alone all your life and would continue to do so. More than anything, you wanted to escape their watchful eyes, which would no doubt have noticed the hickeys on your chest and thighs. 

You did not know how rumours got around in the Keep, but you were sure that they first burgeoned on the maids’ lips. They blossomed as quickly as in Flea Bottom⏤the inquisitive nature of man was innate⏤, but it would not be Old Gerald getting wind of it. No. The stakes were much higher in these parts, and the consequences even more dire. 

The door to your quarters stood in the way of the horror surely awaiting you, but for how much longer? 

Your hands massaged your calf, hoping to rediscover a cherished routine. You longed for the feel of dough beneath your fingers. What would become of your shop? Would you have to sell it? Maybe someone had already moved in⏤abandoned houses never stayed so for long in Flea Bottom, the cradle of the poor and the homeless. 

You could not cherish the roof above your head, yet, you supposed you had to learn to appreciate it. Aemond did not seem eager to let you go.  

Aemond. 

Every day, the sun tore him away from you. His hours were devoted to the Small Council and military strategies, only half of which you understood when he explained them to you. Your Prince needed to talk, to get rid of the weight that was arching his back. You became the shoulder on which he rested, the ear into which he poured his doubts, the flesh in which he forgot himself. 

“I wish to be with you every hour of the day, to attach myself to your side, but the Gods will only grant me this pleasure when I win this war. I am fighting for you⏤for us,” he had told you. 

The moon brought him back into your arms. Every night, without exception, he would cross the threshold of the door and wrap you in a reassuring embrace. His arms would block out your gloomy thoughts and chase away shame and regret⏤all seemed worth it if it kept him close to you. The stars looked down on your love. When the bells rang the hour of the owl, you indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, whispered sweet nothings or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence that the other's presence guaranteed. Sometimes, Aemond, lying on the bed with your head on his stomach, would read you stories with his hand buried in your hair. 

And then, the hour of the Nightingale would sound, its tranquillity burning away in the first rays of sunlight. The enchanted interlude would close and you would spend the day dreaming of a life where sun and duty did not separate you. 

Shame would reappear, its weight with it, and fear⏤tangible and vibrant⏤would turn your stomach. 

The spectre of Floris Baratheon never left you. It haunted you. In the frescoes of camellias on the wall. In the bouquets of flowers dotting your quarters. In the venison served for dinner. The tales of her beauty reached you and left you bitter, but what they said about her quiet authority made your blood run cold. 

She would come for you. 

The Lady Baratheon occupied all your thoughts, so much so that you forgot about another much more dangerous threat. 

One day, Alicent Hightower stalked into your room. 

You dropped your embroidery in your lap and hastily sat up. The needle fell to the floor with a disturbing chime. The bell was tolling⏤this farce had gone on far too long and it would now end. 

The Dowager Queen dropped a small leather bag on the table. Its contents clinked and masked your gasping breath for a second. Your heart was pounding against your temples. Soon, the air would run out. Already your throat was closing up and you were struggling to swallow. 

“What is it?" you asked weakly. 

“Five thousand gold dragons. Enough to buy you a new life, far from the Keep, far from Westeros.”

Away from my son, she meant. 

“I won't leave Aemond.”

He needs me, you thought. 

“The Prince Regent does not need you," the Queen scoffed as if she could heard your mind. “He is engaged. Or have you forgotten that? Whoring yourself in the way you do… It would appear so. Have you thought about the repercussions of your actions when people find out about you? The risks it means for Aemond? Your very presence here jeopardises this entire war.”

“I have tried to–”

“He does not love you, you fool. He just wants a cunt to fuck without having to spend a single penny.”

You recoiled, surprised to hear the famously pious queen speak so vulgarly. 

War transformed souls. It made them ugly. Alicent Hightower’s wide eyes and pursed lips twisted her face into a terrifying expression. 

She sighed and, for a moment, her features became those of a compassionate woman. 

“I don't know what… hold my son has over you," she continued in a calmer voice, “but you seem smart enough to understand this will end badly. You must leave. Take the gold and let us be done with this farce.”

The door slammed against the wall before you could even consider the proposal. 

Aemond reached your side with a confident stride. 

“What's going on here? Mother?”

When the latter did not answer, he looked to you for answers. You lowered your head, unable to bear the look of concern in his purple eye any longer. 

It fell lower, onto the table and the leather purse.  

“What is the meaning of this?” he raised his voice. 

Silence stretched before Alicent Hightower relented. 

“You cannot… support a lowborn in such manners, Aemond. The girl must go.”

The Prince ignored his mother and took you in his arms. His nose nestled under your ear as his hands buried themselves in your hair. He guided your head into his neck and whispered comforting words, which you could not hear. You did not care. His familiar scent embraced you and brought tears to the corners of your eyes. They wet your cheeks and his collar. 

You should never have come here. 

“Out.”

His mother protested. 

“Imagine the shame for your future wife, the Lady Baratheon! For her house! If we lose Storm's End because of... because of this w–” 

“Hold your tongue and leave.”

“Aemond, if you do this, we are lost!”

“Get out!”

Footsteps retreated. A door slammed. Aemond sighed. His hand drew abstract symbols on the back of your head for a moment before encouraging you to look at him. 

“Oh, my love," he said, seeing your misty eyes. “All is well now. She will not hurt you any more.”

The danger you had put yourself in was greater than you had thought. Fear dried your mouth and exhausted your words. You stammered a few excuses before taking a deep breath. Your Prince's fingers did not weaken. They continued to comfort you and, at last, gave you the courage you needed to finally speak. 

“Maybe I should return to Flea Bottom. I–” 

“No," Aemond’s voice cracked. 

His hands framed your face and pulled you closer until your noses were touching. 

“You are not leaving me.”

His lips were harsh, covering every inch of your skin. He kissed the bridge of your nose, your warm cheekbones, your wet eyelids. Tears ran aground in the cracks of his lips and dried up under his exquisite tenderness. No beauty spot, no eyelash, was spared. His lips erased his mother's words and the doubts in your heart. 

“You belong here, with me. I do not care for blood or war. I only wish for your love.”

Aemond filled the space between your mouths. His hands reached down and grasped your breast. He feasted on your lips and the taste of them like a hungry man. Tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower abdomen. You rolled your hips, searching for his, but your lover pulled away.

You didn't want him to stop. 

The Prince shushed your complaints and pushed you to the bed. Your back bounced on the goose feather mattress. Eager to feel his skin against yours, you sat up and tried to pull him to you, but Aemond took a step back. A petty smile stretched his lips as he heard you whimper. He ignored you and stood silent, admiring you. His eyes, now black, gazed down at your body, contemplating its shape and softness.

“Aemond, please…”

Your lover grabbed an ankle and kissed it. You moaned. He moved up your calf, caressing your knee and digging his fingers into your thighs before spreading them apart. His teeth nipped at the flesh, which his tongue immediately soothed. Your breathing quickened and breathy moans fell from your swollen lips, intoxicated by his touch. He skipped over your dripping cunt, his hands grazing your hips and sides.  

Suddenly, Aemond stopped touching you, placed a farewell kiss on your belly and sat up on his elbows. 

“I will take care of everything, my love. You will never have to fear for your life. It is mine to cherish, mine to love, mine to protect," he said before reaching up to capture your lips with his. “Mine.”

“I love you," you sighed. 

Aemond smiled, as he did every time the words fell from your lips. One could not get used to the sweetness of love. It forever stirred the heart and soothed the soul. Your Prince placed a chaste kiss on your lips before moving down and disappearing between your thighs. 

His words vanished in desire and pleasure. You forgot them the next day, when the hour of the Nightingale struck.  

You should have known that Aemond Targaryen would keep his promise.

Three days later, the Lady Baratheon was found dead in the Kingswood, impaled on a stag's antlers. 

[nostalgebraist]

I feel like I've had the same experience several times now: someone does a new translation of a non-English literary classic, and all the critics praise it to the moon, so I go and try to read it, and it's turns out it's just . . . bad? Like, really bad? And weirdly bad?

A while back, I wrote about the case of Pevear and Volokhonsky. Here's another example, which I encountered while doing background research for my novel Almost Nowhere.

----

One of my novel's major characters is a literary translator, famous for his rendition of the Persian epic poem Shahnameh ("Book of Kings").

To help me write this character, I tried to read the Shahnameh myself. I started out – where else? – with the translation that seemed to be the gold standard, and which was certainly the most critically lauded.

Namely, the 2006 translation by Dick Davis, in prose with occasional shifts into verse.

Here's how the Shahnameh begins, in Davis' translation:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty? No one has any knowledge of those first days, unless he has heard tales passed down from father to son. This is what those tales tell: The first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne, was Kayumars. When he became lord of the world, he lived first in the mountains, where he established his throne, and he and his people dressed in leopard skins. It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time. Seated on his throne, as splendid as the sun, he reigned for thirty years. He was like a tall cypress tree topped by the full moon, and the royal farr shone from him. All the animals of the world, wild and tame alike, reverently paid homage to him, bowing down before his throne, and their obedience increased his glory and good fortune.

And here is the same opening, in the 1905 translation by Arthur and Edmond Warner (which I only discovered much later in the process of writing Almost Nowhere):

What saith the rustic bard? Who first designed To gain the crown of power among mankind? Who placed the diadem upon his brow? The record of those days hath perished now Unless one, having borne in memory Tales told by sire to son, declare to thee Who was the first to use the royal style And stood the head of all the mighty file. He who compiled the ancient legendary, And tales of paladins, saith Gaiúmart Invented crown and throne, and was a Sháh. This order, Grace, and lustre came to earth When Sol was dominant in Aries And shone so brightly that the world grew young. Its lord was Gaiúmart, who dwelt at first Upon a mountain; thence his throne and fortune Rose. He and all his troop wore leopard-skins, And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy. He reigned o'er all the earth for thirty years, In goodness like a sun upon the throne, And as a full moon o'er a lofty cypress So shone he from the seat of king of kings. The cattle and the divers beasts of prey Grew tame before him; men stood not erect Before his throne but bent, as though in prayer, Awed by the splendour of his high estate, And thence received their Faith.

Now, I can't speak at all about the source text. I have no idea how faithful or unfaithful these two translations are, and in what ways, in which places.

Still, though. I mean like, come on.

This is an epic poem about ancient kings and larger-than-life heroes.

This is a national epic, half myth and half history, narrating the proud folkloric lineage claimed by a real-world empire.

There is a way that such things are supposed to sound, in English. And it sure as hell isn't this:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty?

Excuse me? That's your opening line? I thought I was reading a poem, here, not taking a fucking AP World Literature exam!

----

Postscript

Some of the critical praise for the Davis translation, quoted on the back cover of my copy (emphasis mine):

"A poet himself, Davis brings to his translation a nuanced awareness of Ferdowsi's subtle rhythms and cadences. His "Shahnameh" is rendered in an exquisite blend of poetry and prose, with none of the antiquated flourishes that so often mar translations of epic poetry." (Reza Aslan, The New York Times Book Review) "Thanks to Davis's magnificent translation, Ferdowsi and the Shahnameh live again in English.” (Michael Dirda, Washington Post) "A magnificent accomplishment . . . [Davis’s translation] is not only the fullest representation of Ferdowsi’s masterpiece in English but the best." (The New York Sun)

[nezuscribe]

𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊

summary: when a disease turns the world into an apocalyptic landscape, you join a group in order to survive. you find yourself drawn to a certain blue-eyed man for no explainable reason. though the two of you have your own pasts to deal with, the two of you grow closer and closer together. after all, it seems as though you’re the only lovers left alive

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: post apocalypse au, strangers to friends to lovers, slight angst, fluff, smut, some hurt comfort, inspired by some of the events from the last of us

word count: 16k+

warnings: 18+ mdni, some heavy-ish themes, mentions of suicide, smut, heavy making out, fingering, vaginal penetration, cum eating, slight begging, gojo is a teeny bit of a dick but overall just doesn’t know how to handle emotions

note: i did take some inspo from the last of us, so if you see something you might recognize, it’s because i most likely based something off of it. nothing too major though, but the infected here are like the ones in the game/show. i don’t want any comments saying i stole the idea bc i stg i’ll just combust 

also a thank you for @jadeisthirsting​ for beta-reading again, love her!

You were glad that chocolate bars survived the apocalypse. 

Those, along with chips (you don’t look at expiration dates anymore), crackers, and protein bars seemed to stand the tests of time. 

The abandoned convenience store was harshly run down. The glass was shattered, and you could hear the crunch of shards underneath your boots whenever you walked up and down the aisles. Vegetation took reign in most of the area, and vines grew alongside the walls and the counters. Weeds sprung through the cracks in the floor and long blades of grass peeked in from the outside. 

A lot of the aisles were already ransacked from those who came before, but you had to admit that this place was in much better condition food-wise than all the others you had seen. You loaded your cart with whatever you could find; cereal, bars, chips, instant ramen, jerky, really anything that wasn’t perishable by your standards. 

You also made sure to stock up on medical supplies while you were here. Antiseptic, rolls of bandages, needles for stitching, medical tape. You were able to find a bottle of disinfectant and some rubbing alcohol, so you spent a couple of minutes cheering over the small victory. 

The rays of sun that peeked through and washed out certain parts of the store a quiet orange made it seem more serene than it actually was, and you took your time as you leaned on the cart handle, walking slowly as you tried to pretend like you were just shopping for amenities like you would years ago, without the fear of the outside world trying to hunt you down the moment you stepped out. 

Under your breath you hummed a soft tune, letting your fingers run over the empty shelves as you looked around. 

Many opened boxes littered the ground. None of them were to your benefit so you just stepped over them, tapping something on your arm to keep your mind busy. It was only noon, so you had a couple of hours to waste before it got dark.

Though you had the hunting rifle near you in case anything popped out in front of you, you liked to pretend that there was no danger when you rounded a corner. It saved a little naive part of your mind to imagine that everything was normal when you knew that it wasn’t.  

“...yeah, no, no, I agree, I just…” 

You stopped in your tracks, air hitching in your throat as you went rigid upon hearing the muffled voices. 

“I heard the bunkers in Kyoto and Osaka fell…radio transmission,” It was a female voice, that much you could make out. But assessing the sound of feet shuffling on the floor and the other sounds, you knew there had two be at least two people, maybe even more. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you had heard somebody speak. You tried to remember, raking your mind for when it was, and it must have been months ago, maybe even a year, and that was just a small encounter. You doubted the guy even saw you. And this is far worse, they closed and you have nowhere to hide without making a sound. They could be raiders or scavengers. One of them could be infected without the other's knowledge. Millions of thoughts ran through your head as you tried to rationalize with yourself.

“What happened to the one in Nara?” This time it was a male voice, and much closer than before. They were probably only a few aisles away until they reached you. You could feel your heart beating uncontrollably fast, rattling against your ribcage as your mind faltered on what to you. 

“They’re not letting people inside. They deter anybody unless you have a pre-bought cabin there.” The first woman replied, and you could hear some glass clanking as she kicked an empty beer bottle (from what you could deduce), across the floor. 

“How do you know so much?” Another male asked. Three so far, you made a mental note as you tried shoving all your food and things in any pocket you could find, shoving the big bottle of rubbing alcohol down your shirt to nestle on your bra. You didn’t risk your life trying to find this place just to have some strangers take the things you so desperately need.

“They play messages on the radio at night. If you didn’t go to sleep so fuckin’ fast you might hear something useful.” The first girl said, but there was no bite to her voice. She even chuckled, and you swore one of the other guys laughed too. 

“Why can’t we just stay where we are? We haven’t seen any infected here.” Four. This time it was another girl's voice. So far, two females and two males. You were severely outnumbered. You doubted you were that skilled, even in all your years, to surpass four people.  

Deciding to leave a few bars behind, you gingerly moved past the cart, making sure not to make a sound as you tiptoed across the broken bottles and glass. You held your breath and tried to hold onto your jacket, not wanting anything to fall out. 

You tried to phase out whatever they were saying so you could stay focused. You squinted your eyes as rays of the sun blinded you when they peeked through some cracks in the ceiling. You shuffled slowly and precisely, your heart quite literally beating in your throat as moved around the debris on the floor. 

You could see the double doors, both open as you let out an inaudible sigh of relief when you saw them, a promise that you weren’t going to die right here when-

CRUNCH.

You stopped, eyes slowly falling down to the comically large piece of glass under your foot, now shattered into a million pieces as you stop breathing. You wait for abated second, thinking nobody heard until you heard some clattering coming from behind you. 

“What the fuck was that?” One of the girls asked, her laughter long gone from her voice as her question rang through the store. 

“I don’t know…wait here…”

You could run, it wasn’t that far to the door, but you were frozen in your place. It was like when…you couldn’t even think about it. Your mind blanked, your limbs not moving despite your brain willing them to do something, anything.

It felt like that day all over again, the weakness and fear that overtook your mind and body as you shook, your legs cramping, your hands shivering as your eyes darted around, your lips clamped between your teeth as blood roared in your ears. 

You wondered if you’d been faster or more agile something may have gone differently. But really, no matter what you were wouldn’t have altered the fact that you saw a blur of clothes from your peripheral, craning to look to your right as your eyes meet bright blue ones. 

Your brows furrowed when the two of you locked eyes, your chests moving up and down as you looked at the weapon in his hand, drawn out, pointing at your head as you blinked, mind going into overdrive as you let out a heavy sigh of air.

He looked angelic and you wanted to smack yourself for that being your first thought. His hair was artic white, tainted a bright yellow as the sun shined over him. He had a sturdy jaw and a tall frame. Long and delicate fingers clutching onto a weapon, getting ready to pull it out the moment he saw you. 

Sure, you could blame it on the fact that you hadn’t seen a man for over three years, but you knew that even despite your blurry and confused judgment he was better looking than most of the guys you’ve seen most of your life. 

There were a few seconds where neither of you said anything, not really knowing what to say as you shifted ever so slightly on your left foot, not knowing if you ran to the door he’d shoot you in the process. 

“Satoru?” A girl came in from behind him, looking at him and then to where his gaze fell until she saw you, a small aurora of surprise taking over her features. 

“Stay with Geto,” The man said, his voice harsh as his eyes narrowed on you, his face unreadable but cold nonetheless as his focus never left your every tiny motion. Taking in all of your features, your clothes, your skin, your eyes. Anything that could give away that you were infected. 

Your eyes darted from him to the girl to his side, not knowing who to look at. The person with the gun pointed at you or the one who stared at you as if you were an artifact, a token she hadn’t seen before. 

“I’m not a threat,” You say after a couple more seconds of unbearable silence, your voice hoarse from barely using it anymore. You rub at your throat, wincing a little as you put your arms up to show that you have nothing in your hands, “I swear I’ll just leave and nothing else.” 

The girl stayed where she was, gnawing on her lip as she shoved the man's arms with hers. 

“She seems fine-” 

“Seems doesn’t mean she’s not infected.” He snapped, never taking his eyes away from you as he pulled his elbow away from her grasp. His voice had a bite to it, sending chills that traveled down your spine. He had no emotion on his face, clear of anything human. 

“I-I’m not infected.” You retaliate, taking a tentative step forward, watching as his grip on his gun became tighter, and taking a step back as he pushed the girl behind him. You put your arms up again, worried you were playing with fate as you slowly and carefully put your bare arms under a ray of light, making sure he could see your actions. You tugged on your sleeves, pulled down the collar of your shirt, and showed him your calves, anything to prove that you weren’t bitten. 

“See…?” 

You waited, his stare jumping from your face to your arm, different gears in his head turning as he debated what to do. 

“‘Toru, she’s not infected,” The girl said, trying to nudge his hand so he’d lower the weapon, “She’s right, she’d be in pain right now if she was.” 

But he didn’t move, his jaw ticking as he shook his head, seemingly still not believing you.

“How do I know you all aren’t infected?” You snapped, angry, as you tried to hide the quiver in your voice. They could be and they’re doing well to hide it. 

“We’re not.” He said, his voice steady, confident, and not carrying any trace of a lie.

“What’s taking so long?” Another voice joined the three of you, a man, the same in height as the one in front of you as he clasped a hand on his shoulder, his brow cocking in surprise when he saw you. His hair was a stark black, pulled into a bun behind his head. Some strands had escaped and fallen out. He seemed far more easygoing than the man next to him, though. His eyes were brighter and his smile was genuine. He looked over to the side as the girl shrugged, worry lacing her features as he drummed his fingers in her arm. He looked back at you, giving you a tiny smile, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Doesn’t matter if you’d just let me go.” You said, your voice mirroring the white-haired man, the new guy’s lips pulling into a little grin as he let out a deep laugh.

“Drop the gun ‘Toru, she’s fine.” The new guy said with a laugh, stepping forward as you took one back, your lungs squeezing together tightly as you went to grab the weapon strapped on your back.

He raised his hands as you had seconds ago, trying to show that he wasn’t intending any harm as he took another step forward. The playful look he had on his face melted away, forming to something softer as he took in the cuts that littered your cheek and knew, the way your eyes darted from his hands to his face to detect any danger. 

“Hello,” He started with a careful smile, not wanting to scare you off, “I’m Geto, but my friends call me Suguru,” He pointed to the girl behind him, “Vera even calls me dumb bitch-”

“Only when I’m mad!” She argued, shooting you an apologetic and embarrassed smile when she realized you were there too, and he snorted, continuing. 

“And the blue-eyed freak is Satoru. Anna’s back there, somewhere. Swear we don’t mean any harm. He’s just,” He glanced behind him at the man who was slowly lowering the gun, his face still clearly telling that he was weary of you, “Cautious.” 

He held out his hand, far larger than yours, for a shake. 

You tilted your head to the side, eyes squinting a little bit as you tried to make out just what he was trying to do.

But you dropped your hand from grasping onto the leather strap of your weapon, your fingers stretching, itching for some human contact as you debated for a little bit. Surely but slowly you brought your hand to his, softly clutching it to see a smile overtake his features. 

“Y/n,” You reciprocate with a small smile of your own, your chapped lips not used to the feeling. His fingers were long as they overtook yours, calloused, but human. They gave yours a gentle squeeze, almost as if he could tell, and you have one back. Something that you never realized you had missed up until this very moment, “My name’s y/n.”

He said your name once under his breath to commit it to memory. 

“You going anywhere specific?” He asked, his hands crossed across his chest as he waited patiently for you to answer. 

You swallowed dryly, in desperate need of some water as you pointed somewhere north. 

“Heard there’s a camp somewhere in Takayama…you?” 

He chuckled, nodding as if he couldn’t believe your words, looking behind him as the girl you guessed was Vera let out a small laugh too. The blue-eyed man, Satoru you deduced, stayed stoic, not giving anything away.

“By any chance are you talking about that one camp that has running water ‘n shit?” 

You nod, not trusting your voice anymore as you blink. 

“Nice,” He cocked his head in the direction of his group, the second girl, Anna, now walking in to see what the fuss was about, “That’s where we’re going too. Or at least, trying to. Care to join?”

You quickly learned that this group was different from your old one. 

They were serious, sure, but everybody was given the predicament. They were on guard at any sudden noise, guns drawn and ready, but they still acted like you guess they would have back in their old lives. They made jokes, laughed at each other's stupid mistakes, and spent the days and nights filling the silence with whatever they could. 

It was jarring, really, seeing how your old group of six never laughed nor had a moment of naïve fun, but you were far more fond of this than that.

“Damn, so you’re the youngest one here then?” Geto asked one day as you five trudged through an abandoned city. You looked up, mouth parted in slight awe as you took in the strange sights; abandoned skyscrapers, some tilting over a bit. Many were severely destroyed by the bombings. There were large craters on the ground, concrete slabs, and building chunks that fell into them. Geto nudged your side, snapping you from your trance as he waited for you to answer.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess,” Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “Only by a little bit though. I was about to graduate high school when it started and I guess that was like what, five-ish years ago?” You couldn’t distinctly remember, time had just become a construct after so many months.

Vera and Anna had begun talking about how old they were when it started, and you had gotten roped into the conversation. 

“You’re the baby of the group now!” Anna exclaimed, pinching your cheeks with a giggle as you laughed softly, looking down at the cracked concrete beneath your feet as your backpack thumped on your back with every step you took, “It's good though,” She whispered in your ear, “You can use it to get out of chores.” You snickered at that, rolling your eyes but thankful for the tip.

You found out that Anna was only a couple of months older than you. Then came Geto, who was a year older than you two, Vera was around as old as him, and Gojo was two years older than you. 

“Wait, so you’ve been traveling alone all these years?” Anna was the one to ask as she walked closer to you, her brows pinched together in confusion, 

You could have sworn it was an unspoken rule not to talk about the past unless somebody brought it up directly.

“No, no,” You shook your head as your nose wrinkled at the thought, “I was part of a bigger group. But we,” You looked away, at nothing in particular as a sharp pang ran through your chest, “We split up a while ago. That’s when I went solo.”

She nodded in understanding, pulling her hair back as she tied it up, fanning her face at the heat. The sun was beating harshly on your face, sweat prickling at your hairline as you squinted through the bright light.

“Was it hard?” Anna asked, clearly not picking up on your reluctance to the subject. 

You swallowed, feeling like a part of your chest was heavier than it was seconds before as you cleared your throat. 

“I, well,” You shrugged, stammering a bit, “A little bit, but I learned how to-”

“How’d you get your food?” She cut you off. You could tell she wasn’t trying to do any harm, her eyes shining with childish curiosity but it didn’t do anything to hide the fact that it quite literally felt like your throat was closing up. 

“I would hunt or find whatever I co-”

“So you like being part of a group?” 

“Yeah-”

“Did it ever get lonely?”

“Anna,” Gojo cut her off, his voice not loud but commanding enough to get everybody's attention, speaking for the first time in what seemed a couple of hours, “Calm down.” 

Her eyes darted from you to him, finally noting the overwhelmed expression that you were trying your best to hide as she muttered out a quiet sorry. She moved to talk to Vera, and you were thankful that it wasn’t awkward as you went back to looking at the buildings. 

You gave him a small nod, grateful, but he only blinked, looking away as he went back to listening to whatever Geto was telling him. You huffed out a small embarrassed laugh, not putting much thought into it as you kicked a pebble across the ground, feeling the wind tickle your cheeks as you tried to hold back the sting of tears in your eyes. 

Gojo didn’t say much, even after you joined their group, and Vera told you it was normal and not to take it to heart. So you didn’t try to talk much with him, not wanting to push and prod at any of his boundaries. But he was nice otherwise, in his own ways. He took the night watch, letting you guys sleep, and insisted that he was fine with it. He was attentive, always giving the rest of his food to Anna when she complained about how hungry she was. He was cautious, as Geto would put it, but you couldn’t blame him. You were cautious too.

Did it ever get lonely? Her question rang through your mind. It was stupid, you’ve only known her for a short amount of time. Hell, you’ve only known these people for a couple of weeks but it felt like she had dug a hot iron into your chest with the simple query. It was pathetic, really, but it was that thing where the more you tried to stop yourself from crying the worse it became, and that seemed to be true right now. 

You fell behind a little bit, not anything much, but enough so that you were by yourself as you looked up. You found it easier to control your emotions as you blinked back the tears, not wanting to wipe them away in case anybody noticed. In front of you, you could hear Vera and Anna arguing about something minuscule, smiles still on their faces as they playfully banter back and forth. 

The wind began to pick up a bit, your eyes watering even more as you blinked back the fat tears that were threatening to fall and roll down your cheek, biting your lip as if that could make it stop.

“Everything alright?”

Your head whipped to the side to where the voice came from, a little surprised to see Gojo walking next to you. His hair was tucked behind his ears, hands in his pockets as he waited for your response. 

As you blinked in shock a small tear fell, and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand, no use in hiding it now as you nodded, lips quivering a bit as you sniffled. You could count the number of times he had spoken to you on a single hand, so you hid it by looking away. Your cheeks heated up under his heavy stare, not used to it, especially from him. 

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” You said as you exhaled shakily, not having the guts to look at him as you just stared directly ahead of you at the three heads of the other members of the group. But you weren't good at masking the lie as you watched from the corner of your eyes as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. 

Looking at his outstretched hand you saw a tissue and your eyes darted to him in questioning. 

“It’s not poisoned, y’know.” He told you, his voice slightly less monotone as you let out a watery laugh, tentatively taking it from him as you whispered out a hushed thanks. 

You blew your nose as quietly as you could, feeling bad as you threw it to the side of the street you blinked again, hoping this time you could do a better job of controlling your pesky and fragile emotions with somebody next to you.

There was a silent beat as neither of you said anything, wringing your fingers together as you tried to look for an explanation for all this. It was stupid, childish, and downright embarrassing, but you still couldn’t find the words to justify anything.

“Anna can be like that. You learn to live with it.” Gojo finally said, interrupting your train of thought as he spoke. You could tell he was slowing down his pace to match yours, his long legs taking shorter steps and you almost laughed at the sight. 

“It’s okay,” You said, rubbing at your eyes again as your nose wrinkled again, “I’m just not used to being…”

“Bombarded?” He said, finding the right word as you nodded with a small chuckle.

“Yeah… that. I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know why I’m…” You trailed off, wiping at your eyes with your palms as you took in a shaky breath, “It’s just been a while since I’ve talked this much, so I’m still trying to get used to it…sorry.” You let out a little hiccup, missing the way his lips almost pulled into a smile at the sound. 

“Don’t apologize,” He said, shrugging as he kicked a piece of broken asphalt across the sidewalk, “It’s not your fault.”

You went to open your mouth to say something back but Geto waved his arms, motioning the two of you to the rest of them as he pointed to something on the ground. 

“Oi, Gojo, come check this out. I don’t know if this is a cordyceps or a regular mushroom.” 

And you glanced at the man next to you one more time but he was already jogging forward to see what the fuss was about. It didn’t matter much, it shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t stop the way your little heart fluttered pathetically at his words. You quickened your pace, shaking your head at the thought as you joined the group once again.

But as much as you tried you couldn’t get his final words out of your head. It’s not your fault. How you wish it were true. If only he knew, he’d probably eat his own words. Swallow them up so that they were never spoken into existence because it was your fault. But you couldn’t say that now. 

You hated that time between day and night more than anything. 

When the crickets chirped and the sky became darker than it should have, casting a shadow over the ground. The stars were freckles across the sky and the light breeze didn’t distract you from the fact that clickers could be a stone's throw away from you without you ever realizing it. 

The abandoned apartment complex they decided to spend the night in was definitely in better condition than the ones surrounding it, but even with the extensive search you guys did up and down to make sure it was clear of any danger, you still felt a little nauseous as they set up base in the lobby. 

Your sleeping bags were sprawled out on the marble floor lined with dirt. You had your backpack next to you, your gun within arm's reach. Next to the fire was an array of cans to pick from, but you weren’t hungry, not in the slightest. You could barely stomach anything after Anna’s bombardment of questions that left you a quiet mess, and being surrounded by people in the dark just made it worse.

“Hungry?” Vera held out a can of preserved peaches but you shot your head, biting back the sick that made its way up to your throat at the thought of eating. You could feel her eyes burning on the side of your face but she didn’t press any further, eating as the two of you listened to Geto talk about his plan for reaching the camp in Takayama. 

He was the more animated one of the two males. He talked with his hands, his face contorting in different ways as he conversed with Anna. Gojo sat on the side, watching the flames dance across the rocks, his blue eyes lit a color you’ve never seen before as he listened in his own way to the conversation.

“I saw you earlier,” Vera whispered as she leaned in closer to you, throwing the empty can aside as she wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, pointing to Geto so your attention could stay on him while you listened to her, mostly not to draw any attention from the others as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “Talking with Satoru.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, looking at Vera but she nudged you to look back at Geto, continuing. 

“I know he’s not the easiest person to warm up to,” She said with a shrug, picking at her nails as he glanced at you with a soft smile, “He used to be, before all this. I can’t really blame him for being on guard-” You nodded in understanding and she softly chuckled at your response, “But he cares.” 

About what? You wanted to ask but didn’t want to prod too much. 

“So you knew him before?” This was an easier one to answer, and she nodded, cracking her thumb as she rested her head on her arm. The light from the little fire Geto made casted red and orange shadows on the highlights of her face, and she seemed younger here (she wasn’t even old). Her wrinkles were gone, eyes were less full of stress.

“Yeah, he lived near us. Us, being me and Geto.” She quickly said to save you the confusion. Huh, you thought to yourself, no wonder they were so close.

“So you all grew up together?” 

“Yeah,” Her lips pulled into a soft smile, eyes creasing around the edges as she sat in thought, “From elementary school up until university. Geto and Gojo were even doing pre-med together.” 

You almost wanted to laugh at the thought. 

“I know, it’s weird. I can’t even begin to think of what they’d be like as doctors. But their parents wanted them to do it, so they just went along with whatever they said.” 

“What were you doing?” You asked, not even trying to focus on Geto anymore, finding her stories far more interesting. After some time you quickly learned that Vera had much to say when she wanted to, she was just selective when she did. 

“I was planning on becoming a teacher. It pissed my parents off, but I liked it.” Her words were soft, almost as if thinking about it brought back better memories. And you bet it probably did, a future she once wanted now far away from her reach. 

“And Anna? Did she grow up with you guys too?” 

She shook her head, stifling a yawn as her eyelids drooped a little bit. 

“No, we met Anna along the way. She and Emi were close though,” She said, rubbing at her tired face, dragging it down as she tried to fight the sleep threatening its way through her body. 

Emi?

You watched as her eyes widened slightly, looking over at you to see if you caught the name and she sighed in obvious disappointment, mad at herself for the slip-up. Mumbling something along the lines of shit to herself as she blinked quickly.

“Don’t - don’t ask,” She shot you a look and you dared to go against it, her face once lined with empathy turned stone cold, threatening even as her voice loomed its way through your bones, “Don’t say anything about that. Okay?” 

You nod, muttering out a soft ok, almost too scared to answer her loudly as she nodded, clearly not happy with it but knowing there wasn’t much else she could do. 

So you didn’t press it, pretending like you heard nothing as you nodded along to whatever Geto was saying. Though nothing could hide the fiery spark of curiosity that came with the new name, one you had never heard here before. 

You wondered why she tried to hide it.

That night you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d toss and turn, turning your pillow around to see if it would make a difference, but nothing was able to lull you into a tranquil state of being. 

The apartment would creak and groan sometimes, the stories above you stable enough not to collapse, but weak enough to freak you out from shutting your eyes as you stared at them. The crystal chandelier overhead was overrun by dust, and it would sway a little when the wind from outside picked up.

After a couple of minutes, you gave up, huffing in annoyance as you rubbed at your sleepy eyes, wishing they would just work with the rest of your body and sleep, but that was a pathetic attempt and didn’t work.

You got up, careful not to make a sound and disturb anybody sleeping around you, and looked around, looking for somewhere to sit that was safe and peaceful enough to help ease your mind. 

Moving as if you were about to step on a bomb, you found the reception desk, the paint peeling, and the wood corroding. It gave you a good view of the main apartment entrance, so you felt more comfortable there having a view of almost anything. 

Resting your back on it you let out a heavy sigh, your chest moving as your head fell back, thudding against it softly as you played with your fingers. 

“Why’re you up?” 

You almost yelped but controlled the urge as you jumped in your spot, eyes darting around till they found a faint mop of white hair to your left. He was prodding at the last embers of the fire with a metal pipe, moving them around as they made soft crinkling sounds with his every move. You wondered to yourself, both in shame and worry, how you had somehow failed to miss that.

“Were you watching me?” You whispered, wincing as you tried to lower the volume, scoffing at that being the first thing that came to mind. 

“I am on watch duty.” He said, his voice tinged with a bit of sarcasm as his brow raised a little bit. You could barely make him out with your limited vision, but you could tell from where he was standing that he was only a couple of feet away from you. 

“You didn’t answer my first question.” He reminded you after a beat of silence, his voice low as he tried not to wake anybody up. 

You yawned, shrugging as you picked up a rock not to your thigh, moving it around in your hand as your fingers ran along its smooth and imperfect crevices, its cool touch calming you down a little bit. 

“Can’t sleep.” You responded after a bit of thinking, but it really was the truth. Maybe a simplified version of it, but it caused him to let out a quiet scoff, obviously not satisfied with your lazy response. 

“Insomnia or bad dreams?” 

You laughed a bit, your lips quirking at the edges as you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. 

“You would have made a spectacular doctor.” 

He took in a sharp breath of air and you laughed, stifling your giggle with your hand. His reaction telling you he obviously didn’t want that knowledge to be spread around. 

“Swear to god, that’s all she told me though.” You say, holding up your hands as if a pledge of your honesty though you doubted he could even see it. You heard him snort, obviously not buying it but not saying anything about it as he pushed at the coals around a little more. 

A small rush of wind moved the dust and twigs next to you, the whooshing sound somewhat tranquil as it filled the silence. It wasn’t awkward like you thought it’d be, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was a place right in the middle, but it was better than your past three interactions with him. 

You tried to squint, trying to make out his features. He was attractive, that much you could admit. Even if you met him before seeing a man became a rare occurrence you would have had the same thought. His frame was sturdy, lean, and tall. He filled out his clothes rather nicely, and his face was passive and a grimace away from forming a scowl, but you could tell he once used to laugh a lot more if the smile lines told you anything. 

You wondered if the name Emi had anything to do with him losing his smile. 

“Tell me something about yourself then.” 

A shocked laugh threatened to bubble out of your throat at his sudden statement. 

“W-Why?” You stuttered out with a laugh, confused as you shifted where you were sitting, tilting your head a little bit to the side, wishing he’d move so you could see clearly just who it was you were talking to. 

“You know too much about me,” He said as if it was obvious, shrugging his shoulders as he set the metal pipe down gently to not make any noise, “I don’t know anything about you. Other than you can’t sleep and are learning to talk more.” 

A part of you wondered if he was being genuine or trying to be snarky. 

But you just snorted, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of this as you threw your hands, looking up as you thought for a second for something interesting yet boring enough to shut him up so you could have some quiet time. 

“I can only eat semi-sweet or dark chocolate. Milk’s a little too sweet for me.” 

You could hear a snort in response, probably the first you’d ever heard from him as he shuffled around a little bit, his shadow moving a little bit closer to where you were sitting. The ray of moonlight illuminated part of his face, his white lashes fluttering against his cheeks as you watched him rest his chin on the palm of his hand. 

“Seems like we’re complete opposites there,” He admitted, his lips threatening to tug into a smile, but he controlled it as if he didn’t want you to see that part of his hidden emotions.

“Then I’ll give you any milk chocolate bars I find.” 

He huffed, a part of his lip caught under his teeth as he considered the thought. 

“Is that good enough for you?”

He shook his head quickly, comically as you sighed, some sleep finally settling in as you rub at your forehead. You could feel the headache coming from a mile away. 

“Need something more personal,” He retaliated, moving a little bit so that he wasn’t putting all his weight on his arms, his toned chest moving as he resituated himself. You tried to not make it obvious that you were staring, “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Well now you’ve gone too far,” You say with a little laugh, the most genuine one you’ve had in a while. You miss the way his face almost mirrors yours, the edges of his lips threatening to pull up into a grin as you smile. “I like yellow.” You finally answer, your smile faltering as you think back. 

“Any particular reason or do you just like the color of piss?”  

“I had this perfume bottle, I got it for my birthday when I was twelve. The actual perfume smelled disgusting but the bottle itself was this glass-stained yellow, a soft yellow that I haven’t seen anywhere else.” You explained, bringing one leg up to your chest, and wrapping your arms around it to steady yourself. 

“What about you?” He shook his head, waving his pointed finger around, clearly not answering a question yet. 

“No, still on you. Where were you when this all started?” Gojo asked, and the jump from the previous question to this one took you off guard. If you were counting correctly he had two more facts above you than you did for him, but you indulged him, having nothing better to do with your time. 

“At home. I was watching TV with my dad when they broadcasted that signal,” You paused, the memories flooding back as you tried to blink them away. The car, your neighbors who were already infected, “You?” 

For a second you thought he wasn’t going to answer but he shifted, running a hand through his hair as he whistled quietly, thinking.

“I was in a lecture hall.” 

“For your doctor lectures?” 

He chuckled, for the first time since you’ve known him, shaking his head as he eventually nodded, knowing that you were probably never going to give up the information. You watched as he rested his chin on his palm, the new angle giving you a better view of him and you felt your cheeks heating up under his gaze. 

“Yeah,” He couldn’t fight the smile anymore, his face turning softer as he smirked, “For my doctor lectures.”

“Go sleep,” He said after a heavy beat of silence, his voice softer as he watched you wipe at your eyes, a big yawn escaping your mouth as you blinked tiredly, “It’s almost morning.” 

You shake your head, wondering why a part of you was disappointed that he was right. As you stood up, wiping the dust from your pants as you shuffled your way around some bricks, finding your way back to your sleeping bag (with more difficulty than you’d like to admit), and threw it over your body. You could feel his eyes burning on your back, but you shut your eyes and pretended that you were asleep.

A couple of weeks after that night and you wondered if you had somehow passed a test.

While he still didn’t speak much to you, he wasn’t cautious nor weary when he did. 

Gojo still didn’t laugh or smile much, but his little grin was less guarded when you spoke to him. Maybe it was to save you the pity of your awful jokes, but a part of you felt happier knowing he warmed up to you a bit.

“You just haven’t heard these puns yet,” You argued one day, pulling out the book you found when you scavenged through an abandoned store about a week ago. It had water damage and some of the words you could barely read, “Okay, okay, what about this one? 3.14% of sailors are Pi-rates. Huh?” You looked up at him, wiggling your eyebrows only to see him with a disgruntled look, staring down at you as he shook his head in disappointment. 

“None of these should have been published.” He argued, and although he sounded disgruntled, there was an edge of him holding back a laugh. 

“Oh, I like this one!” You exclaimed with a giggle, Vera looking back at the two of you as she smiled to herself, nudging at Geto so he could see too, “What do you use to cut a Roman Emperor's hair?” He didn’t say anything for a second so you lightly kicked his shin, waiting for an answer.

“I don't know, scissors?” You grinned, shocked at how close he was.

“Almost, the answer is Ceasers,” You revealed with a giggle, showing Gojo the book as he sighed, rubbing at his forehead in faux annoyance. You put the book in your back pocket, careful when you fold it, wanting to save the rest for later, “Don’t worry, I’m saving the best for last.” You patted the pocket as he laughed, excusing himself as Geto called for him to check something out on the map. Your foot almost slipped when you walked on some grass, wet from the rain last night, and his hands soft out to grip your elbows, steadying you as you thanked him. Your skin felt like it was on fire from where his lingering touch was, and you looked away, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the embarrassment. 

“Y/n, can you come here for a ‘sec?” Anna called your name, ushering you over as you looked around to see her walking a little bit behind you. And you made your way over to her, readjusting your backpack as your shoulder sunk a bit from how heavy it was. 

She offered you a small smile, though you could tell she was thinking a lot of things through. You noticed that when that line appeared down the middle of her brow, it meant that she was deep in thought. That, or she was mad. But with the way her fingers danced on her arms in discomfort and her eyes darted around the rest of the group, you wanted to bet that she was going through it.

“What’s up?” You finally asked, just hoping there weren't any more questions about how difficult it was traveling alone.

“I’ve seen that you and Gojo have gotten closer, w-which is great! Don’t get me wrong!” She sputtered, shooting you a quick grin that didn’t quite meet her eyes, “But I feel like I should let you know…” 

When she didn’t finish you raised a brow, wondering what could possibly be so bad. 

“Do,” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her body, deciding to just get it over with, “Do you remember that one night? In that apartment lobby?” 

You almost laughed. How could you forget?

“Yeah…vaguely,” That was a fat lie. It was all you could think about in these following weeks. Your conversation with both Vera and Gojo plagued different parts of your mind for different reasons. 

“Listen, I couldn’t help but overhear ‘Ver, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…” She trailed off, gnawing on her lip as her eye twitched, “I heard her say Emi and I know she brushed it off but I feel like you deserve to know about it. You’ve been with us long enough so that I can trust you with this.”

Was it really that easy? You didn’t say anything, hoping the slight excitement and anticipation on your face wouldn’t scare her away as you gave her the time she needed until she continued. She took in a deep breath and started.

“I’d known Emi for a long time now - gosh, probably over a decade at this point. She was nice, but she had her own flaws, but she was my only friend so I ignored them. When this,” She motioned her arms around you, “Whole thing happened, she was the only one I had. We were planning on going to a quarantine zone in Tokyo but it fell almost immediately, so we just went wherever we could.

“We met up with those guys a couple of months later. Maybe two, two and a half years ago?” She thought back, shaking her head because it wasn’t important to fixate on, “And they took us in. They were all really nice, including ‘Toru.

“After a while, he and Emi got closer, and for that while, it was just a fling that would pass the time. But they cared for each, it was pretty obvious. Or from what she told me, it sounded like they did. But,” She bit her cheek, playing nervously with her fingers as she looked up at you, “it was hard. They fought. A lot,”  She gave a humorless laugh as she looked back on it, “Day in and day out. They fought over the smallest of things. I swear, I don’t know how-” She stopped, apologizing as she got back on track, “Anyways, what I’m trying to get at is that one of these fights got bad. I can’t even remember what it was about. Food? Maybe clothes? Doesn’t matter. It got big and they said some shit neither of them meant, but Emi left. She said she was leaving, but nobody believed her. She always said shit like that. But she did, she left and we didn’t see her for a couple of days.

“‘Toru was really worried, never seen him so scared before. He went out looking for her and came back a week later. He told us she was bitten, late in the stages of infection. He said he had to…” She trailed off, voice catching in her throat and you quickly looked for a tissue, as she gratefully accepted it.

“I see the way you try to make him laugh, I know, but Emi took that part of him. He wasn’t the same after she left, and I don’t think he ever will be. So just - don’t get your hopes up when you’re around him, okay?”

“I, um, okay…?” But you didn’t even know what you were agreeing to. You just knew that Anna nodded, thankful that you heard, and the two of you made your way back to your group. Maybe it was the way your face had lost all the laughter it had just a couple minutes ago, or that Anna somehow managed to see what you were trying to do, but Gojo glanced at you, his brows furrowing together in slight worry. 

You don’t know why the information affected you so much. It could have been just from how shocking it was to hear it, or the fact that Anna could tell that you were trying to get him to smile more. It made sense, the more you thought about why he was the way he was, but you still felt a part of you crumbling at the thought. Even if you never met Emi, you couldn’t definitely feel her presence after she was gone. 

What? He mouthed, altering his steps so that he could weave around Geto to get closer to you. But you shook your head, reassuring him to stay where he was as you gave him a curt nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

It’d be over soon, you told yourself. After you get to the camp in Takayama, it’d be big enough to go your separate ways. You’ll forget the last five years, forget everything you’ve gone through, and start something new.

If not, you’d rather just get bitten and get this hell over with. 

“What’d she tell you?” 

Gojo cornered you when they were all asleep, the tall trees surrounding you casting shadows over his face. You didn’t light a fire this time, Geto saying it’d be safer if you just used flashlights instead. You knew the infected had bad eyesight, relying on sound more than anything, but that didn’t mean raiders couldn’t see. 

There was no point in lying, he’d sniff it out immediately if you did, so you shrugged, glancing to the side as you blindly moved around leaves, trying to be quiet to get away from the group in case any of them were awake. 

“Nothing important,” You muttered, glad it was dark for once so that he couldn’t see your reaction and vice versa. 

“Bullshit,” His voice was low, your eyes slightly widening in surprise at his reaction, “Wouldn’t have been nothing if you looked like that afterwards.”

Though you could barely see anything, you could feel his presence. He took up a lot of space, and you could practically feel how his hands were only a little distance away from yours. His fingers were inches away from your wrist, and you knew that because when you moved you could feel the light indent, a slight burn as if he’d set your skin aflame. 

“Nothing important to you.” You specify, crossing your arms across your chest as you heard him scoff, his jaw ticking as he prodded at his cheek with his tongue.  If only your past self could see you now, arguing with a man who you thought only ever had two emotions he used on and off. 

He waited, hands on his hips as he tapped his foot impatiently on the ground, hanging his head down for a second until he looked back up. 

“Green.” 

You pause, brows creasing as you huff out a laugh. 

“What?” 

“Green,” He repeated, “That’s my favorite color.” When it dawns on you what he’s doing you have to contain the giggle that slipped past your lips, covering your mouth when your hands as you continue to laugh. 

“Why’re you laughing?” He asks, his voice genuinely confused as you laugh more, holding onto a tree trunk to steady yourself, “W-what?” But you hear the soft inflection of a laugh in his voice now, almost as if he is trying to control it as you wave your hands, trying to make it stop but you just hit his hands in the process.

“So you refuse to tell me and you hit me in the process?” Any seriousness has dropped from him completely and you laugh through your hands, trying to apologize but your cheeks hurt. It wasn’t that funny, really you don’t know why you’re reacting this way, but it’s that feeling when you start laughing, and it grows out of control for no reason. 

“I-I’m sorry!” You wheeze out, trying to find his hands to apologize but he brings them to your mouth. It was dark so you couldn’t see, but his eyes darted around, suddenly realizing how loud you were being. 

“Sssh, be quiet.” He hissed out, and you giggled again, licking the palm of his hand as he gave a muted yelp, bringing it close to his chest as he wiped it on his pants. He looked back up at the outline of your shadow, glaring. 

“You’re a fucking child, y’know that?” He groaned, but his words didn’t quite match what his face was because his eyes softened at the sound of your laugh, carefree as you failed at trying to control it. 

“Admit it, I’m funnny,” You drawled out, laughing as you hunched over a little bit, waving your finger around somewhere near his face, “You’re laughinggg because I’m funnny.” You stated, tugging on his fingers playfully, and he snorted, gently swatting your hand away as he sighed. 

“You’re insufferable is what you are.” Is what Gojo finally landed on.

“Tell me something more personal and I might tell you.” You poked his chest, repeating his own words back to him as you leaned back on the tree. You had no intentions of revealing what Anna told you, but you wanted to see how far he’d go to know. 

“You’re impossible,” He muttered, running a hand through his hair, debating whether or not it was even worth it to tell you something when he knew damn well you weren’t going to give any information up.

“I’m scared.” He heaved in a sigh and you cut him off with a chortle. 

“Everybody’s scared-” 

“Of ending up alone.” He finished, brow raising as your laugh quickly died down, some fort of satisfactory grin that didn’t mirror the gloom in his eyes made its way onto his face as he asked, “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” You quickly say, rubbing at your jaw as you take a set back, easing on the trunk as you duck your head down in embarrassment, crunching some dead leaves under your boot, shame riding up your bones as you lamely shrug, “Just wasn’t expecting that.” You mutter, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. 

He chuckles, taking a step closer, his breath hitting your cheek. 

“What? Expecting me to say spiders? The dark?” You can feel his slender fingers a hairs distance away from your arms, careful not to touch you, but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“No,” You shudder, both from the cold and from him, “Thought you were ‘gonna say med school or something.”

He lets out a big groan, hands gingerly gripping your elbows as his head falls on your shoulder, fighting his smile as you laugh again, muffling it with his coat as you gently pat his back. 

“Where do fruits go for vacation?” Your hand stalled on his back, feeling his slumped form take in a deep, steadying breath. 

“Where?”

“Pear-is.” You heard him mumble something on your shoulder, giggling as he shook his head in mock dismay. But this was different than all the last times, you could tell. His back shook a little, and he refused to look up. 

You didn't comment on the tears that began to stain your shirt, or his quivering chest every time he breathed. So you wrapped your arms around his back, squeezing a little bit, feeling his arms snake around your waist as he tugged you just a little bit closer. 

Even though it didn’t feel like a lot of time had passed, it had almost been six months since you began traveling with them. The journey would have been far faster if any of the cars worked, but Takayama was only a few weeks away. According to Geto. 

Gojo walked up next to you, shoving something in the pocket of your coat. You look at him from the side of your eye, digging it out to see a chocolate bar as he looks away, a little smirk on his face as you lightly elbow his side. 

“Can literally hear your stomach begging for something,” He teased, his face stoic but his voice lighthearted as you laugh, grateful even if you didn’t show it as you opened it up, noting that it was dark, telling him thanks with a mouthful of chocolate. 

“Want some?” You offered, holding the bar out as he declined, shrugging, “Suit yourself.” You muttered, mouth full of the sweet as you finished the rest of it. He felt his eyes lingering on your lips stained with the chocolate as Gojo dryly swallowed, averting his gaze as he looked somewhere else, his cheeks colored light pink. 

“I think we’re the chosen ones,” Geto stated, walking around freely as he pointed to all of you including himself. Your group made it out of the forest a couple of days ago, so he’s been living his life, trying to enjoy the run-down towns as much as he could before you went into the forests again until you reached Takayama. 

“God, you’re so fucking stupid Suguru,” Vera said, shoving past him as she rolled her eyes, taking a bite out of her protein bar as she shared a knowing look with you, the two of you laughing as Geto tried to explain himself. 

“No, no, hear me out. Aside from me, you and ‘Toru, y/n, and Anna come from different places. But we all somehow found each other, and as a group, are going to the chosen place.” He concluded, wiggling his eyebrows as everybody else just groaned as he went on another one of his tangents. 

“No, really, think about it,” He tried to catch up to her pace, walking backward so that he could also look at all of you when he spoke, “We’ve all been picked through natural selection. These past five, six, years and we survived them. We-”

He stopped, and all of you stopped in your tracks when you heard the dreaded sound. 

Clicking. Groaning. 

“Oh fuck,” Geto stopped, everybody, drawing out their weapons as you tried to figure out where it was coming from. Your heart was rattling inside your ribcage, your hands fumbling as you tried to find your gun. It had been so long since you’d encountered an infected that you were naively beginning to think that they had just disappeared. 

“It’s okay,” Gojo muttered, glancing over to you as he held his hand on yours, trying to calm your shaking down a bit, “You’re ‘gonna be okay.” He was so sure of it that you almost believed his words. 

But long gone was the carefree attitude as the clicking got louder both in volume and in amount. 

“Shit,” Gojo looked over to Vera, “How many d’you think there is?” The clicking got louder, your fingers trembling over the trigger as you looked at the abandoned city hall, finally locating where it was coming from. He told you that she was the best shooter they had, and she was far more confident in taking clickers and runners down than anybody else was.

“Too many,” She called back, eyes darting from everywhere, looking for somewhere to escape from, “Fuck, we ‘gotta split.” You guys were in an alleyway, stuck between taking the road and going through a hole in one of the walls. But from where you could tell, taking the road was only going to direct you toward the infected. The wall still gave them an opening to wherever you guys planned to run from, so in some way, you were cornered. 

“What?” He called out, taking a step back, his brows furrowed in confusion, “No way, we can’t-”

“Listen to me. Here, take my map,” She threw it over to him and he caught it, mouthing confusion but she shook her head, “Suguru and I can hold them off for right now, but you take Anna and y/n. If we can’t find-”

“We’re not going to fucking leave!” He shouted back, raising his voice to be heard over the number of infected, his cheeks tinged pink as you nodded, not trusting your words as you felt your stomach churn. 

“If we can’t find you, meet us in Takayama! Don’t look back, just keep running north!” She motioned down the street, “I can radio with Anna, don’t worry!” She was trying to shove him but he wouldn’t move. 

“Vera, I’m not leaving you guys-” But he was cut off by an animalistic roar, everybody’s attention shooting back to the noise, his words dying down in his throat as you saw a glimpse of the infected. 

You would never get over the way they looked. You thought you’d be used to it by now, but it never fails to make your hands clammy and you're overall nauseous. They had large fungi popping out of their cranium, their clothes all battered and bloody. They ran so fast that you wondered if they were created just to outrun the human race, but now wasn’t the time for it. All you could hear was their and Vera’s screams. 

“Satoru,” She took his arm, holding it in a tight grasp as her eyes darted from him to them, seething from between her teeth, “Take them. Don’t - don’t regret it like you did last time. You couldn’t… but…you can save them. Go. Please.” 

He glared at her, eyes hiding a different meaning than what his face showed, nostrils flaring but he stopped. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, muttering out a barely audible I’m sorry, looking at Geto as he gave him a small nod, holding his position down as he waited to buy you guys some time. 

He grabbed your wrist, urging Anna to follow him as Vera and Geto began to block you guys.

“W-wait, no, no, let go of me!” You tried to wrangle out of his iron grip but he was insistently dragging you away as you kicked, your eyes welling up, fear overtaking your body as they ran, coming closer and closer to the five of you as Gojo tried to lead you through the hole in the wall.

“Go with him, please, we’ll be okay,” Vera urged as Geto began firing, memories, similar moments cursing through your mind as you got the worst sense of deja vu. You almost felt like collapsing had it not been for Gojo’s steady hand, leading you away. 

You cried out for them one last time but he already pulled you through, Anna not too far behind as you held onto him for support, your mouth open as you looked back at him, slowly beginning to realize what happened. 

A couple of hours later and you couldn't feel your legs, wordlessly putting Gojo in charge of finding a house to stay at to stay the night. 

It was in some run-down town, but many of the homes are still standing. It was probably some of the best pieces of architecture you’ve seen so far, meaning that most of the paint was still on and the furniture wasn’t entirely moth-eaten.

The one Gojo picked was at the end of a cul de sac, seemingly standing unharmed. Vines grew uncontrollably from the sides, and the house was caked with dirt, but you’d take it. He scooped it out, making sure there weren’t any infected hiding in any of the dark rooms, but he gave you two the okay signal and you camped out there for the night.  

It was stocked with water and canned food, some chairs knocked down and carpets scrunched up as if the previous owners were trying to leave in a hurry. All the rooms seemed fine, and you just picked a random one as you threw your bag in, not caring as you made your way downstairs to where the rest of them were. 

You found them in the living room, the shutters closed, hints of the afternoon sun peeking through. Gojo glanced over at you, his eyes running over your body, quickly scanning to make sure you weren’t hurt.

You made your way to a chair, rubbing your hands over your face as if that could wake you up from this living nightmare. 

“They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay.” Anna said, more to convince herself than the rest of you, nodding as she said it again, but with no confidence. It wasn’t night yet, but Vera still hadn’t radioed in, anticipation deep in your throats as your wall stared at the portable radio Anna placed on the coffee table. 

Gojo sat there, his legs spread out, an elbow on each knee as he rubbed at his mouth, eyes distant, lost, as he stared at nothing. 

You could only imagine how he feels. No matter the sorrow you felt, he felt it tenfold. You’d only known them for a couple of months, a year at most, but he’d known them their entire lives. His shoulders sunk as if the guilt he was feeling was already pushing down on him. 

Even though you didn’t know much about Emi, the hurt he carried from her was visible and inevitable. You didn’t know just how much something like this would change him if he’d ever forgive himself if something were to happen to them. 

You cleared your throat, not able to bear it anymore as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Despite whatever happens, I just wanted to say thanks for getting us out. I don’t think I could have walked, let alone fought, so…thanks.” You address Gojo, watching as Anna nodded in agreement, shooting him a smile that quickly died down when she saw his face.

He dropped his hands, his eyes shining with a different sort of gleam as you took a step back, your brows and eyes squinting at the odd look. 

“Vera and Geto might be dead. They might be dead because I was too fucking scared to stay and do anything to help. We don’t know where the fuck we are… and you’re thanking me?” 

You stuttered, confused as you shared a glance with Anna as she slowly moved from her seat. 

“I-I, well, I’m not trying to undermine what they did,” Your head tilted, your voice gentle, knowing that he was surely dealing with every possible ounce of guilt and anger under the moon right now, wishing you just stayed quiet. But you’d already opened your mouth so you had to continue, “I’m just saying thanks because you helped us. That’s all-”

“Help,” He repeated, giving an emotionless laugh as he stood up, shaking his head as his hair followed his every movement, “I ran away. I didn’t help.” 

“‘Toru, she’s right, just - just calm down, come on,” Anna interjected, her eyes darting from him to you, offering you an apologetic smile on his behalf. 

“She has no idea what she’s talking about. Fuck,” His voice broke, looking away as he tried to wipe his tears, “It’s like….” He didn’t finish but you knew he was going to say It’s like Emi, judging from the way Anna tried to comfort him. 

“You’re,” You said slowly, not wanting to anger him any more than he already was, “You’re right. Most of the time I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I understand, and I know it’s not easy and-”

“You know? You know? Fuck y/n, what do you know? What could possibly make you understand?” You’ve never seen him like this, never had the honor of having his words cut you, sawing at your skin until they made you bleed. 

You scoffed, not knowing if he was being serious, but he stared at you waiting for an answer. 

“Let me see,” You give a meaningless laugh, wiping at your eyes, trying your best to not cry in front of him, not wanting to show him that his words didn’t affect you the way that they truly did, “I thought I was allowed to understand after my dad killed himself. Or maybe it was when my friend tried to kill me because I ate her fucking can of tuna,” You paused, choking on a sob, “O-or when my group left me in the middle of fucking nowhere, saying I was dead weight,” You sniffled, your voice wavering as you shook your head, pointing a finger at Gojo’s chest as you stared at his blank face.

“Just because you’ve been through shit doesn't mean that I haven’t. So - so don’t tell me that I don’t understand, because I do. It’s just, I don’t go treating people I know like shit just because of it.” A tear trickled down your cheek, hanging on your chin before it splattered on the ground. 

Your chest heaved, hands trembling as you heard Anna mutter a muffled oh my god. You didn’t want pity, you didn’t want any of their sympathies. But after so many years of carrying it around silently just for him to say that you don’t understand opened up the floodgates. 

You went to say something else, opening your mouth before you shut it again, lips wobbling as you shook your head, ducking it as you made your way for the stairs. You tried to zone out Anna’s calls for you to come back as you found the room you assigned yourself and shut the door with a loud slam, rattling the house.

Anna came by, asking if you were hungry, but you just brushed her off, saying that you’d come down to eat later. 

It was true, you couldn’t stomach anything right now, but you didn’t want to see anybody after that. 

You paced around the room, doing anything to occupy your mind and get rid of the thoughts coursing through your head. You packed your bag, which wasn’t even yours, you wanted to guess that in the rush of leaving you accidentally packed Geto’s because yours sure as hell didn’t have a pack of cigarettes and condoms in it, (you’d put all your money on the fact that him and Vera were hooking up), unpacked, and re-packed it. You folded some clothes lying around, washed your face with the water from the bottles you found, and tried to freshen up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and red, but you knew it would go away quickly. 

You looked through the closet and did anything you could think of. You didn’t really have the heart to take anything, knowing that somebody cared for these things at one point, but you snooped around, having nothing better to do. 

From what you could deduce, a teenager probably lived in the room. Band posters were plastered on the walls, the bed had some stuffed animals still left on it. You could remember the initial broadcast saying to take only what was necessary, so it made sense why the closet was mainly empty but the other aspect of the room seemed untouched. 

You looked at some of the books they had, pulling them out of the shelves as you read the titles. Some you knew, some you didn’t. The window adjacent to the bookshelf showed you an outside view of the neighborhood, the moon shining bright as you relied on that and your flashlight to move around. 

As you went to put a book back you heard a knock at your door, startling you as you dropped the book on the ground. You grumbled in annoyance, glancing at it and then back to your book. 

“I’m still not hungry,” You called out, bending down to grab it as you sighed, “But thanks,” You put it back where it was, wiping at your face as you navigate around the bed, going to open the door to let her in, “Hey, have you heard anything from…” You trailed off, not expecting to see a taller figure in Anna’s place. 

You met his eyes, the same ones that managed to knock the air out of your lungs. His gaze softened upon the sight of your face, but you wouldn’t let that dictate your feelings. No, you refused. So instead, you quickly gathered yourself, squinting your eyes as you went to shut the door, not quick enough as he was able to wedge his foot in between, whimpering a bit as you still tried to slam it shut with it in the way. 

“Ow, fuck, wait,” His hand gripped the side of the door, and you rolled your eyes, sniffing once as you let him open it himself, knowing that he’d just find another way inside if you blocked this one, “Listen,” He invited himself in, a hint of pleading in his voice as he looked at you, “Anna got Vera’s message. They're,” He sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit, “They’re fine. Little shakin’ up, but they’re gonna be okay. Said to meet up with them at the camp.” 

Your eyes and mouth slightly opened, your anger with him disappearing for a second as you smiled softly to yourself. 

“That’s great,” You breathed out, not knowing how to handle this, almost all the stress leaving your bones as you gave yourself a moment to relax, “Great news.” You gave him a curt smile, glancing at the door, wondering if that was all he came here for. 

His eyes traveled from your face, stalling on your puffy lids as he slightly grimaced. He looked around the room, noting all the décor, posters, and memorabilia. You could tell he was struggling to find something to say, opening his mouth only to close it just as quickly. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” You start, your hands hovering over his chest as you try to push him out, “But I wanna be by myself right now, so…” You nodded to the door, waiting for him to get the hint and go.

“Are you leaving?” He asked suddenly, his brows furrowed, creasing down the middle as glanced at your face at your packed bag behind you. You saw his lips trembling, hands moving up to gently cup your elbows, almost as if he needed to, or else he’d crumble over. 

“What?” You look back confused as to what he was talking about, shaking your head, “I was jus-” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, so so sorry sweetheart, I swear, I d-didn’t know you went t-through all that shit,” His voice cracked, his legs moving faster than his body as you backed up against the bed, alarmed at his sudden change in mood, “Even if I did, I-I should never have said that to you. I’m so fucking sorry, please, I didn’t mean anything I said. I was talkin’ out of my ass and being the biggest fuckin’ dick ever.” Gojo’s voice trembled as if he was on the verge of tears as you almost tripped, glad the bed was behind you as you fell onto it, the springs squeaking at the sudden movement. 

You watched as a giant of a man sank to his knees, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chest as his eyes watered, his lip wobbling as he almost pleaded for you to look at him and to hear what he was trying to say. 

“Look, I’m really, really sorry,” He crouched down, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “Please don't leave. I’ll shut up for the rest of the way there and you’ll never-” 

“I’m not leaving,” You say with a small laugh, confusion laced in your voice, “I was bored so I packed. ‘S not even my bag, think I got Geto’s or Vera’s on accident.” You shrugged as you watched his face change. Morphing as he shut his mouth, his hands still trembling as realization washed over him, slowly only leaving embarrassment. 

“Really?” He asked, still not letting go of your hands you nodded slowly, heart beating rapidly in your rib cage as you waited for him to say something else. 

“Oh...” He the relief on his face is replaced with something different, “Okay,” He took in a deep breath, slowly letting go of your hands as he looked at the floor, some of his hair falling in his face as he finally looked back up, giving you a small apologetic smile, “Sorry, I didn’t…” He couldn’t finish, moving quickly to stand up, mumbling something to himself as he went for the door, stopping seconds before he opened it. 

“‘Toru?” 

His fingers danced over the doorknob, not turning back despite his every nerve telling him to look back at you. But deep down, he knew that if he did, it would all come crumbling down. That the wall he built so highly for himself would crack, and he’d have to face the realization that he cared for you. Cared so deeply for you that seeing your face, your eyes puffy from crying because of his words would be worse than if a scolding knife was to pierce his heart. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince his feeble mind that you didn’t matter to him, you did, and he could no longer hide behind a mask and pretend that you didn’t. 

“Now that I think about it I think you would have made a shit doctor.” You say, crossing your arms across your chest as you watch him turn around, his lips red, looking like he’d been repeatedly chewing on it. 

His hand fell from the doorknob, taking three quick steps to get back to where you were, his hands quickly going up to hold your face, eyes scanning yours as if waiting for you to say anything. But you couldn’t, not with the way he was staring at you. He always did a spectacular job of whisking your words away from a single glance. 

“You drive me crazy,” He muttered, his nose almost touching yours as your hands traveled slowly up his back, feeling your heart beating in your throat, “Whenever I see your face,” His thumb runs over the corner of your mouth, eyes falling on your lips, “I don’t what to do. And then you open your mouth and I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry o-or kiss you. And,” He sighed, a hand going behind your head so that you could look up at him, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Without your gorgeous face, your pretty eyes, your laugh, your kind, kind heart. I’ll spend a fucking lifetime making up for all the shit I’ve done if it means you’d forgive me.” He was a breath away from your lips, if either one of you were to make a single movement it’d be over.

“Relax,” You say with a little laugh, your lashes fluttering on your cheek as you take a step back closer to the bed, “I’m not gonna make you grovel or anything. But if you’re offering something as forgiveness…” You trail off, not knowing how to word words as you push his head closer to yours. Your fingers play with his hair, tangling them back and forth to make little curls, your head moving on its own as you try not to give a stupid giddy smile. 

He leans in, finally closing that pesky gap between the two of you as you let out a little gasp until you melt against his chest, slowly working your lips against his. 

It’s hot, you don’t know how else to describe it. Weeks, months even, of pent-up tension are adding up here at this moment. 

He’s so gentle when he cradles your face, afraid you’d crumble away if he held you with any more pressure. But his kiss is anything but, aggressive and fast, not wanting to slow down as he tried to commit the feel of you to memory. 

He nips at your lips, now plumper and shiny with spit, pulling away slightly as he cradles his face to yours. His hands tug you into his body, cradling your jaw as he smiles, his eyes lidded as he looks down at you. 

Your hands are on his chest, slightly tugging at it as his smile grows, his cheeks all blushed out as you giggle, somewhat intoxicated by the feel of him. You’d imagine what he’d be like, sure, but the way he kissed or looked at you was nothing your imagination could have ever conjured up.

“Swear to god, if I ever say stupid shit you slap me, okay? Knock some sense into me,” He muttered, holding your cheeks, looking at you as if you had strung up the moon and the stars, and you probably did if you told him so. 

“‘M not gonna hit you, maybe just tell you some stupid puns till you realize what you’ve done.” You tease, watching as his head disappeared, your laugh turning into a muted moan as he licks a stripe across the expanse of your throat, gently biting down on your pulse point as he soothed it with a sloppy kiss. 

“‘Toru,” You can get out, collapsing on the bed as he gingerly pushes you onto it, feeling lightheaded as you watch him kiss down your arms, your hands, any area of naked skin he could find. It was exhilarating the way his lips felt on your skin. 

“You ‘wanna take that shirt off f’me?” He muttered, hands traveling up your stomach, nimble fingers dancing under the cup of your bra, “Or d’you want me to stop?” He’s slow and patient as you quickly shake your head, already getting to work at shedding off anything stopping him as he chuckles slowly, the sound just causing you to grow even wetter. You expertly unhook your bra from your chest, watching as it falls down into your lap, suddenly aware that your top half is fully bare to him. 

But he doesn’t say anything, his body almost malfunctioning at the sight of your bare tits. You almost go to cover them, conscious of his heavy stare, but he gently grabs your wrists, pushing them aside as he moves closer to you, his breath hitting your collarbone as he stifled a groan. 

“Fuck,” He says, not even fully paying attention as he quite literally goggles at your breast, his fingers tugging at your nipples, thumbing at them until they’re slightly swollen, letting his hands run over them as he feels his cock straining in his pants, “S-shit, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” He whispers, glancing up at you only to see your head thrown back, finger grasping his as you try to make him work faster, pushing them down to the buttons of your jeans as he chuckles, patting your waist once as if to tell you he understands. 

He gets to work, quickly getting them off of you, your underwear with it, eyes darkening as he notes your slick between your two puffy lips, gripping onto your thigh with every possible amount of self-restraint he has. 

“If you don’t hurry up I’ll just tell you a bad pun n-now to get it over with. Fuck just - just touch me already!” You threaten, glaring at him as he snorts, fingers traveling up to cup your cunt as you suddenly gasp, your teasing tone dropping at the euphoric sensation.

“Where?” His thumb slowly rubs at your clit, using some of your slick as he goes at his own pace, enjoying how you paw at his biceps, gripping onto them with every ounce of strength you could muster, “Here?” He asks, using two fingers to pry your pussy lips apart, nearly coming in his pants as he did so.

“This what you want, sweetheart?” He asks, his pointer finger traveling up your slit, gathering all of your wetness as he groans, slowly pushing it in, testing your limits as you let out a wanton moan at the feeling. 

“Yes, yes!” You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets. He doesn’t need to be told twice to know that you’d probably wring him out to dry if he doesn’t pick up his pace. 

But he wants to be slow, not wanting to hurt you as he pushes it in, inch by inch, until he curls it, your eyes rolling back, holding onto his wrist for dear life as you wait to adjust to it. 

“F-feels so good, hmm!” You squeal, your lips barely opening as he pushes the second one in, your words cut off by another moan, whining for him to go faster. You’ve been deprived for so long that you can’t even feel embarrassed at the needy way you yearn for him and his skilled fingers and touch. 

You’ve only ever been with one guy before, and he knew nothing about the female antonymy so you don’t really have much to compare him to, but Gojo knew what he was doing. He listened to your every sound, noting which places made your toes curl and eyes cross, becoming more and more familiar with your body. His white hair fell into his face as he paid attention to you, glancing up at your face every now and then to smile, wanting to make sure that you were okay. 

“Yeah? You’re squeezin’ me so much, fuck,” He starts pumping them in and out, the motion enough to make you go crazy, whining out pathetically as he picks up the pace a little bit, his thumb going to find you, “This pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, fuck, and she’s mine, y’hear?” He asks, only pumping into you faster, his thumb on your clit mirroring his ministrations as you cover your mouth with your hand, not wanting to be so loud that your cries could travel through the walls. 

“F-fuck, just yours! Promise!” You say, agreeing to anything he said, babbling nonsense as you feel your stomach clench, your back arching as he takes in the beautiful sight of you sprawled out like this, wanting to take a mental image to commit it to heart.

“Hmm, ‘Toru, I’m gonna, fuck, gonna…!” You can’t even finish your sentence, mewling at the way his relentless motions never stopped. 

It’s only a couple of seconds before you cry out, his other hand clamping to your mouth to muffle your moans, seeing white as you fall back onto the mattress, your chest heaving with every breath you take as your orgasm runs through your body. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever felt, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you creamed around them, your legs shaking as you moaned out his name. 

He stops, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. 

“So fuckin’ stunning,” He says under his breath, bringing his fingers shining with your essence up to his lips as he sucks them clean, his eyes fluttering shut at your tangy taste, “Taste amazing too, sweetheart.” He takes his fingers out of his mouth, crawling up to your body, tapping on your lips so that they’d open. He pressed his fingers on your tongue, watching as you sucked on them, your eyes never leaving his. He moans, taking them out before he almost embarrasses himself by coming on the spot. 

But he stops when he feels his pants tighten around his crouch, wincing because he clearly didn’t think this through enough. His dicks feels like a heavyweight in his pants, and he can feel the strain. 

“What?” You sit up, worry lacing your features as you balance on your elbows, “What’s wrong?” You're now freaking out inside, thinking that he’s starting to regret this, or that he was drunk off the euphoria and now the realization is settling in.

“I don’t have a condom, and the only ones were in-”

“Geto’s bag?” You say with a chortle, pointing your chin at where the said bag was sitting, “Yeah, I know.” 

Gojo chuckles, patting your cheek as he presses a kiss to your lips, almost not wanting to break away as he tastes everything on them. The chapstick you put on that morning, the chocolate he gave you. Fuck, he can even taste your cum on them, and you have to give his chest a little nudge so that he doesn’t forget what he was going to do. 

He’s agile as he goes through the pockets, almost doing good at shedding off his clothes, grinning in triumph when he finally locates the pack. It gives you some time to really take in his features, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes rake over his torso, his defined chest that shines with sweat. You try your hardest not to linger longer on his dick, your mouth going dry at the sheer length of it. Despite him prepping you just a few minutes ago you still wondered how you’d be able to take him. 

“If you stare any harder you’re gonna make me blush.” He says, smirking as you discover you’ve been caught in the act. But the way he laughs boyishly at you quickly looking away makes up for it. 

“If you weren’t so pretty I wouldn’t be staring.” You counter, tracking him as he makes his way back to the bed, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth as you swallow, moving so that your head rests on the board behind you as he grinned. 

“Me?” He cocks a brow, taking a couple of seconds to put the condom on his dick, his mushroom tip leaking with pre as she sucks in a breath at the feeling, hoping he wouldn’t nut too fast and embarrass himself when he was finally in you, “I’m gonna need you to take a hard, long look in the mirror then sweetheart.” 

You giggle, your eyes wrinkling around the edges as your cheeks glow. He moves above you, his own face plastered with a goofy smile at the sound of your laughter. He’d bottle it up if he could, save it for the days when he really needed to hear it. 

“No! I really mean it, you’re like, so fuckin’ hot, liked unbelievably hot.” You smile as he pecks your lips, grinning against his as he shakes his head in adorable defiance. 

“And I really mean it too,” He counters, his nose pressed against yours as you can’t help but bring him in for another kiss, your tongues meeting each other as he laps up your taste, kissing you so harshly that it knocked the wind right out of your lungs. 

When he pulls away a line of spit is connecting your lips to each other. Yours are swollen, almost bruised, but you welcome the slight sting, knowing what it was all for. After all, his are swollen and pink, so you slowly became drunk at the sight of it. 

His eyes travel to your tits and down to your stomach, gripping your waist as he kisses your collarbone, his hand gingerly rubbing up and down your skin, causing goosebumps to lie in their wake. 

He lined himself up with your entrance, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt his tip prod at your walls, and he groaned at the feeling, only imagining what it’d be like when he finally pushes through. 

“J-just fuck me already,” You whisper, your words circling through the two of you, “Please.” You add, and he shakes his head, knowing you’d never have to ask him when your honeyed words drove him to a near point of insanity. 

“Don’t have to beg sweetheart,” He says, pushing himself fully in, the two of you moaning out loud at the feeling.

You clamp down tightly on his dick, and despite him going in as slowly as you could he could feel you clenching around him. Your walls stretched to accommodate his size, and the slight pinch mixed with the godly feeling of having him fill you up almost caused you to pass out.

“Shit,” He can barely get it to pass his lips, finally bottoming out in your as your legs circle around his back, pulling him closer to your sweaty body as he places a hand near your head for leverage, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, squeezing me like that.” 

“Mmm, s’cause you’re so b-big,” You whine out, your nails raking down his back, leaving angry red lines. He stills, clenching his teeth as he tries to calm down, slowly pulling out before he slammed back into you. 

“Fuck!” You moan, holding onto his waist as he pistons into you, his dick shining with a mix of your own cum and wetness, glimmering in the limited light the moon offered. 

His hips slanted against yours, balls hitting your ass as he moved fast, like something in him just snapped, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. His dick could reach that part in you that just made you see stars, hitting it repeatedly until you swore your back could take it. 

“Oh, god, you feel so fuckin’ good, fuckkk,” He drawls out, his head falling into the crook of your neck, panting as his hands curled in the sheets, “You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me sweetheart,” He moaned against you, pressing sloppy kisses wherever he could. He trailed down your collarbone, all the way until he suckled on your breasts, pulling away so that he could give each equal attention. They glimmered with his spit, your areolas swollen from his constant motions. 

“Umph, ‘Toru, s’too much, o-oh!” You cried, the new angle he was at reaching even further and you questioned just how empty it was before him. He dragged through your walls, his thumb down at your clit, rubbing little circles as your eyes shut, too heavy with lust and you couldn’t even look down anymore, gripping onto his arms to stay afloat. 

“Just like that, perfect,” He talked you through it, one hand on your tit, the other busy with your clit, looking down to see his dick disappearing inside of you, going feral when he watched you becoming undone because of him, “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for m-me, y’know that right?” And you dumbly nodded, not able to speak, unintelligible words tumbling out of your mouth instead.

You didn’t expect your release to build up so quickly just after you had your last one, but Gojo was too good, an expert in knowing what places would scratch you in just the right way. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, your legs wrapping around him as you pulled him in even closer, tilting your head up so you could bring him in for another wet kiss. 

“M’gonna, fuck ‘Toru, m’gonna…” But you couldn’t finish, moaning against his lips as you came on his dick, his thumb not slowing down on your little nub as your legs shake from the feeling, eyes crossing as he smiles at the way you clamp down on him. 

“There you go, fuck, you’re so tight, fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna,” He tries to slow down but he can't, “Shit, shit, shit,” He stops, shooting his load into the condom as his hips stop, his chest heaving manically as he almost collapses onto your chest, your tits pressing against him as he takes a second to catch his breath.

The two of you can’t say anything, your hands wrapped tightly around his neck as you try to loosen up your body, your hair damp, the room stinking of sex and sweat as you try to come back to your senses. 

It doesn’t even feel real, but you watch through hooded eyes as he rises, pulling out of you as his dick hangs limp. He tugs the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he ties it, chucking it at a trash can he found near the desk as he looks back at you, giving you that same debonair smile that still managed to make your heart race despite everything. 

You throw a hand over your face, trying to hide it as he chuckles, giving your hips a firm squeeze as he kisses the side of your ear.

“I’ll be back, gonna get you some water ‘n clothes.” He says, tugging on his pants as he throws on his shirt laying across the floor, not bothering with any boxers as he winks at you, chuckling at the way you groan in embarrassment, tugging the covers over your naked body as if he hadn’t just seen you in your birthday suit. 

“And bring me some chocolate!” You call out, peeking your head out as he nods, shutting the door behind him as you look around, still trying to fathom what just happened. 

He reappears minutes later, one of his tees in hand, and a bottle with a bar in the other. He makes do with cleaning you up with a towel he found, wetting it with some water as he gently rubs it over your sensitive skin, apologizing when you wince, kissing the spots that are still tender. 

You're almost tapped out, too tired to see the lovesick look in his eyes when he pulls the shirt over your chest, laying you back down on the pillows as he rubs at your forehead, thanking his lucky stars for being able to see you look like this; so carefree and happy. 

There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you tug on his hand, not doing much work as you pull him closer to you. Although the bed wasn’t made to accommodate more than one person, he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip through his fingers. 

“Did you watch Star Wars?” You ask sleepily, holding his hands as you play with his fingers, hearing him snort at the fact that you were still keeping this up. But you still wanted to make him pay, even if he just gave you two of the most earth-shattering orgasms you’ve ever received. 

“Used to, why?” He turns you over so you could face him, bringing up one of his fingers so that he could carefully trace out your features. 

“‘Cause Yoda only one f’me.” You barely get out, giving a little giggle as he pretends to hate it, still kissing your cheek as you slink against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart lulling you to sleep. 

He follows you shortly after, his soft snores filling the room as you two sleep soundly. But in the dark, before he lets the sleep take a hold of him, he promises himself that he’d never let you go. He’d take you to Takayama, or wherever the fuck was necessary to keep you safe. He wouldn’t let you cry again, wouldn’t want to see the tears that stained your cheeks because he swore he’d never been in such pain seeing you like that. You were his other half, and no amount of cheesy puns, terrible jokes, or loving questions was going to change that fact. Because he knew that once he held the world in his arms he wouldn’t trade any fucking thing to let it go. 

[withleeknow]

how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: seungmin x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; menstruation pain, he's a softie !!! (@seungminiuniverse kindly perish <3)

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

seungmin, who instantly regrets his teasing jab ten seconds after it leaves his mouth. "tired already?" he pretends to scoff when you tug on his sleeve and stop in your tracks just fifteen minutes into your mini hike, "you're such a princess."

he expects a witty comeback from you in return, but when nothing comes, he turns around, and the playful smile on his face drops instantly at the sight of your face, your jaw clenched tightly and about a dozen shades paler than you were mere minutes ago.

"hey, hey, what's wrong?" he's crowding you in a blink of an eye, one hand tilting your head up to look at him while the other settles on your waist. "you okay?"

"i..." the pain shoots through your stomach again, cementing a furrow between your brows and a frown on your lips. "can we sit down for a few minutes?"

on a nearby bench, your hand grips his tightly like a lifeline as your head rests upon his shoulder. it's a hot day outside, with the sun glaring down at you like a punishment, but for some reason you welcome the added warmth of his body next to yours, despite the thin layer of sweat that you can feel beading on your forehead and along the side of your neck.

you'd opted not to take your painkillers earlier, thinking they wouldn't be necessary since you didn't experience any discomfort. now here you are, looking absolutely miserable on a wooden bench under very limited shade, next to your boyfriend who glares at any passerby who looks at you weirdly.

seungmin, who starts carrying around things you may need ever since that little mishap. painkillers and extra pads are with him everywhere he goes, even though he doesn't tell you that. he just keeps them with him in case you need them.

seungmin, who eases up on the playful banter because he knows you don't have as much energy to deal with his obnoxious ass.

seungmin, who is never vocal about his fondness for you; words of affirmation isn't his love language after all. but every month without fail, he shows you his love through the little things he does. quietly sliding your favorite chocolate bar and a steaming mug of tea next to your laptop while you work. ordering your comfort food even though you said he didn't have to, that it's his turn to get whatever he wants to eat, but he just insists that he's got a sudden craving. gently rubbing your stomach even after you've dozed off so you could sleep better. in the morning, when he has to leave before you wake up, he puts a heating pad by your belly to replace his warmth.

seungmin, who's got his eyes on you at all times, on high alert for any sign of discomfort on your face, but still diverts his gaze just as quickly if you happen to catch him looking.

seungmin, who isn't overly physically affectionate either, but for some reason, during that one week every month, he amps it up for you. a brush of his hand on your back when he passes by your desk. a peck to your forehead or your hair when you're preparing to go to work or when you're getting ready for bed. squeezing his arms around you just a few degrees tighter when you give him a kiss in greeting after a tiresome day. it's subtle; he's still giving you space to go through your own motions, but he's letting you know that he's there if you need him.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 03.05.2024]

[theoxenfree]

BOUNTY

hot gunslinging outlaw x reader | 2.7k

following your bitter mother's death, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate child of the most powerful man in san-am, soon to come into a vast inheritance as he is on his deathbed. what you anticipate to be an uneventful train across the country comes to a screeching halt when a mysterious man boards and tells you there's a substantial bounty on your head.

warnings; multiple mentions of death, brief blood mention, some graphic details, kidnapping, roughly proofread, post-apocalyptic setting, neo-western, reposted from old blog 2kmps

this is a concept piece for a larger project. please offer feedback to the questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps out with the project development and honing in on what y'all wanna see in the finished story!

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: thank you for reading, and hopefully (pls 🥹) reblogging this first concept piece! let me give you a little bit of background before launching into questions:

this entire idea came to be after reading/watching trigun, watching fallout prime, playing fallout 4, and prior playing my time at sandrock. setting-wise, I imagine the story will have some similarities between all of these things while putting mainly my own spin on the sci-fi western genre.

I intend for this project to be around 90k-100k by the time it is completed and will be the longest piece of writing I've done to date. additionally, I am building the entire world from the ground up and genuinely hoping to execute an extremely immersive reading experience! it is currently in the brainstorming and rough outlining stage, but I am making polls and asking for feedback to help move the process along.

I'd like to up to 2-3 additional concept pieces bc the scale of this project is so large. which concept piece would you like to see next, first? 1) an intimate moment sitting around the fire with jericho 2) jericho teaching mc how to shoot and gets very, very close.

currently, what is your impression of jericho's character? what could I do to improve upon him?

would you prefer for this story to be streamlined w/ the main focus on mc reaching st. corpus + theirs and jericho's romance? or, would you like prev mentioned + detailed character arcs of the other characters in jericho's crew?

this story is neo-western, but is definitely an adventure and epic at heart. is there anything in particular you'd be interested in seeing me write for a story like this? different areas around the continent? creatures? cultures? spend some extra time in st. corpus?

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

an ISAT animatic popped up and reminded me of my favourite trope, so now more crumbs manifest:

TIME LOOPS!

time loop where reader goes back to the very beginning of her adventure, and now has to face the fact that the cubs were warlords, and now she has a second chance to do things over. perhaps this time, she can escape their attention. reader is, unfortunately, a bleeding heart, and always picks them up, so its a case of trying to be as uninteresting and apathetic as possible while getting them to flower fruit mountain.

but reader cant hide how much she cares. throwing herself in front of threats, taking care of their injuries with great care, always being gentle with them.

the only way she could escape their love would to stop being compassionate, but compassion is an inherent trait to reader.

no matter what she does, no matter how much she changes between each loop they still love her anyways. she can never escape.

TIME LOOPS!

time loop where the monkey duo constantly re-experience the day reader successfully escapes back to her world. you would think being overpowered would help, but no. it seems like reader was going to escape them, one way or the other. the very first time they managed to stop her from returning back to her world, she perished, presumably from her injuries.

only after many more loops do they realise that reader is the cause in every loop she has died. today was the day she was going to escape them, one way or the other.

they just keep losing her.

TIME LOOPS!

you know how there is an encounter where sun wukong and macaque fight in jttw/lmk, and how sun wukong kills macaque?(idk how lmk handles it) how about reliving that day, again and again, until wukong can figure out a way to not kill him? starting at the very beginning of the confrontation, ending a few moments after the fatal blow.

one loop he manages to delay the fight, trying to see if making it through the day will break the loop.

nope!

once the sun sets, it loops straight back to the beginning of the confrontation.

and he cant exactly die to escape the loops, can he? and trying to not fight macaque leads macaque to try and kill the pilgrims instead, and if sun wukong doesn't protect them, then its circlet time! he always has to fight macaque

is this punishment for killing his love? to forever relive his final day by his hand?

TIME LOOPS!

honestly someone should do the pilgrims in an JTTW/LMK X ISAT AU, i would read it. its 5 for 5 and if sun wukong takes the place of siffrin macaque could take the place of loop. lady bone demon as the king, tripitaka as the person who is the key to the party's adventure, pigsy and sandy rounding out the team, and ao lie as the support.

idk who would be headmaiden tho. don't know enough characters off the top of my head.

you could even have a reflection in lmk, and draw parallels of the last time it happened, make wukong think he went back into the time loops again, but its mk this time instead

TIME LOOPS!

i can never get enough of them. i hope you like my crumbs as much as i like your fics.

Okay first things first. I am so sorry that I am definitely going out of order with these Crumbs!

I get ideas for one and it’s not the one I’m supposed to be working on and I am sorry. But~ I do love these crumbs and am trying to work my way through them. One at a time~ Get it time hehe!

I can’t honestly say that I know much if anything really about ISAT. So forgive me for only understanding time loops.

Now as for time loops? I can’t say I’d be putting them in my main fic. However! These are amazing ideas which would be so angsty!

One minute Reader in stuck on Flower Fruit Mountian and the next she is back standing under the tree that she first met the monkeys under. They had just fallen and she was holding them in her arms. She wants to throw them out and run, everything in her tells her to run… but, how could she!?

These are her monkeys! The same ones who she cared for and loved for months.

Reader staring at Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque. Both were staring back at her for just a moment before one of them bit her! Even with the tiny teeth biting into her skin she didn’t feel pain, this kind of pain was nothing to her now. Tears filled her eyes catching Spirit’s attention.

“Reader? Are you alright? Damn cub he needs to let you-“ She was cut off as you held the two closer to you trying to push away any thoughts of what was to come.

You could throw them out, you could push them away but… how could you? They were so small, so defenseless right now. Even knowing who and what they are you can’t bring yourself to do anything but hold them. They were perfect like this, they had been so sweet and kind to you with an innocence that you truly believed in. However even while they were still ‘sweet’ and ‘kind’ to you in the future they were so dangerous and murderous now.

"Reader let the monkey go," Spirit said calmly, however at her words you did the exact opposite, you couldn't, you couldn't let them go.

"Flower Fruit Mountain... there is a way home on Flower Fruit Mountain, I know where it is on the island," you finally said.

The way home from there wasn't destroyed yet and you had time. You had the time to get them there and get home before the curse broke. You were sure that you had the time, the time to get Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque back to their home before they would fall in love. Just ignore their looks and don’t let them get out of sight. Easy, it was just that easy.

You wished it had been that easy, at every turn these two tried to run off. They thought they were still invincible and weren’t listening to anything you would say. You tried to be mean to a point but just one look at their faces and you would melt.

“It’s not fair,” you grumbled one night after Spirit laid down to bed. She didn’t think you should bring the monkey cubs along but you refused to leave them behind.

Both monkeys looked at you and cocked their heads to the side. They didn’t run away because it was so dark that you could barely see anything in the forest around you even with the fire blazing in front of you. Monsters stayed away from these flames, it was odd but very helpful in the woods.

“After everything I should hate you two, but how can I do that when you are so… I shouldn’t even be saying anything…” The two in front of you were confused at your words but you attempted not to say anything.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked as you looked at them. It was so unfair. They were defenseless and weak right now anything could hurt them. Maybe that was why, maybe that was why you wanted to see them back in their Warlord forms. At least then they’d be able to fight for their own protection.

“When you return to your true forms… do me a favor and don’t look for me. You don’t need me,” you muttered as sleep overtook your mind.

*Chirp?*

You knew who they were and you knew they’d return to their true forms. Looking at each other they came closer to you curious. You were so quiet when you slept and it was strange to see you so calm rather than running after them. At least not with the tears that had just fallen from your eyes.

Who were you? And how did you know who they were?

Curiosity was always what sparked how the two fell in love with you. They would stop running long enough to know you to learn about you and to love you.

With each time the time changes she would inevitably become the source of curiosity for the two monkeys. They learned about you in every world. Delayed your return to their home to capture you before you could find the way that you return home. Destroy whatever was in their way to keep you by their side.

This one didn’t really go into the time loop part of it too much, sorry about that. But it’s not a bad scene in my opinion at least.

>>><<<< Reader’s daughter (one of them)

However this also depends on what time Reader is taken from the future! Is it during when she’s first taken to Flower Fruit Mountian? Is it during the journey? Is it during the LMK time? Is she with them willingly at this point? Does she have kids?

Yes you eventually have kids, so if its after you have kids with the two warlords then well I’ve had a little scene in my head for a while now. Where one of your children goes to the past and you has to get her back!

“But they hurt you,” Her words cut through you like a knife. You don’t fight with your husbands all that much, so why does she know this?

“Honey-“ You begin to say.

“Uncle Tang told us about how you all met the Warlords, he said that you got hurt more than once too!” She was crying at this point, your daughter, your ever strong and determined daughter was crying.

Your eyes flickered to the monkeys (weather in warlord form or cub form) and sigh. It’s true, they hurt you before. They never meant to but there was more than once that you ended up hurt. But you turned your attention right back to your daughter and kneeled in front of her.

“They did. They hurt me, but they never meant to,” You explain cupping your daughter’s cheeks, staring at her heart shaped mask and deep golden eyes. She looked so much like her dad.

“Then why!? WHY WON’T YOU CHANGE IT!?” She yelled but froze when you laughed. You laughed at the words, you knew why you wouldn’t change anything not a single thing would be changed at least not by you.

“Because, because no matter what happened in the past, I love you, you and your siblings. If what happened in the past didn't happen then how would I have gotten you or your siblings?” You asked a smile on your face, reassuring and calm.

She sniffled, eyes wide with shock as if the thought didn’t cross her mind. However when her eyes went down cast you knew, she had thought about that. She had known there would be consequences but she wanted to spare you the pain.

“Besides, no matter what happened in the past… I love them too. Both of them, through thick and thin, through joy and sorrow. They are mine and I am theirs,” You explained, your own eyes brimmed with tears as your daughter threw herself into your arms and letting out a sob.

It was like when she was a tiny cub again she curled into you as you pulled her close to you. With a sigh you smile and take the artifact that you used to find her out of your pocket. You looked at Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque and give them a soft smile before allowing yourself and your daughter to be sent back to your own time.

Sun Jin, also nicknamed Jinx is mostly like her dad in the aspects of personality and appearance. She has a very low amount of shadow magic, (compared to her siblings) and extraordinary strength. In strength alone she can match many celestials and high ranked demons alike. She is a pure mama’s girl and will do anything to make her happy, even if that means breaking time and space itself.

>>><<< Reader escapes to her world

“NO!” The pure boiling rage echoed through the cavern as the light died down. Everything was still around the now shattered crystal that lay in shards across the cold stone floor.

You were gone, again! How many times has this day reset? How many times had they lost you to the damned portal that continued to take you away!? All they wanted was for you to stay with them and be their Queen. They wanted you safe and cared for, you’d never be in danger with them and you would have everything that you’d ever asked for.

Macaque was the first to move, scooping up the shattered crystal with a look of rage across his face. Every time, every fucking time. You would never stay here- NO! He refused to believe that. They would get you back one way or another, weather you agreed with them or not. You were their beautiful and loving wife, they would get you back no matter how long it took.

As the world around them shifted to them returning to the beginning of the day, Wukong curled around you. Every morning started the same, you three were sleeping in bed before going about your day. The day that you would find a way back to your world, and leave them behind.

No, you wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer. Macaque would make sure of that. Without a word he got out of bed, giving a smile to Wukong who looked at him with confusion. He wouldn’t explain not this time, he wouldn’t give his mate false hope before getting to the bottom of this.

It didn’t work, of course it didn’t work. Wukong screamed as he held your lifeless body in his arms, his body shaking with pure rage. His eyes almost glowing red as if he were about to use his power to destroy anything in his path. He barely held himself back as Macaque stood behind you both.

No! How did this happen!? All he did was break the crystal, the same crystal that constantly took you away from them again and again and again. All he did was take away what was taking you from them!

He couldn’t even bring himself to approach you two instead backing away with a look of horror across his face. This was his fault, in his selfishness, he took you away permanently. Tears, real tears filled his eyes as the wind howled around them, shadows lashing around as the ground cracked beneath his mate. They couldn’t stand this!!

Once again the world shifted to the morning before, hearts pounding in their chests as they curled close to you. They wouldn’t loose you, not this time.

Not this time.

Not this time.

NOT THIS TIME!

>>> Random thought

Okay halfway through this one I came up with an idea! So I have a way for Reader to get home from the island, one that the monkey duo is constantly trying to destroy. A crystal that was formed within one of the caverns deep underground. Now with that information what if the day that she constantly escapes is the same day that she keeps getting sent to the past!

Just a thought, I thought it was neat. In that case the crystal would be what is sending her to the past… oh! Flower Fruit Mountain has tons of artifacts so the one they could be fighting against is a time travel device while there is still another crystal to her own world. Yeah, that could work.

>>> The day Macaque dies

Now I don’t think I’ll be having Macaque die in this Au, and if I do it’ll only be temporary. However- The ANGST! So not at all canon, but how can I resist.

Though I don’t think any of these are fully canon to this Au, but meh they have been so fun to write!!

Blood dripped down the side of Wukong’s staff. Everything in his world froze around him. Macaque’s once vibrant eye the only one visible dimming until they held no light and no life. A scream was heard almost instantly, the staff thrown to the side in favor of Wukong cradling his love in his arms. No, no, no! How could he do this!? How could he do this to his warrior.

His own vision blurred as he pulled his mate into his arms and let out a sob. How- how- how!? This isn’t real, none of this was real. This wasn’t even possible! He tried to reason with himself, there was no way that any of this was possible.

The sun behind him was an array of gorgeous golds, oranges and reds as it set below the sky. Allowing the moon to show from high in the sky, as if it was mocking him.

He opened his mouth to scream once again only for his entire world to shift. And once again be standing in front of his enraged mate.

“I don’t want to fight you!” He yelled, knowing this wasn’t the first time this has happened. However it was only not the first time for him, to his beloved mate? This was the first time they had seen each other in a long while, the pilgrimage having taken him from The Five Fazes Mountain. He needed to complete this journey to be free, to go back to his mate at all.

“Then get out of my way!” So he could get his revenge, so that Macaque could do what he came for.

Time and time again, his own mate’s blood covered his hands quickly making the King go absolutely insane. Blood would cover the ground one way or another this day and there was nothing that could be done about it.

I loved this ask! Again I’m sorry that I took so long with this ask! I do love this idea! And once again I really don’t know that much about ISAT, if you could let me know more about it I might look into it. That is not a promise but I might get intrigued enough to look at it.

[imperator-titus]

Favorite Party Banter [Druid Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Jaheira or Halsin is the main speaker/subject or I think their reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

[PB_Astarion_Jaheira_OskarsBeloved]

Astarion: Cazador always warned us to stay clear of this neighbourhood. Never said why, though.

Jaheira: The last spawn who tried was sunk into the cobblestones and left for the sun to find. I had an unfortunate taste for theatrics, in my youth. {Devnote: A little abashed, but shrugging it off}

Astarion: Ah. Yes, that was probably it.

[PB_Halsin_Jaheira_Park]

Halsin: Ah, a glimpse of nature. Like a sip of water to parched lips, eh, Jaheira? {Devnote: content}

Jaheira: Baldurians think all druids to be hay-haired idlers, Halsin. Perhaps we ought not speak of nature - but high art, or politics? {Devnote: ‘change the record, all these city folk think we’re hippies as it is’ A little tongue in cheek, she agrees with him entirely}

Halsin: I think on them also. But nothing matches the splendour of an ancient tree. {Devnote: Unfazed}

Jaheira: It is so. And, should one favour bear-form, that tree in particular makes for excellent back-scratching… {Devnote: Idle, teasing - offering a direct tip to Halsin under the guise of a hypothetical}

[PB_Shadowheart_Halsin_ROM_Act3]

Shadowheart: Halsin, if I were a druid, what animal do you think I’d be? {Devnote: Idle banter, either Loyal/Reject Shar arc}

Halsin: Given your memory issues, perhaps a goldfish? {Devnote: Gently teasing}

Shadowheart: I’d hoped for something a bit more exotic… but would you carry around my fish bowl, feed me flakes of food?

Halsin: Only the finest, of course.

[PB_Laezel_Halsin_Act3_ROM_001]

Lae’zel: You’ve quite the appetite, Halsin. I’d wager you’ve bedded more of your foes than you’ve felled.

Halsin: Hmm. A challenging sum. The chimera has three heads… but does it still count as one? {Devnote: Not offended, thinking back}

Lae’zel: Must have been a challenging kill.

Halsin: Kill… yes. {Devnote: ‘Yep, that’s definitely what I mean.’}

[PB_Halsin_Shadowheart_SteelWatchFoundry]

Halsin: The birthing ground of those steel monstrosities. I would feel little sorrow if this place should close forever. {Devnote: some disdain (in a factory making robo-sentries)}

Shadowheart: Oh come on, you have to be at least a little impressed by the craftsmanship. There's only so much you can do with wood. {Devnote: gentle poking}

Halsin: Not so, in my experience. There is little I cannot whittle.

Shadowheart: Did you do that on purpose...? {Devnote: half-amused groan}

[PB_Halsin_Gale_ROM_Act3]

Gale: Halsin, you must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life.

Gale: Anything you'd like to pass on to a strapping, love-struck wizard such as myself?

Halsin: Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots - what suits me may be a poor fit for you.

Gale: Ah. Well, there's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'. {Devnote: Accepting the answer. Thinks 'be yourself' is naff advice}

Halsin: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

[therethatstar]

im working on a short phumpeem au.

something about soulmates. or perhaps nothing about soulmates. just phum losing his mind over how pretty peem is. you know…the old regular shmegular

here’s a little peak. the rest will be edited and posted … whenever 😅

***

In the realism of it all, soulmates don’t exist.

Phum knows this among many other things.

You meet people, you fall in love and the world doesn’t set on fire and you don’t perish into flames.

Yet, it’s an idealism that humans fall back into, the theory of your soul being just one half of another.

And Phum thinks about it sometimes. Soulmates.

He sometimes wondered what it would be like to meet his soulmate. If the stars will collapse, if the world will stop spinning. Will the earth orbits its focus until it sinks and immerses itself into the very moment where he looks into his soulmate’s eyes for the first time.

Because Phum feels it, regardless of realism and idealism, an invisible grip that tips over in his chest. And it’s the whole ordeal, hook line and sinker. And yet, it’s not. The world doesn’t stop, the constellation above him doesn't come crashing down. Phum’s breath isn’t being stolen and his eyes aren’t popping out of his skull. In all the ways it has been told over and over in books and movies.

And yet it’s all of those things. Phum looks into the man’s eyes, and everything shifts, ever so slightly. His heart rate is a racketing mess and he feels his breath get knocked out of his chest. And everything stops, yet it doesn’t. It’s all in his head, it’s in the pure need to taste the moment on his tongue; relishing in the way the desire is seeping through the veins that run through every core of his being and he craves for it so fervidly that he’s willing to drink in the lies. The abstract idea of soulmates.

And perhaps, when it all comes down to it, soulmates is merely a deceptive belief to one’s mind; but Phum, for once, doesn’t mind selling his soul and conscience to such false perception of reality. Just once.

Because after all, soulmates never really deal with realism.

Phum can hear the meat sizzling on the stone pan as Pun sings along to something by Radiohead and every time his eyes drift to the man across from the bar countertop, the man is looking at him. Entirely too confident to seem shameless about it.

Phum averts his eyes to the few customers that they have and he feels the way his chest tightens from being under such scrutinizing eyes, lack of breath centering around his heart.

“You got a chef with good music taste back there,” the man points his eyes towards the kitchen, fingers grazing the glass of his drink, lips lifted subtly.

Phum wants to laugh, Pun is hardly a chef and Radiohead is overrated but he’s not about to say that.

Phum smiles back, “I’ll make sure to let him know.”

The man doesn’t say anything to that, eyes quietly watching. He glances down at Phum's shirt and Phum’s gaze naturally follows him, “fan of Naruto?”

“Who isn’t a fan of Kakashi Hatake?”

The man raises his eyes at that, chuckling under his breath, “so a fan of pretty looking boys.”

The man quirks his mouth so slightly, sizing Phum up and Phum knows that he knows Phum is watching him. He sips the drink from the frosted glass and there’s this hint of shy abrasiveness like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Like he doesn’t know what he looks like to Phum. Or at least, he wants Phum to think so. It’s for show, Phum knows this among many other things but yet, he trips over over regardless. Head first into a void that feels completely bottomless, sucking him into the pit blackness.

“You could say that,” Phum answers him, eyes shifting to the door in case they have any customers coming in. He turns back to the man who sits there, looking at him, arms crossed over the hardwood countertop, so fucking pretty under the cheap lamplights and Phum never had such a desire to see someone in broad daylight before, wondering if the sun has anything on someone that looks like the man sitting across from him.

The wetness of the man’s lips is all too distracting and Phum’s heart yanks. It hasn’t stopped yanking ever since this man stepped into the restaurant. And he has all of Phum’s attention with the way he’s staring at him under his dark lashes, “do I pass the test?”

Phum must have got all up in his head because his brain comes to an immediate halt as he looks away from his shiny lips, “huh?”

“You like boys who are pretty. Do I pass the test?”

He stares at Phum, at Kakashi on his shirt, then right into his eyes. Waiting. Anticipating. Like he knows the response Phum would give. Like Phum is just one of the guys. Just a guy. Someone. No one altogether.

Phum doesn’t answer, instead he says, “can I have your name?”

Because among other things, Phum needs to know his name. From the moment the man stepped inside the diner, Phum’s heart had tossed a line to him and sank its hook in, catching on the vessels and he’s so drawn to this practically stranger of man that his heart and body and mind no longer feel like they belong to him.

And soulmates aren’t real. Phum reminds himself.

The man squints his eyes at him, there are small wrinkles at the corners of his brown orbs and Phum has the sudden urge to sooth them away with his fingers, his mouth.

“Normally, you tell yours first before you ask for someone else’s.”

“Not big on formally.”

This time the man laughs, genuinely laughing, “or subtlety. It’s Peem. Since you seem so eager to know.”

Peem.

Phum easily gives in, “I was.”

Peem is looking at him now, dark, measured, almost unabashedly staring at him, almost shamelessly. Almost. Phum wouldn’t even mind that. Shamelessness would look ridiculously good on Peem, all bare and slicked with sweat under the dim light. Peem meets his eyes and they stay there. “Your place or mine?”

And Phum is no longer 19, freshly entering university and learning the normality of hooking up for the sake of hooking up. Phum is in his mid 20s and he has done this far too many times. Because sex is sex. Desire feeds desire. And afterall, humans are just the animals that feed on intimate connections. Yet his brain short circuits at the blunt suggestion, something rewires, reroutes, shifts its entire focal point, “um…give me 30 minutes. We close in 30 minutes.”

Peem makes a face at that, nose slightly scrunched up and it’s cute. It’s such a misleading front he’s putting up. A contradiction to the way he dresses all in black and the way he talks like he wants Phum to taste his names on his lips, over and over. Peem looks far too lethal for someone who looks like the softest, sweetest, prettiest thing anyone has ever seen.

“I give you 10 minutes, max. I’m not waiting any longer.”

Demanding. Entirely too fucking certain. Like he knows Phum isn’t much of a type to put up a fight. Like he has Phum exactly where he wants him, weak and pathetic under his mercy.

And Peem must have known this. How ethereal he is under these artificial restaurant lights, an enticing little thing with the way the glint of the fainted brightness hits him just right, gleaming at the high of his cheekbones. And Phum can see the dip of his thin waist underneath the silk button down, imagining what it would be like to imprint his fingers on the curve of his hips, feeling the flex of his muscles between his hands.

“Do you–” and Phum lets the words trail off, a little too dazed, brian and mouth running on a different frequency. There are questions that sit at the tip of his tongue. Do you like quiet walks under the moonlit night? Do you like your hand being held? Do you always size men down to their knees? Do you like being kissed? On the lips. At the curve of your long neck. Between your shoulder blades. Between your legs after I make you wet down there. Instead, Phum asks, “do you always get what you want?”

And perhaps, he’s throwing Peem off a loop but Phum isn’t trying too, he’s genuinely curious if Peem does it on purpose. Demands for what he wants, knowing that he will get it. Inevitably.

Peem doesn’t answer, instead he slips off the stool, placing the dollar bills on the countertop, glancing back at Phum. At his lips, his gaze lingers, “guess we’ll find out.”

[lethalchiralium]

Diamondback | [1]

a/n: i love this series and i haven’t even finished out the ending yet

warnings: Mentions of cheating, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), mentions of alcohol

summary: Pine, Arizona. You’ve touched down in Phoenix and driven up to a relatively normal sized city, more than ready to see your best friend and grossly underprepared for an interview you got twelve hours ago. It’s hard to tell if you’re ready, but now you have to be. It’s time to chase the light.

You weren’t surprised that the Hotshot Fire Station wasn’t located in town, but on a backroad that was in a patch of sand, surrounded by high mountains. Sand has already contaminated your boots and hair by the time you had exited the airport in Phoenix in the early morning. A manila folder sat in between your hands as you looked at the silver building, nerves dancing up and down your spine. The sun was bearing down on you, something that used to really be your friend. 

Change is good. Change is supposed to be good, right? So why am I nervous? Don’t be nervous. People can see when you’re nervous. Quit it. Quit it!

Swallowing a bit of your nervousness, you moved out of the sun and into the building. You opened the door and walked into what appeared like the front room - it was painted a soft beige, floor made of sealed concrete and decorated with mismatched couches and seats - you could hear the clink of workout equipment down the hall, the smell of air freshener was dull. 

This was so much different than your Firewatch tower in Yellowstone National Park; it was a two day hike to it, there was a babbling brook 50 yards away with a small campsite nearby as well. All you had was your radio, books, and binoculars to keep you company for two to four months out of the year, as well as an old laptop that was connected to very shitty ethernet. You had many years of firewatching under your belt, you had taken classes for fire science and wildfire safety, as well as EMT training just in case one of your fellow fire watchers had a medical emergency. You were well prepared for this job, to be a 141 Hotshot.

The 141 Hotshots were the second municipal hotshot crew to ever be formed and based in Arizona, holding up legacy of the Sandstone Mountain Hotshots, who had perished in a wildfire less than a decade prior - it was said that the Superintendent of the 141 had trained under the Superintendent of the Sandstone Hotshots only a few years before the tragedy, a man who you had read about before even thinking about becoming a Hotshot seven years ago, especially before your fiance forced you into fire watch. Wildfire firefighting work was grueling, you were very fit because of your work as a fire watcher, but this takes it to a whole new level.

“Y/N!”

You had stopped in the middle of the front room, eyes now focused on the sweaty and dirt stained face of your childhood best friend - Alex Keller. The man had been kind enough to lend you a room in his apartment and put in a good word to the well-respected Superintendent he had worked for for almost seven years. It had been a few years since you had seen him; you had only a backpack waiting in your rental car. You instantly opened your arms and let Alex hug you, not bothered by the sweat or dirt on him. 

He patted your back before releasing you, a smile on his mustached face. “I hope that dickhead didn’t cause you any trouble.” 

The dickhead he was talking about was your ex-fiancé, the man you definitely did not want to talk or think about. You rolled your eyes. “Alex, I’m fine.”

He gave a small huff before continuing, “Well? Did you decide?”

You held up your folder, to which the man smiled wider. 

“Good! I know Price is gonna like you.” He patted your shoulder before he nodded back towards the hallway he had come from. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.” 

“I don’t need a tour, I need to get to my interview-“ You blubbered before he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him. “Alex!”

“I’m takin’ you to the interview, dingaling.” He chuckled, your apprehension slipped away and you then began to walk beside him. “So stubborn for no reason.”

“I like to think my stubbornness is a good quality.”

Alex gave you a look, you laughed at him. “Sure.” You opened your mouth to retaliate but he kept talking. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to Farah’s after my shift, you’ll have to fend for yourself. You know where I live, and the code to get in.”

You sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

He patted your back, smile still big. “You always are.” He then looked towards the large equipment you two were walking towards, seeing his fellow Hotshots working out or fixing their gear before he took your arm, stopping you from continuing. You looked to your friend as he spoke, “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s a lot different than just sitting in a tower and just watching a fire.”

“I was a Hotshot for a year, Alex.”

“Yeah, six years ago.”

You were about to retaliate to his argument when you heard your last name be called. You looked around Alex to see a genuinely handsome blond man, standing tall with his hands behind his back. Alex turned to look at the man, a hand then clapped your back. “Y/N, this is Assistant Superintendent Riley.”

Riley had a bored look in his eye, it made your skin bristle a little. He glanced to Alex before going, “Supe’s waitin’ on you, L/N.”

British? You glanced at Alex before he pushed you forwards, you immediately kept walking towards the door Riley was holding open. You nodded to him before walking into the office, watching as the man you were hopefully interviewing with stood.

Damn, what is with having pretty superiors?

“L/N, I’m Superintendent John Price of the 141 Hotshots, and you’ve just met my Assistant, Simon Riley.” 

“British?” You blurted out as you held out your hand.

John chuckled a little before he took your hand with a firm handshake. “Yes, Liverpool. Simon’s from Manchester.” He gestured to the seat across from him as you let go and you instantly sat down, then handed him your manila folder. He took it, settling down in his chair as you heard the office door click. Footsteps behind you instantly told you that Simon intended to stay for the interview, noticing in the corner of your eye that Simon now leaned against the wall, watching you. “So, I heard you were fire watch?” 

Your full attention was on John now, he had settled onto his arms on his desk. You nodded in response. “Six years.”

“Lonely up there.” Simon commented, John gave him a sharp look before gazing back at you.

“Keller said you were a Hotshot before. Why’d you quit?” You stared at John, noticing he hadn’t even opened your folder of qualifying classes and certificates. 

“Fiancé-“ You cut yourself off before continuing. “Ex-fiancé convinced me to do fire watch instead. Said it was less dangerous, which it is.”

There was a twitch in John’s eye. “Then why are you here?”

“For a job-“

“Don’t run around the question. Why would you leave a cushy job that I’m sure pays well in one of the most beautiful National Parks in the world?”

“To be clear, sir,” Your eyes narrowed. “My personal business as to why I decided to change my career so quickly is none of your concern. I can promise it won’t be a problem, I didn’t leave because I was forced or fired.” You glanced to Riley. “And I may have not been on a team for the past few years, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a team player.”

The Superintendent in front of you chuckled, your facial expression didn’t change but your chest tightened.

I’ve done it again. There goes my new job. Rest in peace my independence - I’m gonna have to move in with Mom. 

“You have all of your qualifications?”

A moment of shock stopped you from speaking, but you pushed through it, confusion flooding through your chest. “Uh, yeah. In the folder, fire science, EMT, fire safety training-“

“Where were you a Hotshot?” Simon’s voice made you look over to him, your answer instant, “Diamond Mountain.”

Simon whistled. “Up near Reno?”

You nodded as you looked back to John. “Was tough. No one liked me on the team except the Supe. Said I had potential.”

He had finally opened your file folder, flipping through the papers with almost blatant disregard for any of the information on the printed pages. He closed the folder after only looking through it for fifteen seconds, tossing the file back onto the desk. He settled on his elbows as he leaned forwards. “That Supe gave you flying colors when I called him.” Oh thank you, Breaker, thank you. Best Supe ever. “Said he was disappointed to see you go to fire watch so quickly.” You kept stoic, watching as John stared back. “You’re not gonna quit on me, are you?”

“No sir.”

“Not gonna run off when shit hits the fan? Or use this as a step to get to structure?”

“No sir.”

With one nod, John sat back in his chair.

“The crew’s going on a hike.” He nudged his chin towards the door. “Got running shoes, Firewatch?”

With a smile on your face, you nodded. 

Summers in your fire watch tower were hot and dry - you used to sit at the worn desk, a book you’ve read thousands of times under your fingertips, as you watched over the large fields of brush and the faraway whispers of dense forests in the heart of Yellowstone. The four fans about the small one room cabin were on high, trying to move air around and keep you from overheating. It was nice, calm - even when you were watching a wildfire one year with high distance binoculars. Something about relaxing in the cabin and being over ten thousand feet in the air - it gave you a sense of calm. After years of having to fight to prove yourself, somewhere you can just be yourself was dropped into your lap.

Your heart was in your throat, you supposed sand had lodged into your esophagus by the time the 141 Hotshots had hit the second mile of the ‘hike’. Alex was kind enough to stay behind with you, not saying a word as the jog up a steep terrain was about to throw you into the hands of God. Both Price and Riley were at the head of the single file line, it slithered through the well defined trail like a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake - poised and ready to strike. There was a soft jingle that came from Alex, the sound of his two necklaces, and there was only the chchchchch of shoes against loose gravel and sand. 

You were supposed to be up in that stupid one room cabin in Yellowstone by now, but here you were. Pushing yourself well beyond your now adjusted limits, you didn’t feel the need to entertain Price's statement in your head - you didn’t leave your ‘cushy’ job in Yellowstone for fun; you didn’t even want to go, but there was no way you were staying anywhere near Justin and that oddly sweet southern girl he got pregnant. You quite literally packed up three outfits, a couple pairs of underwear, and only took two pairs of socks and shoes. You had nothing else with you, anger pumped through your veins so intensely, that you wouldn’t dare go get the rest of your belongings without someone to keep you in check. 

“Don’t beat yourself up.” 

You looked to your right, seeing that Alex had slowed to your pace to talk to you. You then gazed back in front of you, seeing the person in front of Alex had a shirt tagged ‘Soap’. What the Hell kind of name is Soap? “I’m not.”

Alex chuckled. “Sure.” His elbow hit your arm, your head whipped to look at him. “It’s okay to be upset.”

You glared at him, eyebrows furrowed as you kept pace. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You pushed yourself further, closing the distance with the Soap Guy by a couple of feet. Alex was instantly at your side again. If you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you’d throw a punch directly in his smug face. He was right when he said Justin was bad news, and you were dreading the ‘I told you so’. “Can we do this later?”

Without even looking, you knew Alex gave you the look that he always gave you - you’re lying and I know you are, so I’m gonna wait until you’re not being stupid to talk about it. “I got you a key for my apartment, it’s coming in tomorrow. I didn’t really have time to clear my spare room, though.”

The sun was burning you, you regretted not thinking about sunscreen in that Phoenix airport store, you regretted not having better jogging gear, and you definitely regretted not packing your suitcase. You would have all of your hiking gear, but this job was quite literally a last minute decision you made in an airport bar. But did you regret this?

Your head looked out to the right, watching the scenery slowly change as you jogged behind the line of well-trained or in-training Hotshots. Golden colored brush, tall trees that you observed were pines, and an occasional cactus. You then looked back to Alex, his head faced ahead. He had truly grown into a handsome man, much more confident than that young adult you left in New Orleans six years ago. Sun-kissed skin and obviously gelled hair, a smile that seemed permanent; your best friend had done well for himself, you thought you had done the same. But your life had exploded into a million pieces, cutting into your not so delicate skin. You had to prove yourself, you had to do this to gain control again or everything might fall apart again.

You weren’t quite sure that you would actually regret this change, but anything was better than that one bedroom apartment in the Irish Channel in New Orleans, and with the witch of a woman who called herself your mother.

You turned your head forwards. “I’ll try to get out of your hair as quick as I can.”

“Don’t rush it.”

“Alex-“ You turned to look at him, but realized the group had slowed, you stopped on a dime. 

The blond looked at you, giving you another look but it was one you couldn’t read. His hand settled on your back, pushing you to stand in between him and the stopped Soap Guy. “We’ll chat later.”

The booming voice of John Price made you snap to attention, “This is what we have been assigned to preserve. Take a breath.” You took a breath through your nose, the air tasted nothing like Yellowstone - the air in the valley you stood above was bitter and gritty, but it felt clean. “Then look out onto these thousands of acres of forest, admire it.” Your eyes fluttered as you gazed upon thousands of acres of dense pine trees, fields of brush and grass, and mountains that danced through the landscape. A twinge of guilt trembled through your stomach, guilt that you had left your entire life for an incredibly dangerous job that can get you killed at almost any turn. Your eyes moved from the horizon to the bearded man, watching as he fixed the band on his watch without even a glance to it, his eyes on all of the crew you only had a moment to glance over earlier. You watched his eyes scan every single person’s face before his eyes landed on you, maybe just for a moment too long before he looked to Alex. 

“Breathe it in, because this will be one of the last times that you can look upon this sight without any negativity.”

It was truly a sight that stood before you. Breathing in air you’ve never had the chance to before, seeing the wonders of nature in a different place of America was incredible. Your lungs burned, you hadn’t had a fast-paced and tough hike since you were a Diamond Mountain Hotshot. It was good, you knew it was good for you - your eyes wandered back to Price.

“Because once I’m done with you,” His blue eyes landed upon you again, his voice sharp like a dagger as it sliced the sentiment into your brain. “all you’ll see is fuel.”

Okay, get yourself out of the gutter. He’s your boss, not a fucking treat to dangle in front of yourself! You literally just broke up with Justin, you cannot get the hots for your hot boss! KEEP IT TOGETHER!

He gave you a smirk before he started to jog towards you - then past you, then Riley behind him, and the crew followed. You waited for the Soap Guy to go for you to turn and go, but you noticed in the crew that you weren’t the only female - you didn’t catch that earlier when you went out to get your running shoes from your rental car. The only one who even looked at you gave you a smirk, she had almost black hair cut right at her shoulders, covered in tattoos. She was four people ahead of you, so it shouldn’t be hard to find her and hopefully make a friend out of Tattoo Girl. Your eyes then moved to the bold letters on the shoulders of the Soap Guy. You then saw him look over his shoulder at you.

What the fuck is with all of these guys being pretty?

“Say ye'r th' fresh meat. Alex said a lot o' guid things.” He had a wild mohawk and a charming smile, his fingers pinched the front of his shirt so he could somewhat fan himself.

“Scottish.” You remarked as Soap chuckled, following the person in front of you - you followed too, but he had moved to jog beside you like Alex. “Why do they call you Soap?”

The man looked over onto his back, tsking before giving someone ahead in line an invisible dagger through their chest. “Damn bastard wasn't suppose tae put that on mah shirt.”

Alex elbowed you again, you kept your eyes forwards now. The trail was becoming steep again, but it was easier to descend than to climb earlier. Your lungs were burning, but you were somehow pushing through. Adjusting and all that jazz. This shit is gonna suck with all the weight I have to carry during drills. Hopefully I get used to the heat quickly or else this might actually break me.

The Soap Guy cleared his throat, nudging you with a knuckle, you didn’t spare a moment to look at him. “Top secret!”

“He put Dawn dish soap in the dishwasher one night, and we came back to the station to a floor of bubbles. So his name is Soap.” Alex snickered, a smile grew on your face as Soap audibly deflated.

“So why aren’t you named Bubbles?” You kept your arms close to your chest as the route kept winding around, both men allowing you the worn gravel path as they opted for the sand and patches of grass.

Soap scoffed, “What, so I can be th’ ‘prettiest girl at th’ party’?”

A cackle of laughter came from the man you were following, another man with a nickname written on the back of his shirt - but he was conscious about the sun by wearing what looked like a well loved baseball cap. In big black letters in between his shoulder blades was ‘GAZ’, and Gaz kept cackling like a hyena. Soap took a couple fast strides forwards, immediately tugging Gaz into his sweaty armpit. The man screeched, Soap yelling some Scottish obscenities that you wouldn’t have been able to decipher if you tried. All Alex did was laugh, you watched as Soap now jogged next to Gaz, who was trying to get out of his hold. 

“That’s the Team Leaders for you.”

You spared a look to Alex. “Team Leaders? Them?”

Your friend shrugged. “For as stupid as they act now, they’re amazing in the field.”

“Good to know.” Your legs burned, chest roared in pain. You gazed out onto the landscape, now noticing that the silver dot in the distance was turning into the Fire Station. “I could use a drink.”

“I also feel that you need a drink.”

You reached out and smacked Alex’s arm, snapping at him, “That’s not funny.”

He glanced to you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “There’s a quiet bar in town, I’ll send you the address.”

By the time you had gotten into your rental car after being dismissed with the rest of the Hotshots, you were exhausted. Lungs hummed with a slight burn, your back splattered with aches. It wasn’t hard to know you needed a stiff drink, especially after changing career paths drastically and uprooting your entire life. 

You ditched going to Alex’s apartment as soon as you realized you really only had three outfits and barely any necessities to last you four days. Instead of going out to the nearest Walmart to get some new underwear and some shampoo that wasn’t Alex’s, you found yourself at the polished dark oak stool of a warmly lit quiet bar. There were barely a handful of souls in the small and cozy bar, it was well decorated and taken care of - yet you haven’t seen a bartender for twenty minutes. At least you were tired enough not to care, just glad you remembered deodorant when you had gotten back to your car. The bar had good air conditioning, softly blowing cool air around the black and gold themed bar. 

Your phone had been off all day, but now it sat in your hands, on and with non-stop notifications. You had instantly put on Do Not Disturb, upset about it. Hundreds of calls from your ex-fiancé, almost a thousand texts, begging for forgiveness, then blaming it on you, then apologizing. Next was the calls from his mother, his three sisters, his brother - all people you had considered family. All were either asking where you were or asking to talk, to have Justin explain. You wouldn’t dare listen to them, wouldn’t dare listen to their defense for a slimy cheater. You wished you could just shove one sentiment down their throats:

He’s a liar, pathetic, mean, and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. I don’t fucking cater to him anymore. He’s gonna have to learn how to suck the energy out of someone else.

The only message you wanted to read was from Justin’s father, a man you respected deeply and one you knew despised cheating. In your bones, you knew that man would take your side, even if the rest of his family took your ex-fiancé’s. The only reason why you didn’t tap on the message was because a voice had broken you from your focus.

“Thought I told you to go home and rest?”

You looked up in surprise, seeing the familiar face of Simon… behind the bar. Your eyebrows furrowed, “I thought you were a Hotshot?” 

The blond shrugged in his white button up and black vest, resting his tattooed hands on his side of the bar. “Gotta have a year round job, had to pick up a shift for Lucy.”

You didn’t look away from Simon when you turned off your phone. “141 Hotshots aren’t year round?”

“God no.” He shook his head, pulling out a clean glass and a napkin, letting it settle on the bar in front of your folded arms before setting the cold glass in front of you. “We’re only mandatory for 90 consecutive days a year - I still need this cash for gas.”

A nod, you settled your phone in your lap. “Long Island, please.”

His hand was reaching for water, but it had stopped. He gave you a sharp look, a warning. “You almost passed out coming down the trail. My statement still stands,” He took the glass back, pouring water into it from the pitcher he retrieved only a minute ago. “Go home.”

Your phone buzzed in your lap. The pit of despair in your stomach got deeper. “One drink.”

He placed the glass of water in front of you. “Drink it, then go home.”

A straw was set in front of you, but you didn’t move your stare from the blond’s face. “I just moved across the country with the clothes on my back and barely enough money to rent a car.” You moved the glass off of the napkin, setting it a few inches away as you continued, “I’m moving into my best friend’s apartment because my eight year relationship ended ‘cause my fiance had to get his dick wet with another girl for an entire year.”

The stare of your Assistant Superintendent would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t waist deep in misery; his eyebrows furrowed just a little, his lips pressed into a thin line. His hand raised from the bar, grabbing another glass. 

“Not to mention his mistress is pregnant.”

He let out a grunt, moving away from you to grab the liquor. “One drink.”

The buzzing phone on your lap did nothing to deter your small smile. “Thanks, Assistant Supe.”

He turned around, a small chuckle escaped him as he said, “You can just call me Captain like everyone else.”

“Captain Riley,” You smiled, he gave you a glare over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He turned back around, grabbing his bottle of liquor before returning to his spot from before. He began to make your Long Island Iced Tea, eyes kept on his work as he spoke, “Remember to be at the firehouse at 6am. This is your only drink tonight.” Ice cubes clinked the glass as they were dropped in. “You got a ride home?”

You shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Simon looked up from his work, meeting your eyes with a sharp gaze. “I’ll take you home.”

A flush ran through your chest, eyebrows raising as you blubbered, “No, I’ll be fine, I promise-”

His hand waved a little. “Just wait for me.”

You smiled at him. “Thanks, Cap.”

taglist: @all-good-things-have-an-ending @warners-wife @random0lover @as-is-above-so-below @peachesofteal @halfmoth-halfman

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[deepreviewvoid]

- foreseen punishment, foreseen misery -

pm Dazai × gn Reader!

+ mentions of Chuuya, Ango & Mori

Genre : 100% Shenanigans, Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

Synopsis : the port mafia reigns victorious once again, some see it's worth, others completely diregard it because foreseen misery is regardless. Ft. Shenanigans in various port locations with Dazai.

Background : Odasaku is also the reader's friend, and you have a special ability, it allows you to manipulate / brainwash the enemy's mind for your gains, it comes at a cost, minor memory loss.

Triggers : port mafia stuff

The Port Mafia just crushed an entire organisation from stem to root in a one week length operation. It was a no-brainer, defeat was a taste that most forgot about ever since Mori reigned. It's hard to salt the wounds when there's none.

If the mafia is always securing its spot as Yokohama's top underground monopoly, then this said group had no chance, but, they provoked the mafia and soon enough their demise entailed.

This operation was mostly masterminded by Dazai who divided the squads and the attack patterns; with Mori pulling everyone's strings, it was an inevitable crushing victory, however, once the curtains finally close, the casualties become apparent.

You didn't need to wait for curtains, your squad perished infront of your eyes during the latest phase. It was all because of a single crucial mistake that spiraled into a loss.

Mistakes have owners whom happens to be Akutagawa in this case.

--- At HQ

The sun is setting, hallways at HQ are much noisier than usual, a smile was evident on every person's face. Men wearing black suits, holding guns and smiling . . . how bizarre of a scene it would be if a mediocre man were to walk here, safe to say no one here can be considered mediocre when the majority's blood is as black as these suits, even for the low ranks.

Their hideous laughter filed the hallways, this victory still had merits for them. You're usually better off acting deaf, and it's no exception today; you crossed the hallways with complete ignorance, throwing in a few glares here and there when the noises got too barbaric, too raucous for a delicate human's ear.

They cleared their throats upon realising that your eyes lingered, let's just say that your reputation exceeds you in the mafia, unfortunately, not for your feats, but rather your sickening ability. If you were to gaze just long enough into another's eyes, they would fall under your control, they would speak of what you desired and act as you wish. That's why, you were invaluable when it came to the interrogation ward.

Floor by floor, the higher you ascended, the more pompous the party seems, because up in the tower resided the higher ups, and they were none the wiser.

The higher ups were a different breed, they're ecstatic, greedy, their boarish laughters echoing, getting hysterically louder. They're practically drowning in their lust for victory, stepping their heels on fancy carpets drowned in fine wine.

Upon reaching the top floor suit, you were finally glad to have reached the pinnacle of the tower, up where it quiets down, because this is where the king resides. You walked out the elevator after passing security verification, eventually to your destination, a large mahogany door stood tall.

Mori isn't a fun king, this door, especially this door and its walls are soundproof. You could barely make out some murmurs from the inside even if you were attentive to listen, hence it's pointless to just stand idly. You pushed the grand door open and stepped inside, the extravagant office is illuminated by the last rays of the sunlight for the day.

"Welcome y/n, I was hoping you'd come around" Mori was smiling, sitting diligently yet comfortablly in his fine wood chair like the mad Doctor he is. Infront of the Mori's desk stood Dazai, who acknowledged your presence by turning to face you.

There's a hierarchy, and Mori's authority is on top, so it was customary as you did a slight bow "Boss" addressing him in a monotone voice, you lifted your head once more, gazing back at him.

"It seems that you're unscathed, for the most part" his eyes landed on your bandaged hand, which you recently injured when a gunshot jabbed its way. "Even so your squad got the short end of the stick. Quite fortuitous, don't you think?"

You didn't reply. It wasn't by luck that you're alive, you were forced to make extensive use of your ability to get you and the few men left of the weeds.

His eyes lingered on your right hand for a moment too long, "I could take a look at it, it's not tightly wrapped" you anticipated this, so you shunned him almost immediately "no thanks"

"Pity" he said, with a slight tone of disappointment "We were just discussing the pay offs of this operation, but above all, I'm eager for your personal report"

Information, you're good at gathering it.

Infromation is also the mafia's top asset interms of it's profound importance, the gifted come second.

After brainwashing targeted individuals, you gathered crucial intel, so the report you handed him was priceless. Mori's eyes gave this paper all the attention it deserves and satisfaction soon plastered his face.

"very good" was all he said in a bemused tone, after feasting his eyes, he discarded this paper to the side and it was picked up by Dazai to view who mumbled something like: "Not too far from expectations"

Dazai's predictions were aligned with what you gathered, this organisation had a few strings to pull with, and now its apparent where they pulled them from.

They began bickering sbout 'their next move'.

The mafia's prosperity is currently being masterminded by them, the ideas they produce seem inscrutable, devious and so intricate, because they even plan each domino's spot as it falls ontop of another.

You were fixated to where you stood, awaiting any notice, however, Mori didn't speak of further demands, so you simply excused yourself.

"If that's all then excuse me" you said, turning away, and towards your next destination, Dazai's voice rang "So soon?" He called out in a voice of petite light-heartedness.

You halted, "If its about Akutagawa, you know where to find me"

Akutagawa's blind mistake, his disobedience to Dazai during the final stage of the operation costed mafia lives. Dazai was undoubtedly going to inquire a retelling of events, and regardless, Akutagawa's punishment is foreseen.

"That's what you say everytime" mockingly yet jokingly he complained, "you're awfully hard to find once you're gone, just wait a minute for me okay?"

a small breath escaped as you smiled, it baffled you how Dazai, the literal genius often complains to you about how arduous it is to locate you. The smile turned into a tiny chuckle, "One minute" you said, leaving the office.

The hallway just outside the door was spacious, equipped with the higher up groove which consisted of fancy wallpaper, fancy furniture, fancy carpets, fancy shamncy. . . Resting at some random boujee chair, you waited.

Shortly after, Dazai exited Mori's office and sat on the second vacant chair beside you. "I was serious, ya'know" he sat down lazily like a cat, gesturing around he spoke "you have a diligent habit of going mia" he complained once again, so, naturally, you complained back.

"I'm not thaaat hard to find,Besides, you're capable of finding whoever you want on a whim, and 'mia' is better fitting for a boy who likes to go dumpster diving"

"Point taken!" He placed a hand on his chest for a touch of dramatic flare, but, assuming that Dazai is in an actual good mood is a grave mistake. "You don't forge many habits, so it's hard to track you down"

"I assure you I'm not that mysterious" you casually said,giving him a rather conspicuous glance "so, Akutagawa? Why don't you interrogate him yourself as his mentor?" You asked, immediately answering yourself, "Oh wait! You won't interrogate him yet to impose psychological fear in anticipation of the coming punshiment" you jested.

Anticipation can cause serious anxiety, it can jumble a humans mind, and influence their behaviour especially when the anticipated is already foreseen.

"You read my mind" he smiled, a tinge of sinister mixed with some cruelty in that smile, just like how Mori was so bemused, Dazai couldn't get further from being his spitting image. "I'd like to hear your version of events first"

"Ever heard of reverse psychology? It's the main casual factor" you explained, leaning on the small high legged table, "Akutagawa's very diligence in heeding your orders, is also the reason that vexation carried him away"

Akutagawa was deployed on your squad by Dazai, he were to act as the main defensive mechanism, to safe guard your position while Dazai and Chuuya carried the front line.

Your ability alone is no good, it's a poker card that could only do so much.

"He charged full-offensive at an attacking party, which left me and my squad in a peril, that's when it happened"

"Do you know what that means?" you asked, in a manner of leading the conversation.

"The prophecy you made about a surprise ambush was true, Akutagawa knew that it would happen, yet his arrogance led him away like a stray dog"

Akutagawa's arrogance is the consequence of Dazai's torment, yet, he idolises Dazai; and you loathed this because it fed Dazai's ego.

"That's all you need to know"

Dazai quietly took in the infromation, your point of view for the events, your analysis on Akutagawa's behaviour. His eyes not focused on something in particular, as if lost in procrastination, then, he spoke "Look at that", he pointed at your right hand, "its bleeding"

Up untill his remark, you were numb to the ache, you carefully removed your hand from your cheek, the wound reopened, blood seeping from the bandages that were pathetically tied by an unexperienced apothecary.

You wiped off your smudged cheek the clean side of the bandages, you couldn't curse yourself, its your dominant hand, you were bound to unconsciously cause harm to it in its fragile state. However, Blood here was normal, this is normal, this is casual mafia stuff, it's normal to shrug it off.

Your eyes flew back to Dazai who was staring, probably the entire time, "Anything else you need?" Pulling the bandages tighter, the bleeding temporarily pausing.

"Glad you asked, you still owe me a drink"

"That was over a rock-paper-scissors game that you gaslighted Chuuya to play last week Correction: he owes you a drink"

"Not that one, the other one"

"You made a bet with Odasaku over whether or not Ango would show up to the bar, Oda's the one who owes you, why am I still involved here?" You slumped your shoulder at these short-comings, you didnt like where this is going.

Dazai gaslighting and making bets were something that you grew immune to, but he always found a way to still drag you into it.

"Odasaku lost, and placed the bill for the drink on your tab since he spends so much on the orphans, I was sure he informed you!" He said, in an act-innocent kind of tone, cooing you in the process.

You paused for a moment, combing through the memories to confirm his claim, which happened to be true. . . Poor man Odasaku couldn't handle him, you chuckled amidst your defeat saying, "Alright I'll be sure to buy something very special like some bleach"

"Great! I'll be eagerly waiting for that" he stood up, his posture suddenly energetic. You looked up, noticing yet another questionable smile, "I'll go raid Ango's office, you coming?"

"I completely forgot about that" you stood up as well, "We probably gave him three nighters worth of work with that mess"

"First, you might want to patch your hand up, the last thing you want to do is spill a drop in his office"

"Oh yeah, didn't you sneeze some mucus into one of the ledgers before?"

"Don't look at me as if I was caught, of course not"

--- Ango's office

Dazai didn't bother knocking, he simply shouted a in a hurried manner "Ango, I'm coming in!" He pushed the large door open, you two peeked inside to see an irritated yet exhausted Ango, who was visibly annoyed at the both of you for the interruption, especially Dazai, but Dazai was already stepping inside like he owns the place with you following suit into the archive like room.

Ango eventually sighed as he gently settled down his ink pen in its holder, then, he took off his glasses and started to clean the glass with a delicate cotton piece. It was as if he's been working tirelessly for hours, and only then did he remember to do such basic yet necessary actions.

"How may I assist you?" He calmly spoke, with a very subtle hint of anxiety.

Dazai forced a sly grin as he walked to Ango's desk in long strides "Oh, don't be so gloomy Ango, I'm here to check on your well being"

"What Dazai means to say is, 'I hope you're not drooling over the causalities again'" You cut off Dazai as if to save Ango from his antics.

When you both reached his desk, you sighed synchronically as your eyes peered over the view.

Piles of papper, seals of all sizes, file holders and ledger books scattered everywhere, yet Ango managed to keep a small spot organised to be able to document properly.

"I had my doubts" Dazai crossed his arms, carefully giving all the papers a thoughtful glance, you noticed that he clenched his fist, clearly irritated about something, and you knew exactly what it was, it's the Akutagawa situation. (Who would have guessed?!)

"Sixty-two men in total" Ango lifted a finger to the middle of his glasses, "This operation alone has peaked the count of last year's entire fatalities, so if anything, I should be 'drooling' over it. These families need proper closure, and proper condolences cash distribution" Ango looked up at Dazai as he calmly spoke, then, he shifted his gaze towards you "your unit accounts for the most", he added, and it only made you irritated.

"I know" disappointment mixed with resentment washed over you. Originally, you estimated that your unfortunate squad lost thirty men, that's proportionally half of the total count, which implies that the severity of the loss could have been greatly reduced should have Akutagawa made the right choice.

Safe to say, Dazai had the same thought, he was purely displeased, disgusted, and a many other words to describe a face that lacks mercy, a face that is glaring into the future of an already foreseen punishment, but now he's staring at you with those menacing eyes.

"Truly misfortunate" Dazai said, in the midst of almost clenching his teeth, it must suck when he's already foreseen everything, yet his orders go defied.

Ango lowered his gaze to the table clock, it's almost midnight now, not that it matters, he'll most likely be staying untill sunrise.

"I have to finish these documents, excuse me" Ango held his ink pen once more and shifted his focus back towards his work rather awkwardly.

"Sorry Ango, you're practically a one man army in this cursed job description, wish I could help you but oh well" you raised your injured hand into view, there's no way you could hold anything with it without running with the risk of re-opening it again.

"Thank you, inspite of the situation, perhaps you could have helped if you had a more refined handwriting"

"Seriously" you rolled your eyes to the ceiling of this dimly lit room, "Good one Ango!" Dazai cheered on the side.

Dazai's temperament was still apparent, not at the loss of sixty-so men, Dazai simply does not care about death or carnage, he's fully pissed off by Akutagawa.

The thought of Akutagawa probably fuels him all the more motivation to go out there and punch him, "Well, we won't bother you for much longer, your plate is already full" Dazai said.

You two existed Ango's office, and with a quick 'cya', you went one way, and he went the other.

---------------------------------------------------

After that night, you were bombarded with more work, too much work. Mori and Executive Kōyō were always too confident in your ability, too comfortable with the exploitation of this gruesome psychological ability, too careless, because they couldn't care less about the consequences, the forgetful state it puts you in.

Executive Kōyō frequently required your presence in her extreme interrogations, her torture methods are very variable and sometimes, she likes to spice things up by letting you break their minds. Information gathering and mind breaking is what you're good for in the mafia.

Everybody knew that much.

--- Two days later, at HQ.

It was a normal day like any other, sun sets down over Yokohama, night time settles in and mafia work begins. You were just walking out of the interrogation ward when a certain orange haired fellow approached you.

"lookin' awfully depressed as usual" Chuuya mumbled, approaching you whilst adjusting his hat. "Woah, get your vision straight, im not Dazai" you scoffed, still walking in whatever direction you were heading, forcing Chuuya to follow to keep up the conversation.

He smirked at your dainty reply, "You interrogation freaks are creepy" he never liked interrogation, nor Kōyō, he fully meant the emphasis on the word 'creepy'

"Also, you are very much Dazai. The way I see it, two assholes" he mumbled once more.

"Point taken fancy hat, what's the occasion?" You abruptly stopped, crossing your arms at him. You two lashed out in a series of quick paced replies.

"I bought a new bottle"

"of course you did"

"It's the good stuff"

"I don't drink"

"Come on, surely you can hold in three sips"

"no way, fancy hat"

"what a weak bloodline you have"

"your bloodline can speak of its height"

Critical Hit!

Chuuya's eyes widened in half-shocked half-insulted way, he growled a random cursive word, and it only made your victorious grin all the more wider.

It was fun to mess with the gentleman, Chuuya was very xpressive, hence, fun to tease.

He may have a chaotic ability, but you know well that his heart is one of a gentleman and that's how Dazai pretty much makes a living out of this guy.

"You know that flower pot you like so much?" He mumbled, his eyes showed little new found mischief, whatever it was, you didn't like it.

"My chamomile pot, don't you dare touch it" You raised a suspicious eyebrow, this is one of your most treasured trinkets, and him spewing about it already started to get you a little warry.

"I'll create an upside down gravitational field" he said, it was his turn to grin victoriously.

He tampered with what you love most, a chamomile pot.

Its a senestive topic because you held this pot so dear, and if it's gravity became inverted, safe to say that it'll dry out and die with no water to the roots.

"You wouldn't dare!" You stomped a foot, clearly agitated, glaring at him you said, "Playing dirty Nakahara? That's not like you. I bet Dazai told you about this nifty trick, and he's probably laughing his ass off somewhere else right now"

A few onlookers stole a glance at the scene, immediately disappearing to their work without lingering for too long.

"you're right, but all be damned, so are you coming or not?" The red head turned his gaze away as he spoke of the invitation.

"Fine, bastard" you lightly punched his shoulder out of habit, immediately groaning once you realised its your right hand.

Chuuya didnt pity you for it, in fact, he was probably happy that you accidentally hurt yourself in some way. Soon after, you both started walking to your destination, an all too well familiar room.

Chuuya closed the door behind you, ahead was a room, also called safe haven 333. No superiors or grownups allowed, Dazai technically counts as a 'superior' but, he passed the vibe check.

It was a nice secluded room with a view over Yokohama, comfortable with three chabinets a fridge for drinks, in the center is a round table with three leather arm chairs around it.

Chuuya stores some wine in his cabinet, you keep tea bags around, and Dazai. . . Well, he keeps a couple of books, which seems normal untill you realise the topics are: narcotics, suicide and lethal injections.

One time, Chuuya intentionally spilled a few drops on Dazai's book, it was laced with potassium, causing a small explosion. Till this day, you wonder if its a trap Dazai intentionally set, maybe he knew Chuuya's temperament towards him was one day going to get the better of his books as Chuuya sipped a glass.

Talk about Saftey Hazard.

.

.

.

Dazai was already seated, he acknowledged your arrival as you took your seat, while Chuuya walked to his cabinet.

"took you long enough" Dazai said, and you rolled your eyes through his comment, instead focusing on something else, his knuckles, they were blood red.

Someone got the fist treatment.

"Im guessing our little fun blackmail worked?" He perked an eyebrow and a knowing grin at Chuuya, who was holding a giant bottle laced in luxurious labels.

"Very. Humorous. Dazai" you gave away a small glare 'screw you' at his eternal smile from across the table, Meanwhile, Chuuya carefully settled three fine glasses.

His satisfaction immeasurable as he corked open the exquisite bottle, masterfully pouring two glasses full and around two sips worth in the third.

Everyone reached for their respective glass, after a quick visual study, you smelled the sweet liquid.

It wasn't favourable to you, nor was it enticing in the slightest to try. "Remind me again on how and why we three drink together?" You asked.

"This baby tastes better when it's fully honored like that, besides, drinking with the creepy woman or the boss aren't fun" Chuuya took a sip and let out an extremely satisfied puff of air, sinking into his leather arm chair.

His argument was valid, higher-ups aren't particularly 'fun' to be around with.

"I didn't pay a single penny! Truly blessed to be alive tonight" Dazai's voice rang with an eerie happiness.

"One glass is all you get, don't get your hopes into existence" Chuya refuted.

.

.

.

Dazai and Chuuya, always polar opposites, but with you around, it was a tri-polar opposite.

Dazai enjoyed his glass of wine in a calm yet chatoic manner as he carelessly got a few drops on his attire, his liquor tolerance is a pinnacle on its own. He practically drank this thing like it's a kids juice, that made Chuuya agitated the whole time. Eye-ing every precious drop wasted.

Speaking of Chuuya, he on the other hand, also enjoyed his glass, but in a more refined and fashioned way, you could tell that he savoured each sip, carefully giving his taste buds a run before sipping another. He knows a thing or two about wine for sure, a self-proclaimed conisseur.

Meanwhile, you just settled for a cup of tea, quietly blowing the steam off as you drank the hot chamomile mixture. Drinking alcohol wasn't your suit, it often made you nauseous because when combined with your memory troubles, It can seriously cause your entire well-being to become disoriented.

That's why Chuuya only gave you around two sips worth in a glass, you had to accept it, not to make Chuuya content, but to spare yourself from him boasting about how great it was since you didn't get to try.

You two could be in a mission together, and he'd suddenly talk about a bottle that 'he's so gonna buy' after all was set and done.

"now that's a big baddie" Chuuya held his glass elegantly as he commented on the wine, probably on his third glass now.

Dazai just twirled it around, as if toying with the mixture "I don't like it" he said, looking down as his drink, then, his lips quivered in a smile, "I prefer stronger drinks like vodka, it kills you faster"

Immediately and synchronically, you and Chuuya rolled your eyes. There goes tonights inevitable death joke.

"just keep drinking those chemicals like you always do, I'm sure it'll serve you right one day" Chuuya replied dryly, clenching his teeth, then he turned his focus on you, "what do ya think?" his voice was still annoyed, but he had a shred of hope that you'd have a more pleasing answer. . . Safe to say, you didn't give him that hope.

"it was. . . very fine. Nice after taste" you visibly cringed at your reply, earlier, you just downed those two sips in one go to be rid of it, there was no way you'd have a proper answer for this guy.

"you two are worst, never drinking with you again" Chuuya groaned as he face palmed, hiding his disappointed face behind his gloved hand, you and Dazai exchanged knowing glances, similar smirks, both of you already knew that you'd be back here again no matter what Chuuya actually says.

"Sorry, kill joy, we can instead talk about how your motorcycle exploded during the-"

"shut your mouth " Chuuya uttered and Dazai giggled.

"It exploded?" You perked up from your seat in a little act of shock, "but that one was your favourite Chuuya!" you dramatically coo-ed, placing both hands on your cheek.

"I told your asses before that they might look the same, but they're different. The one that exploded is clearly not my favourite" Chuuya was frustrated to even bother explaining the engineering diffrence behind the motocycles.

You added the salt, "same thing" and Dazai added more salt "yep, don't see the difference".

"Unbelievable" Chuuya's eyes were pracitically ceiling high at this point, while your smile and Dazai's could only get wider.

Moments passed by, both of them were beginning to bicker about what they had done during the operation. Chuuya didn't need to use corruption, that would have been an overkill, but they had some fruitful stories to share and many insults for each other to curse, you were entertained.

You noticed that at some parts of their retellings, your brain was empty, failing to retrieve that memory. You were used to this feeling, yet a shudder of dread still washes over your spine. It was like you never existed, it's like you're dead if you can't remember something clearly happened with you around.

You shrugged it off, like always. You joined them both instead, relaying your own interesting stories from the operation, and soon enough, the evening ends as midnight strikes, for Yokohama its bed time, for the Port Mafia, it's more work.

"well, I'm heading off. I've had enough of both of your antics for one night"

That was when Chuuya left, then door clicked shut, and then, nothing.

.

.

.

Nothing is still something. . .

In this moment of nothingness stretched a silence of thought, it was something.

That's your belief, contrary to the boy who sat infront of you.

Dazai is a nihilist . . .

.

.

everything and anything means nothing,

He's a full dimensional nihilist. He believes in nihilism in all its forms, especially existential nihilism, which argues that life has neither objective meaning nor profound purpose.

Your eyes once again flew back to his knuckles, they're red, swollen red. Either he punched a certain someone a hundred times, or a wall twenty times. The former more is more probable.

"Odasaku's busy tonight" Dazai spoke since the five minute silence, "Ango's overworked, and that leaves me in utter boredom" he dramatically raised a free hand signalling hopelessness in distress. His other hand carried his weight as he elbowed it on the arm of the chair.

You stared at him for a moment, before settling down your now empty cup of tea and standing up. He looked up at you, in a glance of curiosity, where are you heading? His eyes said.

"You said that I'm hard to track down, why don't you join me to solve the mystery?" You gestured your right hand infront of you in a welcoming matter, 'come with me'

He smiled.

Standing right away,

"Lead the way"

--- At Port

The refreshing salty breeze cooled your face as you stood facing the waters and the bright Yokohama, you're now in a large mafia territory, a territory of warehouses. Carrier ships rang their sirens in the distance signaling arrival and departure from the port city.

"So, this is where you disappear to? Not too bad"

"I read in a book that cool wind like this helps refresh memories, I often come here to just think"

He walked ahead to the edge of the concrete platform, and you followed behind. He then stared down, so you did as well, hoping to see what his eye saw.

"You know what they say about gazing into the abyss" you uttered, the water was deep, murky, anyone who looks down immediately becomes uncertain. Just a few feet away is the unknown.

"It also gazes unto you" he said in a half-whisper, clearly fascinated by the implication of this philisophy.

When the abyss gazes back, it tells us what we're made of, it tells us what we should not become.

"Come on" you placed your left hand on his shoulder, nudging him away "we don't want you to get an adrenaline rush, and before you know it you'll be jumping off"

"I can handle myself very well you know" he protested, you couldnt do anything as he forcefully sat down on the edge.

You sighed, his demeanor arrogant like a kid.

Here lies tonight, I suppose.

You sat down next to him, crossing your leg comfortably, while he dangled his feet off the edge.

Infront of the both of you was the city, stretching across the shore of Yokohama. Moments pass, all you could think of was how beautiful the view is. You thought that perhaps Dazai would feel the same, any human would shudder in awe every once in a while before the mirth of beauty.

Looking into his eyes, the nihilist was still staring at the waters. Eyes distant, nothing new to you, nothing new to him.

He was still as a statue, still focused on the waters, the waves as they ebbed and gently crashed into the wall, making a soothing sound, the wind animating the liveliness of a human being.

Dazai for the most part is unpredictable, but you know better. You know that regardless, humans can't help but make habits; this posture of his, this habit of staring aimlessly is when Dazai contemplates while wearing his nihilistic lenses.

"Look up Dazai, do you not find value in any of that?" you said, pointing your hand, moving it across the horizontal view.

"The world can be beautiful alright"

"Beauty Will Save the World"

The way you spoke seemed philosophical, but in true intent, the purpose behind your stayment was to throw Dazai some candy. He usually refutes optimistic views and hopeful signs. Surely, he was to speak of his own refutation any moment now.

You smiled sub-conciously the moment Dazai spoke, he took the bait by intricately giving away his nihilistic reproach for your statment, and upon noticing that you didn't show any audible reaction, not even a murmur of any sorts, because you'd usually scold his nihilism, Dazai turned his focus from the 'view' to you.

The first thing he saw were both of your hands raised, acting out a mouth like gesture. The second, were your lips unaudibly mouthing the word 'blah blah blah blah' continuously. You are clearly mocking his view, and that smirk of yours gave him a chuckle. He fell for it.

His chest shrinked as he laughed, Dazai does have a thing for when people mock him or contradict him in any 'fascinating' means. He welcomes it from the light side of his heart.

"you little devil!" He pouted sarcastically "not letting me express my extreme complaints and misery towards the dullness of life!" Lightly, he pushed you away with one hand to dispose childlike 'embarssement'.

You chuckled, your tenacity keeping you in place "Oh my bad! Just go ahead with citing the 78th reason of why life sucks and we all should die!"

.

.

.

Dazai met Odasaku three years ago, on the first week, Dazai attempted to murder him. You were confused as to why Oda would help a human who has clearly reached the point of no return in their lack of morality, but suddenly, time passed, things happened and they're both friends.

You weren't forced to befriend Dazai for the mere reason of being Odasaku's friend, the truth is, you saw through Odasaku's lenses and understood. Dazai is just a normal human like any other, and what Odasaku saw in him three years ago was a kid, a Fool, the word Odasaku called him when they first met, a kid, because Osasaku was ashamed when he first smoked infront of Dazai.

Even after masterminding this victory for the mafia, it's as if Dazai couldn't care less, its because. . .

He was yet to find his own victory

the victory he seeks, if he cannot find it in the harshest environments like the mafia, then really, what hope is left?

Being friends with this boy means riding his carrousel of nihilism, you weren't new to the ride, Odasaku wasn't either, in fact, Oda once told you, in his mature state of mind, a piece of advice, a rule to this carrousel.

'Step into his loneliness impolitely'

Any shred of hope that was to be thrown at Dazai will be immediately refuted by his scripted answers of why life was meaningless and death is favourable. Therefore, it is wisest to intrude into his dull chain by force to try and knock him off his feet, it's crucial to hurt his ego.

Luck was on your side when you were able to remember what you brought, your good hand dug into your coat, holding out two boxes. The sound of cloth made his eyes land on your action, you placed one box in his hand.

He tilted the box to read its label, "Apple Juice?" He read out loud and you answered "I owed you a drink, remember?" As long the term drink was vague, you were willing to play around. Besides, you don't consume alcohol anyway, so you bought two apple juice straw boxes from a convenience store beforehand, the juice had animal shapes on them which you thought were cute.

Dazai was familiar with how you treated life so lightly, contrary to his heavy self and timing, nothing bothered you much, and he smiled for that "I'll accept it" he said, piercing the straw in his box.

You did the same, your right hand is now marginally better, atleast holding the juice was possible if it were a delicate action.

The sweet apple juice sent a wave of energy in your body, it was a refresher to have something sweet. Biting the straw, you savoured the drink a little longer.

You couldnt help but stare at him with your peripheral vision, taking friendly notes to his actions, and inevitably your eyes landed on his bruised knuckles once more, curiosity leading you to vocally state "Akutagawa's got the tough kick, huh?"

What you really wanted to say was: When will you ever change your means of teaching?

Odasaku was your mentor, his teachings is all about valuable life lessons. Dazai on the other hands, completely breaks someone and shapes them as he wishes.

"Would you believe me if I said I instead punched a wall twenty times?" He said, without eye contact.

"Not really"

"What if I was training?"

"You don't even think about your physique that much"

"Then, I got my fingers through intentional blunt trauma to induce the pain of a bruised knuckle"

"That's a refreshing way to feel pain, but you don't injure your hands as much as your arms. It becomes inconvenient, you don't wanna be like me" you instinctively tightened your grasp on the box, but it was weak, your hand is still numb.

"The pure disadvantage of having someone that knows you is truly disheartening" he said in a dramatic tone, obviously as a flare to direct the conversation elsewhere.

It simply sucks to be Dazai's apprentice.

Sometimes you forget that within him lies a horrifying nature, and it made you reminisce about the day you became 'friends'. How are you alive truly? You'd have to ask Odasaku later, perhaps he's made the new ground breaking discovery of Dazai's humanity.

Time passes, and a conversation begins:

"Could you tell me about your flower pot?"

"My chamomile pot? Sure, but don't give Chuuya anymore nasty ideas"

"Don't worry, what's the story behind it?"

"it was Oda's suggestion to buy a flower pot in the first place and take care of it, I only figured that chamomile makes great tea, so I started to dry them into my own tea bags"

"And why would Odasaku of all things would tell you to buy a flower pot?"

"He said that making habits will be hard to forget, because it becomes all the more about instinct and muscle memory rather than memory itself. The mentioned habit is obviously taking care of the plant"

There was a lot of time to spare tonight, plenty of it, so much that ten more conversations could be started.

When you offered to summarise a book for him, Divine Commedy, to ignite his interest, his eyes observed you in a specific way, it was an invitation of sorts.

Dazai wanted you to tell the story

and, You didn't hesitate in fueling his undivided attention, as you began to thoroughly explain who the main character Dante is and the grand adventure that he was about to undertake, an adventure through the three kingdoms of the after life. Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, respectively.

"In Heaven, his past lover Beatrice awaits for his arrival whom Dante has been in love with, but couldn't proceed with marriage due to complications. Beatrice died at 25. It's called Divine Commedy because it starts out in the terrible depths of hell and ends in the merry of a love story in heaven"

"To reach heaven, Dante first had to willingly decent to hell and its nine circles, for this journey, he had a companion and guide, Virgil, a roman poet and an idol for Dante whom was a spirit in this story, not human"

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" Dazai said, with a dramatic holier-than-thou kind of tone. It seems that he knows part of this story, because these were the words inscribed on the gates of hell. It was apparent that he was bemused by your retelling of the story, especially hell's arc.

"Virgil guided Dante through the nine circles of hell, each circle had some sort of punishment that was meticulously designed for the crimes of each sin. Most philosophers, including Virgil, were in the first circle Limbo. Having not committed sin, they still reside in hell for ignorance, they were only forbidden to see God"

You began to lightly explain the punishment for each sin in each circle, and the historical figures that resided there, then, the arcs of the mountain of purgatory and heaven passed smoothly. When Dante finally reached Heaven, he had the immeasurable opportunity to seek an audience with God, when God asked of Dante's descriptions and own depiction of hell,

"Dante cried out that language alone is uncappable of describing the horrors that traipse in hell, for everything that he's seen shook his will and left gruesome thoughts"

Even for the non-believers, Divine Commedy is a story that could be thought of as an examination of conscience. It's a love story, but it's also about creativity, hate, monstrosity, politics and human sin. Its about a man's self journey, that's why Dazai liked it or so you thought, because if the story was a bad apple, Dazai would have already pointed out the blunt truth, he wouldn't have taken a bite.

After this story, moments followed, some were consumed by silence, others by lively chatter of the ten more conversations.

The Dazai you knew often spoke in pithy, and rarely in sincerity. His actions had the same agenda, heartfelt actions are rare. For Dazai, it doesn't matter, actions don't speak louder than voices. They're both equally null.

Yet, what he did next was sincere, what he said after was his true-self. The side capable of showing 'goodness'.

You felt his touch, his hand above your good hand, the different texture of it being half skin and half bandaged, it was surprisingly warm but not soft to touch. So, you looked at him, but he wasn't there to look back at you.

It didn't last long, only three seconds for him to let go and three more for you to realise his intent. You felt it first in your blood. . .

Something was missing.

"No more using that for the rest of the night"

Dazai has nullified your ability

"Kōyō won't certainly like this" you sighed, a little smile finding it's way on your face. It is what it is for tonight.

"Kōyō is such an annoying woman, I don't like her old fashioned poise" he ranted, then his voice calmed "I'm worried"

"You're what now?" Your heart probably skipped a few beats here, Dazai just expressed worry, and it baffled you.

"At this rate, you're going to forget everything y/n" he smiled unironically, it wasn't a genuine smile. "What's to say you won't forget the basic functions that make your humanity?"

"This gift let's you manipulate others, but it also manipulates you. It makes you ignorant"

"That's how it works. I think it's a fair trade, considering that some of my interrogations resulted in mental disorders to the interrogated- " you said, but he completely disregarded your statmenent, instead going off with his own reasoning and thoughts.

"Odasaku noticed the increasing gaps in your memory, it's not a temporary state of amnesia, once it's gone, it's gone"

"I think I would cry if I forgot that I was searching for meaning, Attempts bound to be futile, an endless paradox of foreseen misery"

"Are you done?" you weren't arrogant when you said that, you know full well the implications of your ability, but having anyone bothered about it is the last thing you wanted.

"Can't believe I actually have someone that 'worries' about me, let alone it's you. We might as well jump from here" you leaned over the edge, dangerously peering down. "Doesn't look to shabby to me"

"You're finally speaking wonderful ideas, tonight doesn't sound bad, although I was planning to drink with Odasaku"

"I was joking executive" you mocked, leaning back, "That was an earful, but I get it, Odasaku was probably the one who motivated you to say this"

"That's not true" he sighed, fixing his eyes at you in a semi-tired look. "I noticed that while we're talking, that you completely forgot that we visited Ango two nights ago" he continued,

"I was surprised that you remembered the IOU's and the drink, maybe I'll always keep you in debt to me somehow since you can't forget favours"

"Changed my mind! I'm jumping"

"Woah not yet! What about the IOU's from two nights ago at Ango's office? Not my fault you forgot about it!"

"You're lying! I would never place myself in debt for you even if I forgot what I did!"

"Alright, you got me" He smiled, "we only discussed the death toll that night"

"I'll keep your consideration in mind Dazai, but, your nullification doesn't last long anyway"

"You're right, the time interval between each nullification is random, but it can be up to an hour in some cases"

"Well then" you held your weight, standing up, "I'll be heading now, you're drinking with Odasaku right? Have fun for me" hands in your pocket, you were prepared for the long walk back. By the time you'd each HQ, the nullification would most likely have worn off.

Dazai didn't reply, but he turned to look at you from his seat and that was the last thing you saw.

No longer than five minutes into the walk between the suburbs, you felt that someone was following you, lurking in the shadows. You didn't bother looking around, because it was painfully obvious who it is. So, you just kept walking. . .

.

.

.

They're still following you

.

.

.

He's still following you

.

.

.

What could he possibly want from you? He's not giving up

.

.

.

"I take it you changed plans with Odasaku?"

You asked, whilist walking, a voice answered right away "Yeah, he's going to spend the night with those Orphans again, by the way, I was sure I tried a different walking pattern"

You laugher echoed in the dark street, "so be it your pacing speed, light or heavy footing, It doesn't matter, I'd stop trying if I were you" you took a stop bellow a street lamp, looking around left and right, in all possible ominous looking zones to determine his whereabouts.

"You never seem to forget how to counter me" He appeared from the cloak of night, walking under the light of the street lamp.

"I remember your footsteps by heart, and unlike mind, the heart never forgets" you gave a wink, and it made him visibly cringe, slumping his shoulder in cowerness "One day, your optimism will be the leading cause of my death"

You both shared a moment of bemusement, untill you asked the question "what brings you here, stalker?"

Dazai enjoyed the insult, approaching you slowly in an ominous, anticipatory manner. You stood still to entertain him, and once he got close. .

"Tag!"

He pinched a lose strand of your hair lightly with a wide smirk on his face, sneakily nullifying you once more in a simple tag game.

"Why you!" You giggled as you 'attempted' to tag him back, but without a right hand in the cause, it was a little more difficult. Dodging you was a no-brainer from Dazai, his swift calculated steps successfully evaded him from your touch.

In your attempt, he managed to touch you, skin to skin once more by your left hand.

"I win again~"

You gave up, delivering to him this mini-victory to claim. "Alright fine, you win"

"One to Zero, onto the next round, in abooout- twenty minutes"

You punched him pathetically with your right hand, for accuracy and in order to actually land the hit, in his shoulder, it sent a small wave of pain in your injury which you completely disregarded.

"That was uncalled for!" He pouted, rubbing his shoulder dramatically, in an act of pain.

"What do you mean more games?!"

"My nullification only lasts less than an hour, remember? I think we need around thirty games of tag for tonight"

It was at that moment you realised, the executive isn't going to let you go off the hook, Oh boy, it's going to be a looong night of tag games, might as well give in and Kōyō be damned. Maybe tonight was a good night to rest, just like how Odasaku is going to spend his time with the Orphans.

That thought, sincerely, make you smile.

"Tag"

you booped his nose with one of your fingers, and he let you.

"You're it"

-end

That night, Dazai basically annoyed the living hell out of Kōyō by intentionally nullifying you untill sunrise.

I like to imagine that a couple of days later, Dazai gives you a leather notebook to keep in your cabinet. He encouraged you to write your memories down, for Odasaku's sake.

_________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading! Bellow are parts of the fanfic that can be traced to actual philisophy! Read at your own interest~

Philosophy Citations:-

"Beauty Will Save the world"

• The Philisophy of Fyodor Dostoevsky even after facing plenty of short-comings in life, and writing literary masterpieces that cover the warnings of nihilism, his own miserable life experiences and humanity's dark nature. (and many more. . .) Yet, Fyodor had a hopeful vision, the beacon of beauty in humanity's darkest hours.

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

• a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche, a German philisopher, during his time he thought a lot about the concept of 'Übermensch' or Super Man, it was his philisophy that a man should completely affirm to life to become someone who has the ability to determine their circumstances, their values, their beautiful strides and ultimately fulfill their potential to become who they truly are.

"Divine Commedy"

• a literary work by Dante Alighieri, an intalian/roman philisoper, he despised many political figures including popes and traitors for their corruption, he got exiled from his home town Florence for charges of 'corruption', leading to the writing of this book. It includes his view of who resides in hell, past historical figures and corruption makers of his life time, as well as those who reside in heaven, all in the context of a man's journey in discovering himself through the three kingdoms of the afterlife.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 55 Thoughts

Chapter 55 for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group! CW: Scorpion under the cut!

So just explaining who each of them actually are would have sufficed to avoid this conflict to begin with? In all fairness this usually is not the case, at least with demons they rarely are deterred by this information, but then again the pilgrims usually do mention who they are to some extent.

Love Sun Wukong being very polite and doing research first. He really has learned his lesson from when he used to be so hasty and brash and get into some mild predicaments because of it.

The demon of this Arc shows equal capability to the previous ones as well continuing the theme of women being equally as capable as men.

Hey, Tang Sanzang stole my line! Alright, he has secured for himself the ace headcanon as firmly as it gets now. We are actively shaking hands on rather perishing than engaging in such activities.

To be fair it was a bit rude of Buddha to just try and push her away, when he could have asked her nicely to move a little. She seemed interested in what he was talking about too after all.

Also she is an unspecified scorpion even in the Chinese original text, so unfortunately I can’t present any cool pictures of any specific scorpions. I shall present general fun facts instead! Scorpions glow a vibrant blue-green under black light!

They also give live birth and the mothers care for their young even carrying the whole bunch of them on their backs similar to some spiders! I will not include a picture of this since I assume most people would get rather queasy seeing it, so look it up only if you are fine with this kind of thing.

This also reminded me or rather made me aware of how much I would love if there were more obvious animal traits and behaviours present among the yaoguai based on what they are in their true form. Like in this case if the demon lady had tried to initiate an actual dance with Tang Sanzang, which is what scorpions usually do as part of the mating ritual somewhat similar to some spiders again and also birds.

Star Lord Orionis obviously is also the Orion constellation, who is known for his connection with the Scorpion constellation. A nice glimpse at how the stars, which can be seen by everyone around the globe, have so similar mythology even among different cultures.

It would have been so funny if the resolution of this conflict would have been him and the demon lady getting together instead. But the rooster bit was pretty funny too.

Why did they commit arson again though? There was nothing there anymore, so it just felt a little excessive.

[cherrywrites626]

Staying and Leaving Chapter 3 Sneak Peek

Leo gazed out at the tall buildings in the distance and felt a smile slowly stretch across his mouth for what felt like the first time in literal weeks.

That wasn’t the case, of course.  He’d been smiling just as large and dopily the evening prior when he’d turned that last corner at the edge of the river and saw the highway intersecting its way through the hills.  Again when he caught sight of the first farmhouse just as the sun began to lower directly in front of his eyeballs and his feet screamed that they’d fall off if he didn’t rest soon.  And finally a third time once he realized what those same huge blobs shooting upward into the descending darkness actually meant.  

So yeah, he’d been smiling quite a lot, actually, considering the arduous extent of his trip made ever more painfully dull by the whole heap of emptiness that greeted him along the journey eighty-five percent of the time or more.  Only where those had been full of excitement and renewed energy as he steadily recognized the tiniest details from Hazel’s retelling of her own more harrowing trip, this was one of pure conviction and determination lighting a fire under his ass to see his mission through to completion.

Just in time, too, because he was having quite the rough go of it in several areas.  Namely that he didn’t quite realize how far a two-and-a-half day trip was going to be even as the length of time spent in direct travel was literally right there in the description itself.  Or should he say, somewhere in his mind he had convinced himself that ridiculous stretch of land meant he'd still see more than enough adequate resting time between horrible walks spanning tens of miles of natural wasteland.

Perhaps it was the lack of daylight that made it feel like he was up and moving from the moment he awoke just before sunrise until the second he passed out on the floor of an abandoned house in complete and utter exhaustion, but he doubted it.  

People like Jason and Hazel and Percy and Annabeth all had an abundance of training under their belts keeping them properly fit.  Leo had the arm muscles to heft around heavy objects, no sweat, but when it came to his legs, the most he used them for at any given time was standing in place for hours on end without much of a break to speak of.

Walking over even relatively flat ground was not his forte.  Nor was dealing with how ridiculously cold it seemed to get both in the early morning and late evening even while exercising endlessly after having picked out his best thicker clothes to wear for the entirety of the trip, thankful he’d had the sense of mind to grab a coat for good measure since he’d decided to keep his other packed supplies down to the barest necessary for survival in order to forgo the added burden of extra weight.

Which meant he had enough meager sustenance to see him not starving outright.  Probably.  It was hard to say whether or not he’d have to stop on the way back by the old fishing pond his dad used to take him to and finagle a rod out of thin air to catch one of those mouth-watering trout he’d watched splash lazily in the water’s depths just asking to be roasted over a fire and devoured mostly in one sitting.

Or maybe that was the hunger speaking at the time, having stopped for a quick break long enough to gaze out of their numbers with sad eyes as he tore off another small bite of the now chewy dinner roll Piper had given him he had then hidden in his pocket to add to his collection of semi non-perishable items to ensure he didn’t drop dead on the way there and back.

At least fresh water was in no short supply.  And that he had a handy little pocket filtration device his father had gifted him on his ninth birthday that looked kind of like a straw with a little cap on the end so starving kids in Africa had clean water to drink without worrying about parasites murdering them.  

Unless that was just a story he was told to get him to stop putting all manner of strange things in his mouth as a child… mudpies and rocks being some of his absolute favorites prior to the warning he could do just that if he wasn’t careful.

--------------------------------------------------

Catch the latest fic update here and don't forget to keep an eye out for this one dropping at some point in the next couple of weeks! Sooner if I'm feeling generous.

[cha-melodius]

Seven Sentence Second Sunday

I got tagged yesterday by @lilythesilly, @nontoxic-writes, @rmd-writes, and @cultofsappho, and also tagging @welcometololaland because she said so. Since today is Sunday pt. 2 for me (i.e., Labor Day), I thought why not share a bit. Today I'm taking some time to work on the You've Got Mail AU (titled False Dichotomy), because I want to keep that going even though I have approximately eleventy-hundred prompts in my inbox right now.

Under the Rainbow Books pretty much is Henry’s idea of nirvana. The unapologetic use of every pride flag under the sun in its decor, the way it’s cozy without being cramped, the shelves full of books exclusively by queer authors. He has a sheer moment of panic as he stops and looks through the front window, sure he’s going to bolt and go throw up in a bin somewhere over what’s probably going to happen to this truly special place, but then Pez is physically dragging him toward the door and he has to shove it all away. Right now, he’s not Henry Mountchristen, heir to a retail empire. As long as he’s here, he’s Henry Fox, the gay wannabe writer who owns too many books and will still probably spend a small fortune here. The bell above the door jingles merrily as they walk in and are hit by the scent of books, but also what smells distinctly like fresh baked biscuits. David Bowie is playing softly over the speakers. Henry is going to perish, and that’s before the most exquisite man he’s ever seen pops out from behind a bookshelf.

I think most people have probably been tagged or done this already (and I can't pretend it's actually Sunday) but tagging @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @14carrotghoul, @historicallysam, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @leaves-of-laurelin just in case you want to share.

[plantinghobbies]

The Same Damn Thing - Part 3

Haven’t read the previous parts? Catch up here!

@solipsisticno1 and I are so grateful to everyone who’s read and supported our little Valentine’s collab that has (to absolutely no one’s surprise) taken almost the entirety of February to get three parts done. But we are halfway there! Hope you enjoy!

Part 3: “…I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s” - Taylor Swift——————————————————————————————————

Val avoids him after that, volunteering for work trips no one else wants. A day here, two days there add up to weeks before she knows it. It’s harder when she’s in the office but not impossible. She’s the first out of the conference room after a meeting, flying out the door with her nose in her phone in case he follows her. And the last one there at night, only leaving her office after she knows he’s gone for the day. She’s subsisting on non-perishable foods for lunch and is shocked she hasn’t developed a UTI from holding it all day but both these bleak realities are better than the thought of being alone with him again. Of the whoosh in her stomach as it drops when she sees him, the heat that pools seemingly everywhere at the thought of what almost happened. What did happen.

Before she knows it, it’s May and her mum is texting her to ask whether she’s coming home on the 24th. Val dreads the day each year. Not the actual anniversary of her sister’s death (though that’s the worst day of the year) but the one where she disappoints her parents again by saying she won’t be there with them to relive the worst day of their lives. It’s not that they’ll be alone - her aunt always comes down and Val’s cousin who lives in town stops by - but she knows it’s not the same. The first year she had tried, but everything in her told her it wasn’t where she needed to be. After they went to bed, Val had thrown her bag in the car, driving until her mind subconsciously brought her back to the last place she’d felt close to Marin - physically and metaphorically. The calm that engulfed her when she stepped onto the damp grass of the courtyard felt like a relief and a selfish indulgence at the same time. 

Ever since then, Val had come back to campus every year on the anniversary, making up work trips and last minute emergencies to avoid telling her mom the truth - that being home with them didn’t bring her anywhere near the comfort that being there did. That the best times of her life were at uni that year.

The 24th dawns with a bright sun and cloudless sky. There’s a slight chill in the air as Val catches the train to her destination, wrapping her hands up in the long sleeves of her jacket. It’s not even 7:30 when she makes it to campus, wanting to avoid the Saturday early birds at the farmers market that wasn’t there when she was in school.

Lying down in the grass under her favorite tree, she tries to remember the bits of advice she picked up in the grief group that she’d gone to for a few months. Use the day to remember old memories, but also to make new ones, your loved one is always with you. (Val’s not sure that she believes that but  she has pictured Marin standing beside her during particularly difficult times over the years and it has helped). 

Flashes of memories play against her eyelids - Halloween when the whole group had dressed up as Mario Kart characters, complete with little cardboard cars that had been left in a pile by the dumpster of their favorite bar after they couldn’t squeeze into the booth with them on. Marin’s face when Val had given her her secret Santa gift - a limited edition of Mary Oliver’s first collection that Val had spent three months saving every penny she had to pay for (worth it).  Matty’s and Marin’s drunken duet of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, cackling when Matty’s voice cracked around the high notes, his indignant claims that he was sick, not just shit at karaoke. 

The memories transport her back, so vivid that Matty’s voice sounds like it’s right next to her. 

“Val? Val, you ok?” A hand wraps around her shoulder gently and she bolts up to sitting, throwing an elbow out on instinct that catches the offender with a low “umph.” It sounds familiar. 

The “fuck me” he whispers lowly confirming what she already knew. A part of her wants to keep her eyes closed - to continue to live in her memories instead of face the reality in front of her. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Ummm listen I didn’t mean to….” No such luck. 

Her eyes peel open slowly, blinking against the heavy sun. Sunglasses would have been smart. He’s crouched in front of her, one hand on the ground to balance himself, the other resting on his knee (the bad one. Val remembers the brace he had to wear for weeks after he twisted it trying to learn football tricks to prove he was better at it than James). 

“What are you doing here?” The accusation in her voice isn’t intentional but he reacts to it, steeling his shoulders and leaning back away from her. 

“Same thing you are I reckon.” A smile pulls at his lips before he seems to think better of it and tugs it back in. 

Of course, the one year that she is actively trying to avoid him, they end up here at the same time. She’s not surprised he had the same idea, he always did like ceremony. “Do you, umm, do you want to grab a coffee? Talk? Or not talk?” She is surprised by the invitation, her behavior over the last few months wasn’t exactly hospitable. But then again, neither was his. 

He looks lost, eyes sunken into heavy bags as he gazes up at her through his lashes. She wonders how long they’ve been there. His fingers twitch around a cigarette the isnt’ there. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t, she - “Uh yea, sure.” Clearly he’s retained his ability to charm her into doing things against her better judgment. 

They walk to an old haunt where he used to sing at open mic nights, the destination unspoken between them. It’s only when they’re sat face to face, steaming mugs between them, that she realizes the mistake she’s made. Her other interactions with him since the incident (as she’s taken to calling it in her head) have been short, work-related, no direct eye contact or conversation needed. 

It seems it’s dawning on him as well. Matty traces the rim of his mug and then clears his throat.

“I uh I -“ He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “Christ man” before continuing “Uh, how’s the rest of your day been?”

Val snorts as she looks up at him but he beats her to a retort “Fuck me, I’m sorry, dumbest question ever. Don’t answer that. I just - I don’t know what to say after - “ 

“Don’t.” It comes out sharper than she intended. But she can’t think of that night, of what Marin would think. Not today at least. Maybe not ever. 

They’re plunged into silence once again. Matty fidgets and crosses his leg, knocking the bag over that Val hadn’t noticed he’d been carrying until now. 

“What’s that?” She knows he hates small talk but chickens out for safe ground. 

“Baby onesie from the bookstore.” Her eyebrow arches, eyes flitting between him and the bag. “No, not what you’re thinking. Not for me. For the kid. I mean, not for my kid, I don’t have one.” He’s always been cute when he rambles. Fuck. “It’s for James’ baby.” 

Her surprise must show on her face. “Oh I didn’t realize he had one?” 

“Yea, just a few days ago. He and his husband - he’s a great guy, you’d like him. As patient as you’d imagine you’d have to be to put up with Jay.” His voice bears no judgement though it’s clear he knows that she hasn’t kept up with anyone beyond perfunctory texts.  It’s not that she’d gone out of her way to cut ties. But after she’d transferred schools, it became so easy to pretend she was someone else - someone who knew what they were doing, someone who didn’t pine after a guy who didn’t want her (at least not in the way she wanted). Someone who hadn’t lost her favorite person (people, really). She liked that version of herself - confident, detached, focused - more than the sad, lonely, and depressed reality that she was trying so hard to hide. And her friends would have seen right through her. So she kept them from seeing. 

It’s the odd silence that draws Val out of her thoughts and back to the table. Right, Matty had been talking about James. “Aaah so he hasn’t slowed down with age?”

The smile he gives her then is small but warm. “Nope, far from it. I think the older he gets, the more frantic he gets about the number. Trying to squeeze as much wild shit in as possible. I mean, it’s crazy but life is short, you kn-

Val watches as he pulls up, looking for all the world like he wanted to shovel the words back down his throat. Eyes flitting everywhere but her face.

“I mean -“ On instinct, her hand is covering his, not able to see him anxious even after all these years. 

“Matty, I think we both know.” 

He cocks his head at her hand, and she pulls it back. Aware that it’s the first time they’ve touched since That Night. 

“Can we talk about something else? Please.” God she’s a prick but after a morning spent solely focused on sad, she needs some relief. Hopes he won’t mind. 

He snaps his jaw shut, clearly taken aback with the desperation in her voice. “Uh, yea, course. I’m sure it’s tough to think about today…” (Truth is, she could talk about Marin all day. Matty and Marin, that was a different story). 

Eye contact seems to be hard for both of them, each flitting around for something to distract from the heavy intimacy that has settled over them. God, why did she say yes to this. Their relationship - she indulges herself with using that term to describe it - is one third rail topic after another. 

And just like so many times before, Matty throws her a lifeline. “Did you hear that I’m still office snooker champion?”

The laugh she barks out startles the sleeping baby at the table next to her, both of its mothers sending her death glares as the hiccuping cries begin. “What the fuck? How’d that happen?”

A cheshire grin settles on Matty’s features as he leans in conspiratorially “Fucking cheaters. They got Dawes - he was judging, remember? Well they got him drunk and then kept fudging the score. Someone caught them and turned them into the party police.” 

Val settles against the back of her chair, crossing her arms. “It was you, wasn’t it?” 

His laugh sends a spark from her ears to her toes. “Now what would give you that impression.”

“Besides the fact that I saw you bring Dawes four rounds of shots?” 

“I think you’re mistaken.” 

“Even if I was, there’s no one else who cares enough about that competition to go through the trouble of reporting that.” Matty’s eyes narrow as she points at him, following the path of her fire-engine red nail. “Except you.”

The grin he was trying to suppress earlier breaks free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’d missed his mischievous look, like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Oh well my mistake then.”

“Too right.” 

Another memory.“You remember when Daisy tried to impress that guy and ended up needing to replace the whole top of the snooker table at Shea’s?” 

“Oh my god - and we all nearly went broke because of it. Who the fuck knew felt could cost that much?” Matty says, raising his mug to his lips before realizing it was empty. He sets it down gently, looking between his mug and her forehead (he’s struggling to look at her, which would offend her if she wasn’t also mesmerizing his hairline right back). “Umm I’m getting another. You want one?”

The line had grown substantially since they’d come in, giving her plenty of time to observe him as he waited with their mugs. More time than she allowed herself at work, always worried about people’s noses stares and misguided assumptions about their relationship. There’s that word again. Time had been good to him, preserved his boyish good looks but filled them out, added a little ruggedness that was laughable when she thought back on how posh he’d grown up. Matty had struck up a conversation with the woman in front of him (of course he had) and not for the first time, Val wonders what he’s been up to since uni. Who he’s been spending his time with, the information that she can’t get from LinkedIn and the abandoned social media accounts she found one night after a few glasses of wine. He was always charming but watching him try to pull (she assumes, the woman looks like his type) now, she can see the quiet confidence that wasn’t there all those years ago when they sat in this dingy coffee shop, splitting pastries for lunch to save cash so they’d be able to buy more drinks at the pub later. That time seems like a million years ago now.

Val wishes that she could have outgrown her crush on him like she’d outgrown so many other things from that time. She didn’t need to flirt with the barista for free leftovers at the end of the day, could afford the good gin instead of the rail shit that was so bitter that she had to chase it with fries. Adulthood had changed a lot - but not everything. Her eyes still find him in any room they’re in, her laughter still bubbles up at his dark jokes, and her heart still stutters when Matty’s lips twitch into a soft, familiar smile when his gaze catches hers. Like it is right now. Fuck.

It’s not even worth pretending that she wasn’t staring as he makes his way back over, her eyes tracking his moves as he weaves around student’s backpacks and groups of friends huddled around a table meant for just two. 

“Jesus, that took forever.” Tea dribbles over the lip of the mug as he passes it to her. 

“Well, seemed like you enjoyed the company while you waited.” It was supposed to sound teasing but comes out with a hint of possessiveness that she hopes he misses. “You get her number?” Great save, Val. 

Matty cocks his head at her comment, that knowing gaze of his back in full force. “Um noooo. She asked if I’d been here before, couldn’t decide between the sticky bun and the chocolate croissant. I told her to go with the sti-

“Sticky bun” they chime at the same time. 

“Exactly. Told her she should go with that unless she liked the taste of stale poo in a dry diaper. Then the croissant would be the obvious choice.”

“Ewww” Val’s nose turns up at the visual. “I can’t believe she was charmed by that.” 

Matty’s eyebrow perks up. “Oh, she was, was she?”

“Fuck off, like you didn’t know. They could probably see the bedroom eyes she was giving you from bloody space.” 

The shirt he’s wearing rides up as he crosses his hands behind his head, subtle flex in his biceps. “Well, looks like I still got it.” 

Doesn’t she know it. Flashbacks of the incident erupt behind her eyes. His hand up her skirt.  His filthy words. His fingers as he sucked them clean of her. No no no no no.

Attacking his ego feels like safer ground. “Yes, congratulations, you can still pull undergrads.”

Matty opens his mouth to retort but then looks around, clocking the other patrons as if for the first time. “Jesus, was she that young? I can’t tell anymore.”

The same thought had occurred to Val every year she’d come back here.  “I know, right?! I feel like we were younger at that age.” She risks a glance up at him, finds his warm eyes focused on her. “If that makes any sense…” 

“Yea, I get it.” Matty always seemed to get it, to get her. 

Val isn’t sure if it’s the familiar surroundings or the memories that they unlock, but as they talk, the tension that laced each word when they first sat down is easing. Enough that she remembers the man in front of her, the kind of person he was. Is still probably. She’s flooded with feelings, confusing ones that have her heart in her throat, but also comforting ones, friendly ones, nostalgic ones. She missed this. Missed him. She wonders if he feels it too. 

A comfortable lull settles over them. The half-empty sugar packet spills onto the table as she fiddles with it. For the first time since they reentered each other’s lives, it feels easy to talk to him. 

She takes a deep breath, “Listen, I -“ 

Just as he starts to say “About that night -“

Their words collide and they fall silent again. For the first time in she doesn’t know how long (yes she does), the fog of loneliness that followed her around like an imaginary friend had lifted. She felt lighter, the world a little less gray. She wanted to hold onto that feeling and he was going to fuck it all up. What would she even say?! Oh, that night? You mean the one where I almost exposed my years long lo- CRUSH - on you? Came on to you? At our workplace? Mistook your concern for interest, like I always have. That night?! Nope, no memory of it at all. The feminist in her - who sounds an awful lot like Marin - screams that this isn’t a completely accurate characterization, it taking two to tango and all. But Val’s also a champion at self-criticism - Olympic gold-level really - and she’s the one who’d drunkenly started it. She can’t blame him for trying to finish it, even if it was a monumentally stupid idea. 

The tension was back. She needed to get control of the conversation. “You first.” Always a gentleman. A good man. Someone she needed to have in her life again, even if it’s not in exactly the way that she wants. 

“I was going to say, I uh I missed this. Us.” Her chair scrapes as she sits up with the force of gathering her courage for the next part. She’s spent almost ten years rehearsing her next words, in texts she never sent. The words tumble out of her before she can lose her nerve. “I’m sorry I was such a shit friend back then - “She throws up a hand to silence the retort she knows is on the tip of his tongue. “No, just don’t. I was, even if I had a good reason.”

He sits back, palms up in response. “But I’m here now and I’d like a second chance at it. Being friends again…..if you’ll let me, I mean.”

The breath she takes gets stuck somewhere around her ribs, probably because her heart is in her throat. Please Matty. I need this, need to feel like I haven’t fucked everything in my life up. I still haven’t figured out exactly how to be around you but I’m trying. Just give me time. I promise, nothing that you have to go to HR about.

She used to be able to read him so well, curses herself once again for the distance between them that makes understanding his expression now impossible. Matty hasn’t taken his eyes off her, squinting his right eye as if looking for something. 

Val’s just about to word vomit something out onto the table when he clears his throat, putting her out of her misery. “Yea, uhm, I mean, yea. Course we can.“

Relief is palpable, she understands that phrase now, her shoulders sinking down from her hairline with his words. Thank god.“Good. Then I won’t feel bad about telling you that I forgot my wallet and I need you to buy me a sticky bun.” 

His laugh, she thought, that’s what she’d missed most of all. 

[thatfooltheycallweaver]

Day 13 of @fluff-cember

Prompt: Fire and Ice

Pairing: Jamie McCoy [OC] x Eddie Munson

Fandom: Stranger Things

Word Count: 913

Jamie pulled up to the trailer just as the sun was beginning to set. She set her motorcycle on its kickstand and headed inside, shaking off the cold as much as she could. She peeled off her gloves, and removed her jacket, hanging it up alongside the other occupied hooks. Eddie just took a cup of hot chocolate out of the microwave when she’d come in. He smiled, setting the mug down and walking over to her.

“How fared your quest?” He asked with that fantasy-esque tone he used when they did dramatic bits like that. He pulled her against him, trying to help her warm up.

“I have retrieved your prize, my love.” She responded in kind, always content to be so close to him.

“Your travels have taken such a toll on you, my heart. Your skin is like ice under my touch.” He peppered gentle kisses over her cheeks.

“And yours is like fire by comparison.” She tried to hide exactly how off-guard it caught her. Even when they were doing the over-the-top medieval speak, he had no fucking right to have that effect on her. But he did, every goddamn time.

“I have something that may yet cure your ails.” He pulled away, taking a few quick steps to grab the cup of hot chocolate and hand it to her--trying desperately not to spill it as he did. Jamie let the heated ceramic warm her hands before she took a long drink of it, letting the feeling spread.

“Thanks, baby.” She smiled softly before remembering why she was out in the first place. “Oh, and I got that movie you asked me to rent. One more to watch, too.” She pulled Silent Night, Deadly Night and Gremlins out of her bag as a delayed trade for the cup.  “I know you said it doesn’t count as Christmas-Horror, but I think it does.”

“That’s because it’s not a Christmas movie…” He appraised the two cases, looking back at her. “...but I’m not gonna say no to spending more time with you.”

“It literally takes place during Christmas.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this. Again. We are losing precious time we could be spending watching those movies. Or…making out on the couch?”

“Oh, come on, that’s such a dick move. Don’t make me choose, you know I’m indecisive!”

“Only when you want to be, princess. You seemed pretty sure of what you were doing last night. It’s a bit convenient that now, suddenly, you can’t choose.” He teased, enjoying watching her get a bit nervous and blushy from the loving callout.

“...we can do both.”

“Which one? Last-night-both or movie-and-makeout-both?”

“Movie and makeout.” He smiled at her answer, taking the cup out of her hands, placing a quick kiss to her lips, and taking her hand to guide her to the couch. “But I wouldn’t say no to doing both ‘boths’.” He set the cup on the small end table and very lightly pushed Jamie onto the couch. She grabbed onto his arm, clinging to him to try not to fall. He held onto her so she wouldn’t trip before she was ready to. “No! Do not betray me like this! I fetched your treasure, and this is how you repay me?” She slipped back into that fantasy bit.

“You’ve served me well, sweet thief, but I merely promised to reward you as you deserved. Now, perish!” He let go of her, and she fell onto the couch, crossing her arms over herself as if dead. He grabbed the plaid blanket from the side of the couch, unfolding it and laying it on her like a funeral shroud. She pulled the blanket off her face somewhat.

“Can I continue the campaign with a new character?” She whispered.

“What?” He whispered back, moving closer to hear her. She repeated. “No, no, it’s okay. I am incredibly well-versed in necromancy.” Eddie smiled, leaning close and kissing her neck.

“That is not what necromancy is!”

“It is now! Sucks to suck.” She gave him a slight disappointed look. He sighed, his victorious expression softening. He kissed her properly, taking her hand. “Is that better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.” He kissed the back of her hand and got up to get the movie ready, putting Silent Night, Deadly Night in first. “But I can’t fucking believe you’re complaining about me kissing your neck.”

“I am not!” She moved to her usual spot on the couch, getting the pillows arranged for her own ‘pillow’ to be comfortable when he was done setting things up.

“I told you I was good at neck-romancy. I don’t know what you want from me.” He was trying to keep a straight face, but couldn’t. Not with her laughing at his jokes, and not when he laid on the couch beside her. It was impossible for him to not feel comfortable when she moved to be close to him, legs tangled, her head on his shoulder, an arm around her waist, one draped over her his stomach. He didn’t expect to stay in that position for too long, if she was as serious as he was about getting distracted part way through--but with the blanket over them making it all the more comfortable, it was a perfect place to start. “Are you warming up yet, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I’m warm enough. This is perfect.” She tightened her hold on him, settling in as the movie started to play its intro.